Chapter Five, Part Two: 1556-1571—The Creation of A New System
Chapter Five, Part Two: 1556-1571—The Creation of A New System
It must be remembered that there is nothing more difficult to plan, more doubtful of success, nor more dangerous to manage, than the creation of a new system. For the initiator has the enmity of all who would profit by the preservation of the old institutions and merely lukewarm defenders in those who would gain by the new ones.
Machiavelli
From the Collected Journals of Michael, Winter 1571
I could not let Carlos die thinking that he had been abandoned in some way by his God. In truth I could not know whether my pretense had survived my death. But whether I was Archangel or Man to him, I was first and foremost a friend. When I heard rumors in the spring of 1558 that the Emeritus King was ill, my first and only thought was escape.
I must admit that I had grown almost comfortable in my imprisonment. The country seemed to be very much on the right track even with my absence. My life had been eased by my role as jailhouse scribe, and six years of exemplary behavior on my part had earned me goodwill and some leniency from my guards. Father Jimenez had become something of a friend as well, though I could never let him be the Confessor he wished to be for me. It was perhaps for him most of all that I regretted my escape, as it inevitably came to be blamed on him, as I knew it must.
My reunion with Carlos, when it came, was bittersweet indeed. It was no small thing getting in to see him, and I was forced eventually to pose as a doctor. From there, convincing him of who I was proved even more difficult when I was clearly not the same man he’d known all his life and of whom he had personally witnessed the death. Still, there were conversations no other soul was privy to, confidences shared, doubts voiced. Though his body was failing, his mind and memory were as clear and bright as ever. He knew that I had not heard these things second hand, and at the last, he grasped my hand and sat with me for no short time as I told him how proud I was of all he had accomplished, and all that he and Spain had become together.
I stayed with him that way for several weeks, continuing the charade of being his doctor. And certainly between the lightening of his conscience and what little I could do to ease his pain with advanced knowledge of chemicals and herbs, I believe that my presence probably was a tonic for him. He sent word, before the end, to the capital to let Felipe know of my return, though I could not be entirely sure of my welcome there. Felipe had never been a trusting sort, and had always regarded me with a mixture of respect and suspicion.
Carlos I, known as Carlos the Great, passed away in his sleep in the fall of 1558, in the presence of friends and family alike. A few days later, I made my way to the Palace to meet with Felipe.
Even now, I hesitate to remember and recount the details of that meeting. Felipe had been King with no guidance from me for two years by then, and was firmly enmeshed in the same struggles that had so occupied his father. I think that after a fashion he believed that I was the same man he had seen die eight years before. And he was even grateful to me for that, recognizing that I had been willing to die to protect him and his father. But far deeper than that gratitude lay mistrust.
I could see that he could not bring himself to believe me an Archangel, but nor could he see me as a servant of the Devil. His faith, still strong, had been tempered by years of training in reason and critical political analysis. No, I was something else, and he knew it. And that I could not reveal the truth to him cast me down in his eyes, and I suppose in my own as well.
It was, perhaps, a credit to his own towering intellect that he came to the conclusion that he did. One day, frustrated after yet another fruitless discussion with the King, I returned to the modest chambers he had reserved for me to find a familiar black-robed figure awaiting my return. Father Jimenez, somewhat the worse for wear, but very much alive and inexplicably glad to see me.
Felipe had discovered the provenance of my new host. Perhaps, having been a witness to the original trials, he recognized it all along. He’d had Father Jimenez brought to him and discussed the question of my strange behavior and talents and my secrecy-shrouded past. Father Ignacio, the keeper of the Chapel used by the Royal Family, was ready to retire. Though highly out of the ordinary, Felipe had asked the Arch-Bishop of Castile to appoint Father Jimenez in his place. To complete the irony, Felipe had commuted my sentence from life imprisonment in the National Jail to life probation as assistant to Father Jimenez. I was now, in a sense, right back where I had started, though in most respects things were different indeed.
Felipe still comes to me for conversations and advice on a fairly regular basis, and has even promised to bring his heir to them when the time comes. Knowing what the Felipe III of my own history was like, I dearly hope that the King keeps his word. The younger Felipe, though he be not yet born, must be impressed with the solemn duty of his office and its many responsibilities, as his historical counterpart was not.
Our conversations are different, though, from what they had been. The King makes little pretense of seeking my opinions as a messenger of God, and in truth I make little pretense of being one. The lights and the armor have been packed away in a dusty closet for some time now. I do not know what, but I must eventually tell him something. Will it be the truth, I wonder?
Portrait of Felipe II
Well, enough woolgathering. The state of the realm is what I meant to be writing about today…
For almost five years following Felipe’s coronation, the nation was at glorious and luxurious peace, and much was accomplished:
Another goods manufactory was laid down in the colonial city of Moron, and the unexpected invention of new high-speed looms led to the creation of another goods manufactory in Asturias.
Madurai finally became a city in 1558 culminating three long years of effort. Immediately, the neighboring land of Cochin became the target for our colonists.
