The PrisonAAR

Thanks for the replies everyone!

Lord Durham: Just about all the questions get answered in the next installment, although I have to admit I opted not to include the killer beach ball. Look for some of the show's elements to get the Europa Universalis treatment.

heagarty: Believe it or not I've never seen the Avengers. I'm clearly missing out!

Storey: I'm hoping to capture the feel of the show, especially all the ambiguity and bizarre occurences that may or may not ever pay off. In other words, expect a total cop-out ending once I've written my self into a corner.

I'm about to start the next installment so it should be up shortly.

Chapter 2: Orleans Forever

With trembling hands the former editor picked up the phone.

"Hello?"

A cheerful and cultured voice answered. "This is the Prince of Orleans. I trust you've had a good rest and are ready to get down to business. I'd like to request the pleasure of your company in the central dome. Go out your door and you can't miss it. Orleans forever!" Before any reply could be offered, the "Prince of Orleans" had broken the connection.

The former editor sighed and sat back down on the bed, the ache in his head growing steadily stronger as he struggled for a course of action. After a few minutes of deliberation, he decided that obeying the instructions of some strange individual who thought he was a Prince of a long dead nation was probably a better plan than anything he'd been able to come up with on his own.

As he reached is hand for the door it gently opened on its own, revealing another disturbing and unexpected scene. Instead of the dirty hallway of the apartment house, an indoor park, mostly neatly manicured grass and hedges, with an occasional tree or small pond stretched out below a balcony in front of the door. "Ok, this is getting ridiculous." People in renaissance costumes were milling about below, apparently accustomed to their bizarre environment.

If the window view was the past, the view from the door was the present or possibly even the near future. The park had a diameter of perhaps one kilometer and was open to the sky. A domed building that resembled a shrine or temple more than anything else was clearly visible in the center of the park, connected by snaking cement walkways to the outside walls. The park was completely encircled with ten stories of glistening metal. Walkways and doors peppered the shining walls, along with dozens of large banners...banners bearing what the former editor assumed was the flag of Quebec, before remembering the words of "the prince." Orleans forever, indeed.

The newest guest of this bizarre structure made his way down glistening steel stairs to the park below. "Orleans forever!" Two men in outfits that hadn't been fashionable in hundreds of years tapped there right fists over their hearts twice as they passed the new guest, using the phrase in a "how's it going" fashion.

Making his way along a winding walkway and being greeted in the odd fashion of his new home by a few more people, the new guest soon arrived at the central structure. Heavy wooden doors opened on their own as he approached.

"Welcome, welcome! Congratulations on your successful arrival to your new home!" The voice from the phone spoke from unseen speakers, but the new arrival missed most of it. He was shaken by the interior of the dome...it resembled the inside of the cathedral from the opening movie of Europa Universalis 2! If this was some sort of joke, no expense was being spared.

Under the gaze of the saints on the stained glass windows, the new arrival made his way to what should be the altar area. Instead of an altar, a thin middle aged man dressed entirely in black sat on a modern office chair, a feature jarringly out of place amongst the otherwise medieval trappings.

"Ah, the new Baron! Good to see you!" The slight man offered a paternal smile as the new arrival approached. "Take a seat and rest those weary bones!" With a push of a small button on the arm of his chair, a second office chair rose out of the floor with a soft hissing sound.

"What's going on here!" The new arrival continued to stand, ignoring the offered chair.

"You've been brought here to lead us, at least militarily and in terms of basic domestic policies."

"Who are you! I've had enough of these twisted parlor games!"

"You are the fifth Baron. I'll call you Five for short, if you don't mind. I am the Prince." The Prince smiled the paternal smile again, leaning back in his chair a little more.

"I am not an intermediate rank of nobility! I'm a human being!" 'Five' had completely lost his patience with the situation.

"Haha. Very amusing Five. It's good to see your sense of humor is still healthy." The paternal smile seemed to deepen a little, if that was possible.

"Who is the King, then?" The newcomer sneered at the Prince.

"That would be telling. What is important, Five, is that we need you to lead us. You've been chosen for the special skills you have." Five continued to sneer, but said nothing.

"I've been reviewing your file, and you're the one. The King was very specific about that." The Prince gave a cheerful nod to Five. "It will all make sense soon enough. Right now, however, we've got to get you ready for your coronation ceremony. You are the new Baron, after all."

"I will not be coronated, invested, knighted, ordained, crowned, or numbered! My life is my own!" Five regretted the outburst, as yelling made his head hurt even worse. It felt like there was a rat in his brain.

