Go with the Floe: An Inuit Dark Continent AAR

loki100: That’s what I was aiming for. Things should not be completely smooth, even though that’s how it goes in game terms.
Ageofbob, Sjiveru, Mr. Santiago, Legolas: Thanks!
Memento Mori: I think not having Europeans invading and spreading smallpox everywhere helps a little.
History_Buff, Sethanon: Reverse colonization isn’t going to be easy, even with the nerfs I’ve given the survivors in Europe. Don’t hold your breath for an exact European equivalent of the colonisation of the Americas. I still have a lot of American territory to colonise on top of that!
Tufto: I take a slightly different option.
Jstebby: Sadly Europe tends to develop along the same lines most of the time because there are so few surviving nations. But that’s in games without me deliberately pointing the Inuit in that direction.
A Landy: The mod can be downloaded from the first post. There’s no point uploading a save when the game’s just started.

Encyclopaedia Djata Entry
Innu
Capital City of the United Inuit Tribes
Early History

When the Inuit Tribes first came together as an organisation, the Innu tribe’s land was chosen as the meeting place for the Council that would select the High Chieftain. Its relative comfort compared to some of the more inhospitable regions further north along the coast made it a popular place for the High Chieftain to set up the government and soon a town had established around the ruler’s settlement.

Besides being an administrative hub, the city was centre for commerce along all of the east coast for decades before the arrival of the Last Fleet. Depending on the season it could have anywhere from 1500-6000 people residing in and around it at any one time. The flow of wealth further defined it as the most important settlement the Inuit had.

When the Last Fleet arrived and the Inuit began to transfer into a more settled lifestyle, the city changed with them. The trading centre became a permanent structure and vast numbers of dwellings were set up so that merchants no longer had to pitch tents outside the city. Many new construction techniques were tested as workers struggled to keep up with demand and soon Innu became a model city for similar settlements springing up across the continent.

As the Inuit Tribes grew more centralized more and more authority rested in the city as the capital and a few problems began to arise with the more distant members of the confederation. Lines of communication remained limited, especially in winter, and it took months for armies to march to the furthest reaches of Inuit territory. Nonetheless the High Chieftains were able to remain in control, as controlling the flow of trade allowed them to strangle the developing economies of many of the more isolated tribes should they revolt.

The city continued to grow throughout the Enlightenment of the 15th Century OEC, a beacon of prosperity for all it shone upon.


“The Huron are coming!”

Attuiock stared at the panicked man. He couldn’t believe how stupid he’d been to ignore the developing situation. It was far out of his control at this point but there was no way he could forgive himself if he let the Inuit’s closest allies fall like this. However, the Huron were the rising power around the Great Lakes. To oppose them at this juncture would be suicide. Never mind the diplomatic complications that prevented him from cancelling alliances while one party was at war.

“I think I know a way to save your homes,” he suddenly said. Diplomacy was a two-way street, so the same went for the Huron.

“What is it?” the Moose Cree chieftain asked. He raised his hand to his men to stop what they were doing. From Attuiock’s expression he could tell something wasn’t quite right. “Will the Inuit send men to defend us?”

“No,” Attuiock replied. After taking a deep breath he looked his counterpart in the eyes with a determined expression. He was about to do something that would set in motion events he could not stop. “Swear fealty to me!” he said. The words rang out across the town as the authoritative tone caught the attention of everybody nearby.

“What?” the chieftain asked flatly.

“The Huron will not invade lands held by the Inuit nation. Swear fealty to me, High Chieftain of the Inuit Tribes, and the lands of the Moose Cree shall be safe from invasion,” Attuiock said.

The Moose Cree chief looked shocked for a few seconds before scowling and yelling at his men.

“To arms!”

“Be careful, High Chieftain!” one of Attuiock’s escort stepped in front of him with his spear raised as the Anishinaabe soldiers dropped what they were doing and went for their weapons.

“You call on me to betray the rest of my people!” the chieftain said as his own men surrounded him. The situation was rapidly getting worse for the Inuit party as more and more defenders gathered their weapons. “You want me to abandon them to Huron conquest and accept Inuit conquest myself. The honour of Moose Cree will not be besmirched!”

