That is pretty good; do you think the decision would carry over to vanilla very effectively?
-
We have updated our Community Code of Conduct. Please read through the new rules for the forum that are an integral part of Paradox Interactive’s User Agreement.
That is pretty good; do you think the decision would carry over to vanilla very effectively?
Chapter 42, part 2: Victory for some, defeat for others
21 July 1672, Madrid, Castille
As his men cheered, Chief of the General Staff Vittorio di Medici took a moment to retire to his tent, finding his Colonel already waiting.
"Alessandre! This is something of a surprise; I'd heard you were to be transferred back to Rome."
"Good afternoon, General. No, Marshal Contadino changed his mind. I should warn you, sir, there are some very serious rumblings back home."
Vittorio frowned. "Oh? About whom?"
"Field Marshal della Torre. The Emperor has been screaming about the casualties suffered in the war and is questioning why staff officers are in the field while field officers are, and I quote, 'Cowering behind their desks.'"
"That's very harsh. Carlo is certainly no coward, just very patient. However, I must admit that I too am a bit concerned about his absence. We have two Generals in the field; myself and Doria-Landi. We really need somebody to take the fight to Austria; Doria-Landi is a genius at sieging fortresses, but the Austrian army is still a threat."
Alessandre nodded. "At least it's a good bit smaller. Here are the battle reports for you to examine, sir."
"Very good."
"Thank you, Colonel. How do our diplomats fare?"
Alessandre consulted his notes. "Both Portugal and Gotland have signed white peaces. I think Castille's friends realize they bet on the wrong horse, so to speak. I wouldn't be surprised to hear Castille itself begging for peace, with your great victories."
The General chuckled. "You're very kind, and I am quite pleased with that battle. This most recent victory wasn't so decisive; de Mendoza may be outnumbered and have inferior weapons, but he does not lack for courage."
Tullius Cicero nodded. "Oh, and one more thing. Our spies indicate Austria will be the next Damned German Emperor; Savoy has lost all credibility."
"That makes sense. The only other real candidate is Bohemia, and they are probably not eager to face Italian steel."
Vittorio laughed and thumped his Colonel on the back. "Who is, Alessandre? Who is?"
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
29 September 1672, Sopron, Austria
Marshal Contadino surveyed the carnage with a heavy heart. Austria had become a bloody mess, completely devoid of leadership. Leopold Steiger continued to show tremendous skill, and with Professor Doria-Landi tasked with taking Austrian cities, "victories" like the Battle of Slavonia were happening at a frightening rate.
It had taken most of his influence with the Emperor to save the ex-Field Marshal from execution; instead, he was imprisoned in Rome. Although the Emperor was, in a sense, unfairly critical of the Field Marshal, Carlo's absence in the field was worrisome. The lack of Generals was so apparent that a mere Commander had negotiated the surrender of Transylvania.
The one bright spot in Austria was Alessandre Tullius Cicero. Although still nominally a Colonel under Doria-Landi's overall command, he'd won a brilliant victory against General Steiger.
However, the Colonel couldn't be everywhere at once, and a foolish Commander's decision to try a cavalry charge in the fact of superior odds had predictable results.
As Jacopo's staff began compiling lists of casualties, the Marshal asked himself who could replace della Torre as Field Marshal. The safest choice, at least as far as relations with the Emperor were concerned, was probably Sforza Maria di Farnese, the Emperor's cousin and Commandant of the Germanicus Academy. However, di Farnese was a mediocre field commander at best. If not for his name, he'd probably still be a Commander. Doria-Landi was inexperienced, but certainly smart enough to fill the post. Antonio della Ubaldini was still on the outs with the Emperor. The Marshal's first choice was, of course, Vittorio di Medici, but then the question became, who would be his new Chief of the General Staff? He'd need a loyal staff officer, somebody who wouldn't run off at the first sounds of battle.
All of a sudden, the Marshal smiled. di Medici was going to get his promotion. His choice for Chief of the General Staff would be an unconventional one, but he was one of the brightest young officers in the entire Empire. He made preparations to return to Rome to tell the Emperor.
