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:rofl:FlorisDeVijfde said:Why dont't the 3 of you get a room or something
Rensslaer: We are waiting impatiently for the next update. Hope you find the time to put these wonderful updates together.
Rensslaer said:
My mind-pictures can't be described by words or even pictures. There's so much more to them than that. Personality, voice, etc. And there's no need to rub the Dutch grandmother in.
Didn't you notice the replacement? 
A Succession of Questions (Part 2 of 15)
“That is a very bad sign.” Rensselaer glanced quickly around their party, checking to see any threats – a possibility which had suddenly become very credible.
“Is he safer,” Dempewolf asked, “in the open, or in a secret location?” He stepped toward Rensselaer.
KronPrinz Waldemar turned and attended, realizing the direction his advisors’ conversation was taking.
Rensselaer pondered with deeply creased brows. He looked at Waldemar. “You have an appointment tomorrow you cannot miss. But it would take a very rash fellow to try to assassinate you in the view of tens of thousands.” They all seemed to agree on that point. “If a killing is what Albrecht intends… or anyone in his chain of command, they will likely want to try beforehand or afterward. It’s best to get you out of sight until the last possible moment. Anders,” he addressed his younger friend from the Wilhelmstrasse. “Follow us until I signal you. Make sure we are not followed. Adalbert, come with us.” He signaled the KronPrinz too, and the trio, with a tag-along, went back into the building. “Major,” Rensselaer asked of Korenyi-Both. “Do you have a weapon?”
“Just my cavalry saber. Say, Renss, isn’t this more the job of the Lifeguards?” He indicated the elite corps of soldiers bound by oath to protect the Kaiser’s life.
“Normally, I would say yes. But their loyalty is in question now, since the succession is undetermined. And I have no idea to whom their commander owes his loyalty in the Army, whether it be Riedesel or Moltke, or even Kalkhorst!” He seemed slightly winded by the challenge of rushing and talking at the same time, but the tall old Dutchman kept up his pace. “No, at this point I am inclined to trust no one.” He looked over his shoulder at Al. “Except… you.”
Adalbert seemed profoundly impressed. Or profoundly confused, one or the other. His childhood friend, the KronPrinz, clapped his hand on Al's shoulder with a broad grin. They charged forward, following Rensselaer down the marble-lined hallways.
Rensselaer motioned to Asche to stop and watch for spies, then led the two young men up a back stairway to the top floor of the historic building. Rensselaer proceeded to a brass vase down the hallway, tipped it back, and reached under the cloth on which it sat. Retrieving a key, they went back the other way and stopped at the far corner of the building. A carved, old wooden door stood there. The key produced a creak, but the door opened and they entered, locking it once more behind them.
“Renss,” Korenyi-Both sounded plaintively, once the door was closed. “I can’t see a damned thing.”
“Patience, young master.” Silence. A clang and a stifled curse across the room proved that Rensselaer had no special means of perception. They heard another door creak, and suddenly light flared from behind a tall bookcase that had been slanted away from the wall. Rensselaer emerged with a torch in hand, which revealed that the dusty nook in which they stood was some kind of private library. Very private.
Ignoring them, Rensselaer held the torch up to scan the titles on the wall. Each book, Wally noted, was bound in an ornate style that suggested great age. He squinted closely at the spine of one book. “A Journey for Our Time,” it read. “The Russian Journals of the Marquis de Custine.” Realizing suddenly that he might soon have a good deal of time to spend alone with Adalbert, he slid the book out and also grabbed two others with intriguing titles so he would at least have an excuse to ignore Al.
Rensselaer had taken a book of his own, but replaced it after finding another key hidden underneath. He motioned for them to come with him through the secret passageway, and Korenyi pulled the bookcase closed behind them. Inside, in what Wally took to be the hollowed-out cornerstones of the edifice, they circled down a spiraling stone staircase. Waldemar found it exhilarating, as he had rarely known since he was a boy – exploring unknown passages and all the while feeling an imminent dread of being discovered! Behind him, Korenyi-Both simply expressed occasional complaints of claustrophobia. “Renss,” Wally asked, “what is this passage, and who knows about it?”