“I am only doing this to help you!” Attuiock said. His own guard was circling him and attempting to cover every angle from the Anishinaabe soldiers. He had not expected the Moose Cree to refuse so violently. When he had been a child he had heard countless stories of tribes switching sides or joining other confederations when the situation called for it. Perhaps the events of the last thirty years were building a sense of national unity and turning the tribes into true nations.

“I want the High Chieftain alive, do what you will with the rest!” the chieftain snapped. The Anishinaabe started to advance when suddenly a clanging rang out across the town.

“Huron raiding party!” a voice called out in the distance as the alarm bells continued to be hit. “They’re aiming for the docks!”

The stand-off suddenly froze as every soldier looked to their leader with uncertainty. The Moose Cree chieftain clenched his fists in anger for a moment before turning to his commanders.

“Stop them! Most of our supplies are to be sent by sea. Without the docks we cannot escape!” he ordered. The men nodded and ordered their warbands to follow them. The warriors surrounding the Inuit party began to drain away and Attuiock’s guards took this chance to get their ruler to leave before his opposite number changed his mind.

As they slipped away from the town in the growing confusion Attuiock was lost in thought. So he had failed to accomplish it peacefully, which meant that in order to save his allies from the inevitable there was no other choice that to bring them in by force.


Boom

The sound of the drum echoed through Attuiock’s bed chamber.

Boom

He had dismissed the shaman who though that it would not be good to have such disturbance in his present state, leaving him with only a handful attending him as the divination ritual went ahead.

Boom

The drum continued to beat and the beads laid upon it bounced across the surface as the spirits willed. Their message would be spelled out by their place on the images sketched across the surface. In the past these would just have been animals, plants and weather patterns, but times were changing and people were starting to recognize the spirits kept their connection even when stone formed a wall or wood became a ship.

Boom

The shaman beat the drum for the last time and set aside his sticks.

“Please, spirits,” Attuiock said. Before he could finish he was wracked with wheezing coughs and his shaman came to his side quickly to give him more of the healing draught they had made. When the coughing had subsided he finished. “I wish to know whether I have made the right choices. Will the future look upon me kindly for bringing the new order to the Inuit?”

The shaman stared at the drum for a while and pondered before answering.

“Many of the beads have fallen upon the image of the ship and the image of the market. The Inuit will take to the seas and gain prosperity. However, they also have fallen upon the image of the spear. Across the seas we will find battles that we have to fight. It does not tell of whether we will win.”

Boom

He beat the drum again and the beads fell into a new pattern.

“There are giants in the east and…in the west,” the shaman continued with some confusion. The beads indicated the ‘giants’, which would have been taken literally in older times but nowadays meant a large tribe or other group, would be in both the east and the west, which did not make sense unless they surrounded the Inuit. The world was flat, wasn’t it? The shaman continued anyway and looked at the beads fallen upon the image of a fort. “There is a wall between us. We will not be allies, but not necessarily enemies either, with them.”

Boom

“I feel as though I have delivered us to great danger,” Attuiock mumbled from the bed. The shaman went on with the next prediction.

“Do not fear, High Chieftain. The beads have fallen entirely upon the image of us and the image of the land. The Inuit will survive, and prosper, and spread across the whole of the world.”

“That’s good…” Attuiock coughed again. “I think…I did alright…”

Doom

“I am not quite sure what the spirits are saying this time,” the Shaman said as furrowed his brow while going over the next reading, “the beads have fallen upon the land, the giants and a mushroom. Does that mean a giant mushroom will bloom upon the world? What do you think?”

Silence

“Chieftain?”


Mikak poked the building with a finger. It was surprisingly hard and rough to the touch, but it also felt very solid.

“What did you say this was made from again, Karlak?” he asked.

“Clay, Chieftain,” Karlak responded with a bow. As the aide to his chieftain he had to make sure he knew exactly what was on the man’s itinerary and what questions he might ask.

“Impressive, I had no idea you could build whole buildings out of it,” the chieftain said. He gave an approving grin to the group of bricklayers who were apprehensively watching for his approval. One of them stepped forward.

