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Once more into the breach 
Have you completely departed with the Colonize turn, Imperial war turn, that you used earlier?
Thanks again for great readings (prompted by somebody's survey )
V
Have you completely departed with the Colonize turn, Imperial war turn, that you used earlier?
Thanks again for great readings (prompted by somebody's survey
)V
1591 - 1600: Tranquility and Spirituality
Not quite yet Carolus. Just need to add one more piece of the puzzle
___________________________________________
To tell you in any great detail of the ten years that followed the issuance of the Edict of Nantes would be tedious – both for you and for me – so I will confine myself to generalities and perhaps highlight only a few of the more important occurrences.
It will come as little surprise that the people of the low-lands were very little impressed with the Edict as it really only applied to France proper, not our conquered lands. There was a great difference between the Reformed Protestantism of Mainz and the extremism in the north. Further, religion was only a minor component of their displeasure, and the incessant rebellions stemmed more from their ongoing desire for independence than from religious differences. During these years the army would continue to quash their efforts, and in some cases were forced to retake cities that had fallen into anarchy. All in all, an annoying period for both the King and I.
The period also saw a concerted effort from the Crown to fortify many of the French coastal cities which, by and large, were severely outdated. This was made even more apparent by significant advances attained by the researchers in the Academie and the Universitée in Paris, who unveiled several innovations in naval and military technology, devised new means to improve our internal infrastructure, and worked to further our lead in international trade.
The crowning achievement of all, however, was the particularly effective techniques introduced early in 1600 by the pairing of Le Tellier and Louvois who further improved the quality of the army by establishing a more defensive doctrine of combat. Their program was far from cheap to implement – requiring the King to release some 800 francs from the royal treasury to complete – but eminently worth the investment. New fortresses sprung up in Nivernais and Lorraine, and even in the colonial city of Bas St. Laurent.
Seeking to counter Spain’s continued refusal to allow our merchants access to their trade centre of Andalusia, the King introduced an Edict that banned all Spanish merchants from those centres controlled by France. Though he had half hoped to bait them into a war, he was content to let the matter lie at that for a while as he was greatly interested in the exploits of the seafaring Grammont and the ongoing development of the colonies in general.
Grammont successfully rounded the Cape and began working his way north along the western coast of the continent. As his ships could carry only limited quantities of food and fresh water, Henri had empowered him to enter into negotiations with the recently discovered Incan peoples who resided along these shores. Armed with gifts, rather than muskets, Grammont secured an agreement from their primitive ruler to allow French ships to drop anchor in his coastal harbours and send men ashore into their cities to barter for the necessary supplies. As such, Grammont was able to set out on his further expeditions using these as his new bases, rather than being forced to sail all the way back to the provinces that we had captured from the Portuguese.
With his new navigational and surveying instruments – courtesy the Academie he sped northwards, mapping both sea zones and coastal provinces in a rapid succession of discoveries. At first he was dismayed to find a significant presence of Spanish trading posts – and even a small city in a place that would later be called California – but as he proceeded even further into uncharted waters he began to observe only native tribesmen and wild, empty provinces.
Amazingly, Grammont’s persistence eventually brought him far to the north where he began running into ice flows and dangerous frigid water. Proclaiming that he could go no further, he returned to the south to begin extending the range of our knowledge of this great western ocean which we would call the Pacific. Before leaving, however, he sent word back to the king that in that far northern province there seemed to be plenty of gold to be found. Mesmerized by the idea of such a remote place, the Henri immediately financed a grossly expensive colonial effort to the province which succeeded in establishing a foothold in May of 1595, and had been raised to a city status by December of 1597.
Our newly hired inquisitors continued to meet with failure in Flandern – much to the consternation of the King who was shelling out more than 2000 francs for each of these successive failures – but was otherwise beginning to make some headway. Pfalz, Mainz, Friesen and finally Geldre all returned to the flock. Whether any of this was spurred on by the miracle performed by St. Bernard in August of 1592 or the meteor sighting of August 1594 I could not tell you, but I suspect that their failure in the Midlands of England in 1597 was directly tied into the ongoing waves of obscurantism that struck the nation that summer.
