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    Real Strategy Requires Cunning

Mr. Capiatlist

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Has Bohemia a special status inside Germany ?
It is really hard, because unlike in Carpathia where there is a line between the Prussian part of the country and the Wallachian and Hungarian regions. On one side you find Prussian speakers, on the other you find Wallachians or Hungarians. In Germany there is no such line, really. Germans have been a major player in those regions for centuries. They are no more outsiders than the Czechs or Slovenes. There are areas where non-German languages make up a majority, but those people do not feel foreign in Germany, to them they are just as German as anyone else.
 

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Yup, it is that time again!


It is that time of the year when I pander pathetically not only for your love and support of this AAR, but for AARland as a whole. Go out there and show your favorite authors that you care about their writing and seek to give them the recognition they deserve. It doesn't matter if you vote for me or not (though I greatly appreciate the support), but get out and vote.
 

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Bastions
Chapter Forty Nine: Union
Part 3


Prelude:
Rarely do two nations join together for the common good. Generally through war or inheritance a great nation is forged in the furnaces and the womb. Poland was, on paper, a country with her own ambassadors and King. But these were on paper. There were no ambassadors waiting in Krakow; there were no merchants looking for free passage in Danzig. King Doyvát loathed the division but had been faithful to his father to let the show go on. A show; that is all it was - a pathetic harking back to an unused crown. Deep in the vaults of Mariengrád one might find the crown of Poland lost among other riches pilfered from the country side. In December of 1388 the King of Prussia fell ill and what could have easily been shrugged off in the days of his youth quickly worsened and left the proud King bedridden. He called his advisors to his side and drafted a historic piece of parchment: the Decree of Union. In it, in just a few short lines, King Doyvát erased Poland from the map. The Decree merged Prussia and Poland now and forever. But its effects were limited. No nobles cried or cursed the day when their King deleted an old title. No serfs cried tears for a land they had never heard of and a language they had never spoken. This lack of nationalism is hard for modern people to understand. Today, nationalism and patriotism is part of our societal norms, but in the XIV Century a peasant only really knew the name of their ruler, would only rarely glimpse them in real life, likely never heard them, and certainly did not read any of their decrees. To them it was much harder to understand if their ruler was a foreigner unless it began to directly impact their lives. England is a good example: several thousand Normans could have a major impact on the language of the Saxons, but one Russian King could not leave more than a dynastical name.

October 22nd, 2012

A convoy of Prussian army trucks was stopped at the north check point. Kasimiras stood near-by, his rifle hanging from its shoulder strap. A official MP from the Zilina government flipped through the convoy's manifest, mostly civilian goods and food from the supportive Prussian government, but they had to make sure there were no arms or explosives so that the convoy would meet restrictions placed by the European Union. This was essentially a cop walking into a bar-brawl and asking for a clean fight, but it was very effective. Both sides wanted to show they were the "legitimate" side so quickly adopted the embargoes to prove the other was up to no good.

Suddenly, Kasimiras smelled something nasty and turned to another soldier a couple yards away lighting up a cigarette. "Can you do that farther away?" he asked.

"You more afraid of a little smoke than all the exhaust from these motors?"

"It smells like shit," Kasimiras said, shifting his weight.

"Smell great."

"What is that, clove?"

"Yeah. Fresh from the Far East."

"What are you, a sixteen-year-old girl?"

The other soldier looked angry but tossed his cigarette to the ground and stamped it out. He was obviously not from the German parts of Zilina were smoking was seen as a "German vice". He walked off in a huff, cursing under his breath about "mountain folk" and their quaint ways.

"Kaz. Kaz!" the MP called. Kasimiras walked over to him and waited for him to finish flipping through his papers. Despite the urgent sound to his voice he spent a great deal of time reading the last of the manifest, though eventually (and very casually) spoke up, "The Fourth is done for now, take'm back to the town and see you again tomorrow. Same time?"

Kasimiras turned and walked away without answering, the Fourth was due to be sent to the frontlines tomorrow. Maybe that is why everyone was on edge, even him. He returned to the Column, who had huddled around a fire they had built in a metal trash can. "We are off, head back to town?"

"Yeah," one of the other soldiers answered, "We were thinking Kat's for some grub before we head up front."