“Thank you, Chieftain,” he said, “we have learnt much from the Fleet and have finally been able to build kilns that can bake bricks of this calibre.”

“I see. Karlak!” Mikak spun around to his aide who pulled out a tablet to take notes. “I want as many kilns as you can get sent back to Nunavik. My new home will be magnificent brick building!”

“We would need men trained to operate the kilns too,” Karlak spoke up. His Chieftain was sometimes too impulsive and failed to think all these things through, leaving him to fill in the gaps.

“Get some then. Figuring out that sort of thing’s your job, right?” Mikak said.

As the two continued to debate the exact details of what would be shipped where and how exactly they were going to pay for it, a pair of shabbily dressed people approached them. Their furs hung completely out of shape, as though they had not been tailored to them. Under the furs could be made out clothes completely inappropriate to the cold of the Inuit capital.

“Can I help you?” one of the guards hanging slightly back from Mikak said with a deep and imposing tone.

“Please, help us!” the two men suddenly threw themselves to the ground in supplication towards Mikak.

“In the spirit’s name, what is going on?” Mikak wondered aloud as he walked over to them.

“We represent the tribes of Menominee and Michigan, and we offer our chieftain’s fealty to you, High Chieftain of the Inuit. We have heard that you took the Anishinaabe tribes under your protection and we wish for the same,” they said in very rapid succession. It took Mikak a few moments to realise they had called him ruler of all Inuit and while he would like to bask in the misunderstanding for a little while, he didn’t want to look big-headed in front of his men.

“You appear mistaken; we currently do not have a High Chieftain. I am Mikak, Chieftain of the Nunavik tribe. As per the rota established I am the representative of the Council here in Innu,” he explained.

“Our apologies, Chieftain, nonetheless we will offer our lands to do with as you, or rather your Council, wills,” the men said.

Mikak was about to start negotiating on behalf of all the Council, but a disapproving look from Karlak made him stop and follow procedure properly. A diplomatic crisis like this needed full approval of the other chieftains.

“Follow me and I’ll find you some lodgings. A full Council meeting we be called shortly,” he said as he held out a hand to help up the two men.


“You know what I want first?” the new High Chieftain asked of his aide as they sat alone in his new chamber in Innu.

“No, High Chieftan,” Karlak said with a sigh.

“A whole fleet, one larger than even the Last Fleet,” Mikak finished. He was very taken with the new plans for Inuit versions of the Carracks that had arrived on their shores shortly before he was born. It was very distressing to see such amazing craft go up in flames when he was just a youth.

“There are still countless infrastructure projects awaiting funds. We cannot ignore everything your predecessor was planning and spend it all on boats,” Karlak replied. He had a good idea of how much money the Inuit Tribes was bringing in and it really was not enough to build such a large fleet.

“But then we can go to Europe. Imagine how much we can learn from there, considering a few boat loads of books brought us this far!” said Mikak with arms outstretched towards the large chamber they were in. It was true, the last time a High Chieftain had been selected it had been in a tiny hut where the chieftains huddled around a fire, but now Innu was becoming more like a true city.

“The other chieftain’s will not like you taking funds for such adventures. Many people are still convinced that Europe holds nothing but plague. If we go there then the Tribes could suffer the same fate as the Europeans.”

“We could still use the fleet to dominate the rest of the coast. It’s not like the Huron have any ships of note.”

“Except they could just march over land and take us out that way. That is why building proper armouries to equip our soldiers is so vital.”

“I see your point,” Mikak finally said as he relented and slouched back in his chair. Being High Chieftain was not as engaging as he’d hoped it would be. Now that the Menominee situation was resolved, the Huron were basically cutting off the Inuit from any interesting diplomatic interaction. Internal conflict was at an all-time low as well, as the population was highly content with their growing prosperity.

“Shall we go over the financial reports, High Chieftain? I’ll show you how the funds are allocated,” Karlak said. It was boring, but he needed to get Mikak to have a better idea of what he went through managing the nation’s finances.

“No thank you!” Mikak suddenly exclaimed as he got out of his chair, “I’m going out with the army to practice some more.”