Perhaps, though, the farthest reaching event of the period – at least as far as I was concerned - came from the most unexpected and surprising source. On the 23rd of December of 1599 the King was holding court in the now beautifully renovated hall of the palace when the most extraordinary sight greeted his eyes in the form of the next petitioner, whom the seneschal dutifully admitted – for it was the King’s custom to hear from any and all supplicants in the week leading up to the Feast celebrating the birth of our Lord Jesus Christ. By merest chance, I happened to be watching the proceeding, floating amorphous and invisible above the scene.
The herald rapped his staff three times on the floor, indicating that the man was a dignitary of some sort, and announced, “Fist In Sky, noble ambassador of the Huron Peoples.”
You could have heard a pin drop. The man, or savage, was dressed all in soft brown leathers, with the delicate and intricate beadwork that we had come to enjoy from the Tribes in the New World. On his head was the oddest chapeau – what we would later learn to call a headdress – sporting a main of eagle feathers that ended in tassels of some sort of hair. His skin was tanned a dark brown colour and deeply lined, and rather than boots he wore the most beautiful set of fur-lined slippers – moccasins – which made no sound whatsoever as he advanced. In his hands he carried a pipe with a very long stem, and from a belt at his waist dangled a pouch of some sort.
Trailing behind him came eight other people of his tribe - though less exotically clad - several of whom bore bear skins and other furs, while others toting baskets of corn and two were carrying a canoe made of birch bark.
Fist In Sky stopped the required ten paces from his Majesty and bowed deeply, remaining bent over at the waist as his companions laid down their gifts and arrayed themselves behind him. Then he straightened up again and extended one arm out with his hand flat, palm directed towards the king.
“How.”
While many of the surrounding courtiers seemed very much amused by the display, Henri kept a grave expression on his face and acknowledged the Huron tribesman, gesturing for him to proceed.
“Great Chief. We travel many moon on giant canoe of your people to bring greeting from my chief Dannaconna – Horse On Running. He say to say to you, ‘How’ and ‘Greeting Great Chief across the water from my people.’ He then ask me say you ‘Oh Great Chief of pale skinned people, you would make treaty with people of the Huron to share protect spirits of each land?’ Then he tell me gift give you.” He gestured at the goods behind him.
This was exquisite, and I drew in closer so that I might more easily hear the king’s reply. The King rose from his throne and came down the four steps of the dais to stand only a pace or two from the man. Henri was taller and was blessed with the more honed body of a warrior born and bred, by he seemed almost diminished compared to the composure and obvious ease of the Indian ambassador – for that, apparently, was what he was.
“We bid you greetings then, Fist In Sky, and welcome to Our court. Your chief wishes something, but I am uncertain as to his meaning.”
The man nodded, understanding.
“We smoke. We talk. Yes?”
The King was obviously confused by the man’s words, but seemed game to play along. He nodded, and the Man settled himself to the floor gracefully, crossing his legs, and then pulled several pinches of dried leaves from his pouch and proceeded to pack them into the long-stemmed pipe. Gesturing to Henri he said, “Sit. Smoke. We talk.”
Such a request was obviously beneath the dignity of the King, but to my amazement he displayed his amazing gift of diplomacy by lowering himself to the floor and adopting a similar posture. He motioned to one of the nearly soldiers to bring a flame.
Fist In Sky took the fire from the soldier and held it to the pipe, puffing several times to light it and then sucking the smoke deeply into his lungs and holding it there. Then he passed the pipe reverently to the French Monarch. Henri, too, inhaled twice, deeply, and then closed his eyes.
I do not know what the courtiers though of what followed, for to them it would have appeared that the two men sat face to face in utter stillness and silence for the next quarter hour. For me, however, it was the greatest shock I have had since I died, for it seemed to me as though the spirits of the King and ambassador slowly detached themselves from their bodies and came to hover, standing over the scene. More remarkable still, I felt drawn to join them, and both Henri and Fist In Sky nodded to me as I approached. They could see me!
