HistoryPark: Here There Be Dragons

[Director]

A little more FB/FB (as coz1 likes to say).

First, a health post: I am not yet well but suspect I probably will live. Have not improved to the point that I am sure that continued existence is a good thing.

Nil-The-Frogg - you are very kind but the real question is whether I have any strong points. Mostly my arrogance, self-importance and unmitigated gall allow me to continue despite cringe-worthy work that would stop any self-critical author cold.

*Happy now, Joe?*

Now Nil, don't poke at Storey. You wouldn't like him when he's angry! (Read 'Three Countries One Goal' and you'll see what I mean. It's a great read, too.) If he does get out of line we have an easy cure. Ready, gang? All together now - whisper - 'Crimea!'

We are prone to sinus infections here and I've had more than my share in my life. Most of my health problems lately have been from other causes, though.

Chief Ragusa - I started this war with a set of big fat assumptions and got the *ass* part of that word handed to me. I depended on naval superiority just because I had it in the past, developed an overly complex operation and then managed to hang on for a win anyway... that said, the AI did a good job with what it had, constantly frustrating me at sea and challenging my sieges on land.

The Admiral does say he doesn't know anything about the heart.

Hitchcock has a soft spot for Sue and is man enough to never, ever give in to it (and to kick himself, hard and often, for being a martyr).

coz1 - your good wishes are much appreciated. Everyone in LA (Lower Alabama) seems to have this crud now.

Man, did this war drag on. Imagine - here I am, finally master of all the Ottoman lands, confidently sending out my diplomat to demand everything but the capital... and they refuse! I was so stunned I wasted 3 diplomats trying again before I realized what the problem had to be. Then it took the best part of a year to find and kill the little oar-powered cockroaches.

J. Passepartout - well, I've got to cover how the war ends and the war can't end until I kill the last galley (IE capture the Sultan). So off to sea we go!

I love ships and have since I was a child. I'm currently building a model sailboat with a Flettner rotor.

Storey - Oh, go ahead, you know you want to. As long as it's constructive criticism, I'd welcome it. (Storey mutters, 'But where's the fun in that?')

Amric - the AI never did offer what I wanted, which was smart. It always tried to keep 2 provinces, which I could not allow.

When the AI turns down a reasonable offer and then offers more, I see it as desperation - or panic - following an ill-advised attempt at hard-bargaining. Still, at least the EU2 AI does change its offers, unlike other games I could name.

Stuyvesant - welcome to the inside of my head. If I could only write down the scenes I see behind my eyes...

 

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A year at sea in game time. That gives the Lees time to dig around, whilst Hitch is at sea. The ai is rather good at slipping its fleets out of places you think you have them bottled up.

 

[Nil-The-Frogg]

Now Nil, don't poke at Storey. You wouldn't like him when he's angry!

I rarely like when people are angry after me anyway.

If he does get out of line we have an easy cure. Ready, gang? All together now - whisper - 'Crimea!'

Yeah, but OTOH, he'd been a rather rabid pope, hadn't he? Wait, he can't be old enough to be a pope!

Then it took the best part of a year to find and kill the little oar-powered cockroaches.

A tenth of the Odysseum, will Hitch fight the sirens, a big cyclop or a sorceress? Oh, wait, he's after a big angry zombie called Frank

 

[Director]

The harbor of Iskenderun – ancient Alexandretta, founded by its namesake Great in honor of the battle of Issus, which field was not far away – the harbor was empty. Captain Constantine sent two ships to the western cape of the bay, taking his own and another north to the shallow notched cup where Iskenderun crouched below the mountains. Merchant ships were there; trade needed only an end to fighting, not a formal peace, for encouragement. There also was an Imperial dispatch boat, whose captain had rumors of pirates in the Cilician waters but no evidence.

By the time they sailed west across the little gulf and picked up the rest of the squadron on the western side, the ‘Pantokrator’ would have sailed from Constantiniple.


Captain Constantine nodded his head. “Taking a single ship is difficult for galleys, but possible. Cutting a ship out of the escorts… no. The wind this time of year, it is steady from the west when it blows. If the sun gets very hot, the wind does not blow. So maybe in a flat calm. Or if treachery is afoot.”

“Is either of those likely?” Hitchcock hated to even broach the subject of disloyalty but felt he had no choice. Constantine glowered more dourly than usual. “I know captain of ‘Pantokrator’. Good man.” That seemed to finish that subject as far as the captain was concerned. “The weather, it is getting hotter. We may lose the wind.” Hitchcock ruminated briefly on the possibility of the Admiral’s involvement, but discarded the thought. The Admiral would never have deployed his ships in this manner if he was a part of a plot.