“You mean you’ll be ‘besieging’ the city again? Why not train for some other kind of warfare?”

“And risk people getting killed in a mock battle? I don’t think so. Besides, these days everyone hides behind their walls. I think besieging is the way of the future.”

“As you wish, High Chieftain. I’ll send the word to get the tents set up again.”

Karlak watched the High Chieftain march out with a spring in his step. It was going to be troublesome keeping him in check, but at least he wasn’t actively sabotaging the nation in the name of excitement. For now, anyway.


“Pitseolak, welcome home!” Mikak said with a smile as the explorer came stepped onto the dock.

“Thank you, High Chieftain,” Pitseolak replied with a bow. “I have a great many tales of the tribes to the south to tell you of.”

“That can wait, that can wait,” said Mikak. He led the explorer to a large wooden structure that had been assembled just inshore of the harbour and opened a door on the side. “Come on in.”

As Pitseolak stepped inside he had to take a moment to let his eyes adjust to the dim lighting, but when they finally got used to it he let out a gasp. In front of him was an enormous wooden construction larger than any ship he had set foot on. He was just a boy living on a remote fishery when the Last Fleet was destroyed, but he had seen more than enough engravings and drawings of those ships to know that this was based off of them. Not just any ships either, the large carracks.

“What do you think? I’ve had leftover funds saved up over the last few years to pay for this,” Mikak said, slapping a hand on Pitseolak’s shoulder. “When it’s finished I want you to take it east past Kalaallit. The maps we got from the Last Fleet aren’t very clear, so you’ll need to chart as you go. I’m afraid I can’t see you off, apparently something is going down by the Great Lakes and I might be leaving with the army.”

“It…it would be an honour,” Pitseolak said. Standing in awe of the vessel that would soon be his, his mind drifted to the open seas and the sighting of new, or rather, old land that would let him go down in history.

Almost a year later, the explorer stood aboard the Attuiock as it sailed eastwards. They had yet to sight land since leaving Kalaallit, but he had not given up hope of discovering the true location of Europe. Just then a cry rang out from one of the crew.

“Boats sighted!”

Staring off onto the horizon he spotted what looked like a group of small wooden boats floating. As the carrack turned to meet them, Pitseolak could make out the small fur-wearing figures and his heart sunk. Could these be just another tribe of Inuit and he had further still to go?

“Hello!” he shouted down as they pulled up alongside his ship. The Inuit languages, while not identical across the vast distances they inhabited, were generally mutually understandable. What they replied with was definitely nothing of the sort.

“Hver ert þú?” one of the fishermen said. He pulled back his hood and stared up at Pitseolak. Rounds eyes, pale skin and bright red hair. This was no Inuit. His breath caught as he came to the realisation. He had found Europe.

Tufto: Iit can’t turn to war yet even if I or they wanted it to. One of the downsides of being a horde.
loki100: Considering his stats, I made him into an enthusiastic but naïve ruler. It fit for something as crazy as sending an expedition to the land you know was wiped out by plague.
Herbert West, Nomad93: Proper interaction won’t happen just yet. Mostly because I’m killing time until the events fire to take me out of tribal government so I can actually do diplomacy with them.
Mr. Santiago: There’s definitely more to learn regarding this.
A Landy: They can form it, but I wouldn’t trust the AI to do it given the nerfs I have put in place (which will be explained when appropriate). They also have some…competition.

Forgive me if I end up butchering Icelandic in this chapter.

One more thing before this chapter starts. Whenever you see a number like this: (1), that means there is an OOC note that is listed at the end of the chapter with that number.

Encyclopaedia Djata Entry
The Old European Enclaves (North)

While 99% of the European population was wiped out by the Ashen Death, there were inevitably those who through luck or simple isolation escaped the spread of the disease. These can roughly be divided into two categories, northerners based around the North and Baltic Seas and southerners based around the Mediterranean. This entry pertains to the former.

Many groups of survivors existed in northern Europe in the aftermath of the Ashen Death, but only four of these could be considered to be proper political bodies. These are the Principality of Iceland, the Kingdom of Saaremaa (commonly called Estonia), the Sami Federation (Sameland) and the Hebrides Union (Scotland).