Rensselaer stopped for a moment to respond. They were all somewhat out of breath, as the air was very stale. “These tunnels date back to either Friedrich Wilhelm the Third or Friedrich the Great. I was shown them by Chancellor Kauperke, who insisted only he, myself and Wilhelm the First knew about them. With that small a set of awareness, I can’t imagine there is anyone else alive today who knows about them.” He was about to start down again, but stopped. “Now, I don’t know how Wilhelm knew… And I can’t guarantee that his brother, Albrecht, wouldn’t have known from the same source. Keep that in mind, as you screen anybody who might pop up on you. You’re welcome to shoot anybody but me.” He flashed a bright, toothy grin at them, then rounded to continue their descent.
“Shoot, Renss?” Al asked. “With what?”
“I have a Mauser Broomhandle with me,” he called over his shoulder, referring to a semi-automatic pistol which had become popular in recent years, “which I will give to you before I leave you to your own devices.”
Korenyi made an impressed sound, while Waldemar simply smiled. “I had a feeling you weren’t as blithe about any danger as you were acting!”
The old man just chuckled. “Like I said. I’ve been in this business for too long…”
Reaching a layer of stones, which coincided with an increase in humidity in the air, Wally presumed they were entering an underground tunnel. The stairway ended abruptly in a dark passageway lined with more stones. Water dripped in the distance, but much of the floor was covered in an unmarred layer of dust an inch thick. They kept going. Rensselaer turned down a particular narrow tunnel which eventually ended in another spiral staircase like the one they had come down. Next to them were some shelves stocked with canned goods, bedrolls and some other supplies.
“I wouldn’t try eating from the cans,” Rensselaer advised. “They’re probably at least two decades old. I will bring food with me when I return.” He lit the torch in the hallway’s sconce, pointed out a supplementary oil lamp, turned over the promised pistol – a metal contraption with a large magazine extending beneath – and gave them parting instructions for what to do under various circumstances. Then he bade them farewell and hurried off – his flickering bubble of light disappearing into the distance.
The KronPrinz sighed, and surveyed their surroundings. He swept a garden full of dust from a rotting wooden bench, and coughed at the result.
“Hey, Wally…” Adalbert said. “What if Renss doesn’t return?”
Waldemar returned to him an admonitory frown, sat heavily on the bench with one of his books, and began to read by the torchlight.
“That is a very bad sign.” Rensselaer glanced quickly around their party, checking to see any threats – a possibility which had suddenly become very credible.
“Is he safer,” Dempewolf asked, “in the open, or in a secret location?” He stepped toward Rensselaer.
KronPrinz Waldemar turned and attended, realizing the direction his advisors’ conversation was taking.
Rensselaer pondered with deeply creased brows. He looked at Waldemar. “You have an appointment tomorrow you cannot miss. But it would take a very rash fellow to try to assassinate you in the view of tens of thousands.” They all seemed to agree on that point. “If a killing is what Albrecht intends… or anyone in his chain of command, they will likely want to try beforehand or afterward. It’s best to get you out of sight until the last possible moment. Anders,” he addressed his younger friend from the Wilhelmstrasse. “Follow us until I signal you. Make sure we are not followed. Adalbert, come with us.” He signaled the KronPrinz too, and the trio, with a tag-along, went back into the building. “Major,” Rensselaer asked of Korenyi-Both. “Do you have a weapon?”
“Just my cavalry saber. Say, Renss, isn’t this more the job of the Lifeguards?” He indicated the elite corps of soldiers bound by oath to protect the Kaiser’s life.
“Normally, I would say yes. But their loyalty is in question now, since the succession is undetermined. And I have no idea to whom their commander owes his loyalty in the Army, whether it be Riedesel or Moltke, or even Kalkhorst!” He seemed slightly winded by the challenge of rushing and talking at the same time, but the tall old Dutchman kept up his pace. “No, at this point I am inclined to trust no one.” He looked over his shoulder at Al. “Except… you.”