Whatever his feelings might be, Captain Constantine’s actions were diligent. Instead of putting the squadron into every cove and inlet, he concentrated on the numerous fishing boats that dotted the waters. A little silver passed down for samples of their catch – wildly overpriced by market standards – brought superb meals and nuggests of useful information, too. Day by day the four beat upwind, lying motionless sometimes for hours in the doldrums of midday.

Four ships were not enough to search the coast on one side, let alone scour the mainland and the north coast of Cyprus, too. To make matters more difficult the sea was thronged with boats and ships; within a day they had seen everything from fishing boats no larger than canoes to a trio of galleys flying the colors of the Knights to a giant galleon with the lion of Venice on her mainsail. There was no way to ask them all, or even to search the most likely candidates. Sometimes there was scarcely enough time to avoid running them over.

It was with mixed disappointment and relief that Hitchcock conceded the ploy had failed. The sunny midmorning brought the other Imperial flotilla in view, making steady but slow progress beneath their giant sails and blue naval ensigns. Hitchcock had expected Admiral Pelias to heave-to for a conference, but the ships came steadily on instead. Signal flags directed Constantine to place his ships in the rear, completing a loose circular formation around ‘Pantokrator’ and the flagship. The four came about smoothly and pulled in sail to reduce speed to that of the flagship; after their earlier rapid progress, this felt almost like standing still.

The flat calm of mid-day did bring a summons to the flagship, Captain Constantine joining Hitchcock and the Lees in a ship’s boat after all four had changed into suitable clothes. Getting in and out of the boat was a challenge, but in this flat calm it was possible even for the inexperienced. Admiral Pelias met them on the deck of ‘Boanerges’ with a smile, but they quickly retired out of the sun to his great cabin in the stern. Before the large windows – open wide in vain hope of an errant breeze – they ate a light lunch and discussed the situation.

Over a post-meal glass of wine, the Admiral fired up his pipe and called for the sailing master, asking him about what they could expect from the weather. The latter was a tall, thin man of café au lait skin and startling green eyes, frizzy beard and hair touched with streaks of gray, Achmed by name.

“The summer is much hotter than is customary for the season,” he said with grave courtesy. “Hot weather brings the calm in the middle of the day. We are saiing now into the lee of Cyprus, and so the periods of calm will be longer. If we are attacked by galleys, it will be difficult for us to sail if there is no wind.”

It was the hot, still afternoon of the following day when the pirates struck; the squadron was becalmed off a headland on the north coast of Cyprus, waiting for the cooler evening temperature to stir the wind into something usable. Three galleys came stroking around that headland, oars flicking with steady insectile precision. Even as they watched, the colors of the Knights were dropped and other flags arose, crimson and gold and green.

Hitchcock wanted to scream in frustration: these were the same three galleys he had passed over a few days before and never thought their colors might be false. After a moment’s surprise, Constantine leapt into action, shouting for the mates to call the men to quarters. Throughout the squadron, drums began to roll; the sound of thudding feet laid a basso line to the clatter and jingle of equipment and the tenor cries of bosun’s mates. He studied the galleys intently through the telescope: long and slender, smooth of line as a snake, sails down and a single line of oars heaving on each side. They were close enough now for him to see three men at each oar, and to see the long ram ran forward just above wave height instead of cleaving through the water. Then the battle was joined and there was no more time to spare for the telescope.

The attacker’s plan was simple: to run past the ships of the outer ring and assault the ‘Pantokrator’ in the center. If the oarsmen could be counted on for boarding parties, the single ship might be swamped and taken. Hitchcock didn’t see what the Turks would do with her once they had her, as they could not hope to sail her out of the fleet. Perhaps they would take some of the treasure and set the ship afire, a blow to Imperial prestige and pocketbook alike.

His view of the developing action was cut off as the great sails were lowered and sheeted home; Constantine evidently intended to take advantage of any passing breeze. Men were hauling buckets aloft and dousing the mainsail as well. From ahead came the boom and crackle of cannon, both the large main-deck mounted guns and the small swivels on the ship’s rails. Hitchcock ran forward over the waist, now draped in boarding nets, to the forward castle. As he cleared the mainsail he could see again, and he was shocked to see how close the galleys had come, and how swiftly they were streaking over the water. ‘Boanerges’ loosed another rattle of fire before the galleys passed ahead and astern of her, then her far side wreathed in smoke as those gun-crews joined the battle. So far, none of the three attacking galleys showed any serious damage.