Kasimiras smiled, "Sounds good." They loaded up into the backs of the convoys and road them into Saint Nicholas. Once at the town center they jumped out at a red light and regrouped in a bombed-out restaurant. The place was Kat's, the original owner packed up and moved when the war started, leaving the place behind. One of the young servers upgraded herself to "Owner" and gave herself a job behind the bar. She served soldier favorites and when the place took a direct hit from an artillery round she barely batted an eye, putting up green camo tents as a replacement roof in the rain and all other times serving her grub in the open air. No one worried about a day when the previous owner would return, Kat had half the army on her side and the other half on the way.

The Fourth were her babies, though. They had been there when the shell fell, or more appropriately they were what attracted the shell in the first place. But nothing would dislodge them and they fought to clean out the city. From walls that once had generic decorations hung pictures of soldiers enjoying the bar, and from behind the bar itself hung a large banner of the Number Four. Few knew her thing for the Fourth was really a thing for Kasimiras, not even the intrepid man from the mountains.

"Boys!" she called as they walked in, quickly filling the place up. "What is with all the long faces, Kaz?"

"Back to the front tomorrow, Katja," he said.

Her face paled slightly as she watched him try to weakly smile, to tell her in a small gesture that everything would be okay. Recent weeks had been brutal, uncharacteristically so. But they were holding out. Not an inch to the Magyars, they would declare. Saint Nicholas was free and forever more it would be. "Well, drinks are me then!" she shouted, trying to rouse some cheers. She got some genuine smiles and a couple cheers, but people were worried. They had been fighting for a while now. They had watched a beautiful white-walled city turn into a twisted mangle of rubble and razor-wire. The city was nearly empty except for soldiers and a few brave souls who catered to them. Souls like Katja and her crew.

She got behind the counter and started pouring pints and passing them out. Kazimiras was last and with a little flick she left a heart in the foam on top of his mead. He looked down in it and smiled, maybe missing the point, but he looked back up, "Thanks."

"No problem, Sweetie. Let me put the TV on for you guys." She got out the remote and turned on the news. The only reliable channel was the Prussian affiliate of the French Broadcasting Company, based in Rennes, so it came in Breton with Prussian sub-titles. Their news was about as balanced was going to get and they talked about things other than the war. "Can I get you anything to eat?" She asked Kasimiras.

"Yeah... uh... can I get a Sicilian Cold Cuts?"

"White or Wheat?"

"Rye, if you have any."

"Fries or chips?"

"Neither, please. Unless you want them." She twisted her head to show he had made a dumb point, "Fine, fine... you own the place." She smiled and headed off to the back. Kasimiras turned to the screen. Football scores were currently coming up. Most international games in Europe were being postponed to try to force Hungary and Zilina to come to the peace tables. Didn't seem to make too much of a difference. Rumors were spreading of a mutiny in Hungary, but the anchor expressed that the claims were completely unsubstantiated. But just as he said that the ticker beneath him came up with "BREAKING NEWS FROM HUNGARY" Everyone turned to face the screen and someone called for Kasimiras to turn it up.

The anchor put his hand up to his ear to hold his earbud in a little closer. He paused as he listened to a message and then turned intently to the camera, "This just in from Pest: the Hungary government has ignored claims from their military and has voted to recognize the Republic of Zilina."

The room fell dead silent. Kat walked out with Kasimiras' sandwich and looked around, "What is wro..."

"SHHHH!" shushed someone. Kasimiras pointed to the TV screen which now had scenes of the war up on it while the anchor was in a tiny picture in picture.

"I repeat, reports from our reporters in Pest indicate that the Hungarian Parliament was voted to recognize the Republic of Zilina, essentially over-riding the insistences of military commanders that the war would end victoriously soon. The Prime Minister of Hungary has called a press conference."

The screen switched to a suited man surrounded by several armed guards, "Ladies and Gentlemen, after several months of armed conflict, I and the Parliament of Hungary have decided that the war for Zilina is not only a fruitless endeavor but one that is contrary to the wishes and morals of the Hungarian people. It is for that reason that I, as head of state of the nation of Hungary, do extend the olive branch to my counter-part in Saint Nicholas."

Suddenly the whole city was alive. Any soldier close to a TV or radio was out and dancing. Cheers and patriotic songs echoed through the marble-lined streets. The Fourth stood up and cheered. Kasimiras was pulled from the bar by an ecstatic comrade who locked elbows with him and together they danced a traditional jig. Round and round they went until Kasimiras tripped and landed with his back against the bar. In the cheering and shouting he looked up, smile across his face, just in time for Kat to run her hands through his hair and pull his face to hers.