Adalbert seemed profoundly impressed. Or profoundly confused, one or the other. His childhood friend, the KronPrinz, clapped his hand on Al's shoulder with a broad grin. They charged forward, following Rensselaer down the marble-lined hallways.
Rensselaer motioned to Asche to stop and watch for spies, then led the two young men up a back stairway to the top floor of the historic building. Rensselaer proceeded to a brass vase down the hallway, tipped it back, and reached under the cloth on which it sat. Retrieving a key, they went back the other way and stopped at the far corner of the building. A carved, old wooden door stood there. The key produced a creak, but the door opened and they entered, locking it once more behind them.
“Renss,” Korenyi-Both sounded plaintively, once the door was closed. “I can’t see a damned thing.”
“Patience, young master.” Silence. A clang and a stifled curse across the room proved that Rensselaer had no special means of perception. They heard another door creak, and suddenly light flared from behind a tall bookcase that had been slanted away from the wall. Rensselaer emerged with a torch in hand, which revealed that the dusty nook in which they stood was some kind of private library. Very private.
Ignoring them, Rensselaer held the torch up to scan the titles on the wall. Each book, Wally noted, was bound in an ornate style that suggested great age. He squinted closely at the spine of one book. “A Journey for Our Time,” it read. “The Russian Journals of the Marquis de Custine.” Realizing suddenly that he might soon have a good deal of time to spend alone with Adalbert, he slid the book out and also grabbed two others with intriguing titles so he would at least have an excuse to ignore Al.
Rensselaer had taken a book of his own, but replaced it after finding another key hidden underneath. He motioned for them to come with him through the secret passageway, and Korenyi pulled the bookcase closed behind them. Inside, in what Wally took to be the hollowed-out cornerstones of the edifice, they circled down a spiraling stone staircase. Waldemar found it exhilarating, as he had rarely known since he was a boy – exploring unknown passages and all the while feeling an imminent dread of being discovered! Behind him, Korenyi-Both simply expressed occasional complaints of claustrophobia. “Renss,” Wally asked, “what is this passage, and who knows about it?”
Rensselaer stopped for a moment to respond. They were all somewhat out of breath, as the air was very stale. “These tunnels date back to either Friedrich Wilhelm the Third or Friedrich the Great. I was shown them by Chancellor Kauperke, who insisted only he, myself and Wilhelm the First knew about them. With that small a set of awareness, I can’t imagine there is anyone else alive today who knows about them.” He was about to start down again, but stopped. “Now, I don’t know how Wilhelm knew… And I can’t guarantee that his brother, Albrecht, wouldn’t have known from the same source. Keep that in mind, as you screen anybody who might pop up on you. You’re welcome to shoot anybody but me.” He flashed a bright, toothy grin at them, then rounded to continue their descent.
“Shoot, Renss?” Al asked. “With what?”
“I have a Mauser Broomhandle with me,” he called over his shoulder, referring to a semi-automatic pistol which had become popular in recent years, “which I will give to you before I leave you to your own devices.”
Korenyi made an impressed sound, while Waldemar simply smiled. “I had a feeling you weren’t as blithe about any danger as you were acting!”
The old man just chuckled. “Like I said. I’ve been in this business for too long…”
Reaching a layer of stones, which coincided with an increase in humidity in the air, Wally presumed they were entering an underground tunnel. The stairway ended abruptly in a dark passageway lined with more stones. Water dripped in the distance, but much of the floor was covered in an unmarred layer of dust an inch thick. They kept going. Rensselaer turned down a particular narrow tunnel which eventually ended in another spiral staircase like the one they had come down. Next to them were some shelves stocked with canned goods, bedrolls and some other supplies.