At least one man would benefit from this war.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
5 November 1672, Vienna, Austria
Emperor Peter I smiled one of his now-infamous wide grins. It was the kind of grin that meant he was going to get some sort of satisfaction. He looked at his newest General, Tullius Cicero, and felt pride. Nobility still meant something, at least to some people, and it shone through in the former Colonel's superior performance.
Alessandre had already quickly avenged the lost legion at the Second Battle of Sopron, while di Medici's best Commanders routed an entire Castillian army.
However, the greatest victory of the war so far was the new General's glorious success at the Battle of Vienna.
"Marshal, you have found yourself quite a leader here."
Jacopo took the compliment with the grace years of putting up with the increasingly unstable Emperor gave. "Thank you, sir. The credit really belongs to --"
The Emperor waved him off. "Yes, yes, enough of your false humility. How is your new Chief of the General Staff working out? When you mentioned de Ruyter's name to me, I was quite skeptical."
"I know he's a naval officer by training, but a staff officer is a staff officer, and he's already made the legions at least twice as efficient with some brilliant personnel moves. I think he'll go far, your Imperial Majesty."
"Excellent! And what of your Brutus?"
Jacopo's face darkened. "Still no sign, Emperor. I've heard rumors he was able to slip out of Switzerland into Burgundy, but where he is now I have no idea."
"I promise you, Marshal, I will devote every spare man to tracking him down."
"Thank you, sir. That means a lot to me."
"What of Maurizio?"
That changed Jacopo's expression. "I swear, that lad knows at least twice as much as I do, and he's still barely a man!"
Peter chuckled. "Glad to hear it. We must keep an eye on our loved ones, my friend."
"Of course, sir. And how is the Prince doing?"
The Emperor sighed. "Francesco is... difficult. He's no fool -- no son of mine could be -- but I'm worried about his priorities. He likes watching games of chance and spending time with... the lower sorts."
"Why don't you talk to him about it?"
The Emperor closed his eyes for a moment. "He looks so much like his mother that I can barely stand to see him. In truth, I have considered sending him away to a foreign school."
The Marshal nodded. "That may be for the best, Emperor. I hear many of them are excellent."
"Perhaps you're right." The Emperor smiled for just a moment. "It is good to have somebody I can take into confidence. Apart from you, my brother, and my cousin, I sometimes feel lost."
"We are all happy to serve."
As the Emperor and the Marshal talked, a young Lieutenant tapped the Marshal on the shoulder. "Marshal, we've done a thorough search of the palace; he isn't here."
Before Jacopo could answer, Peter interrupted. "The King has fled?"
"Yes, s-sir. We've checked three times." The Lieutenant winced, fearing the Emperor's legendary temper.
"That's quite a shame, but there's naught to be done for it."
"H-he did l-leave you something."
"Then let's have it, son. Quickly now."
The Emperor opened the note, and as he scanned his hands turned white.
To the invader:
You are twice as bloody and half as noble as the Romans ever were, even in the darkest of hours. You murdered the King of France in cold blood and even had your own advisor assassinated. You are filth and unworthy to bear the same name as your departed father. You probably even arranged the death of your own wife, since she couldn't bear to look at you, and crippled your brother. You are a maniac and a psychopath. I hope your people see sense and depose you before you can do any more harm to the di Farnese line. Even Caligula was sane compared to you!
Wordlessly Peter handed the note back to the boy and signaled for the guards watching the prisoners. At a mere gesture from the Emperor, who watched on with grim satisfaction, the entire Vienna garrison was executed. When a guard hesitated for just a moment, Peter announced in the flattest of monotones, "Any guard failing to do his duty shall take his prisoner's place." That ended the hesitation.
After a few moments of staring at the grisly scene, the Emperor turned to the Marshal. "Let us return to Rome; order General Tullius Cicero to burn this city to the ground, if he must, to ensure a timely surrender."