***

November 1st, 2012

The Fourth Column was one of the few columns chosen to march in the colors parade to the capital. Beside them was the Sixteenth in their extravagant dress uniforms. The whole capital was packed full of people wanting to see the parade and sing patriotic songs as loud as they could. Zilina had chosen to accept Hungary's branch of peace the same day it was offered. Kasimiras tried glancing around to take in the scene, but had to keep his head facing forward. As they marched people threw flowers at them and at least once Kasimiras was pulled from the group to be kissed and have a wreath hung around his neck. Despite the celebrations it was a sad day for the Fourth and many of the other columns. Today the paramilitary forces would be disbanded, their purpose had been served. They would be separating, going their separate ways and heading back to their homes. Kasimiras was planning on staying in Saint Nicholas, he had a promise to Kat to keep. Plus German Zilina wasn't free just yet. That would happen sometime soon, though.

At the end of the main street stood ZIlina's capital, the front was decorated to hide the scars of war. Scaffolding surrounded the building as it was slowly put back together. The Prime Minsters of Zilina and Hungary as well as the heads of state of Prussia, France, the United Kingdom, and Germany stood proudly watching as the units marched two-by-two and then parted in front of them.

When it was all said and done Kasimiras made his way back to Kat's, still in the closest thing the paramilitary forces had to dress uniforms. She was wiping down the counter and smiled when he walked in. He rested his gun against one of the remaining pillars and left it there. He sat down on a stool and waited for his pint. "You know I'll have to have you actually work, right?"

Kasimiras shrugged, "I am fine with that. Me and you. We'll pass out more pints than you can shake a stick at."

Kat gave him a kiss on the forehead then handed him a pint of mead. "Of course we will, Sweetie. But first we should think about putting up a roof."

"Nah, I like the open feeling of the bar."

"That's fine, but I think the people who own the apartment above us will eventually want a floor... and probably some walls."

"Psah. Walls. Overrated." Kasimiras smiled and turned around on his stool. He looked out into the street. The bar started to fill up as more people made it back from the parade. The Fourth began to squeeze in, filling up all the seats. The pints flowed like water and the tables were covered in warm food. People who had not even known each other before the summer cried as they parted, sharing email addresses and other ways to contact one another. As the group posed for a picture a not-so-rugged figure stepped into the bar. Alex walked in and without missing a beat, he jumped into the picture next to his friend.

By the end of the night it was down to just Kat, Kasimiras, and Alex. "So when are you coming home, Kaz?"

"I am home," Kasimiras replied.

Alex smiled, but it only partially masked his sadness. "Fell in love with this old pile of rubble?"

"Well, it wasn't exactly the rubble. But yeah, if you fight for something long enough, why would you want to abandon it?"

"I guess it is not like the capital is far away. We aren't that big of a country," Alex said. "We'll miss you back home, buddy."

"I know," Kasimiras said, "But I'll be around."

"Everyone is proud, man. They never leave me alone. Your folks coming down?"

"Soon, they say. It is too crowded down here with the parade; dad isn't any good with crowds. Don't blame him. I sort of miss when the city was empty."

"I don't, I like that people are coming back. We didn't fight for a capital full of ghosts, Kaz."

"No, no we didn't. We all had something to fight for and it seems we both have it."

"Yeah. Well, I'll be seeing you around, Kaz. Take care of yourself."

"Alex, I am not going anywhere. You talk as if I was going away," Kasimiras said.

"You're right. I don't know why I am so gloomy. I guess it was because I thought I would be taking home our hero."

Kasimiras looked at Kat, who rolled her eyes, "I guess I can give you a few days off." She kissed him and then waved as the two men headed out.

"She's pretty, Kaz. I am happy for you."

"It is good to just have something to come back to." In the night shrouded city, there were only a few working lights left. But the two friends walked toward the train station, bags in hand. Back at Kat's, Katja walked over to a pillar where a gun was resting. She knew it was Kasimiras' but she could not leave it there. She picked it up and hung it on the wall with everything else. She smiled as she looked around. Kasimiras wouldn't be gone long, but soon she'd need the extra pair of hands as they tried to get the place ready for civilian life. All the soldiers that used to pack the place full were all headed home. The rowdy Texans were disbanding and finding flights back to the new world. Even the news was starting to forget. They went back to the mundane things that kept people entertained before. But a tiny little mountain nation would never forget. Rag in hand; Katja started polishing the counter again. As she did so she hummed a little tune.