"I can tell you're going to be even more interesting than I expected you to be, Five. Maybe you'll feel better after a bite to eat?" Another button on the chair caused a plate of sausage and eggs to rise from the floor.

"I'm not hungry!" The food did look good though, Five had to admit, and the reality was he was starving.

"Afraid of putting on a little weight? Go on Five, it will do you good. It's not like we'd put knockout drugs in it or anything." The Prince gestured magnanimously toward the plate.

Five took a single bite of sausage and then collapsed to the marble floor, unconscious.

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When the new Baron awoke, he was no longer in the cathedral, but the new setting was equally alien. Through bleary eyes he made out a nicely furnished room dominated by yet another office chair, a monitor that was at least two meters across, which was connected to a keyboard and mouse positioned on a table in front of the chair. A massive window covered by heavy curtains was opposite the monitor. Five turned his head and saw he was now wearing an elaborate renaissance outfit. He reached up and felt a feathered hat on his head.

"Good to have you back Five. We're just about ready to get started." A gruff voice drew Five's attention from the Persian carpet he was lying on to a pudgy man in a white suit at the door of the luxurious room.

"I'm the new Prince, Five. This is where you'll lead our nation."

Groggily making his way to his feet, Five got his first good look at the monitor. It was a game of Europa Universalis, centered on the nation of Orleans.

"I'm sure you're already quite familiar with that. We're banking on that familiarity of course." The new Prince daubed some sweat from his brow with a handkerchief.

"This is ridiculous. I'm supposed to lead a real nation using a PC game. Do you have any idea how idiotic that sounds!"

"You must trust us Five. Take a look out the window." The drapes automatically opened, revealing a view of the medieval village from ten stories up. "An invisible field keeps the villagers from coming into contact with The Citadel, if you were wondering. They don't know we even exist, but we are the real power behind their nation...or should I say YOU are the real power, Five." The Prince laid a heavy, sweaty hand on Five's shoulder.

"Lets change the game speed, just for the sake of trying something." The hand removed itself, leaving a small stain on the colorful silk tunic.

"I'll play along, for now." Five settled into the chair and pressed the control key and the plus key together a few times, changing the speed to one minute = one year.

Day and night resembled a strobe light outside the window. Five gasped.

"We'd better pause the game, Five. Hank version five will be here shortly and we'd better have a proper greeting ready, after all."

Five paused the game and leaned back in the chair, drained and defeated. The drapes slid shut. Three twelve inch monitors silently ascended around his chair.

"These monitors will keep you appraised of the consequences of your orders. Lead us well, and you will be a free man again. Fail, and we'll just have to extract what knowledge we can get from you..." he cracked his knuckles, "and try again at some other time."

Five had temporarily lost the will to resist after a steady stream of shocking occurrences and druggings. Sighing he turned to the monitor.

"That's the spirit. We're all counting on you, Five. If you need anything a button on your chair will call a servant. At the end of each day you can return to your little home away from home. I'll be keeping a watch on you Five. Orleans forever!" Tapping his chest with his fist, the Prince exited, leaving Five alone with the game. Sighing again, he began to consider his first move.

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Next: The Happy Few

Where am I?

In the Citadel.

What do you want?

Your full cooperation.

What is this place?

That would be telling. We want your cooperation...cooperation.

You won't get it!

If we have to stretch believability and logic past the breaking point...we will. Failing that, we have a killer beach ball...

Who are you?

The new Prince of Orleans.

Who is the King?

YOU are the fifth Baron.

I am not a numbered intermediate noble...I'm a free human being!!!

Hahahahahahahahahahahahahah (continue for twenty or thirty more lines).

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Chapter 3: The Happy Few

Five tried to collect his scattered thoughts as he stared at the monitor. A small army awaited orders in Orleans. Large English forces under Henry V were preparing to bear down on his forces. "Now who's the happy few?" he thought bitterly.

Five had decided the best option was to try to comply with his captors for now, until he understood the situation better. Long trusted perceptions of reality had been seriously damaged by recent events and he had a feeling they would have to be rebuilt from the ground up. For now, he had to lead Orleans via the PC game. It was insane...but what in this place wasn't?

"I'd better square the settings," he mumbled to no one in particular. Clicking on Religion, he found that the settings were not in the default, but already set to maximum tolerance for Catholic, intermediate for Orthodox, and none for Islam.

"I hope I didn't overstep my bounds by doing some set-up for you Five." One of the smaller monitors sprang to life, displaying a man who looked exactly like Louis the XIV, down to the heavily powdered and highly styled white wig.