A huge and costly defensive program got underway in January 1558, as forts all across Europe, Africa and the Mideast were upgraded to the second level unless the province was at risk of revolt.
The Twin Kingdoms of Genoa and Corsica were peacefully absorbed into Spain in May of 1558, and their significant armed forces (19/2/5 navy, 13/0/0 army) added to our own. (Except the galleys, which by royal policy were unfit for wartime use and sold to Venice for use as oversized gondolas.)
Modena, long considered a sister Kingdom of Genoa, joined our alliance that July. After an intense three-year period of diplomatic courtship led by the now very well respected statesman Ayonwatha, Modena consented to become our Vassals.
Elsewhere in the world, the Uzbeks experienced a hideous period of internal strife, exacerbated by the long war with Oman (OOC: event, +15 revolt risk on top of war exhaustion). Continuing what had become somewhat of a tradition of very short reigns, Pope Paulus IV died abruptly and was replaced in 1559 by Pius IV. And in 1561, traders stopping at our port in Madurai brought word that the great (and unknown to us) nation of China had entirely annexed the humble nation of Dai Viet.
Perhaps the most significant foreign news however, came in May 1560, when tiny Holstein declared its independence from Denmark. In the ensuing war, all of the Danish allies (Sweden, Russia, Prussia, and the Netherlands) foreswore their oaths of alliance, declaring it a purely internal Danish matter. This in turn emboldened the glorious Turkish superalliance as the following February Poland and her allies Hungary, Turkey, Ryazan, Kazan, Bohemia, and Pommerania declared war on Sweden and her allies, which by now included a much-chastened Holstein!
It was in this climate of strife that Felipe decided to implement the first phase of his war plan. After positioning armies in key spots around the globe, he ordered a declaration of war to be served upon Mysore in April of 1562. By this time, Portugal had dropped out of the alliance, leaving only the Papal States allied with Mysore. Predictably, Pope Pius was no more faithful to his allies than previous popes had been, and he hastened to dishonor the alliance and seek friends elsewhere.
Still, this was to be no easy task. Two days after our declaration, the Persians and their allies the Uzbeks declared against us, looking to avenge our own backstabbing attack in the previous war. This was followed two weeks later by a declaration from the French alliance, which looked to be an exact duplicate of the one they’d sent us exactly ten years before. And a month after that, Portugal, still loyal to her former ally Mysore, declared war on us though we had been taking great pains to curry favor with her. And a few months after that, the tiny alliance of Oman and Aden declared war on us.
The initial reports out of Madurai were disheartening in the extreme. Our sole Conquistador, Lope de Aguirre, had taken personal command of the Army of Madurai/Cochin and stormed north over the border into Mysore. However, he was almost immediately confronted and counterattacked by an even larger army of over 60,000 from the unexplored terra incognito beyond! In the ensuing chaos, many of his men and Aguirre himself were lost and reinforcements had to be both ferried in from the Mideast and recruited on site. It was not until almost a year and a half later that the last fortress fell, and we annexed Mysore’s three provinces of Mysore, Bangalore, and Deccan.
Elsewhere, the French alliance was in deep trouble. Helvetia and Savoy had not even bothered to rebuild their armies from the thrashing of the previous war, though Savoy at least had the excuse of her vassalship to France. (After all, their tax dollars were paying the salaries of nice French soldiers to protect Savoy…) France, however, had squandered the military advantages of previous wars and for the first time faced a foe with numerical and technical superiority. Spanish peacekeeper armies from the rebellious former French lands simply stormed across the border and began assaulting fortresses.
Here too, Felipe added an innovative personal touch. He had noticed that in the field, our armies always seemed to be greatly heartened by the appearance of fresh troops during a battle. In a series of sweeping military reforms, he had completely modified the standard procedures of war. Now, any objective would be assaulted in waves, spaced a week or more apart, rather than as a single army. Both in the field and in assaults, this stratagem dramatically increased our effectiveness. Indeed, it would have been used to even greater effect on the Mysore front, but for the fact that we were limited to a single avenue of approach between our two lands. Tactically, this left us with far fewer options than we had in France, where we could assault provinces from numerous flanks.
Felipe’s reforms led to what perhaps was our shortest conflict with France yet—a mere seven months until they were dragged to peace negotiations and forced to cede Dauphine and Poitou. That same month of December 1562, we once again reached a separate peace with the Uzbeks, taking Karakum and Turkmenistan as well as a great deal of pride from the Uzbek Khan.
By May of ’63, Tago had fallen to our siege army. As Felipe still had every interest in peaceful relations with our close brethren, we contented ourselves with Tangiers, 125 ducats, and a copy of their rutters, revealing much of Indonesia and Africa to us.