“I wouldn’t try eating from the cans,” Rensselaer advised. “They’re probably at least two decades old. I will bring food with me when I return.” He lit the torch in the hallway’s sconce, pointed out a supplementary oil lamp, turned over the promised pistol – a metal contraption with a large magazine extending beneath – and gave them parting instructions for what to do under various circumstances. Then he bade them farewell and hurried off – his flickering bubble of light disappearing into the distance.
The KronPrinz sighed, and surveyed their surroundings. He swept a garden full of dust from a rotting wooden bench, and coughed at the result.
“Hey, Wally…” Adalbert said. “What if Renss doesn’t return?”
Waldemar returned to him an admonitory frown, sat heavily on the bench with one of his books, and began to read by the torchlight.
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So the KP is in some sort of underground chamber. I just hope his meeting with whoever is worth it.
Yup! Just wait till Rensselaer doesn't come back, and Wally finds he's been walled in!prussiablue said:
:rofl: Renss
p.s. Just kidding!
I don't know about this. Hiding from plain sight to conduct an ambush, leaving the field to your enemies is quite another.
Would be interesting if this happened to be the same chamber where Albrecht wants to take potential would-be assasins to plan that assassination without them being overheard...and then he finds Wally there...with a Mauser , that is if he knows about the place and wants to perform an assassination at all.
, that is if he knows about the place and wants to perform an assassination at all.
I have to agree with stnylan, this smacks of fleeing the battle field before the battle has even begun... Now granted, Wally and Renss are unsure of their support, but even then their has to be at least some show of bravado before retiring from the field, eh?
Unless, of course, Renss is preparing the field of battle for Wally while the future Kaiser takes a little rest... just what is the old Dutchman doing, anyway?
Unless, of course, Renss is preparing the field of battle for Wally while the future Kaiser takes a little rest... just what is the old Dutchman doing, anyway?
Hmm, very interesting situation there. Maybe Wally is going to hide for three decades and then emerge to your 'world after the game'?
Nah, that'd be a bit boring
Nah, that'd be a bit boring
I don't know - keeping out of sight until such time as the succession is secure isn't such a bad idea. But one wonders if the succession can be secured with Wally out of sight. A bit of a catch-22, it seems.
However, I assume Renss is doing all he can through his connections, so maybe it isn't as serious as it sounds.
However, I assume Renss is doing all he can through his connections, so maybe it isn't as serious as it sounds.
Is the threat to Wally's life really that serious? Even if the old fart manages to take the throne he won't last long at 96 and then wouldn't the throne naturally go to Wally? It seems like another assasination would only throw the country deeper into turmoil.
Even if the old fart manages to take the throne he won't last long at 96 and then wouldn't the throne naturally go to Wally? It seems like another assasination would only throw the country deeper into turmoil.
A Succession of Questions (Part 3 of 15)
Major Adalbert Korenyi-Both leaned his shoulder against the stone of the far wall, watching his friend, KronPrinz Waldemar, curled up on the wooden bench that was their only seat in this forlorn stretch of tunnel. Waldemar’s pretense was that he was resting, but the signs were all too clear that he was restless and sobbing quietly with his face hidden away from Al.
The excitement and tension, probably, had kept Wally from dwelling too deeply on the fact of his Father’s violent death. Now, walled off from stimulation, news, air, sun, and any number of other things, one was alone with one’s thoughts. And with him, Al reflected, but even he wasn’t sure if his presence was more a help or a hindrance. Wally was in no mood to talk. He had already finished most of one of the books he had brought.
A noise echoed to them from down the hallway. Al instinctively raised the Mauser C96 to partial readiness. “Hello!” called a voice.
“Who is it?” Al shouted back, though the voice was vaguely familiar even through the distortion effect of the tunnel.
“Groot Vader!” Rensselaer called back. “Grandfather,” in Dutch. He had said it was next to impossible for anyone to guess something as obscure as that.
Al lowered the pistol. A torch jiggled toward them. “Wally!” Korenyi shouted, then shook his shoulder to rouse him. Wally sat up slowly, and wiped his sleeved arm across his eyes.