"I thought this was Orleans in 1419, not 1650 France."

"Haha. Well done Five, well done. It's that sort of thinking that made us select you to lead us." "Louis" had an English accent for some reason, and on closer inspection his face wasn't quite a perfect match.

"Who are you supposed to be?"

"I'm the New Prince of Orleans." The new Prince smiled benevolently.

Five sighed. At least he'd learned one fact about his new surroundings. The role of Prince obviously had rather poor job security.

"I also took the liberty of increasing the quality setting, and setting up your domestic policies to heavily favor land tech and mint coins at 0.15% inflation. You would have done that anyway, correct?" The new Prince leaned back in his chair, smug and satisfied.

"I was actually considering increasing Mercantilism, but this will have to do." Five sneered bitterly at his newest warder. "After they replace you in a day or two, will they bring in another costumed fool? Maybe an Elvis impersonator or something?" Desperate and scared, Five fought back with all that was left, hoping to crack the calm and superior veneer of the Prince.

It managed to work, and gave Five at least a small victory. The Prince glowered at him from the monitor. "I'd be more concerned about your own possible replacement Five. You've got some deep water to get our nation out of, and if you fail I'll see you before me whimpering! Whimpering!" With that, The Prince broke the connection, leaving a black screen.

Five turned his attention back to the main monitor. The settings actually were what he would have gone with, and he found that troubling. If they knew that much about his style of play, why did they actually need him physically present? Was a deeper game afoot here?

Suppressing his concerns, Five began thinking strategy. Trying to stand or die in Orleans would turn his forces into a speed bump for England, so immediate evacuation would be necessary. Once in the field he could pick off weaker English and Burgundian detachments with his limited but concentrated strength. He selected the Army of Orleans and clicked on Champagne. Another monitor sprang to life, displaying a birds eye view of a force of pikemen, crossbows, and knights preparing to march from the city gates. The ancient warriors were frozen in place like terra cotta soldiers. The game was still on pause, after all.

Five turned the game time to One Minute = Four months. Day and night slid by rapidly on the monitor, with his soldiers alternating between marching and making camp, all seen from directly above.

Five turned his attention away from the smaller monitor to the main screen. England had indeed begun a siege on Orleans. "Once more into the breach." thought Five bitterly. Another small monitor sprang to life, displaying the progress of the siege. With day and night now rapidly blinking by on two screens Five wondered if he might have an undiagnosed epileptic condition that might reveal itself just now. With the luck he'd had recently, it couldn't be ruled out.

The third monitor awakened, and it was the Prince again. "Deserting your own people to the privations of the enemy, Five?" The smug superiority was back in force. "I certainly hope you know what you're doing." Before Five could reply, the screen turned itself off again.

Five directed his forces into Caux to the North, where they collided with Burgundy. A four day battle passed in the blink of an eye on one of the small monitors. Orleans emerged victorious.

The army had to stay mobile and pick its shots. That was the crux of Five's strategy. Moving out of Caux and into Normandie, a small detachment of English soldiers fell to the might of Orleans' Chivalry. "If only they had me at Agincourt," muttered Five bitterly, planning the next move. He decided to hold in Normandie and cut off English reinforcement. His force had been reduced by earlier battles, but it was still fairly the strong. "The fewer men the greater share of honor," thought Five as another battle with an English detachment began. The concentrated Army of Orleans acquitted itself well.

Five repeated his offer of White Peace with England, and they accepted! He'd survived the initial challenge. He fell back in the comfortable office chair, sweating heavily. A click of a button on the chair's arm summoned a man in a renaissance hat to the third monitor.

"I am at your service, M'lord." The servant bowed on the monitor.

"I need Beer, and lots of it." The monitor cut off, and Five breathed deeply, trying to plan his next moves.

The servant arrived with a large mug and several bottles of Paulaner. It was Five's favorite brand, one that he had not specified.

"Orleans forever!" Tapping his chest and bowing deeply, the servant took his leave.

"Orleans forever," muttered Five. He filled the mug and began eagerly gulping down the wheat beer. He hadn't realized how parched he'd become.

Five finished 1419 by canceling the vassalization with France and then entering a royal marriage with them. As the year ended, the Prince again appeared on one of the smaller monitors.

"A very satisfactory start, Five. We expect far more in the coming day, however. Far more." The Prince sipped from a chalice. "For now, however, we are pleased. Return to your home here for the night. Tomorrow you can spend some time getting to know your new home. Orleans Forever." The monitor turned itself off, as did the main monitor. The door of the room opened, and the servant appeared.