The war ground on, more from number of enemies than difficulty. In September the Persian Shah surrendered Kerman, Balucht, and 113 ducats for peace. The total surrender of Mysore followed shortly thereafter, leaving only Oman and Aden. Hormouz had been taken relatively easily, but the Sultan of Oman would not surrender it. Hastily, every seaworthy vessel in the area from as far away as Madurai was commandeered and troops packed tight in every hold. After several harrowing ferry trips across the Straits, and numerous assaults, we finally took Mascate, though tens of thousands of men died from lack of supplies. With the fall of the capital, Hormouz was finally ceded by treaty in December. Peace at last, we thought.
In another of history’s little postscripts, the news of our final peace didn’t reach the court in Saxony in time, and their declaration of war arrived that January 1564. But Felipe had little interest in Saxony or her allies Hannover and Brandenburg at that time, having little desire to extend himself into the small German states. Our policy of absorbing such small Christian states slowly via diplomacy had been working well in Germany and Italy, and there was no reason to change. King Felipe sent the messenger back with his pockets stuffed with gold, and kind words for the Saxon King. Finally we were truly at peace again.
It was not until our next meeting several months after the war that I found myself staring at an updated map of Europe wondering why I was so perturbed. I smacked myself on the forehead so loudly that Felipe startled. In the press of battle, I’d forgotten to suggest to Felipe that he leave Dauphine to France so that she could eventually annex Savoy diplomatically. This would weaken France’s reputation and simplify things for us, as we could move in and take the province in the next war with none of the usual burdens of “depriving a brother monarch of his rightful throne.” Still, the war had gone well overall, and I could not complain much about Savoy.
For two years, Felipe turned his attentions back to statecraft and infrastructure, and our neighbors breathed a sigh of relief. A clear pattern had emerged that after a long war such as that, there would always be several years of peace and rebuilding. At first, this seemed to be the case. A new naval manufactory was laid down in Lima, and the fortification program continued. In Europe, Africa, and the Mideast we replaced our losses but made no further buildup.
Thus reassured, our neighbors went back about their own business. Denmark annexed the wayward Holstein once again. Venice, emboldened by their successful courting of the Knights and Russia to their alliance, declared war on Turkey and her allies. Poland, Bohemia and Kazan honored their commitments, but Hungary, Ryazan, Pommerania, and the ever-faithless Papal States did not. A month later, yet another new Pope—Pius V made the long climb up the steps of the Vatican, looking over his shoulder the whole way I am sure.
In August of 1566, Felipe unveiled the second phase of his war plans. Like his father before him, he had become determined to use the Reconquista to his own ends. Rather than give them the time to recuperate, rebuild and recruit, let alone enjoy the fruits of their labors, he vowed to work them till they dropped. Now Spain would time her wars so that they would come in distinct paired waves, each half separated by a year or two of peace, all of it made possible by the five year armistices signed at the end of hostilities. The second half of each war phase would have to be concluded before the first expiration of armistice from the first half.
Felipe’s target was even more brilliant. We had all been somewhat shocked by the massive armies of tiny Mysore. Armed with better information from the capture and absorption of her capital, we now knew that her northern neighbors of Hyderabad and the Mughals were just as powerfully armed. Yes, their lands were rich and incredibly productive, but legions of men would sail down the Styx to win them. And each and every one of those men would be members or supporters of the Reconquista—men who put loyalty to their Order and the distant Pope over loyalty to King and Country.
In August, our declaration was sent to Hyderabad and her ally the Mughals. Incredibly, the Mughals dishonored their alliance and declared their neutrality in the conflict, forcing us to face only slightly less than half the forces we’d anticipated. Unfortunately for the Reconquista, this simply freed Felipe to order all support and reinforcements to a second front as the tiny Palatinat declared against us by themselves.
While we had no intention of simply toppling the monarchs of Europe, Felipe was incensed by this senseless declaration. The Palatinat had no allies and the tiniest of armies. Clearly they were simply hoping for a payoff similar to the one obtained by Saxony just a few years ago. Felipe decided, with my wholehearted endorsement, that he had to make an example of them. After several skirmishes and lengthy sieges of Mainz and Pfalz, the Electors were forced to turn over Mainz—half their nation.
Meanwhile, the Reconquista armies were able to completely smother the countryside of Hyderabad, capturing the entire nation in less than three months. Hyderabad, with its provinces of Nagpur and Madhya Pradesh, was annexed in November and two months later Felipe sent an identically worded declaration to the Mughals.
This fight, however, was long and bloody. The Mughals led a spirited defense of their nation, with some swift counterattacks across the new border into our lands in Hyderabad. The men of the Reconquista, on the other hand, had begun to see that their lot was not to be quite as glorious or rewarding as they’d expected. Morale sank, and in battle after battle, we were defeated by Mughal armies one-third to one-quarter our size with primitive weaponry. Grimly, Diego Alcon, Grandmaster of the Calatrava came to court on behalf of the Orders seeking further aid from the King to prosecute the war. Felipe happily agreed, on the condition that the normal bounty of fees and rents that would be due the Orders from conquered lands be shared with the Crown. The Grandmaster agreed, bitterly, and I could not help but feel that the moment would yet come back to haunt us.