“It’s Renss,” Al explained.
The KronPrinz brightened when he saw that Rensselaer carried a bag with various foods and treats inside. “Courtesy of Frau Asche,” Rensselaer said.
“So what’s the situation?” Wally asked. He dug into a pie, first, while drilling Rensselaer for information.
“There are a great many people in power who fear your accession,” he said. “I believe that Holstein is leading the effort to put Albrecht on the throne. Kalkhorst and Grolitz are involved, for sure, and who knows who else. I wouldn’t trust Eulenburg or Bülow. Bülow!” he exclaimed. “Bülow – the ass! – called in the Reichstag for you to immediately address the body. Whether it was an urgent call for you to take leadership, or a gamble to flush you out, I couldn’t tell. When I explained, privately, my concern about your being exposed to assassination, he backed off quickly and said he would quash any further attempts to embarrass you.”
“That’s a good sign, at least,” Al nodded.
“I wouldn’t be so sure. I don’t know what else he could have done, even if were a part of the conspiracy. Nor can I tell yet where the military stands. Von Moltke professes total loyalty. And he said his soldiers would be on their highest guard during the funeral tomorrow. I have spoken with Longanecker and some others who I know I can trust. They will watch from good vantage points for any snipers. Al,” he turned to Korenyi, “I’d like you to take such a position yourself, as you are such a crack shot. I really do not expect anything bad to happen during the funeral. In fact, this whole thing may just be an innocent power play, but I’m not willing to trust our lives to it until we know for sure.”
Major Adalbert Korenyi-Both leaned his shoulder against the stone of the far wall, watching his friend, KronPrinz Waldemar, curled up on the wooden bench that was their only seat in this forlorn stretch of tunnel. Waldemar’s pretense was that he was resting, but the signs were all too clear that he was restless and sobbing quietly with his face hidden away from Al.
The excitement and tension, probably, had kept Wally from dwelling too deeply on the fact of his Father’s violent death. Now, walled off from stimulation, news, air, sun, and any number of other things, one was alone with one’s thoughts. And with him, Al reflected, but even he wasn’t sure if his presence was more a help or a hindrance. Wally was in no mood to talk. He had already finished most of one of the books he had brought.
A noise echoed to them from down the hallway. Al instinctively raised the Mauser C96 to partial readiness. “Hello!” called a voice.
“Who is it?” Al shouted back, though the voice was vaguely familiar even through the distortion effect of the tunnel.
“Groot Vader!” Rensselaer called back. “Grandfather,” in Dutch. He had said it was next to impossible for anyone to guess something as obscure as that.
Al lowered the pistol. A torch jiggled toward them. “Wally!” Korenyi shouted, then shook his shoulder to rouse him. Wally sat up slowly, and wiped his sleeved arm across his eyes.
“It’s Renss,” Al explained.
The KronPrinz brightened when he saw that Rensselaer carried a bag with various foods and treats inside. “Courtesy of Frau Asche,” Rensselaer said.
“So what’s the situation?” Wally asked. He dug into a pie, first, while drilling Rensselaer for information.
“There are a great many people in power who fear your accession,” he said. “I believe that Holstein is leading the effort to put Albrecht on the throne. Kalkhorst and Grolitz are involved, for sure, and who knows who else. I wouldn’t trust Eulenburg or Bülow. Bülow!” he exclaimed. “Bülow – the ass! – called in the Reichstag for you to immediately address the body. Whether it was an urgent call for you to take leadership, or a gamble to flush you out, I couldn’t tell. When I explained, privately, my concern about your being exposed to assassination, he backed off quickly and said he would quash any further attempts to embarrass you.”
“That’s a good sign, at least,” Al nodded.