Even in the flat calm, the ship had rocked gently in the easy swell. Now, ever so slightly, that motion changed. Looking down through the grating over the beakhead Hitchcock could see the slightest cat’s whisker of foam under her fore-foot: ever so slowly, ‘Archangel’ was gathering way. Around him, men were springing onto the forecastle with baulks of timber and odd pieces of iron; driven by the ships’ carpenter, a device was assembled that resembled a catapult but had more in common with the action of a crossbow. Then Constantine tapped him on the shoulder and motioned him back as men came up the companionways with greased leather bags.

The forecastle was small, but no one jostled the Captain and his guest. As the odd contraption was bolted together and tested, Constantine pointed ahead to where ‘Pantokrator’ was now employing such a device of her own, hurling flaming balls and shiny globes, all of which went wide of the target. The flaming ball Hitchcock could understand; something like pitch or a porous stone soaked in naptha and wax would stay alight even when it went whizzing through the air. A dangerous weapon, and potentially deadly to the firing ship as well if there was an accident. The shiny globe turned out to be about the size of a soccer ball or fishing float, filled with a greasy liquid and tightly stoppered with a lead seal. “Byzantine fire,” Constantine said, watching his men fit the first shot into his own ballista. “We only train one crew; very dangerous.”

Deep rumbles and a drifting cloud of smoke meant the galleys had fired their bow weapons into ‘Pantokrator’s unprotected bow and stern. Hitchcock couldn’t see if they pressed in to ram but he thought not; warship timbers might be strained by the impact but not shattered as the thin hull of a galley would be. There – liting over the smoke were lines flicking like the tongues of snakes, figures of men shimmying upward like beads pushed up a string. From the shouts and clash of arms that followed, at least some of the invaders were getting on board.

Up the companionway came the mate. “Sir, permission to take in sail.” Constantine shook his head; “No, but have the men stand by.” The ballista crew whirled the windlass to cock the spring and carefully placed one of the glass globes in the iron cup, knocking a wedge in with a hammer to flatten the elevation. TUNG! Went the spring, but the first ball skipped over the water and sank. The second burst on impact with a wave, spreading a burning patch on the water. The third hit the almost-deserted galley dead center – they were not fifty yards away, now, still closing at the speed of a meandering walk. It burst with a POCK! and smoke immediately told the liquid had taken fire. The crewmen still aboard took one look at the fire and another at the oncoming Imperial and went scrambling up the ropes, abandoning the galley to its fate.

Constantine turned to shout orders, then addressed Hitchcock. “I can’t run too close to the galley or we might catch fire, too. We’ll run alongside ‘Pantokrator there,’ one stubby finger pointing at her midships. “We’re a bit taller, so we can leap down instead of scrambling up. Get your weapons ready.”

My weapons! Hitchcock thought. You want me to play Errol Flynn? But there was really nothing he could say, so he allowed Joshua to slip his pistols into his belt and hand him his plain short-sword. He looked aft, cleared now as the crew reefed up the main sail, and saw they were nearly alone. The other three ships might be moving, or not, but without the benefit of 'Archangel's clean bottom they would be a while coming up.

With a grumbling roar, ‘Archangel’s bow rubbed along ‘Pantokrator’s side, sailors heaving grapnels to draw them together even as Turks pot-shotted from the deck and from the other galleys. Then the sails were down, the ships’s sides boomed together in the greasy swell, and it was time to jump.

An Ottoman galley of Lepanto vintage.

 

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A nice little naval battle against pirates operating under the flag of Rhodes. Shame they weren't the Turks!

Good to see someone still uses Greek fire and I look forward to Hitch's combat at sea.

 

[coz1]

Having to deal with Pirates while on the hunt certainly could not have been fun, but at least it provides for a great couple of scenes. I look forward to seeing Hitch handle himself as he boards.

 

[Director]

Cjief Ragusa - I must have slipped up; these are the Turks, masquerading under the flag of Rhodes and behaving as pirates.

coz1 - too much to get into one post so I broke it up.

Hitchcock is surprised by this turn of events and not pleased, but what can you do?

 

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I didn't catch the significance of the flags, only the reference to the pirates striking. I galley down, 2 to go. Will one escape?

Hitch as Errol Flynn swashbuckling! Still capturing the Sultan and other high commanders is a feather in his cap.

 

[stnylan]

Clearly they were not being suspicious enough when they were searching.