Still, by hook or crook the Mughals were defeated and forced to yield the rich provinces of Jaipur, Aurangabad, and Madhya, following which they immediately sought refuge in alliance with their Persian neighbors. Perhaps worried by our new aggressiveness, or perhaps humbled by the armies of Suleyman, the Venetian Doge was once again forced to grovel before the Ottoman Throne. This time, Suleyman was far less charitable, as he reminded the Doge of his previous words. The war cost Venice Illyria, Mantua, and 250 ducats besides.
In other news, new Centers of Trade opened in Holland and Tuxpan. The Dutch greeted this development with wild enthusiasm, as the savvy Dutch merchants quickly cornered markets all around the region, reducing the once proud Flanders markets to a pale whisper of their former glory. Our new CoT in Tuxpan was nice, though it held little which had not already been a part of our CoT in Tahiti. Theoretically, I’m sure that some of our merchants were making higher profits from the shorter distance to market, but that didn’t do anything for the treasury.
And in January of 1568, only months after Grandmaster Alcon was forced to ask Felipe for aid, we discovered the price of Felipe’s victory. The King of Scotland, long an ally and lately even a vassal to us, proclaimed that his land would henceforth embrace the Reformed Churches, renouncing Catholicism and sundering both our alliance and their vassalship. The fine hand of the Alcon was behind this, I was sure. Somehow, the Pope and several of the other Catholic states had been persuaded to reassure the King that such a move would not irreparably damage their relations. Such a reassurance permitted the otherwise hesitant King to move ahead.
This was a devastating blow, more to our pride than our military. Over the decades Scotland had built up a near-invincible army, with somewhat over 40,000 men guarding each of their provinces. But in each and every war they had fought by our side, not one of those men had left the shores of Scotland. Indeed, I know that Felipe had always entertained half-hearted thoughts of politically annexing Scotland himself if an opportunity could be found. (Unfortunately, despite numerous chances, the Scots never took a province adjacent to one of ours that could be the basis for such a union.)
Scotland’s surprise defection caused a minor landslide of debate at court. Almost half of Felipe’s nobles wanted to pursue a union with Portugal instead of wooing Scotland back to the fold. The Portuguese had a few strong colonies and many trading posts, and were tied to the Spanish throne already by numerous previous marriages. In the end, however, Felipe yielded to the concerns of Queen Elizabeth, who was not particularly sanguine about the massive Scottish army becoming a future enemy. In March, after some lovely gifts to King James, the Scottish were brought back to the alliance.
This new manic pace of war left little time for anything but basic improvements and frenzied recruiting. Colonists were dispatched to Bilaspur numerous times, many of whom failed miserably without the steady guiding hand of Lope de Aguirre, who had been our India expert. Better news came when a new Admiral—Don Juan de Austria—was commissioned at our fleet in Cochin. The Don seemed quite competent, and he was fully briefed about our policy of limiting naval engagements so that our rutters could not be stolen.
In June of 1570, the next war began as we declared against Persia and her allies Uzbek, Crimea, Astrakhan, and the Mughal—all of whom disavowed the alliance. In short order we received declarations from Thuringen; from Hannover and her allies Brandenburg, Saxony, and Pommerania; from France and all her allies save Portugal, who remembered us fondly for our gifts; and from Turkey and Bohemia, who were abandoned by all of their many allies in the face of our superior firepower in the region.
Felipe sent his regrets and a cartload of gold (250 ducats) to Suleyman, saying that he had no desire for Turkish land today and promising to meet in the future. The others, however, were all met by steel and powder.
Persia was the first to surrender, offering Kalat, Mekhran and Beluchistan for peace only four months into the war, as our armies beset her from all directions. Two months later, in December, Thuringen accepted a White Peace with us after being soundly defeated in a number of cavalry engagements.
The following Spring, 1471, Hannover ceded all claim to Oldenburg in exchange for peace. A month later France sent apologies along with the rights to Berri and Orleanais. Shortly thereafter the Uzbeks suddenly declared against us, but by this time most of our forces were no longer otherwise engaged.
By January of 1472, we had taken Bremen from the Hanseatic League and Karabogaz and Khorasan from the Uzbeks. The war was over, slightly behind schedule.
While we were busy, others took the opportunity to make their own grabs for power. The Papal States, alone again after disavowing their previous alliance, declared against Pommerania on a pretext so thin we didn’t bother to study it. This inevitably led to the fall of yet another Pope, and it was not long before Gregorius XIII took office. Meanwhile, Suleyman of Turkey took the gifts sent to him by Felipe, and rerouted them to the Crimean Khan. That worthy was so delighted by the unexpected bounty that he consented to take the Oath of Vassalage to the Sultan.
As I survey the land now, things seem well enough. The only things troubling me are the ugly whispers I hear about Spain being picked up and repeated in foreign courts. There is talk that we have grown too large, that Felipe will soon fancy himself Emperor of the World. I believe that our reputation has sunk to new depths, and it is possible that soon the nations of the world will rise above their petty jealousies to strike us down. The time may soon be upon us to reap the whirlwind.