"Follow me, M'lord." Five emptied the mug and wearily followed the servant from the command room.

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Next: Who Hunts the Hunter?

Where am I and what game year is it?

Orleans, France. 1420.

What do you want?

We want annexation...annexation!

You won't get it!

If we have to run our bad boy points through the roof...we will!

Who are you?

The new Prince of Orleans.

Who is the King?

YOU are the fifth Baron.

I am not a numbered nobleman who gets laughed at for asserting his freedom!

Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!!!!!

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Chapter 4: Who Hunts the Hunter?

"You're new here, aren't you?" A sad eyed old man gestured Five behind a hedge in the park.

"Who wants to know?" Five was completing his first complete walk around the park since his arrival. He'd resume the game in the afternoon.

"They call me the ninth Doge." The old man frowned, digging the wrinkles deeper into his world-weary visage. "I can help you a little...I've been here for over a year now. I've seen plenty of other prisoners come and go...and not one of us ever committed a crime!"

"I could use some help, in all honesty." Five considered the message thoughtfully. "Why were you brought here?"

"I did a world conquest as Tibet by 1460. I tried to tell them I cheated, but they wouldn't listen! Then the tortures began..." The elderly "Doge's" body quivered and his sad eyes began to water. "They have ways to break you...they thought they had finished with me, but I've got nothing to lose at this point so I'm going to rebel and try to help their newest victim."

Five tried to use his b.s. detector to access the message, but there was so much background noise in this surreal environment that it was impossible. "Go on, I'm listening."

"You have to know something about the game, the reality of it. It's the main way they break you, you see. What they do..."

"That will be quite enough, Nine!" Yet another TV monitor rose out of the grass of the park. The new Prince, a man dressed as Sir Walter Raleigh, dominated the unexpected video screen. "We mustn't have your illness catch to our new recruit. He's got all kinds of potential you know."

The prince tipped his hat as the monitor blinked off. Three burly servants dragged off the Doge, who was struggling pitifully. "Keep resisting Five!" he managed to gasp it out, even as one of the servants jammed a syringe into his neck.

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Five wanted to resist but still didn't see how he could. "Bide my time, just like in the game," he thought, even as he did just that on the main monitor.

Seven years slid by in the session, with Orleans becoming the eye in the storm of the One Hundred Years War. Five focused on reforming the army and attending to economic and diplomatic issues.

First, the royal marriages. Castile, Portugal, Navarra, Scotland, Eire, Gelre, Moscowy, Pskov, Tver, and Brittany all became bonded by blood and awkward and loveless arranged marriages to Orleans. "At least our diplomats are busy...even if one in every fifty arranged marriage ends in divorce." Five ordered merchants to Paris, and the monitors showed the progress of the caravans.

After concluding several trade agreements, the merchants began to trade effectively in the embattled future capital of France. Meanwhile, the steady recruitment of Cavaliers was shoring up the army for the next round of wars. With Orleans leaving the French alliance, there were now several options, but all looked to be disastrous for the moment. Patience was now the watchword.

At the end of 1427 the main monitor announced a "Great Royal Hunt" which prompted the game to pause, and then exit. The new Prince appeared on one of the smaller monitors.

"A rather bland play session, Five, so let's get you some recreation. We're going on the Hunt! Let's just get you ready."

Even as the monitor disappeared into the floor, green gas began seeping out of Five's keyboard. "Oh, come on now!" was all he could say before he collapsed unconscious yet again.

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"Don't worry, Five, your horse knows what it's doing!" The Prince, looking dashing as ever in the saddle of a white stallion, shouted at Five as he hurtled forward through a deep forest.

Five had awoken in the saddle, and now found himself surrounded by garishly dressed "nobles" and the Prince, riding forward at a rapid pace, holding on to the reigns with white knuckles. Fortunately, the horse DID seem to know what it was doing.

Flying into a clearing, Five spotted the quarry, cornered against a small rock outcropping, shaking with fear. It was a human being. Five felt cold sweat running down his body as the horses slowed to a trot. It was the Doge. The horses formed a ring all around the elderly faux-Venetian.

"Well, it looks like it was a shorter hunt than I'd hoped for. Not much of a sport at all, eh, Five?" The Prince smiled at Five, even as he removed a wheellock pistol from his belt.

"How rude of me. I should really give our guest the first shot." The Prince smiled at Five, who stared back in stunned horror.

"A little gun-shy Five? Well, I suppose it is only your first hunt." The Prince leveled the archaic pistol at the Doge and pulled the trigger. The Old Man fell, clutching his stomach. Then the other colorfully clad noblemen began firing, even as the Doge collapsed.