Tine Zliná
Urins haburg já...
 

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Will Zilina remain independent or will it be reincorporated into Prussia? Hopefully the later.
 

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Will Zilina remain independent or will it be reincorporated into Prussia? Hopefully the later.
Almost for sure it will remain independent. It will be either two things; One, I don't see the people wanting to reunite with another Country just after they had become independent and two. . .could you imagine the political shit storm that might come of it?

I understand the idea but if I try to think realistically I just don't see it happening. Think of Silesia and Prussia or Lothgaria and Germany.
 

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flyguy117

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Annexations are too old-fashioned ! No, the big states like Prussia works with puppets :) .
Making a puppet from a culturally and ethnically similar state, generally end up annexed by the mother country. That being said, annexing Zilina would start world war III. Fun, fun, fun :D
 

Mr. Capiatlist

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Europe is pretty stable with the exception of the Balkans, which haven't exploded yet.


I would like to announce a couple things:
First - I will be trying to finish this chapter before Novemeber because:
Secondly - Bastions will be on hold over November as my fiancee, my in-laws and I will be taking part in National Novel Writing Month. The idea is I have from November 1 to November 30 to write a complete novel. My hope is to break 200 pages in one month. I'll probably discuss progress and stuff via my blog... and I might possibly get an update or two out during that time. However; I expect I will devote the entire month to my novel.
 
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Mr. Capiatlist

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Sounds cool, do you know what it will be about? Best of luck with it!
It'll be a fantasy. I've been playing lots of Skyrim lately. Thanks.
 

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Bastions
Chapter Forty Nine: Union
Part 4


Prelude:
Even as the internet and changes in social awareness bring societies closer together, never before have so many people struggled to free themselves from the chains of oppression. The plight of Africa, the struggles of the Amerindians, even non-ethnic conflicts like that in Shirvana are have defined the last forty years of human history. Gone are the days of the "large scale" international conflicts, now democracies attempt to use methods other than force to get their ends, and when that force is applied it is surgical in its precision. But the world is filled to the brim with would-be dictators and warlords, each fighting each other and legitimate governments for their chance to enforce any number of religious, cultural, government and economic systems. Centuries-old monarchies cling to the last shreds of their legitimacy in the face of cultural and religious change. Often times the results are disastrous. China and India have both resisted modernizing their governments and today face growing dissidence and violence on the home front, coupled with growing impatience and fear abroad. In China the military ensures the monarchy's continued survival but cracks in the façade are starting to show. 2014 saw the terrifying face of the Chinese military machine come out into the daylight. After the Emperor suffered a near-fatal heart-attack, the people rose up in an attempt to over-throw the monarchy in the confusion. The military quickly took power and for sixty-four terrifying days held total control, usurping even the Emperor. The death toll is assumed to be in excess of 200,000 civilians. A year later Europe got its own wake-up-call in the collapse of Serbia. Serbia, a multi-ethnic and multi-religious state, had been held together mostly out of pure luck since the fall of its communist government. Control and pacification had always been key, but in 2015 the Croatians of Croatia and Dalmatia were done with the charade and formally declared independence from Serbia and each other. Soon after Albania, Bosnia and Hum joined in. Three years later Serbia and Hum had formed a union called Srednjislavia and the rest had become independent states. While Albania and Dalmatia formed secular republics, Bosnia and Croatia formed republics with a heavy influence of state religion. Srednjislavia, though, quickly fell under the control of a dictator: the first nominal dictator in Europe since the end of Communism.