All the Marshal could do was salute. It was all anybody could do.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3 November 1673, Palazzo di Farnese, outskirts of Rome
It should have been a day of celebration. Italy had subjugated Tirol and Cologne had sued for peace on Austria's behalf. The Emperor of Austria had refused to even speak to Peter, which in the eyes of many seemed a reasonable decision on account of the Massacre at Vienna.
Constantijn de Ruyter, as Chief of the General Staff, was ordered to attend this macabre spectacle, as were Field Marshal di Medici and General Tullius Cicero.
It just wasn't fair. Both men had won multiple victories in their respective theaters. The Field Marshal had won major battles at Toledo, Murcia, and La Mancha, destroying the remnants of Castille's army, and Alessandre had won at Krain and Gorz, capturing the legendary general Steiger at the Second Battle of Slavonia. de Ruyter had negotiated Tirol's surrender, and the formerly independent Alpine nation swore allegiance to Italy, as well as embracing the Lutheran faith.
Unfortunately, when Cologne offered its own peace offer -- the entire treasury, 8 ducats -- Deputy Foreign Minister Lan Zhu had made the terrible mistake of accepting. Austria had gotten off almost entirely without punishment. That did not sit well with the Emperor, who had ordered the execution of three men to demonstrate his will. Worse, the Emperor was going to perform them himself.
The first man, the Austrian Leopold Steiger, met his maker as befit a soldier. The Spanish King's youngest son, captured at La Mancha, was less resolute, whimpering and crying as the Emperor reloaded his pistol without the least trace of emotion. Soon, he too had paid the ultimate price for defying Peter I. That only left one victim.
The third victim, however, was well known to almost everybody present.
As the third and final shot was fired, Duke Carlo Emmanuel di Ferrari fell to the dirt, dead. A man hired shortly after the Emperor's birth was killed by that same Emperor. Peter returned his pistol to the holster at his waist, then left.
There was complete silence.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
4 March 1674, Castle St. Maso, Rome
Peter I looked over the crowd, most cheerful but some unwilling to look him in the eye. With a self-satisfied smile, he waved.
"People of the Empire of Italy, I am pleased to announce that the King of Castille has accepted our surrender! North Africa once again belongs to the heirs of Rome!"
"I know these years have been hard on many of you. Some of you doubtless feel that some of the more harsh measures I have enacted are unnecessary. Because we live in the Empire of Italy, you are free to do so. But you are mistaken, my friends.
"We remain at war with Morocco, who cowardly attacked us without provocation. We have few allies, although we have recently improved relations with Muscovy. The Tsar has even asked our mighty Empire to find his daughter a suitable bride. We wish our friends in Muscovy the very best, as we always have, and always will. Our only true allies are those who have sworn allegiance to the Empire of Italy. Countries around the world look down their noses at us, call us barbarians, call us warmongers. And do you know what I say to them?"
After a pause for dramatic effect, he continued. "I say, you are right! Italians do not shy away from sacrifice, we embrace it. We do not fear war, we unleash it upon those who do not recognize our greatness. To the nations of Europe, to those who call your Emperor a bloodthirsty tyrant, I have only one thing to say.
"I am no tyrant; the people of Italy are solidly behind me. If we thirst for blood, it is because it is our birthright! The Roman Empire shall be reborn, on the bodies of those who oppose us, if it must! We shall claim the glory that was once ours, and expand it a thousandfold! We are many, you are few. We are clever, you are fools. We are industrious, you are lazy. We are conquerors, you are cowards! Death to the enemies of Rome! Death to the heretics of Europe! GLORY TO THE EMPIRE!"
While many in the crowd cheer enthusiastically, five men, in different places throughout the city, were worried. Their once willing agent, Sforza Maria, had abandoned the Society in exchange for fame and glory.
The Society of Cincinnatus had lost its Elder. A new member had chosen, and the Society continued as it always had. Yet one of their number was perhaps more concerned than any other. He wasn't just concerned about the new and more aggressive tactic the Emperor had chosen, or his inflammatory speech.