The reasons for their survival are varied but revolve around one thing, their isolation. Iceland was able to forbid all foreigners from landing upon their shores. Similarly the Scots of the Western Isles and the Norwegians of Orkney that eventually united in the Hebrides Union were able to block all passage onto their islands. In the Baltic Sea, the island of Saaremaa was mostly spared through luck and a reputation for violence that kept refugees away. The Sami people far in the north of Scandinavia had very little contact with the south, and in the cold of their lands the rats that carried the plague could not survive through winter.

Despite surviving it, the Ashen Death left a serious cultural scar on the remaining nations. Many believed that God had forsaken them and returned to older religious beliefs while many more entered a state of permanent isolation out of fear of the disease’s resurgence. Ultimately they would have a small but significant role in the developing political situation in the continent, particularly as the first contact point of explorers coming from the west.


The Icelandic fishermen had not come any closer to the Inuit carrack despite every attempt to entice them up to talk. One of the boats had set sail towards the land that had been spotted on the horizon while the rest seemed to be setting up around the Inuit to prevent them following.

“Do you think this is it?” Pitseolak asked his ship’s linguist, Tivi.

“I believe so,” Tivi said. He was one of the many enthusiasts who studied the European languages that had been carried across the sea in the Last Fleet, although not many were willing to risk their lives to hear one spoken.

“If the navigator is correct, we should be here,” said Pitseolak. He indicated an island to the east of Kalaallit on a map that had been copied from old European scrolls. All over the map were carefully duplicated letters and symbols. “How do you know that these are the same languages?”

“The map is centred on the island, which I believe is called ‘Iceland’ in European tongues,” said Tivi, “and all these routes that are marked out seem to be fishing and trade routes for the Icelanders. This is most likely an Icelandic map that was passed on to the fleet’s navigators to guide them to Kalaallit and beyond.”

“I see. Can you speak it?” Pitseolak asked.

“I can try,” Tivi said with a shrug. Now that he had heard it he had a much better idea of how the words were pronounced, although the limited amount of documents meant he had barely any vocabulary to work with.

The two men went over to the side of the ship and waved at the fishermen to get their attention. The strange looking-men stared back at them with apparent suspicion.

“Við erum Inuit úr vestri. Við komum í friði,” Tivi shouted down to them, and although he stumbled pronouncing several words. Speaking their language, or at least something approximating it, caught their attention and they began to chatter amongst themselves too fast for Tivi to pick out. Eventually one spoke up, slowly and clearly enough for him to understand.

“Að vestan? Hvað gerðist í síðasta flota?” the leader asked.

“What did he say?” Pitseolak said.

“I think he’s asking about the fate of the Last Fleet,” Tivi said.

“Should we tell them?”

“I don’t know…”

As they thought about how they should answer, the situation below was developing. A larger boat almost the same size as the carrack had pulled up alongside the fishing boats and the captain was now having a heated discussion of some kind with the fishermen. Eventually the fisherman threw up his arms in disgust and began to sail away, while the Icelandic ship came up alongside the Inuit.

“Hallo?” Tivi said with caution.

The Icelandic captain said nothing for a few minutes as more and more men started to pour out of the ship and onto the deck behind him. They were all clad in metal armour and armed with axes, spears and bows. While their ship was smaller they had more than enough power to slaughter everyone on board the Inuit ship. Some of the men stepped forward and hurled several sacks over to the Inuit boat. The sacks split open upon impact, revealing bread, stone idols of various gods and books with two crossed lines inscribed upon the covers.

“Fara nú, og koma ekki aftur,” the Icelandic captain said. With the men at this back, the message was clear even to Pitseolak.

“I understand. You don’t want to risk getting the disease that killed everyone else,” he said. “Crew! We setting course eastwards!”


High Chieftain Makik’s tent was a hive of activity. The war with the Sioux was over, but as the Inuit forces were crossing Huron territory to return home they became involved in a massive civil war with at least two lesser chieftains seeking to take control of the whole confederacy.