The shock finally wore off, and Five swung down from his horse and ran toward the motionless body. He had no idea what he was trying to accomplish by this, but was also not in a right mind, for obvious reasons. After a short run he reached the body. Looking down he saw several gaping holes in the torso, no blood...and ruined circuitry within. Sparks jumped from the mangled robotic components.

Five turned and was facing his horse. The horse's mouth opened, and out poured gas, bright blue this time. Five sighed and prepared to take another break from consciousness.

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When Five awoke, he was back in the command room. The Prince appeared on one of the smaller monitors. "Well, I hope the fresh air and light exercise did you good, Five. Now, you've got some work to do for our great nation! Orleans forever!" The image winked out.

Sighing and feeling completely numb, Five returned to the task of leading Orleans.

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Next: Bend or Break

Where am I and what game year is it?

Orleans, France. 1428.

What do you want?

We want world domination.

You won't get it!

If we have to use every exploit and dirty trick in the book...we will.

Who are you?

The new Prince of Orleans.

Who is the King?

YOU are the fifth Baron. Besides, it's a little early in the AAR for the "big letdown" ending, isn't it?

On point two, yes. On the first point, I have to disagree and assert that I'm a free man.

I'm glad we agree on the second point. As for the other: Hahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!!!!

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Chapter 5: Bend or Break

"Congratulations on another beautiful day in the Citadel! There will be a demonstration of traditional French Savate in the blue gymnasium at two o'clock today. The Society For the Preservation of the Chivalric Tradition will be holding a formal dinner tonight at nine..."

A cheerful female voice blaring from unseen speakers woke Five from a dreamless sleep. Cursing, Five pulled his pillow over his head, trying to drown out the sickly sweet voice.

"...is strictly optional. Remember, get out today and enjoy life...because life is for living! We now begin today's musical program." A synthesized version of Falalalon became booming from the hidden speaker. Fists clenched in rage, Five began searching for the source of the sound.

After a few moments he located the speaker system underneath his desk. With sudden ferocity he yanked the speaker from the wall the threw it to the floor. Three hard stomps of his slippered feet turned it to electronic mush.

"You won't break me!" He screamed it at his unseen observers. "You might as well give up!"

"Oh, but we never give up, Five." A man dressed as Magellan appeared on Five's computer monitor, which had somehow turned itself on.

"I hope you'll save some of that aggression for the game. Speaking of which, you'd best be getting to the command room, no?" The Prince smiled as the computer turned itself off.

Five stumbled into his shower. It was going to be a long day in the Citadel.

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Five eased back into the game, trying to get as much of a feel for the situation as possible. Two trade agreements were concluded in 1428, and the next year saw an advance in land technology. It was time to shop for allies and pick a fight.

As luck would have it, France, Auvergne, Bourbonnais, Scotland and Lorraine politely asked Orleans if they'd like to be the sixth in the unwieldly alliance. Five agreed to the offer...he was too weak to survive a war without a few powerful friends, and maybe he'd get some lucky war declarations.

"It's better to make your own luck." Five muttered to himself as he watched the training of the newest knights of Orleans being finished on one of the smaller monitors. He was now ready to pick a fight. Clicking on Burgundy, he declared a Just War against the treacherous Burgundians.

The alliance of six promptly disintegrated. Auvergne, Bourbonnais, and Lorraine caught a bad case of the cowardice, leaving Orleans, France, and Scotland in a war against Burgundy and England. The Hundred Years War was flaring up once again, but Five hoped that the balance of power had now shifted.

His Chevaliers immediately proved their mettle by defeating England in Normandie and laying siege. Meanwhile, a massive Burgundian force besieged Orleans. It was all in the balance, now.

"Again our citizens must suffer. You disappoint me, Five." The Prince appeared on the monitor. "I have to question your decision to abandon our beloved capital."

Five glared at the Prince. "I know what I'm doing."

"Of course you do. I'll just leave you to it." Five sighed and returned to the main monitor. There was no way he could lift the siege of Orleans with his current forces. This was going to be it.

On August 30th of 1430 Orleans fell to Burgundy. "I had a good run, I suppose," thought Five. "I wonder what they'll do to me now."

To his shock a Burgundian offer for a white peace appeared on the monitor. Five felt light-headed as he accepted the terms. He paused the game and went to the curtains. Looking down he saw that much of the city of Orleans was burning or ruined. He also saw the Burgundian army marching out the gates under a flag of truce, frozen in their step. Why hadn't they annexed Orleans when they had the chance? It made no sense. No sense.