He was afraid that his brother had completely lost his mind.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I think it's about time for a new contest. As always, if you've already got a character in this AAR, please wait until others have had a chance to guess.
Who was the old Elder of the Society of Cincinnatus?
Winner gets to create a new character; at this point, I am happy to accept any character from any background (although I would ask that we not have another naval officer).
for all the wrong reasons, I rather like Peter ... its not so much Caligula he's channelling as Genghiz Khan et al, its hard to read him as conventionally insane, it all too coldly deliberate
.png){kind=avatar}
Charge of the Light Brigade anyone?
also, calling Caliluga sane to someone else is probably the biggest insult possible.
(good update though)
Hopefully the war exhaustion in Spain will lower their legitimacy enough to claim their throne.
That's a really good comparison, and I do kind of envision him that way.
Good guess, but I didn't make it that easy!
Thanks for the kind words! It must be because I'm an American (although oddly enough a northerner), but I was thinking Pickett's Charge
I should be so lucky.
I would think it's either Vittorio di Medici, Alex O'Connor or della Torre. By the way, it's my first post ever on the forums, and I must say, this AAR is THE BEST DAMN THING I'VE EVER READ! (all in CAPS, just to emphasize my excitement and love of this AAR ) hehe
) hehe
It's not unheard of for supreme rulers to exhibit a measure of psychopathic behavior, and being isolated while under pressure can make an already unstable person develope all sorts of mental quirks.
Just getting afraid now that he's lost his mind???
Day late and dollar short there I'm afraid.
This is the point in most EU games that the engine just can't simulate very well.
In real life, faced with such an enemy it would be time to dance with the devil to form a coalition to bring down the outlier. At any cost.
Day late and dollar short there I'm afraid.
This is the point in most EU games that the engine just can't simulate very well.
In real life, faced with such an enemy it would be time to dance with the devil to form a coalition to bring down the outlier. At any cost.
I would think it's either Vittorio di Medici, Alex O'Connor or della Torre. By the way, it's my first post ever on the forums, and I must say, this AAR is THE BEST DAMN THING I'VE EVER READ! (all in CAPS, just to emphasize my excitement and love of this AAR
And your first post is an excellent one! You win! It was Alex O'Connor. (Note: di Medici isn't dead, and della Torre is just in prison, for those keeping score at home.)
Indeed.
I happen to agree with you. However, some of them would also probably try to appease me, which should mean free land, so I think it all works out in the end
Rather than wait for age_of_empires to send me his character stuff, I'm just going to update now. I hope that's okay with everybody!
(Don't worry, though; I will introduce his new character in the subsequent update, whenever I get the PM )
Chapter 43: A solution is found
Early 1674, somewhere under Rome
The Elder of the Society of Cincinnatus turned to the other three members of the order. Although Alexander O'Connor had been dead for some time, the order had considerable difficulty finding a suitable fifth member, especially since the one man that Alex had asked to join had done so earlier; his will contained no new name, which broke the circle, temporarily. Normal activity was disrupted, and the predicament was a serious one.
How does a secret society recruit new members while still remaining secret?
They'd begun by considering some of the more successful agents of the society, but while many were loyal, none had the vision or pedigree necessary to join. Of those closest to the Emperor, the most useful had already joined. The others close to Peter either applauded his moves or were so afraid of him that any new recruit would almost immediately destroy the secrecy of the order. The order of five had only five rules; very simple, but absolutely sacrosanct and unbreakable.
1. No living member shall know the identity of another living member.
2. The Society's secrecy is paramount.
3. Only those of noble Italian birth are eligible to join.
4. All members identify a successor in their wills.
5. All must swear an oath to the rebirth of the Roman Empire.
The problem with rule #1, of course, was the current situation: what if, by sheer luck, two members of the order identified the same successor? That had never happened in the past, but that's what faced them now.
The Elder spoke first; his one and only privilege in the Society. "How do we recruit a new member without him knowing who we are?"