Chapter Five, Part Two: 1556-1571—The Creation of A New System
It must be remembered that there is nothing more difficult to plan, more doubtful of success, nor more dangerous to manage, than the creation of a new system. For the initiator has the enmity of all who would profit by the preservation of the old institutions and merely lukewarm defenders in those who would gain by the new ones.
Machiavelli
From the Collected Journals of Michael, Winter 1571
I could not let Carlos die thinking that he had been abandoned in some way by his God. In truth I could not know whether my pretense had survived my death. But whether I was Archangel or Man to him, I was first and foremost a friend. When I heard rumors in the spring of 1558 that the Emeritus King was ill, my first and only thought was escape.
I must admit that I had grown almost comfortable in my imprisonment. The country seemed to be very much on the right track even with my absence. My life had been eased by my role as jailhouse scribe, and six years of exemplary behavior on my part had earned me goodwill and some leniency from my guards. Father Jimenez had become something of a friend as well, though I could never let him be the Confessor he wished to be for me. It was perhaps for him most of all that I regretted my escape, as it inevitably came to be blamed on him, as I knew it must.
My reunion with Carlos, when it came, was bittersweet indeed. It was no small thing getting in to see him, and I was forced eventually to pose as a doctor. From there, convincing him of who I was proved even more difficult when I was clearly not the same man he’d known all his life and of whom he had personally witnessed the death. Still, there were conversations no other soul was privy to, confidences shared, doubts voiced. Though his body was failing, his mind and memory were as clear and bright as ever. He knew that I had not heard these things second hand, and at the last, he grasped my hand and sat with me for no short time as I told him how proud I was of all he had accomplished, and all that he and Spain had become together.
I stayed with him that way for several weeks, continuing the charade of being his doctor. And certainly between the lightening of his conscience and what little I could do to ease his pain with advanced knowledge of chemicals and herbs, I believe that my presence probably was a tonic for him. He sent word, before the end, to the capital to let Felipe know of my return, though I could not be entirely sure of my welcome there. Felipe had never been a trusting sort, and had always regarded me with a mixture of respect and suspicion.
Carlos I, known as Carlos the Great, passed away in his sleep in the fall of 1558, in the presence of friends and family alike. A few days later, I made my way to the Palace to meet with Felipe.
Even now, I hesitate to remember and recount the details of that meeting. Felipe had been King with no guidance from me for two years by then, and was firmly enmeshed in the same struggles that had so occupied his father. I think that after a fashion he believed that I was the same man he had seen die eight years before. And he was even grateful to me for that, recognizing that I had been willing to die to protect him and his father. But far deeper than that gratitude lay mistrust.
I could see that he could not bring himself to believe me an Archangel, but nor could he see me as a servant of the Devil. His faith, still strong, had been tempered by years of training in reason and critical political analysis. No, I was something else, and he knew it. And that I could not reveal the truth to him cast me down in his eyes, and I suppose in my own as well.
It was, perhaps, a credit to his own towering intellect that he came to the conclusion that he did. One day, frustrated after yet another fruitless discussion with the King, I returned to the modest chambers he had reserved for me to find a familiar black-robed figure awaiting my return. Father Jimenez, somewhat the worse for wear, but very much alive and inexplicably glad to see me.
Felipe had discovered the provenance of my new host. Perhaps, having been a witness to the original trials, he recognized it all along. He’d had Father Jimenez brought to him and discussed the question of my strange behavior and talents and my secrecy-shrouded past. Father Ignacio, the keeper of the Chapel used by the Royal Family, was ready to retire. Though highly out of the ordinary, Felipe had asked the Arch-Bishop of Castile to appoint Father Jimenez in his place. To complete the irony, Felipe had commuted my sentence from life imprisonment in the National Jail to life probation as assistant to Father Jimenez. I was now, in a sense, right back where I had started, though in most respects things were different indeed.
Felipe still comes to me for conversations and advice on a fairly regular basis, and has even promised to bring his heir to them when the time comes. Knowing what the Felipe III of my own history was like, I dearly hope that the King keeps his word. The younger Felipe, though he be not yet born, must be impressed with the solemn duty of his office and its many responsibilities, as his historical counterpart was not.
Our conversations are different, though, from what they had been. The King makes little pretense of seeking my opinions as a messenger of God, and in truth I make little pretense of being one. The lights and the armor have been packed away in a dusty closet for some time now. I do not know what, but I must eventually tell him something. Will it be the truth, I wonder?
Portrait of Felipe II
Well, enough woolgathering. The state of the realm is what I meant to be writing about today…
For almost five years following Felipe’s coronation, the nation was at glorious and luxurious peace, and much was accomplished:
Another goods manufactory was laid down in the colonial city of Moron, and the unexpected invention of new high-speed looms led to the creation of another goods manufactory in Asturias.
Madurai finally became a city in 1558 culminating three long years of effort. Immediately, the neighboring land of Cochin became the target for our colonists.