February 2nd, 2017

Kasimiras watched the TV as he catered to the last few remaining customers in the restaurant he owned with his wife. It was one in the morning so things were quiet. It was just a couple regulars and they were at the bottom of too many pints to hold a decent conversation. Kasimiras took this time to do a little cleaning. Moving used glasses to the washer and carrying clean ones back to the front. In the background the news flickered with scenes from the Balkans. Pictures soldiers had taken with their phones, showing them doing some awful things. The one that was becoming famous was a Serbian man, tongue stuck out and holding up both hands. His left hand he used to make the trinity, his right had the severed head of some Croatian soldier. Religious zeal made good people do terrible things. Meanwhile neither the European Union nor the United Nations nor the Atlantic Treaty Organization wanted to get involved. Instead the issued half-hearted condemnations and threatened to embargo Serbia but it all meant nothing because Serbia was being funneled support through Mordvia, who saw Serbia as their only ally in Europe now that Azowia had distances themselves and joined the EU.

Romania knew the cost, as did Hungary and Bulgaria... all the nations that shared a border with one of the warring states. It made a lot of sense, though, that Romania would support Albania so whole-heartedly. Their hope was if they supported the Albanians in Serbia, their Albanians would be pacified and pleased with the government. Plus the Romans had spent over one hundred years waiting to get their revenge on Serbia for their defeat in the Balkan War. The Albanian population in Romania was dwindling, dispersing throughout the Empire or moving into the Albanian region of Serbia where they hoped to create the first Albanian nation in the modern age.

"G'night, Kaz," one of the remaining patrons grumbled after looking at his phone. He left twenty dollars on the counter and shuffled off without so much as another word.

"Good night, Blazej," Kasimiras called after his friend. The figure raised his hand in a wave and then disappeared through the door.

"I am headed out too, Kaz!" called Elfwynn, the last server on duty.

"Good night, Winnie. Did you remember to check everything?"

"Yes, Kaz. You'd think after two years I'd know how to close." She winked at him as she walked out.

Now Kasimiras was alone with his last patron for the night. The man, rough-faced and foreign sounding snored softly from where he had lowered his head onto the counter. The bartender put his hand on the man's shoulder and gently shook him. "Sir? Sir. It is closing time. It is time to go. I can call a cab for you if you would like." The man looked up at him dimly. "Gépkocsi?" Kaz asked in Hungarian.

Still the man looked dumbfounded. He pulled out a book written in what appeared to be Arabic, but the front had a little man and woman in stereotypical ethnic Prussian garb each holding a little Prussian flag. "I... going... home, no?"

Kazimiras grabbed the book and flipped to transportation, he pointed at the navy-blue car with black and white checkers and repeated as simply as he could, "Cab?"

The man smiled and nodded, "I going home," he placed a few spare angits from his pocket on the counter and began to shuffle off. Kaz looked at the wad of bills and a random assortment of coins from all across southern Europe and sighed. It was better than nothing. He turned off the TV has the screen flashed more images of tanks rolling down city streets and of Sarajevo burning. He locked the front door and then went behind the bar and climbed the stairs to the apartment that he and Katja owned above their business. Inside Katja was asleep on the couch, the TV flickered some movie that seemed out of character for her. He assumed she had been asleep for quite a while then. He chuckled as he saw that despite the cold she was down to only her panties and a thin tank-top. Kasimiras sat down next to her, letting her put her head in his lap.

"Everyone gone?" she asked quietly.

"Yep, lights out and everything."

"Sounds good. Did Winnie get picked up by that skeez?"

"Not certain, I was dealing with some foreign guy."

"I hope she wasn't." Kat rolled over and snuggled in.

The next morning Kasimiras awoke to the distant sound of an alarm clock. It was just a few minutes past five o' clock. His head was swimming from the lack of sleep, but the alarm stopped seemingly on its own. He looked down at his lap and saw that Kat was gone. Slowly, he dragged himself to the bedroom where Kat was in the middle of changing and brushing her teeth at the same time. Kaz walked behind her and stuck his hands up her shirt, grabbing her breasts and letting her squirm under his cold hands.

"Let go!" she shouted. He just laughed and gave her kisses up her neck. Still she struggled, batting him off with the tooth brush.

"You woke me up!" he protested. She laughed and tickled him enough to loosen his grip and make an escape. Kaz watched her bounce away then fell backward on the bed. From the bedroom he could hear the radio.

"The EU estimates recent deaths in the Bosnian theater to be in excess of two thousand dead and five thousand wounded. A response from the President of the Union demands Serbia come to a quick e..." Katja clicked the radio off.

"They make the Zilina-Hungary War look like a drunken brawl," Katja said idly. She sat down next to Kaz and stroked his hair. "Enjoy your nap. I'll see you around noon?"