Number Three spoke up. "Perhaps a quest of some kind? If we place cards giving clues in strategic places, perhaps one will find us."
Number Two retorted, "How can we be sure only one will follow?"
The Elder appeared to weigh the solution, but all three looked at Number Four, who had been unusually silent. The Elder gently prodded him. "What do you think, Number Four?"
Number Four sighed. "There seems one option, but a terrible one we dare not consider."
The others were all curious, and again the Elder addressed him. "Brother, we must consider all alternatives."
"The only way a person could be recruited and not know who we are... is to kidnap a child. An infant. One so young that he could not possibly know us, and we four would raise him together, or perhaps place him in the care of a trusted associate."
Number Two was horrified. "That is barbaric! What kind of monster even thinks of that?"
Number Three, surprisingly, added, "I must agree with Number Two; that does seem extreme."
Number Four looked up at the Elder as he spoke. "Brothers, I merely suggest an option."
The Elder was especially troubled. "I... I do not know that I can agree to this. But I also do not know what else we could do."
Number Three raised the most relevant objection. "Won't we know who the child is?"
"We hire a thief to do the job, an assassin to kill the thief, and a mute woman to take care of the child."
While the other men looked uncomfortable, they nodded. The Elder proclaimed, "So shall it be done. Number Four, make the arrangements. And may God have mercy on our souls."
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
7 May 1674, Palazzo di Farnese, outskirts of Rome
Napoleone di Farnese, Chancellor of the Empire and still Heir to the Throne until Francesco reached his majority, had lived an interesting life and seen nearly everything. Except this.
He was getting married!
He wasn't sure whether it was loneliness or simply his loyalty to Peter, but when the Emperor demanded he marry the Tsar of Muscovy's oldest daughter, Yelena, Napoleone found he couldn't refuse as he had in the past.
However, when he did finally meet his future wife, all of his doubts melted away. It wasn't that she was beautiful in a conventional sense, but her gentle smile and kind eyes seemed to shine upon seeing Napoleone. Napoleone found himself so taken by her that he immediately knew that she was the one he had waited for all of those years, and she recognized it too.
Peter looked wistfully at the newly happy couple. He toasted the Tsar of Muscovy, who grinned. He'd seen it too. After the Tsar downed a shot of vodka, he waved the Emperor over.
"They look so happy, Emperor, your brother and my Yelena."
"That they do, my friend. I remember being so happy once myself."
The Tsar sobered for just a moment. "Da, as do I. It is a terrible thing to outlive one's wife."
Peter could only nod.
"Perhaps this shall cheer you up. I have a wedding present! One of my archivists found a Muscovite title to the nation of Montenegro, but I have no interest in the Balkans, so my archivist... 'altered'... the document in question."
Peter immediately perked up. "Thank you very much! It is a worthy present indeed! But aren't they your allies?"
The Tsar chuckled and winked mischievously. "All is fair in love and war, Peter. This qualifies as both."
They both toasted again, this time to a new vassal for the Empire of Italy.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3 December 1674, Montenegro
Two recently promoted men looked at one another as the King of Montenegro swore eternal fealty to Italy in some of the most nauseatingly praising words ever spoken in Latin.
Foreign Minister Lan Zhu was a Count; normally, the Foreign Minister was a Duke, but the Emperor felt so angry with di Ferrari that the last thing he wanted was a Duke as Foreign Minister again. Unlike his predecessor, Lan Zhu did not shirk important negotiations, and this certainly qualified.
Likewise, Constantijn de Ruyter had only earned his promotion at the expense of another, although Carlo Felice della Torre, the former Field Marshal, was simply under arrest, not dead. At least, he wasn't as far as the Dutchman knew. The new Chief of the General Staff had been a mere Captain a few days before.
Both felt an unspoken kinship. Each was a foreigner in a strange land, trying to fit in. Lan Zhu had been in the Empire for far longer, but it was a much more difficult adjustment for him than it had been for Constantijn, who after all, had learned Latin as a child like every educated person in Europe. The traditions of Holland and Italy were not nearly so different as Italy and Manchuria.