“I wouldn’t be so sure. I don’t know what else he could have done, even if were a part of the conspiracy. Nor can I tell yet where the military stands. Von Moltke professes total loyalty. And he said his soldiers would be on their highest guard during the funeral tomorrow. I have spoken with Longanecker and some others who I know I can trust. They will watch from good vantage points for any snipers. Al,” he turned to Korenyi, “I’d like you to take such a position yourself, as you are such a crack shot. I really do not expect anything bad to happen during the funeral. In fact, this whole thing may just be an innocent power play, but I’m not willing to trust our lives to it until we know for sure.”
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A Succession of Questions (Part 4 of 15)
From The Eagle Rising: The Story of Prussia's Arrival On the World Stage, pub. 1989 by Professor Reinicke Herz
Kaiser Wilhelm II’s funeral was an elaborate affair, and was attended by millions of Germans in the streets of Berlin. KronPrinz Waldemar, the heir apparent, rode slowly behind the horse-drawn catafalque with the Kaiser’s casket.
Because of the plot to place Albrecht on the throne instead of Waldemar, there were concerns for the young crown prince’s safety. His disappearance from public view in the several hours before the funeral did not go unnoticed, and unsympathetic members of the press made much of this in the evening and morning papers.
But when the KronPrinz rode by the assembled crowds, not all the emotion was for his Father. Despite an aggressive whispering campaign, and slights against him in various newspapers, the public did generally like Waldemar.
The ceremonies concluded entirely without incident. However, once the funeral was over, those elements of the press who supported Albrecht began a nasty campaign against Waldemar. He was called a liberal and a socialist (charges which would only have detracted in certain circles), inexperienced and rudderless, pro-British, pro-Russian, pro-French… Anything that could harm him was tried.
Much was made of Waldemar’s foreign education in the United States, which was considered a hotbed of socialism by the right-wing Konservatives, and this charge led into the far more damaging accusations that he had met a young woman in America (some papers claimed outrageous numbers of women and a variety of deviant sexual liaisons) and intended to make her Kaiserin. This last was upsetting to Waldemar’s chances simply because most Germans were not ready for a non-German and non-noble Empress, no matter that they had already had a British-born woman (albeit of German blood, and from a most respected line) in that very same position.
It was after the funeral that many of the fears expressed by Waldemar’s supporters really began to find justification. Led by a rudimentary “secret police” established by Wilhelm II’s Inspector General, Count Adar von Grolitz, many liberals were driven underground through threats and intimidation – even some violence – and the KronPrinz returned to seclusion, yielding the field of battle to his enemies.
It did not help that, as Albrecht boasted of his conservative credentials and his nationalist fervor, a French military buildup began on the border (again – this was a not uncommon provocation during these times). Despite fears of either assassination or a French invasion, historians have never found any direct evidence that either was connected to or intended by Albrecht or his allies. Likewise, history remains indecisive on the nature of Wilhelm II’s assassination. While many argue a variety of scenarios, it remains entirely possible that the assassin Steppenwolf, who died during the commission of his crime, acted on his own.
From The Eagle Rising: The Story of Prussia's Arrival On the World Stage, pub. 1989 by Professor Reinicke Herz
Kaiser Wilhelm II’s funeral was an elaborate affair, and was attended by millions of Germans in the streets of Berlin. KronPrinz Waldemar, the heir apparent, rode slowly behind the horse-drawn catafalque with the Kaiser’s casket.
Because of the plot to place Albrecht on the throne instead of Waldemar, there were concerns for the young crown prince’s safety. His disappearance from public view in the several hours before the funeral did not go unnoticed, and unsympathetic members of the press made much of this in the evening and morning papers.
But when the KronPrinz rode by the assembled crowds, not all the emotion was for his Father. Despite an aggressive whispering campaign, and slights against him in various newspapers, the public did generally like Waldemar.
The ceremonies concluded entirely without incident. However, once the funeral was over, those elements of the press who supported Albrecht began a nasty campaign against Waldemar. He was called a liberal and a socialist (charges which would only have detracted in certain circles), inexperienced and rudderless, pro-British, pro-Russian, pro-French… Anything that could harm him was tried.