Fist in Sky was the first to speak, though his body, down below, remained motionless and his lips never moved, nor did any sound issue from them.
“You are called Henri by your people are you not?” For some reason I was unsurprised that his language now flowed smoothly, not haltingly, for we now spoke in the language of spirits, not of men.
“I am,” replied the king, dropping uncharacteristically into the first person from his usual royal ‘we’. “And I greet you again on behalf of my people.”
“And who is this spirit that joins us, for I can see that he great and powerful indeed?”
“I am,” and here I paused, for I realized that no untruth might be told or he would recognize it immediately. I began again, “I am the spirit of one who has guided France over the course of many years. I am the nation’s Protector and Guide.”
“Do you have a name, oh spirit?”
“I do.” For reasons completely unknown I told him, though of course there was no way that he could have known it or recognized it – and of course I needed not to dissemble before the King for he already knew of my ancestry.
“I am called Omatumanaman by my people. In your language this would mean ‘fist in sky’. What do your names mean for I am not familiar with such words?”
Henri replied first. “There is little enough meaning in my name Omatumanaman, for the people of France do not name their children in the manner that yours do.” Then I, too, told him the meaning of my name – or, at least, the part of it that held meaning.
“I greet you then, great Kings of France, on behalf of my people the Huron. My chief has bid me extend to you our warmest friendship and wishes you to consider entering into an agreement with the Huron. While we do not fear any tribes near our territories, we fear the peoples from across the sea – your own included – and wish to secure our hunting grounds through a treaty.”
“In my nation this is called an alliance,” said Henri. “We both agree to respect and protect each other’s provinces – lands – and to come to the aid of each other in times of war. Is this what your chief proposes?”
“It is, oh King.”
“And you understand that this commitment is binding on both nations?” For some reason I felt sorry for him, and for his simple people, and I wanted to be sure he understood the implications of what he was offering. “If your chief refuses to honour the alliance – his treaty – when the time comes, then the people of France will demand reprisals that would surely spell the end of the Huron people. You, of course, have the same rights should the people of France deny you aid in your own wars. Do you understand this?”
“I hear and I understand great King. This is the desire of my chief, and we are a peaceful people who rarely, if ever, engage in warfare.”
“Heaven help you, then,” I said, thinking of the plans that Henri and I had been discussing most recently.
“I agree to your proposal,” interrupted the King. “I will enter into an alliance with the tribe of the Huron and I will abide by its terms as, I trust, will you.”
“I must leave you now,” I said, for I could barely stand his innocence and naiveté. “My attentions are required elsewhere.”
I believe that he and Henri continued to converse for a little while longer until the effect of the leaves began to wane and they returned to their bodies. Later, the king would tell me that he had seen me clearly for the first time that day, and that he now had a new respect for my will and my desires that he had never appreciated before. We would now act as equals and he would release whatever hold he had over me, for he knew now my commitment to the Empire of France.
And on December 23rd, 1599, the Empire of France and the Tribe of the Huron entered into an alliance. They would come to rue that day.
Not quite yet Carolus. Just need to add one more piece of the puzzle
___________________________________________
To tell you in any great detail of the ten years that followed the issuance of the Edict of Nantes would be tedious – both for you and for me – so I will confine myself to generalities and perhaps highlight only a few of the more important occurrences.
It will come as little surprise that the people of the low-lands were very little impressed with the Edict as it really only applied to France proper, not our conquered lands. There was a great difference between the Reformed Protestantism of Mainz and the extremism in the north. Further, religion was only a minor component of their displeasure, and the incessant rebellions stemmed more from their ongoing desire for independence than from religious differences. During these years the army would continue to quash their efforts, and in some cases were forced to retake cities that had fallen into anarchy. All in all, an annoying period for both the King and I.