Although neither knew it, both also had unrequited love. Constantijn's love, a girl from Brabant named Anke, had refused to marry him as long as he was a mere commoner. Although he was no longer poor or a commoner, the girl's father had kept her from receiving his letters and gifts. Lan Zhu's beloved had been the very reason for his ejection from Manchuria. He had learned that she'd passed on while he worked in Italy, and had shown no interested in marrying, and so neither did he.
Both had also recently had success. Constantijn's plan to strike Ragusa and Montenegro at the same time was well regarded, and General Doria-Landi had executed his plan to perfection, routing the only force either side could muster in the Battle of Ragusa.
Count Lan used the General's successes to win his own diplomatic victories, adding not one, but two new vassals to the Empire of Italy, as well as convincing both to convert to Protestantism.
The Manchurian and Dutchman exchanged knowing glances as the King went on. And on. And on.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
1 November 1676, Germanicus Academy, Florence
As the soldiers saluted, the coffin for Field Marshal Vittorio di Medici continued on the procession through the Empire. Out of respect for the deceased, Marshal Contadino had elected not to name a new Field Marshal for the time being, and the Emperor agreed. He'd become a little less belligerent of late, which relieved many throughout the Empire.
Many credited the change to Foreign Minister Lan Zhu. While di Ferrari was often lazy and indecisive, the quiet but firm Count Lan was much more active, and given his superb results, Peter was willing to at least tone down his actions, if not his rhetoric.
With relatively little military action, the Foreign Minister followed this up by winning wars against Morocco and Persia, ensuring that neither nation had a legal casus belli to pursue war with Italy, at least for a long time, by forcing both countries to renounce their core territories.
Coupled with the coring of four North African territories -- Biskra, Aures, Kabylia, and Al-Djazair -- the Empire had grown even stronger without taking territory or damaging its image.
As he watched his late friend carried to the memorial cemetery outside the Academy, one thing puzzled the Marshal.
How had Vittorio died? He was in the picture of health, had no enemies, and his wife had just given birth to a bouncing baby boy. Jacopo felt a few tears drop down his cheek. That poor child. His mother had died in childbirth, and the only family member who'd come to claim the child refused to go to the grave site or even speak at the funeral.
Very curious indeed.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
6 December 1681, Palazzo di Farnese, outskirts of Rome
As Peter I reviewed his soldiers marching through the square, his thoughts were elsewhere. Even with three brief and victorious wars, he found himself strangely unsatisfied.
Savoy had surrendered its last Italian core and signaled their complete surrender by relocating their capital to the new world.
Peter corrected one of his father's mistakes by annexing Croatia from Funj and added a profitable new COT in Arnor, formerly known as Brittany.
Still, he was empty inside. Even the rage that he'd once felt was dissipating. della Torre, coward to the end, died in prison instead of on the battlefield. He couldn't even execute the fool, as his brother and Jacopo had constantly begged him to show mercy. What had changed?
Wait a minute! His brother! It was Napoleone's relationship with the Mus-- no, Russian, since they'd recently renamed themselves -- bride Yelena. The one person he'd always been able to talk was his brother, and now he was spending much more time with his wife than his brother. His Emperor! Jacopo and cousin Sforza both had their own families, each with two children. Jacopo's son Brutus had finally returned, regaling his parents with tales of life on the run in Burgundy, trying desperately to get home.
The fact was, that as Peter grew older, the fire which once raged within his heart began to cool. Lan Zhu had an oddly calming influence; perhaps it was some kind of Oriental mysticism? He reached for another glass of wine, and as he drifted off to sleep, he reflected that drinking hadn't made him so sleepy before.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
New Year's Day, 1682, under Rome
The four Brothers gathered, but most felt not their usual self-satisfaction, but shame. A child had been found, procured by Number Four's... unpleasant plot. As planned, none of the four knew who the child was. The assassin did, but he'd cut his own tongue a long time ago to show his support for his craft. Only the assassin knew exactly where the child had come from, and had fulfilled the Society's explicit criteria: a child with no family, Italian born, and of noble birth. It had required that he take matters directly into his own hands, but avoiding the thief proved an excellent choice. The woman he'd hired to raise the child was equally discreet, and she'd taken him to the island of Malta to raise in secret. The assassin believed fervently in the cause of the Society, and was usually called upon for this sort of thing.