Betrayed by the inexplicable actions of the traitorous Burgundians, England was left with a two-front war. In 1431 Normandie fell, and several months later Caux was also taken by Orleans. England offered Normandie to Orleans for peace, and the offer was quickly accepted. Orleans was back from the brink.

"Well played Five! Now we're making progress!" The game paused and shut down, and The Prince appeared again, this time on the main monitor.

"Why weren't we annexed?" Five sipped beer, completely spent and confused.

"We share the same true faith as Burgundy, Five." The Prince smiled disingenuously. "They didn't want to offend the Catholic world. They're trying to be good little boys and girls."

"It doesn't make any sense! You must have done something!" Five was upset at his success, because he was sure it was unearned.

"All according to Hoyle, Five. Nothing up my sleeves." The Prince laughed. "You can't underestimate the power of faith in this world. It can make men act irrationally at times."

"Like getting involved in a native quarrel in the Philippines and dying on a spear point?" Five sneered at "Magellan."

"Haha. That's one example, I suppose. Others could be added to the list, of course. For now, though, you may take your leave. Once again, well played." The Prince gave the customary salute as the screen blinked off. "Orleans forever."

Five made his way to the door of the command room, which was already opening on its own.

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OOC Commentary: This was the point where the game "got serious" for me and I started to realize I might be successful as Orleans and even have something worth writing about. I'd made the first real step.

The "non-annexation" happened exactly as told, and I found it baffling at the time, too. I can't imagine why Burgundy didn't "pull the trigger" when they had the chance. Maybe they were in dire straits against France, mitigating things? Maybe the Burgundy AI is set-up to not expand? Even The Prince's explanation is possible, I suppose. I still don't really understand why I got that break, though. I do know that it allowed a very interesting game to continue.

Next: We Want Annexation

Thanks for the kind words everyone. The next installment is coming soon with a remote-hosted screen shot and everything!

Storey: The first time I played Orleans I got annexed by England in record time. Also the second...and the third...I finally realized that mobility is a must in the first war. Orleans is definitely a frequent victim of annexation which made Burgundy's odd behavior even more baffling. All I could do was accept it, though. Glad you're enjoying the story!

Lord Durham: Thanks for the praise! I only hope I can keep the story moving forward without bringing in the killer beach ball or that customized car.

SteinerDaMan: The show is well worth checking out if you ever get the chance, check your 3 am listings. Here's a link with some good information. Retroweb: The Prisoner. Thanks for stopping in and checking out my AAR, too!

Jarlen av Juks: I've been trying to make it pretty surreal and ambiguous, so I'm glad you mentioned that! I've also been trying to find a balance between comedy and drama...I want the mood to be rather light in between the harrowing psychological tortures. There's certainly a lot of in-jokes that reference the series, but i'm hoping it can hold up on its own, too. The show actually aired in 1965 if memory serves, and is something of a cult classic. I appreciate the input!

I'll have the next post soon. Orleans forever...Be seeing you!

Where am I and what game year is it?

Orleans, France. 1432.

What do you want?

A world map that's entirely gray, except for the water, of course.

You won't get it!

By turbo-annexing or diplo-annexing...we will.

Who are you?

The new Prince of Orleans.

Who is the King?

YOU are the fifth Baron.

Can I assert my freedom without getting laughed at?

No.

I don't care...I'm not an intermediate numbered noble, I'm a free man!

Hahahahahahahahahahahaha!!!!!

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Chapter 6: We Want Annexation

Five laying on his back near one of the small ponds in the park area, gazing up at the sky. A casual observer would assume he was simply relaxing, but the truth was his mind was racing with thoughts of escape and rebellion. Racing, but not getting anywhere.

"Good day, friend!" One of his fellow citizens stared down at Five. He was dressed as a renaissance merchant, but didn't seem to be selling anything.

"It is. That's what has me thinking." Five stared up at the azure sky over the park pensively, as if on the verge of a major breakthrough.

"Of course, every day in the Citadel is a great one. We're very lucky to be here. Just ask anybody." The merchant tried to make eye contact, but Five was looking directly up.

"Something on your mind? You shouldn't burden yourself, not here." Five finally turned his eyes to the fellow, noting a middle aged man who looked like he'd done most of his aging very recently.

"The days pass as normal in here, but outside I've seen night and day flash by...it doesn't make sense." Five turned his eyes back upward.

The other man suddenly became very nervous. "Tha...that's not a healthy thing to be thinking. They might think you are sick, even. You don't want that!" With out further comment Five's visitor ran off as though being chased by some invisible pursuer.