I rather liked the momentary blip in Hitchcock's confidence. He's been rather superb for quite some time now, and its nice to see a little humanity underneath.

 

[Stuyvesant]

Nice, nice. It seems like a suicidal action by the Turks, but hey, you gotta have some explanation for why a fleet of three galleys would allow itself to be caught by a fleet almost four times its size. Hope you managed to take out all three of them, instead of having to play a game of naval pingpong across the eastern Mediterranean.

I doubt the Turkish Sultan and his Grand Vizier would be desperate enough to personally attack an enemy fleet with only three ships on their side. I imagine the Turkish court is laying low somewhere along the coast.

 

[J. Passepartout]

I heard that Errol Flynn was a jerk in real life. Cool moves though.

 

[Director]

From the forecastle he could look across and down to ‘Pantokrator’s main deck, and it was a swirling beehive of activity. The Imperial crew of that vessel had been driven forward to the forecastle, and the flashing scimitars of the Turks were threatening to surround them. In the waist, Turks were chopping at grapnel lines, especially those of the burning galley alongside. Naval construction here-and-now made heavy use of pitch, tar, canvas and rope, any of which would serve as tinder to set the ‘Pantokrator’ alight. Others were forming up to face the new assault from ‘Archangel’, or hacking at the grapnels that bound ‘Archangel’ to the smaller ship.

Hitchcock looked down; the drop from ‘Archangel’s forecastle was fifteen feet or so. Sailors were sliding down lines; amidships, where the drop was three feet or so, they were lunging over the rails. With a deep sigh, he grabbed the linen cloth that had last been wrapped around a globe of greek fire and wound it around his hand. He could still grip the line… Carefully keeping his mind blank, he swung out into space and slid down the rope.

The deck was almost solidly packed now, like a rock concert crush of fans armed with swords. Men were screaming, hacking and reeling in every direction but Hitchcock saw the movement of the crowd at once: the Turks were retreating toward the galleys on the far side. A flash of movement to his right was all the warning he received; one group of Turks had turned back from the bow and plunged into the little open space here at the rail. He parried desperately, then slashed at a knee and watched one man go down. Another scimitar whistled down… and just past him as a slim form bowled into the swordsman. A roll and Sue was on her feet, pirouetting a neat kick into the solar plexus that left a third man rolling breathless on the deck.

“Now what!” she screamed, and until that moment Hitchcock hadn’t really registered the sheer volume of the battle. He took a precious second to sweep his eyes across the ship. “Up there! Don’t let them get away!” To the left was a ladder that led up from the waist to the comparatively uncrowded quarterdeck, occupied now by men in gaudy finery. As he watched, one strode to the rail and loosed a pair of pistol shots into the crowd below.

Hitchcock waved his sword at the sailors coming over the rail. “Follow me!” he shouted as loudly as he was able, then lunged for the steps. There was a swordsman at the top of the ladder but he was unaccustomed to fighting a target below his feet; instead of thrusting, he swung his scimitar and went down as Hitchcock wrecked his kneecap with a pistol ball. Hitchcock came up the ladder, sparing a glance behind to make sure the others were following – they were – before turning to the onrushing Turks. He stepped to the left to take the first man, who was whipping his scimitar in a figure-8 pattern at high speed. Showy, but not an experienced fighter; Hitch batted the sword out of its arc wih a motion of his own, then thrust into the uncovered target. Clutching his wounded arm, the man staggered back, howling for… well, howling. Hitch wasn’t sure exactly why.

To his right the Imperials were driving the men away from the ladder on the other side, pressing them back into the deck around the tiller. Once he was certain they could not escape, Hitchcock bounded to the opposite rail and looked down at the remaining enemy galleys. They were seemingly still packed with men, and for a moment he despaired… and then he saw the chains, saw the dull stillness with which the galley slaves sat to their oars. The Turks had enough seamen to fully man one galley, and those were all aboard the ‘Pantokrator’ now, alive or dead, or were fleeing over the rail on the far side to drop into the sea. A shadow under the stern was ‘Vlad II’ ghosting up…

A shout from behind made him turn. Sue had ducked beneath a sword cut and punched a tall bearded man in a most delicate place, but several Imperials were down and the others seemed to be making heavy work of it. These Turks were trained warriors, not sailors, and they were determined to exact a toll in blood. Hitchcock stepped forward, sword up, taking the place of a fallen sailor, and the next few moments were a blur of gunts, clangs and whizzing steel. More Imperials were down, and the Turks were stepping forward, determined to cut their way to the rail and what they supposed would be safety.