Much was made of Waldemar’s foreign education in the United States, which was considered a hotbed of socialism by the right-wing Konservatives, and this charge led into the far more damaging accusations that he had met a young woman in America (some papers claimed outrageous numbers of women and a variety of deviant sexual liaisons) and intended to make her Kaiserin. This last was upsetting to Waldemar’s chances simply because most Germans were not ready for a non-German and non-noble Empress, no matter that they had already had a British-born woman (albeit of German blood, and from a most respected line) in that very same position.
It was after the funeral that many of the fears expressed by Waldemar’s supporters really began to find justification. Led by a rudimentary “secret police” established by Wilhelm II’s Inspector General, Count Adar von Grolitz, many liberals were driven underground through threats and intimidation – even some violence – and the KronPrinz returned to seclusion, yielding the field of battle to his enemies.
It did not help that, as Albrecht boasted of his conservative credentials and his nationalist fervor, a French military buildup began on the border (again – this was a not uncommon provocation during these times). Despite fears of either assassination or a French invasion, historians have never found any direct evidence that either was connected to or intended by Albrecht or his allies. Likewise, history remains indecisive on the nature of Wilhelm II’s assassination. While many argue a variety of scenarios, it remains entirely possible that the assassin Steppenwolf, who died during the commission of his crime, acted on his own.
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A Succession of Feedbacks...
I certainly do not mean to ignore all of you who are commenting... It is just a very delicate storyline (-I'm- still trying to figure it out, and -I'm- WRITING it!), and you KNOW how I LOVE cliffhangers and HATE spoilers, so...
Let us just say that if it appears that the KronPrinz or Rensselaer are making a mistake. Then they are likely making a mistake!
I think I may make another post tonight, or at least tomorrow, to clarify that. But here are two to catch up to where I meant to be! I'm finally finding a little time to type the stuff I'd meant to write.
Renss
I certainly do not mean to ignore all of you who are commenting... It is just a very delicate storyline (-I'm- still trying to figure it out, and -I'm- WRITING it!), and you KNOW how I LOVE cliffhangers and HATE spoilers, so...
Let us just say that if it appears that the KronPrinz or Rensselaer are making a mistake. Then they are likely making a mistake!
I think I may make another post tonight, or at least tomorrow, to clarify that. But here are two to catch up to where I meant to be! I'm finally finding a little time to type the stuff I'd meant to write.
Renss
Two updates in the past hour!? Be still my beating heart! I think it's time for Wally and Rensslaer to go on the offensive and start takinig it to Albrecht. After all, there are bound to be advantages to being 17 instead of 96, not just disadvantages.
I think it's time for Wally and Rensslaer to go on the offensive and start takinig it to Albrecht. After all, there are bound to be advantages to being 17 instead of 96, not just disadvantages.
I certainly see why they are so very careful at the moment. Perhaps too careful, and that may turn out to be deleterious to their cause, but it makes sense.
At least he got out for the funeral.
But with all that said, it seems as though times are about to get rather rough for Prussia, intentions be damned. Many others are longing to express their grudges against the country, regardless of who the rightful ruler is. And with plots being hatched both inside and outside of the country, much is likely to happen that will make poor Wally's tenure (however short or long it may be) tenuous at all times - always paying for the sins of his ancestors. Isn't that always the case?
At least he got out for the funeral.
But with all that said, it seems as though times are about to get rather rough for Prussia, intentions be damned. Many others are longing to express their grudges against the country, regardless of who the rightful ruler is. And with plots being hatched both inside and outside of the country, much is likely to happen that will make poor Wally's tenure (however short or long it may be) tenuous at all times - always paying for the sins of his ancestors. Isn't that always the case?
It will all hinge on the army I think, and strangely I wonder if the army might be more liberal (progressive might be a better word) than armies usually are. After all, many of the soldiers happen to be non-Germans, and the officers and men are more likely to have been out among the world - the officers especially. Providing soldiers are not in the habit of taking the throne themselves they can be quite tenacious in their fealty to a particular dynasty, and to the correct succession.