Five sighed and closed his eyes. A little relaxation couldn't hurt, he decided.

"The Fifth Baron is requested to report to the command room. Repeat, the Fifth Baron..." The sickly sweet female voice sounded throughout the park. Feeling weak, Five left his musing to report.

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"It's not enough to simply survive, Five." The new Prince, dressed as Henry VIII, gave what might have passed for an inspirational talk under different circumstances. "We need to expand or the larger powers will run us down." The Prince set a hand on his ample stomach. "and we wouldn't want that. Orleans forever!" The main monitor changed to the game screen.

Several years passed quickly as Five continued to strengthen the army and economy of Orleans. In 1437 his alliance with France and Auvergne drew Orleans into a war with Portugal and Castille.

"They should look at a map before starting wars," Five thought to himself as he moved his forces into to Normandie to check a possible landing. In 1440 his forces defeated just such a landing from Portugal.

It was obvious that the current war would end inconclusively and not benefit Orleans in any tangible fashion. He would need to pick a fight elsewhere. Brittany had been reduced to one province by France and was only aligned with distant Mantua. The candidate had been chosen. "Hit me baby, one more time," muttered Five, allowing himself a small smile as he declared war on Brittany. Mantua promptly dishonored the alliance, sealing the fate of the French minor. Five opted not to draw in his own alliance. This was a private party.

A quick defeat of Brittany's forces led to a siege of Morbihan in 1442. 75 ducats gone ended the war with Portugal, and by the end of the year Brittany faded into history, annexed by
Orleans.

"One down, about One hundred and change to go." Five slumped back into his chair relaxing a little as the session ended in 1444, with his royal marriage with France ending.

"A small victory, Five, but there is a lot more to be done." The Prince reappeared on the main monitor, chewing on a leg of lamb as he spoke. "Much more, Five, much more." Particles of food sprayed from the Prince's mouth.

Five glared at the Prince. "Are you still offering my freedom when I win as Orleans?"

The Prince's fat face contorted in malice. "You haven't won anything yet, Five!" The monitor blinked off.

Five opened a beer, took one sip and immediately recognized the feeling of being overwhelmed by knock-out drugs. He'd become intimately familiar with that feeling in his short stay at the Citadel. "Ooooorrrlllleeeennnnnsssss Forevvvaaaa." He slurred as he collapsed from the chair, darkness rapidly falling.

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As promised, here's the firstscreen shot!

Next: A Brush with Greatness

Where am I and what game year is it?

Orleans, France. 1445.

What do you want?

We want world coloration...coloration.

You won't get it!

If we have to send a million colonists...we will!

Who are you?

The new Prince of Orleans.

Who is the king?

YOU are the fifth baron.

No I'm not! I'm a free man!

I find that idea laughable. Er, I mean, hahahahahahahahahahahaha!!!!

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Chapter 7: A Brush with Greatness

Five fell back, barely blocking a high kick aimed at his jaw. His hulking adversary rushed forward to continue the attack. Checking a low kick, Five came back with a solid jab against his bullish foe. Although he was giving up size and power, his quickness and instincts were compensating. "Like riding a bike," he thought as he barely dodged another head kick.

Five had joined the Citadel Savate Society at the urging of the new Prince. He had done some American kickboxing when he was a few years younger, and he was pleased to see the skills he had were still present and transferred into savate fighting, even if he did still feel awkward wearing the traditional kicking shoes. The chance to assert himself physically was also quite welcome.

A hard kick to his opponent's thigh staggered the larger man, and Five followed it up with a beautifully executed roundhouse kick to his bald head. The impact sent his foe crashing to the canvas.

"That will do for now. Very impressive, Five." The head of the society, a thin man with pronounced Gallic features, stepped between the ropes, as Five helped his training partner off the canvas. The head of the society was the fourth Viscount and Five's opponent was known as the ninth Chevalier.

"Perhaps you'll make the team for this year's tournament, if you can keep it up." Five took a water bottle from the "Viscount" starting to feel the bruises he'd received as the adrenalin of the fight slowly drained away, leaving only pain and exhaustion. Five took one sip of water and felt the gym begin to slowly spin. Five collapsed into a drug-induced sleep.

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"Good to see you as always, Five." The new Prince, a somewhat convincing Phillip II impersonator, smiled down at Five.

"What do you want!" Five slowly rose from the stone floor. He was back in the central dome. His eyes fixated on the stained glass windows and he felt himself struggle to keep his balance.

"Over here, Five!" The new Prince clapped his hands together. With some difficulty, Five turned to face his warder.