Hitchcock caught a movement all the way aft; a hatch rose and tipped, men swarming up a hidden companionway ladder. In the lead was John Lee, smoking pistol in one hand and a dirk in the other. Hitch shouted, raised a hand for attention and pointed. “You are surrounded! You must surrender!” The man Sue had dropped was back on his feet now; he snarled and flicked a glance to the rear, face opening in comical surprise at the appearance of armed men where before there had been only blank deck. He shouted something in Turkish and the fighting ground to a halt, men blowing like exhausted horses in the heat of the day. Then the tall man shrugged and barked another order, and weapons clattered to the deck.

“I am Sokollu Mehmet Pasha, Grand Vizier to the Sultan Murad Third, glorious be his name!” The Greek was heavily accented but understandable. Hitchcock stepped forward. “I am General Count Heinrich, Commander in the East for the forces of His Majesty Mihnea, Second of His Name, Autocrat and Imperator. I call on you to surrender, and order your forces to surrender, that you may be taken to Constantinople as is the wish of my Emperor.” The other man hesitated for a second, then bowed. “It is the will of Allah. Allow me to introduce his magnificence, the Light of Allah, the Sultan Murad Third.” A man stepped from behind the screening line of swordsmen, plucking the peacock feathers from his turban and breaking them.

Hitchcock motioned to John. “Disarm these men and make them lay on the deck. Have them searched, one at a time and thoroughly, and keep your men alert. If you have any trouble, tie them up or kill them – whatever you do, don’t let them escape.” Cheers from the far rail marked the fluttering down of the Ottoman banners; the enemy ships were surrendering.

“Sue and I will see to it. Where will you be?”

“Finding the Admiral. This cargo,” he jerked a thumb at the prisoners, “might just be worth more than ‘Pantokrator’s gold.”

 

[Director]

The peace of January, 1579, had the feel of a settlement both enduring and final: with the passing of Ottoman power there was no presence in the East able to challenge the Empire in wealth, armies or influence. Even among the courts of Europe the Empire was now respected, admired and deeply envied. Murad was allowed to sign away his empire in exchange for his life and the lands of Anatolia held in fief for his lifetime. In the event that was not long; fond of women, dissolute of habits and bereft of other ambitions Murad III, the last Sultan, passed away in 1585. A brief military operation followed, dislodging a cabal that hoped to resuscitate the dead husk of Ottoman power, and Anatolia was fully incorporated into the Empire.

With the return of peace, Hitchcock found himself both lauded and somewhat out of favor in the capital. Count Vlad dismissed it as envy and a lingering Imperial distrust of popular and capable generals, and set Hitchcock and the Lees to work in the War Ministry. By delegating large portions of his work, Vlad was able to enter into semi-retirement.

Work there was, and in plenty. Imperial forces had to be built back up to pre-war strengths, especially in the newly-conquered provinces where revolt was a more serious risk. Cautious and calm, Imperial policy stressed secular compliance with Imperial law and a freedom to practice Islam as the new citizens wished. That did not mean that aggressive attempts would not be made to convert the inhabitants, but those attempts were set aside for a time when Imperial finances could bear the cost. That is not to say the Empire was poor; the men of the Chancellors office estimated Imperial receipts from all sources were larger than France, England, Spain and even Austria. But wartime necessity had brought a large loan against those receipts, paid off in full from Ottoman plunder in the summer of 1579, and other claims on the money were deemed more important. First was the necessity of abandoning the Ottoman system of tax farmers, substituting Imperial agents and officials in each province. Second was the rebuilding of the Imperial legions and third the revitalization of trade. Lastly, gifts were in order for the loyal (and corrupt) rulers of the client states in Croatia and Serbia.

Throughout the reign of Mihnea Turcitul, the Empire concentrated on internal matters. A case in point was the arrival of a faction of Knights who sought Imperial help to overthrow the Grand Master of that Order. The Chancellor in particular was strongly in favor of supporting them in hopes they could be displaced in turn and the islands of Rhodes and Malta fall to the Empire, but the Emperor refused to countenance it. Likewise the insult of the Ak Koyunlu was ignored and the provocative raids from Great Poland were contained (and reciprocated) without rebuke. Seeing the Empire was content in its holdings and unwilling to pursue war even when a favorable occasion offered, the great powers of Europe relaxed somewhat their ancient hatreds of the Eastern Empire and returned to the pursuit of their own interests. No longer would Pope Gregory ‘The Dragon’ rail against the devouring Byzantines, or Austrian emissaries bear purses fat with gold as they sought to build a coalition for a new Crusade in the East.