"Yep," Kasimiras answered.

"I love you, Sweetie."

"I love you, too." Kaz made a puckering shape with his lips and Kat gave him a quick kiss before heading down to get the place ready for opening. After a few minutes he slipped off to sleep again.
 
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Mr. Capiatlist

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Seems like an update got skipped. ;)

Bastions
Chapter Forty Nine: Union
Part 5


Prelude:
In the spring of 1389, King Doyvát I died suffering from pneumonia; he was sixty years old. The nation went into its normal period of mourning, but the new King, Doyvát II, ended the period early saying his father would have had none of it. He urged the nation to move on, to celebrate his father's life and the lives of all the Kings before him by keeping Prussia at the fore-front of Europe's politics. What he was worried about was the looming threat of war between the Christians and the Muslims of the West. Prussia was caught between the two, not wanting to get tangled up in the Infinite War, which despite several quieter decades, was very much still going on. Prussia's rise to power was most likely because it managed to escape the endless cycles of wars with the Muslims. Had Prussia gotten involved it would be a very different world, likely one that would have seen all of Europe convert to Islam. The younger Doyvát also had his own plans: a radical overhaul of not just the military but also the infrastructure and bureaucracy. He wanted to leave a real, lasting mark on the Empire and like Sviendorog he sought that mark not in conquests, which could be lost, but in great societal change and improvement. Prussia's military was still a mix of professional and levy armies, remnants of the great civil wars of the past. The new King's changed would be based on making the professional soldiers not just the core of the armed forces but also the model from which future divisions would be built. Standardized drills and practice would hone Prussia's sword to a razor-sharp edge. Meanwhile, the bulk of Prussia's defenses would not rely on the Army, but the Navy. Prussia's most recent conflicts had all been overseas and the threat of having the Baltic or Black Seas closed was real. If Prussia was to extend her might to other states, she needed to rule the seas. The great forests of Finland were filled with the deafening sounds of the timber industry. Doyvát hoped that behind the wooden wall, Prussia would be safe.

February 5th, 2017

"O, He ist tæw, Sexy. Lábsdien! Æs bin Ælfwin bæt Tu cannás æm Winne námnæt!" Mustav watched as the blonde-haired girl grabbed a menu and a set of utensils and then beckoned him to follow with a sweep of her arm. "Wuldás tu wis se Bár sedæt?"

Having just arrived from Bosnia he just smiled and nodded; things seemed to go best when he did that. He had been saving to one day buy a house in his native land, but the war had forced him out. He was young enough to get conscripted, but even if he stayed out, he was built enough to be considered a soldier and shot if he was captured by either side. So, wisely, he chose to leave. But now, having not finished with university, he was stuck doing menial tasks while learning the language and hoping to get back into school. "Lá," he said.

"Kláó!" she said with a smile. She left the menu at the bar, so Mustav took his seat. He liked this place more than some of the other places because everyone seemed so much friendlier. And now he actually had cash to pay back what he might have owed from last time.

The same bartender was behind the counter, a young man with a big smile. He must have been a year or two older than Mustav. When he saw the Bosnian he walked over and smiled, "Æs atcertáj tæw. Ká ist'æ?"

"Káfæ!"

Kasimiras was confused, "Káfæ? Mænás Tu 'Káfa'?"

Still clueless, Mustav fell back on his plan, "Lá."

The bartender poured him a cup of coffee and then returned to watching the football match playing on the screen behind Mustav. "New to the area, huh?" someone asked in Bosnian.

"Yeah, how'd you guess?" Mustav asked ironically.

"Usually demanding things 'quickly' without even telling the poor man what you want gives it away," the fellow Bosnian answered with a wink. He picked up his plate a moved it to the seat next to Mustav. "I am Kemal Zlatar, I moved her a couple years ago when things started looking bad."

"Smart man; Mustav Begic." Mustav extended his hand and Kemal gave it a shake. "I just came up to get out of it all. But I have more or less lost everything."

"You and the rest of us. Wife and kids still back in Bosnia?"

"No, I am not married."

"Girlfriend?"

"I had a few," Mustav said with a wink.

"Braver man than I, that is for sure." Kemal took a drink from his own coffee cup and then continued, "So, you don't speak a word of Prussian other than 'yes', huh?"

"I know a few lines. I know how to get work. But I really need to get back into school."