"Just a small favor, Five, if you could indulge me just a little. There is going to be an art contest tomorrow. Some of our citizens will be showing off their artistic ingenuity, and I was wondering if you'd help me judge the competition." The Prince smiled placidly.

"That sounds just delightful. It's times like this I don't even mind losing my freedom and being treated like an animal!" Five was again focused, and seething mad.

"I'm glad you see it my way. You can show yourself out." Without further comment, the Prince and his throne disappeared into the floor, leaving Five alone in the "cathedral."

"You won't win! I know you can hear me! Try whatever you want! It won't work!" Five screamed at the high ceiling, his heart hammering in his chest.

With impotent rage he stomped the spot of floor that the Prince had disappeared under. Finally, his anger subsided under yet another wave of exhaustion. Five fell to his hands and knees, breathing in painful gasps. The stone was cold beneath his quivering fingers. The saints and an icon of Christ silently watched.

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Several hours later, Five was finishing another session in the command room. After the initial successes, he wanted to consolidate the gains and built a strong economic foundation for future campaigns. The years passed quickly as he concentrated on trade agreements and royal marriages.

With the expiration of his current Alliance in 1456, Five began to shop for new allies. Remaining aligned with neighboring countries who were now in his sights for conquest seemed like a poor idea, but he still needed some powerful friends to check France and England. An alliance with Denmark, Sweden, and Norway in 1458 fit that bill.

Unfortunately, the alliance quickly dissolved as Norway split from the entente and sided with Novgorod against Denmark, Sweden, and a very reluctant Orleans. At least this war would be fought far away, but it was still a bother, especially with Orleans starting to acquire wealth from trade.

The crowning moment of the years of relative peace and stability came in 1462 when Orleans completed a Fine Arts Academy. With the added yearly income and successful trade in Paris and Venice, Orleans was becoming strong enough to consider risking an offensive war.

A lucky break intervened. Five smiled as the herald on the main screen announced the latest war. France was alone in a war against Auvergne, Austria, Helvetia, Genoa, Hungary, and England. With no allies to come to its defense and a multitude of enemies swarming its border, France was begging for the knife in the back.

Before Five could take action, however, the screen changed, signaling the end of the session. The Prince smiled from the main monitor. "It's time to see the art, Five."

One of the servants motioned Five to the door of the command room. "No gas this time? Were there some budget cutbacks?" Five sneered at the servant who stared back at him blankly. "Forget it. Orleans Forever!" Five saluted the blank monitors as the heavy doors slowly closed behind him.

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"They are all pretty good." Five smiled scornfully at the Prince. An entire ball room a few floors below the command room had been filled with examples of "citizen creativity." Dozens of crude paintings and sculptures, all of them depicting the current Prince, covered the spacious floor. The proud artists stood near their work, smiling joyless smiles and staring forward blankly as Five and the Prince made their way through the exhibition.

"Look at the use of color, Five!" The Prince gestured expansively toward a crude watercolor portrait. The flag of Orleans provided the background for the picture.

"It's very nice. Makes me proud to be a citizen here." Five muttered it in a monotone, eager to exit this bizarre exhibition. Time seemed to drag as Five was guided past the uninspired artistic efforts.

After a seeming eternity, Five and the Prince arrived in the far corner of the room, in front of a marble bust that didn't have a bleary eyed artist standing near it like the other works. It was also fundamentally different in an additional way. It was a perfect likeness of Five, expertly done.

"I think we have a winner!" The Prince gestured broadly toward the sculpture. Five stared at his own visage, cut into stone. Even the defiant expression was perfectly realized.

"Who's the artist?" Five looked distrustfully at the beaming Prince.

"That's a good question, Five. There's sure to be a mark on it, I would think. Take a closer look, Five."

Five carefully leaned toward the stone tribute to him. As he carefully handled the bust, dark purple gas began seeping out of the nostrils. The bust slipped from Five's hands and shattered into pieces on the floor. Shortly, Five joined it. The Prince smiled down at Five, the very face of smug satisfaction. "Orleans forever, Five!"

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When Five awoke he was strapped to a table. All he could see was a flag of Orleans, positioned directly over him, inches from his nose. A cheerful female voice blared through headphones in both his ears. "Your community needs you! Remember, you have a responsibility..."

Five noticed the colors of the flag seemed to be going from light to dark and back as he stared upward. More drugs. His arms and legs struggled weakly in restraints. He set his jaw, closed his eyes tight, and began screaming. It was going to be a long night.

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Next: An American Orleans in Paris