As the assassin collected his payment, bowed, and left, the Brothers turned to the Elder.
"Brothers, let us put this behind us. We did what was necessary for the good of Rome. Number Two, your plan to calm the Emperor has worked very well. Does anybody suspect our hand?"
Number Two shook his head. "No, Elder. A helpful steward has... adjusted the Emperor's favorite wine with a mild drug. It seems to calm his more bloodthirsty tendencies."
Four raised his hand. "Does this steward know for whom he works?"
"A necessary risk."
"Such risks are best eliminated, I think."
The other two Brothers concurred, and Two finally nodded his assent.
The Elder took control of the meeting once again. "I have one final concern. Somebody within the Emperor's inner circle may be aware of us."
The other three immediately started talking at once, before the Elder rose his hands to indicate silence.
"Brothers, I do not know whether this person is necessarily malevolent. I personally know him, although he does not know I am Elder, or even a Brother. However, one of the Brotherhood in the past was quite careless, and left some unfortunate notes on a file in one of the archives. He could never remember our meeting place, and although that place has since been abandoned, the simple fact that he knows of our existence may give him the ability to learn more. Not all of our agents are immune to bribery or other methods of interrogations."
Three spoke. "If we know of this threat, could we not eliminate him? If the Emperor discovered who we were, the consequences might be disastrous."
The Elder shook his head angrily. "Why all of this talk of elimination? Are we influencing the Emperor, or he us? We have been much more aggressive in recent years than normal. Our influence should be much more subtle."
Two objected. "This is an Emperor unlike any we have ever encountered. Most of the others either ignored their wives or were fortunate enough to outlive them. His innate instability requires a delicate touch to counter that."
Four and Three both agreed. The Elder thoughtfully stroked his beard.
"Perhaps, brothers, if a woman was the original impetus, then another woman might be the very panacea we've been after. Somebody similar enough to his first wife that he'll feel comfortable."
Four said what the others were thinking. "But Elder, he has repeatedly insisted he will never marry again and won't even see women in private."
The Elder smiled. "Then the woman shall also have to have a more material advantage. Remember why he originally married his first wife?"
All of a sudden, the other three smiled too. The right word dropped in the right ear would facilitate everything. The Elder's smile got a bit wider.
He knew exactly which ear.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Two more updates will take us up to the State of the Empire for 1700. I won't update again until next week, most likely, as I've got to grade exams and have final grades in by the beginning of next week. Maybe this weekend if everything goes well!
this is getting entertainingly murky ... do like this semi-illuminati that you've introduced and the link between Lan Zhu and Constantijn de Ruyter
Glad you're enjoying it! I actually find it kind of hard to write for both characters (for various reasons), so it's kind of nice to kill two birds with one stone, as it were.
Interesting, I do wonder what our Illuminati friends are plotting on to. With reading many AAR's at the same time I sometimes lose track of who is who, I can't seem to remember why Del Torro got arrested. Hmm, this AAR was a lot easier to follow when it was just the Cicero's!
Don't feel bad; I often find myself having to check previous updates to maintain some kind of continuity. della Torre was thrown into jail by Peter for not participating in the war against Austria, also because Peter's a vindictive guy.
That would be many stones, not just one
Castille has been unusually good at having heirs; believe me, I'd love nothing more than to inherit that whole mess instead of taking it down one by one.
Ooh, the conspiracy grows. I feel like I'm reading a really intense novel. I am most excited to learn more about this secret society.
Oh i know, that society are the Assassins and Ezio is the name of the boy
But great updates, keep it up!
But great updates, keep it up!