A huge and costly defensive program got underway in January 1558, as forts all across Europe, Africa and the Mideast were upgraded to the second level unless the province was at risk of revolt.
The Twin Kingdoms of Genoa and Corsica were peacefully absorbed into Spain in May of 1558, and their significant armed forces (19/2/5 navy, 13/0/0 army) added to our own. (Except the galleys, which by royal policy were unfit for wartime use and sold to Venice for use as oversized gondolas.)
Modena, long considered a sister Kingdom of Genoa, joined our alliance that July. After an intense three-year period of diplomatic courtship led by the now very well respected statesman Ayonwatha, Modena consented to become our Vassals.
Elsewhere in the world, the Uzbeks experienced a hideous period of internal strife, exacerbated by the long war with Oman (OOC: event, +15 revolt risk on top of war exhaustion). Continuing what had become somewhat of a tradition of very short reigns, Pope Paulus IV died abruptly and was replaced in 1559 by Pius IV. And in 1561, traders stopping at our port in Madurai brought word that the great (and unknown to us) nation of China had entirely annexed the humble nation of Dai Viet.
Perhaps the most significant foreign news however, came in May 1560, when tiny Holstein declared its independence from Denmark. In the ensuing war, all of the Danish allies (Sweden, Russia, Prussia, and the Netherlands) foreswore their oaths of alliance, declaring it a purely internal Danish matter. This in turn emboldened the glorious Turkish superalliance as the following February Poland and her allies Hungary, Turkey, Ryazan, Kazan, Bohemia, and Pommerania declared war on Sweden and her allies, which by now included a much-chastened Holstein!
It was in this climate of strife that Felipe decided to implement the first phase of his war plan. After positioning armies in key spots around the globe, he ordered a declaration of war to be served upon Mysore in April of 1562. By this time, Portugal had dropped out of the alliance, leaving only the Papal States allied with Mysore. Predictably, Pope Pius was no more faithful to his allies than previous popes had been, and he hastened to dishonor the alliance and seek friends elsewhere.
Still, this was to be no easy task. Two days after our declaration, the Persians and their allies the Uzbeks declared against us, looking to avenge our own backstabbing attack in the previous war. This was followed two weeks later by a declaration from the French alliance, which looked to be an exact duplicate of the one they’d sent us exactly ten years before. And a month after that, Portugal, still loyal to her former ally Mysore, declared war on us though we had been taking great pains to curry favor with her. And a few months after that, the tiny alliance of Oman and Aden declared war on us.
The initial reports out of Madurai were disheartening in the extreme. Our sole Conquistador, Lope de Aguirre, had taken personal command of the Army of Madurai/Cochin and stormed north over the border into Mysore. However, he was almost immediately confronted and counterattacked by an even larger army of over 60,000 from the unexplored terra incognito beyond! In the ensuing chaos, many of his men and Aguirre himself were lost and reinforcements had to be both ferried in from the Mideast and recruited on site. It was not until almost a year and a half later that the last fortress fell, and we annexed Mysore’s three provinces of Mysore, Bangalore, and Deccan.
Elsewhere, the French alliance was in deep trouble. Helvetia and Savoy had not even bothered to rebuild their armies from the thrashing of the previous war, though Savoy at least had the excuse of her vassalship to France. (After all, their tax dollars were paying the salaries of nice French soldiers to protect Savoy…) France, however, had squandered the military advantages of previous wars and for the first time faced a foe with numerical and technical superiority. Spanish peacekeeper armies from the rebellious former French lands simply stormed across the border and began assaulting fortresses.
Here too, Felipe added an innovative personal touch. He had noticed that in the field, our armies always seemed to be greatly heartened by the appearance of fresh troops during a battle. In a series of sweeping military reforms, he had completely modified the standard procedures of war. Now, any objective would be assaulted in waves, spaced a week or more apart, rather than as a single army. Both in the field and in assaults, this stratagem dramatically increased our effectiveness. Indeed, it would have been used to even greater effect on the Mysore front, but for the fact that we were limited to a single avenue of approach between our two lands. Tactically, this left us with far fewer options than we had in France, where we could assault provinces from numerous flanks.
Felipe’s reforms led to what perhaps was our shortest conflict with France yet—a mere seven months until they were dragged to peace negotiations and forced to cede Dauphine and Poitou. That same month of December 1562, we once again reached a separate peace with the Uzbeks, taking Karakum and Turkmenistan as well as a great deal of pride from the Uzbek Khan.
By May of ’63, Tago had fallen to our siege army. As Felipe still had every interest in peaceful relations with our close brethren, we contented ourselves with Tangiers, 125 ducats, and a copy of their rutters, revealing much of Indonesia and Africa to us.
The war ground on, more from number of enemies than difficulty. In September the Persian Shah surrendered Kerman, Balucht, and 113 ducats for peace. The total surrender of Mysore followed shortly thereafter, leaving only Oman and Aden. Hormouz had been taken relatively easily, but the Sultan of Oman would not surrender it. Hastily, every seaworthy vessel in the area from as far away as Madurai was commandeered and troops packed tight in every hold. After several harrowing ferry trips across the Straits, and numerous assaults, we finally took Mascate, though tens of thousands of men died from lack of supplies. With the fall of the capital, Hormouz was finally ceded by treaty in December. Peace at last, we thought.