The period also saw a concerted effort from the Crown to fortify many of the French coastal cities which, by and large, were severely outdated. This was made even more apparent by significant advances attained by the researchers in the Academie and the Universitée in Paris, who unveiled several innovations in naval and military technology, devised new means to improve our internal infrastructure, and worked to further our lead in international trade.
The crowning achievement of all, however, was the particularly effective techniques introduced early in 1600 by the pairing of Le Tellier and Louvois who further improved the quality of the army by establishing a more defensive doctrine of combat. Their program was far from cheap to implement – requiring the King to release some 800 francs from the royal treasury to complete – but eminently worth the investment. New fortresses sprung up in Nivernais and Lorraine, and even in the colonial city of Bas St. Laurent.
Seeking to counter Spain’s continued refusal to allow our merchants access to their trade centre of Andalusia, the King introduced an Edict that banned all Spanish merchants from those centres controlled by France. Though he had half hoped to bait them into a war, he was content to let the matter lie at that for a while as he was greatly interested in the exploits of the seafaring Grammont and the ongoing development of the colonies in general.
Grammont successfully rounded the Cape and began working his way north along the western coast of the continent. As his ships could carry only limited quantities of food and fresh water, Henri had empowered him to enter into negotiations with the recently discovered Incan peoples who resided along these shores. Armed with gifts, rather than muskets, Grammont secured an agreement from their primitive ruler to allow French ships to drop anchor in his coastal harbours and send men ashore into their cities to barter for the necessary supplies. As such, Grammont was able to set out on his further expeditions using these as his new bases, rather than being forced to sail all the way back to the provinces that we had captured from the Portuguese.
With his new navigational and surveying instruments – courtesy the Academie he sped northwards, mapping both sea zones and coastal provinces in a rapid succession of discoveries. At first he was dismayed to find a significant presence of Spanish trading posts – and even a small city in a place that would later be called California – but as he proceeded even further into uncharted waters he began to observe only native tribesmen and wild, empty provinces.
Amazingly, Grammont’s persistence eventually brought him far to the north where he began running into ice flows and dangerous frigid water. Proclaiming that he could go no further, he returned to the south to begin extending the range of our knowledge of this great western ocean which we would call the Pacific. Before leaving, however, he sent word back to the king that in that far northern province there seemed to be plenty of gold to be found. Mesmerized by the idea of such a remote place, the Henri immediately financed a grossly expensive colonial effort to the province which succeeded in establishing a foothold in May of 1595, and had been raised to a city status by December of 1597.
Our newly hired inquisitors continued to meet with failure in Flandern – much to the consternation of the King who was shelling out more than 2000 francs for each of these successive failures – but was otherwise beginning to make some headway. Pfalz, Mainz, Friesen and finally Geldre all returned to the flock. Whether any of this was spurred on by the miracle performed by St. Bernard in August of 1592 or the meteor sighting of August 1594 I could not tell you, but I suspect that their failure in the Midlands of England in 1597 was directly tied into the ongoing waves of obscurantism that struck the nation that summer.
Perhaps, though, the farthest reaching event of the period – at least as far as I was concerned - came from the most unexpected and surprising source. On the 23rd of December of 1599 the King was holding court in the now beautifully renovated hall of the palace when the most extraordinary sight greeted his eyes in the form of the next petitioner, whom the seneschal dutifully admitted – for it was the King’s custom to hear from any and all supplicants in the week leading up to the Feast celebrating the birth of our Lord Jesus Christ. By merest chance, I happened to be watching the proceeding, floating amorphous and invisible above the scene.
The herald rapped his staff three times on the floor, indicating that the man was a dignitary of some sort, and announced, “Fist In Sky, noble ambassador of the Huron Peoples.”
You could have heard a pin drop. The man, or savage, was dressed all in soft brown leathers, with the delicate and intricate beadwork that we had come to enjoy from the Tribes in the New World. On his head was the oddest chapeau – what we would later learn to call a headdress – sporting a main of eagle feathers that ended in tassels of some sort of hair. His skin was tanned a dark brown colour and deeply lined, and rather than boots he wore the most beautiful set of fur-lined slippers – moccasins – which made no sound whatsoever as he advanced. In his hands he carried a pipe with a very long stem, and from a belt at his waist dangled a pouch of some sort.