“The Ottawa Tribe has six thousand warriors advancing towards the Huron capital, while there are another five thousand under a coalition of chieftains in the north-east,” Karlak said as he marked out places on the map spread before Makik.

“We will march north-east to deal with the smaller army first. The Huron need to focus on defending their own capital,” Makik said.

“But High Chieftain, their forces are severely depleted because of the war with the southerners,” his advisor said.

“And that’s not our problem. They overextended and got arrogant. They thought they could deal with the southern tribes without our help, so they have no one to blame but themselves if they get overthrown,” said Makik.

“Then why are we helping them?” asked Karlak.

“We want them to remain at least strong enough to hold back the Shawnee and Creek from the north bank of the lakes,” Makik said.

“I see,” Karlak said.

He quietened down as he got back to marking the maps for the coming campaign. His High Chieftain was learning the art of ruling a country. It almost made him proud. Weakening the Huron to prevent them from completely dominating the region while leaving them strong enough to act as a buffer against the Shawnee was a sound strategy. He was concerned however that while Mikak might, while condemning the Huron for their arrogance, become just as overconfident.


The sun beat down terribly upon the visiting party as they ascended the enormous staircase. They had long ago dropped their furs and now found themselves feeling naked in just their underclothes. It was a small price to pay to avoid dying in the summer heat of the Aztec capital, Tenochtitlan. The climate was just not right for the Inuit, but the locals seemed to have no problems with the temperature.

“Just a moment, I need to take a break,” said the leader of the Inuit expedition, Ouibignaro Meekitjuk.

The armoured spearmen escorting them nodded and let the group rest at the next landing. Ouibignaro took the opportunity to turn around and look at the city they had just emerged from. It was like nothing he had ever seen in his life. While the cities of the northern tribes and the Inuit were recently built and filled with fresh wood and newly carved stone, this city was a marvel of ancient stonework that was rapidly modernising and integrating new brickwork and structural techniques. Across the horizon he could see brick temples rising and whole districts of homes and shops being built. Not even Innu could come close to this city.

“Everyone has that reaction,” one of the Aztec spearmen said with a chuckle, although the humour had drained a little by the time the translator got across the meaning to the Inuit. “You should consider it an honour to gaze upon the heart of Ixachitlān, representatives of the northern savages are rarely allowed to enter.”

“Thank you,” Ouibignaro said. He didn’t really like being called a savage, but it was always good to be courteous to your hosts.

But then again considering what he was seeing, the Inuit cities looked like collections of huts. Perhaps the Aztecs were right to call them savages by comparison. The peoples he had met in his explorations to the south had clearly had a much longer history of settled civilization compared to the north. They too had encountered ships from Europe, but they already knew much of the knowledge that could be spread and so were one step ahead of the Inuit.

The forged iron armour their guards wore, the deadly spears they wielded, the massive roads leading across the lake, the vast fields of maize outside the city, the vast levee that blocked the eastern half of the lake, and of course the hundreds of thousands of people who inhabited the city. There was a very definite accuracy to their claims. But he knew he could not become enraptured with this more advanced civilization. He was here to negotiate on behalf of the Inuit. (4)

They continued up the remaining stairs to the peak of the temple where they were faced with the slightly disturbing sight of a large rock slab soaked red with the blood of countless victims. Luckily they were not here for that. Just behind the slab lay the throne upon which the Aztec Emperor sat upon to gaze upon his vast nation. The Inuit group bowed before him and Ouibignaro spoke.

“Your Majesty, we represent the High Chieftain of the Inuit Tribes. We come to discuss diplomacy with you so that we may develop our relationship,” he said.

“I am the Tlatoani Axayacatl, and I do not parley with the savage tribes,” the emperor said, immediately shattering Ouibignaro’s hopes of a successful mission. “The northern tribes are not fit to speak with us as equals. Instead, I demand that the northern tribes deliver a tribute of slaves. It is through our efforts and the blood shed upon this very temple that the Sun rises each day.”

“Forgive me for the indiscretion, Your Majesty,” Ouibignaro said, “but in some parts of our distant lands the Sun disappears below the horizon for six months at a time. I do not think your rituals reach us there.” He wondered if that was his death sentence. Debating theology was not the reason he was here, but he could not let the Inuit be forced into such a brutal tribute.