In another of history’s little postscripts, the news of our final peace didn’t reach the court in Saxony in time, and their declaration of war arrived that January 1564. But Felipe had little interest in Saxony or her allies Hannover and Brandenburg at that time, having little desire to extend himself into the small German states. Our policy of absorbing such small Christian states slowly via diplomacy had been working well in Germany and Italy, and there was no reason to change. King Felipe sent the messenger back with his pockets stuffed with gold, and kind words for the Saxon King. Finally we were truly at peace again.
It was not until our next meeting several months after the war that I found myself staring at an updated map of Europe wondering why I was so perturbed. I smacked myself on the forehead so loudly that Felipe startled. In the press of battle, I’d forgotten to suggest to Felipe that he leave Dauphine to France so that she could eventually annex Savoy diplomatically. This would weaken France’s reputation and simplify things for us, as we could move in and take the province in the next war with none of the usual burdens of “depriving a brother monarch of his rightful throne.” Still, the war had gone well overall, and I could not complain much about Savoy.
For two years, Felipe turned his attentions back to statecraft and infrastructure, and our neighbors breathed a sigh of relief. A clear pattern had emerged that after a long war such as that, there would always be several years of peace and rebuilding. At first, this seemed to be the case. A new naval manufactory was laid down in Lima, and the fortification program continued. In Europe, Africa, and the Mideast we replaced our losses but made no further buildup.
Thus reassured, our neighbors went back about their own business. Denmark annexed the wayward Holstein once again. Venice, emboldened by their successful courting of the Knights and Russia to their alliance, declared war on Turkey and her allies. Poland, Bohemia and Kazan honored their commitments, but Hungary, Ryazan, Pommerania, and the ever-faithless Papal States did not. A month later, yet another new Pope—Pius V made the long climb up the steps of the Vatican, looking over his shoulder the whole way I am sure.
In August of 1566, Felipe unveiled the second phase of his war plans. Like his father before him, he had become determined to use the Reconquista to his own ends. Rather than give them the time to recuperate, rebuild and recruit, let alone enjoy the fruits of their labors, he vowed to work them till they dropped. Now Spain would time her wars so that they would come in distinct paired waves, each half separated by a year or two of peace, all of it made possible by the five year armistices signed at the end of hostilities. The second half of each war phase would have to be concluded before the first expiration of armistice from the first half.
Felipe’s target was even more brilliant. We had all been somewhat shocked by the massive armies of tiny Mysore. Armed with better information from the capture and absorption of her capital, we now knew that her northern neighbors of Hyderabad and the Mughals were just as powerfully armed. Yes, their lands were rich and incredibly productive, but legions of men would sail down the Styx to win them. And each and every one of those men would be members or supporters of the Reconquista—men who put loyalty to their Order and the distant Pope over loyalty to King and Country.
In August, our declaration was sent to Hyderabad and her ally the Mughals. Incredibly, the Mughals dishonored their alliance and declared their neutrality in the conflict, forcing us to face only slightly less than half the forces we’d anticipated. Unfortunately for the Reconquista, this simply freed Felipe to order all support and reinforcements to a second front as the tiny Palatinat declared against us by themselves.
While we had no intention of simply toppling the monarchs of Europe, Felipe was incensed by this senseless declaration. The Palatinat had no allies and the tiniest of armies. Clearly they were simply hoping for a payoff similar to the one obtained by Saxony just a few years ago. Felipe decided, with my wholehearted endorsement, that he had to make an example of them. After several skirmishes and lengthy sieges of Mainz and Pfalz, the Electors were forced to turn over Mainz—half their nation.
Meanwhile, the Reconquista armies were able to completely smother the countryside of Hyderabad, capturing the entire nation in less than three months. Hyderabad, with its provinces of Nagpur and Madhya Pradesh, was annexed in November and two months later Felipe sent an identically worded declaration to the Mughals.
This fight, however, was long and bloody. The Mughals led a spirited defense of their nation, with some swift counterattacks across the new border into our lands in Hyderabad. The men of the Reconquista, on the other hand, had begun to see that their lot was not to be quite as glorious or rewarding as they’d expected. Morale sank, and in battle after battle, we were defeated by Mughal armies one-third to one-quarter our size with primitive weaponry. Grimly, Diego Alcon, Grandmaster of the Calatrava came to court on behalf of the Orders seeking further aid from the King to prosecute the war. Felipe happily agreed, on the condition that the normal bounty of fees and rents that would be due the Orders from conquered lands be shared with the Crown. The Grandmaster agreed, bitterly, and I could not help but feel that the moment would yet come back to haunt us.