"Word from the wise, my friend; don't bother with Prussian. Lift your boxes here and when you get the cash move to Sicily or Italy. Or you can go back home when it is all done. It can't last too much longer. Can it?"

"It was looking pretty bad when I left. I don't know if there is anything to go back to. Plus I like it here. People seem happy and friendly. They aren't saying nasty things about me like in Hungary. Turbanhead? Really? I have never worn a turban in my life. My dad wore one once as a joke during our vacation to Egypt. We aren't even Hindus! We're Muslims."

"Don't expect the Christians to understand. Hell they even call those Frandists 'Muslims' too."

"Kát wuldás tu?" asked the bartender, having returned from the blue.

Mustav froze up, having reverted back to Bosnian. "He wuldáf se Numbær Træŝ," Kemal answered.

"Kláó: ien Numbæ Træŝ, káfæ." Kazimiras walked back to the point of service screen.

"What is the thirteen?" Mustav asked.

"The only thing that is close to halal."

"O," Mustav replied. He didn't want to bring up he wasn't a practicing Muslim, so he just let it slide, "So, are you planning on heading back to Bosnia then?"

"When everything is said and done, yes. I don't want to sit around in this shithole for too long." With every passing line, Mustav liked Kemal less and less. "Waitresses can't even dress appropriately. I don't mind a little leg; I am just like every other guy, but some of these girls leave nothing to the imagination."

"You could always look away. I don't think they'll change for one or two Bosnians."

Kemal paused and then started laughing, "For a second you sounded like one of them!" He patted Mustav on the back and then turned back to his own plate, which had remained untouched for a few minutes.

"Swete, næmáf Kásimirás taws Ordná?" it was the blonde waitress again. She put her hand on Mustav's back while she asked her question. She had her normal smile that seemed to go from ear to ear. Her teeth were super white and Mustav could tell she had braces when she was younger. Nothing was crooked or cracked like so many people back home. He guessed, from her limber build that she was a dancer, or actress, and very worried about appearances.

"Indrátsak!" Kemal said indignantly, "We runáju!"

The girls face drained of blood and she left muttering "Sárik, bin kætrs sárik!"

"What was that?!" Mustav demanded.

"She was bothering us."

"She was asking if someone had taken my order. You didn't need to tell her to fuck off."

"It is the only language they understand here."

"No, no it is not," Mustav said. He got up and walked over to the waitress who was confiding with another employee. "Æs bin sárik... tas Kalp ist næ min..." Mustav shook his head and pulled out his Prussian book, "Min... Pri... Priz... jákl?"

Elfwin nodded through a couple tears, trying to keep her smile up, "Lá, Prizjákl," she said clearly.

Mustav didn't understand and panicked, "Na, na! He ist næ min Prizjákl!"

The girl laughed, wiping away the last few tears, "Ist lábs. Paldátu." She walked off with her normal demeanor returned and when Mustav turned around he saw that Kemal had paid for his meal and left.

Good riddance, Mustav thought. He walked back to his seat just as Kasimiras returned with a plate of eggs and what appeared to be a crumbly potatoes pancake.

"Kurs ist taws Prizjákl?" Kasimiras asked, trying to carefully enunciate everything.

"He ist næ min Prizjákl," Mustav replied.

"Lábs, He ist ien Drátær. Katrs Dien ist He hór. Æs lissáj næ him." Kaz picked up a glass and began cleaning it in stereotypical bartender fashion. "Æs bin Kás, kát námnæs Tu?"

"Mustáw," Mustav replied confidently.

"Kláó, Mustáw. Wilkámt uzán Zliná," Kaz said, "Naotás Tu taws Mál." He gave Mustav a smile and then walked off to converse with a regular about the game. Mustav looked down at his food, it was just a simple homey breakfast. Perfect pick-me-up before work.
 

Mr. Capiatlist

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I think some translations are due, these are just in order:

Winnie - "O, it is you, Sexy! Hello. I'm Elfwin but you can call me Winnie. Would you like to sit at the bar?"

Mustav - "Sure."

Winnie - "Great!" - Kláó is just a generic interjection, it basically means whatever the speaker intends for it to mean through context.

Kaz - "I remember you. How's it going?" - He literally says "How is it?" Ist He contracts to Ist'æ.