The Europeans had concerns of their own; the squabbling cockpit of nations was roiled in this age by two conflicting tides, one political and the other religious. The Hapsburgs of Austria had extended their holdings by marriage and, of late, by the sword to become the pre-eminent power of Europe. In this they were staunchly supported by the spiritual and temporal power of the Papacy, for in Austria Pope Gregory found his ablest and most willing allies. He had need of them; following Martin Luther’s defiance, a tide of Protestant rebellion had spread over the northern tier of states. It was no secret that the Austrians hoped to gain dominion over all the states of Germany and Italy, and also no secret that Gregory supported the fervent Catholicism of the Hapsburgs while hoping they might perhaps not gain the secular power also.

In July of 1579, Austria made peace with an exhausted Auvergne for a paltry sum and followed this with a similar peace for Naples in the following year. This enraged the Pope, who was always avid to secure the Italian lands under his own sway. It was the treaty of Perpignan in the following year that both crowned Austrian power and made them the most feared and hated nation in Europe.

 

[Director]

Chief Ragusa - nope, no-one gets away! Capturing the Sultan does mean the Turks give in, but it doesn't make Hitchcock an Imperial favorite. You know what they say about generals - the bad ones will lose you your kingdom but the good ones may take it...

stnylan - there's a serious limit on the optical power of telescopes in this day-and-age. They didn't actually search the galleys, just gave them a good look-over.

Immediately after this I got a 'dissidents' event for the Knights, so it is possible the Turks had help from a faction of the Knights.

Stuyvesant - in game terms I split my fleet in two and hit them from both sides, staggering the second attack for the morale benefit... and I lost. So I kept hitting them and regrouping and hitting them... for SIX MONTHS. But they died.

J. Passepartout - Indeed. Flynn seems to have started believing his own press releases and lived quite a decadent, scandalous life. I can't say I like his movies much but the music is terrific: Erich Korngold is magnificent. I think Elmer Bernstein did some of those scores too but have no ready proof.

 

[Amric]

So that is where the bugger was hiding! On the ship. Should have known, since here was to be no peace until he was captured. Nice imagery of Hitch sliding down the rope. The fight scene on the ship was pretty good as well. I DO like the offhand comment about after Murad's passing that the rump of the Ottoman capital was quietly incorporated into the empire.

It seems to be a foreshadowing of things to announce that the Hapsburgs of Austria have become the most hated in Europe. Perhaps the BWB might get itself into a AI version of BB war which you could take advantage of, if you so desired.

Sue's quick thinking by punching that Turk sailor in the jewels probably saved Hitch's life, especially since he didn't see the fellow until it probably would have been too late. Nicely done there with the lower toned saving of his life. Instead of a big deal you just kind of low keyed the event and that made it all ring quite nicely within the whole scene.

 

[coz1]

Finally caught that galley. Very nice. And interesting that for all Hitchcock's work, he is sent packing, so to speak. But that certainly allows for spare time to search out the real prize, doesn't it?

And as for Austria and the Pope - allow them to spar with one another, leaving Wallachia out of it. Most impressive to see the Empire finally capable of deafeting a real foe, but Austria would still be a major thorn if they decided to attack once again.

 

[stnylan]

Well the fish is now reeled in. Another nice confusing battle - though one feels that Hitchcock should consider leaving such things to younger folk. But I also get the feeling this war has become a terrible distraction.

 

[J. Passepartout]

The players aren't allowed to actually die, right? So Hitchcock could have been knocked out or wounded but not actually killed if Sue had not jumped to his aid.

Austria looks ripe for attack.

 

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I think that Hitch is trapped within the game and were he to die he would stand a fair chance of dying. Not so sure about the Lees, I think they're stuck too.

Sidelined in the War Ministry is still an important place to be. They can ferret out the Heart of the Dragon and jaybe plan another war or two.

 

[J. Passepartout]

I think that Hitch is trapped wothin the game and were he to die he would stand a fair chance of dying. Not so sure about the Lees, I think they're stuck too.

Sidelined in the War Ministry is still an important place to be. They can ferret out the Heart of the Dragon and jaybe plan another war or two.

Well, can't die unless the game (Frank) is trying to kill him, or there is an accident like in the beginning of the story. I seem to recall it being mentioned that on one occassion the game shot a cannonball at Hitchcock and missed because it was just keeping him on his toes.