Still, by hook or crook the Mughals were defeated and forced to yield the rich provinces of Jaipur, Aurangabad, and Madhya, following which they immediately sought refuge in alliance with their Persian neighbors. Perhaps worried by our new aggressiveness, or perhaps humbled by the armies of Suleyman, the Venetian Doge was once again forced to grovel before the Ottoman Throne. This time, Suleyman was far less charitable, as he reminded the Doge of his previous words. The war cost Venice Illyria, Mantua, and 250 ducats besides.
In other news, new Centers of Trade opened in Holland and Tuxpan. The Dutch greeted this development with wild enthusiasm, as the savvy Dutch merchants quickly cornered markets all around the region, reducing the once proud Flanders markets to a pale whisper of their former glory. Our new CoT in Tuxpan was nice, though it held little which had not already been a part of our CoT in Tahiti. Theoretically, I’m sure that some of our merchants were making higher profits from the shorter distance to market, but that didn’t do anything for the treasury.
And in January of 1568, only months after Grandmaster Alcon was forced to ask Felipe for aid, we discovered the price of Felipe’s victory. The King of Scotland, long an ally and lately even a vassal to us, proclaimed that his land would henceforth embrace the Reformed Churches, renouncing Catholicism and sundering both our alliance and their vassalship. The fine hand of the Alcon was behind this, I was sure. Somehow, the Pope and several of the other Catholic states had been persuaded to reassure the King that such a move would not irreparably damage their relations. Such a reassurance permitted the otherwise hesitant King to move ahead.
This was a devastating blow, more to our pride than our military. Over the decades Scotland had built up a near-invincible army, with somewhat over 40,000 men guarding each of their provinces. But in each and every war they had fought by our side, not one of those men had left the shores of Scotland. Indeed, I know that Felipe had always entertained half-hearted thoughts of politically annexing Scotland himself if an opportunity could be found. (Unfortunately, despite numerous chances, the Scots never took a province adjacent to one of ours that could be the basis for such a union.)
Scotland’s surprise defection caused a minor landslide of debate at court. Almost half of Felipe’s nobles wanted to pursue a union with Portugal instead of wooing Scotland back to the fold. The Portuguese had a few strong colonies and many trading posts, and were tied to the Spanish throne already by numerous previous marriages. In the end, however, Felipe yielded to the concerns of Queen Elizabeth, who was not particularly sanguine about the massive Scottish army becoming a future enemy. In March, after some lovely gifts to King James, the Scottish were brought back to the alliance.
This new manic pace of war left little time for anything but basic improvements and frenzied recruiting. Colonists were dispatched to Bilaspur numerous times, many of whom failed miserably without the steady guiding hand of Lope de Aguirre, who had been our India expert. Better news came when a new Admiral—Don Juan de Austria—was commissioned at our fleet in Cochin. The Don seemed quite competent, and he was fully briefed about our policy of limiting naval engagements so that our rutters could not be stolen.
In June of 1570, the next war began as we declared against Persia and her allies Uzbek, Crimea, Astrakhan, and the Mughal—all of whom disavowed the alliance. In short order we received declarations from Thuringen; from Hannover and her allies Brandenburg, Saxony, and Pommerania; from France and all her allies save Portugal, who remembered us fondly for our gifts; and from Turkey and Bohemia, who were abandoned by all of their many allies in the face of our superior firepower in the region.
Felipe sent his regrets and a cartload of gold (250 ducats) to Suleyman, saying that he had no desire for Turkish land today and promising to meet in the future. The others, however, were all met by steel and powder.
Persia was the first to surrender, offering Kalat, Mekhran and Beluchistan for peace only four months into the war, as our armies beset her from all directions. Two months later, in December, Thuringen accepted a White Peace with us after being soundly defeated in a number of cavalry engagements.
The following Spring, 1471, Hannover ceded all claim to Oldenburg in exchange for peace. A month later France sent apologies along with the rights to Berri and Orleanais. Shortly thereafter the Uzbeks suddenly declared against us, but by this time most of our forces were no longer otherwise engaged.
By January of 1472, we had taken Bremen from the Hanseatic League and Karabogaz and Khorasan from the Uzbeks. The war was over, slightly behind schedule.
While we were busy, others took the opportunity to make their own grabs for power. The Papal States, alone again after disavowing their previous alliance, declared against Pommerania on a pretext so thin we didn’t bother to study it. This inevitably led to the fall of yet another Pope, and it was not long before Gregorius XIII took office. Meanwhile, Suleyman of Turkey took the gifts sent to him by Felipe, and rerouted them to the Crimean Khan. That worthy was so delighted by the unexpected bounty that he consented to take the Oath of Vassalage to the Sultan.
As I survey the land now, things seem well enough. The only things troubling me are the ugly whispers I hear about Spain being picked up and repeated in foreign courts. There is talk that we have grown too large, that Felipe will soon fancy himself Emperor of the World. I believe that our reputation has sunk to new depths, and it is possible that soon the nations of the world will rise above their petty jealousies to strike us down. The time may soon be upon us to reap the whirlwind.
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(I did try to crop and convert everything to JPG to save space...)