Mustav - "Quickly!" - Káfæ means "quick" or "quickly" and Káfa means coffee.

Kaz - "Quick? Do you mean coffee?"

Mustav - "Yes."

Kaz - "What can I get you?" - Lit: "What do you want?"

Kemal - "He'll take the number thirteen." - Lit: He wants the number thirteen.

Kaz - "Okay: a number thirteen, coming up."

Winnie - "Sweetie, did Kaz take your order?"

Kemal - "Fuck off, we're talking!" - Indrátsak is literally In Drátus Sak or "For fuck's sake"

Winnie - "Sorry, very sorry."

Mustav - "I am sorry. That man is not my friend."

Winnie - "Yeah, 'friend'."

Mustav - "No, no! He's not my friend!"

Winnie - "It's okay, thanks."

Kaz - "Where is your friend."

Mustav - "He is not my friend."

Kaz - "Good, he's a dick. Every day he is here. I don't like him. I am Kaz, what's your name?" - Lit: "what are you called?"

Mustav - "Mustav"

Kaz - "Okay, Mustav. Welcome to Zilina. Enjoy your meal."


Okay, and with that Bastions is taking a one month break. I'll try to keep everyone up to date as I try to get through NaNoWriMo. If you are interested try it out for yourself!
 
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Killerflood

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Is Bosnia a conservative Muslim state or was the guy just a general "Drátær"?
 

Mr. Capiatlist

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Is Bosnia a conservative Muslim state or was the guy just a general "Drátær"?
Bosnia is a conservative Shia Muslim state. Most of the countries that broke away from Serbia have some form of state religion. Croatia is Prussian Orthodox, Bosnia is Shia Muslim, Srednjislavia (the only non-democracy) is Roman Orthodox, while Dalmatia and Albania are both secular states. All of them but Srednjislavia have protected minority rights but I feel that Croatia would be the most likely to look the other way against discrimination against non-Prussian Orthodox citizens.

Balkans in 2014:


Balkans in 2019:


Serbia is the golden color that is there in 2014 and not in 2018, Croatia is the pink, Dalmatia in maroon, Bosnia is yellow, Srednjislavia in green, and Albania in blue. What isn't shown is Hum, which is what we'd consider central and eastern Bosnia in OTL. It makes up the western third of Srednjislavia.

So it worked like this: Serbia was a "secular" and "multicultural" republic, but it was basically run by Serbs and only Serbs could have important positions and Roman Orthodox was basically the state religion in everything but name. So Serbs speak Serbian and are Roman Orthodox.

Croatia wasn't happy and originally planed to succeed as a unified Croatia (Croatia + Dalmatia), but Dalmatia wasn't happy with the state religion being Prussian Orthodoxy. Croatians speak Croatian and are Prussian Orthodox. Dalmatians speak Croatian and are Roman Orthodox.

Hum didn't like being lumped together with Bosnians so left Serbia, but rejoined after the war to form a "more equal partnership" in Srednjislavia. Humians speak Bosnian and are Roman Orthodox.

Bosnia wasn't happy with all the Christians and was pretty much the "bitch" of Serbia so for them freedom was a big deal, though Serbia wasn't as concerned about losing them. Bosnians speak Bosnian and are Shia Muslim.

Albanian was the last, and despite having the hardest time fighting Serbia to begin with, was eventually supported by Romania who left it was their duty to create an independent Albania that didn't include any Albanian lands of Romania. Albanians speak Albanian and are Roman Orthodox.

The languages aren't all the different (with the exception of the unrelated Albanian): Serbo-Croat (which also includes Bosnian) is mutually intelligible between the three "languages". The biggest difference is the writing system. Croatian is written in Latin, Serbia in Greek, and Bosnian in Arabic. Bosnian is probably the most distinct of the three and is generally considered its own language (hence it is Serbo-Croat and not Serbo-Bosno-Croat) because of the heavy influence of Sicilian (A Semitic language). Bosnians arrived in the Balkans from Sicily, but not in numbers great enough to displace the native Slavs.

That only leaves the Slovenes who do speak a distinct language and are mostly Frandists. Slovenia is part of the German Federation.
 
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Aliasing

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I'm a bit curious, and really I'm not sure if I've or someone else asked this before. But is there an equivalent to OTL's 'Eurovision Contest' and other Cultural contests the EU has put together in TTL?