Axayacatl scowled and seemed ready to make some horrendous proclamation, when one of his aides came up to him with some sort of map. He seemed to be point out some things on it and this calmed the emperor somewhat.

“I have been shown that your lands truly are distant,” the emperor said, “in that case, I simply demand tribute of currency. All of Ixachitlān will be ours one day, so I suggest that your people prepare. Now be gone, savages, and be glad that you got to gaze upon me and that I was magnanimous in my demands.”

Ouibignaro sighed in relief and left. He would return to Innu, but he doubted that Mikak or any of the other chieftains would agree to the tribute. Even if the continent was destined to be ruled by a people as advanced as the Aztecs, by the time they reach the Inuit this little demand would probably be forgotten.


“We have another report from Ouibignaro,” one of the men sat around the table said, “the Amazonian Empire has refused our ships docking permission, so they will have to return to Creek territory to resupply and then return here.”

The rest of the table broke into murmurs. The chieftains were assembled in the main hall of the High Chieftain’s palace in Innu, but the throne sat empty. Increasingly the men were assembled here to discuss matters of government as no one had the courage or political skill to step up try and the position.

“Then we have reached the limits of our exploration,” the Chieftain of Labrador said. “And I think that it is right. The situation to the south is too volatile, and the Huron could collapse at any moment. We should be prepared to defend ourselves if the Shawnee overrun them and turn their eyes to us, not wasting money on ships and men going to all corners of the continent.”

Another round of murmurs went around the table. This time a much younger voice spoke up.

“I disagree.”

The whole table turned to look at the newest member of the council, the barely fifteen years old Chieftain of Abitbi. He was a very blunt boy, but he had learnt much from his father, the man who had stabilised the Abitbi tribe and brought them into the Inuit nation as full members.

“Surely you should understand, Nakasuk,” the Labrador Chieftain said, “your tribe is closest to the chaos of the Huron nation. If we are invaded, your lands will be the first to fall.”

“Nonetheless, I believe we should continue to explore,” Nakasuk said, “in fact, I think we should make another attempt to contact Europe.”

The murmurs of the table broke into open shouts of people both for and against the idea. The idea of sending another expedition to Europe had been discussed before but it was always shouted down by those who feared the wrath of either the spirits or the Ashen Death, depending on how superstitious they were. Nakasuk continued to speak over the rest of the council.

“We have seen that there are enemies far more powerful than us. The Shawnee are rising, the Aztecs claim all of Ixachitlān for themselves, and the Sioux become bolder each time they try to conquer our Menominee allies. We cannot hope to fight them directly. We can do what we do best, and that is to take to the seas!”

A roar of assent came from the supporters of the idea.

“Across the sea to the east lies a whole continent of abandoned resources and technology. If we can bring some of that back then we can gain a decisive advantage over the others. I think that is worth the risk!”

The elder whose job it was to oversee these meeting stamped his staff on the ground, silencing the voices.

“Considering the ferocity of the debate,” the elder said, “it is prudent that we take a vote. All in favour of dispatching another expedition to Europe raise your hands.”

The vote went quickly. A clear majority of the council had been persuaded by Nakasuk’s words. It was decided. Once Ouibignaro returned and was rested he would be sent east with extra supplies and men. Nakasuk smiled and sat back down as the rest of the council started hammering out the details. He was glad to be gaining power in the council already, for he had many more ideas for the future of the nation.


(1) The Inuit are still a horde, which means no way to negotiate with Iceland, or indeed anyone (that we can reach) outside of the North American tribes.
(2) Actually I forgot about them while fighting the war with Sioux and left them in an attrition zone. Oops.
(3) Miscmods has dynamic cores. Core time is set to 75 years, but they can also come by events which are made more likely by the province having the same religion (or religion group) and same culture (or culture group). The Anishinaabe territories have the same religion and same culture group, so they are fairly fast to get cores.
(4) The Aztecs are only really 1-2 tech levels ahead of the Inuit at the moment in the game. But in real life the level of technology the two cultures had would have meant they would already have a huge advantage.