Trailing behind him came eight other people of his tribe - though less exotically clad - several of whom bore bear skins and other furs, while others toting baskets of corn and two were carrying a canoe made of birch bark.
Fist In Sky stopped the required ten paces from his Majesty and bowed deeply, remaining bent over at the waist as his companions laid down their gifts and arrayed themselves behind him. Then he straightened up again and extended one arm out with his hand flat, palm directed towards the king.
“How.”
While many of the surrounding courtiers seemed very much amused by the display, Henri kept a grave expression on his face and acknowledged the Huron tribesman, gesturing for him to proceed.
“Great Chief. We travel many moon on giant canoe of your people to bring greeting from my chief Dannaconna – Horse On Running. He say to say to you, ‘How’ and ‘Greeting Great Chief across the water from my people.’ He then ask me say you ‘Oh Great Chief of pale skinned people, you would make treaty with people of the Huron to share protect spirits of each land?’ Then he tell me gift give you.” He gestured at the goods behind him.
This was exquisite, and I drew in closer so that I might more easily hear the king’s reply. The King rose from his throne and came down the four steps of the dais to stand only a pace or two from the man. Henri was taller and was blessed with the more honed body of a warrior born and bred, by he seemed almost diminished compared to the composure and obvious ease of the Indian ambassador – for that, apparently, was what he was.
“We bid you greetings then, Fist In Sky, and welcome to Our court. Your chief wishes something, but I am uncertain as to his meaning.”
The man nodded, understanding.
“We smoke. We talk. Yes?”
The King was obviously confused by the man’s words, but seemed game to play along. He nodded, and the Man settled himself to the floor gracefully, crossing his legs, and then pulled several pinches of dried leaves from his pouch and proceeded to pack them into the long-stemmed pipe. Gesturing to Henri he said, “Sit. Smoke. We talk.”
Such a request was obviously beneath the dignity of the King, but to my amazement he displayed his amazing gift of diplomacy by lowering himself to the floor and adopting a similar posture. He motioned to one of the nearly soldiers to bring a flame.
Fist In Sky took the fire from the soldier and held it to the pipe, puffing several times to light it and then sucking the smoke deeply into his lungs and holding it there. Then he passed the pipe reverently to the French Monarch. Henri, too, inhaled twice, deeply, and then closed his eyes.
I do not know what the courtiers though of what followed, for to them it would have appeared that the two men sat face to face in utter stillness and silence for the next quarter hour. For me, however, it was the greatest shock I have had since I died, for it seemed to me as though the spirits of the King and ambassador slowly detached themselves from their bodies and came to hover, standing over the scene. More remarkable still, I felt drawn to join them, and both Henri and Fist In Sky nodded to me as I approached. They could see me!
Fist in Sky was the first to speak, though his body, down below, remained motionless and his lips never moved, nor did any sound issue from them.
“You are called Henri by your people are you not?” For some reason I was unsurprised that his language now flowed smoothly, not haltingly, for we now spoke in the language of spirits, not of men.
“I am,” replied the king, dropping uncharacteristically into the first person from his usual royal ‘we’. “And I greet you again on behalf of my people.”
“And who is this spirit that joins us, for I can see that he great and powerful indeed?”
“I am,” and here I paused, for I realized that no untruth might be told or he would recognize it immediately. I began again, “I am the spirit of one who has guided France over the course of many years. I am the nation’s Protector and Guide.”
“Do you have a name, oh spirit?”
“I do.” For reasons completely unknown I told him, though of course there was no way that he could have known it or recognized it – and of course I needed not to dissemble before the King for he already knew of my ancestry.
“I am called Omatumanaman by my people. In your language this would mean ‘fist in sky’. What do your names mean for I am not familiar with such words?”
Henri replied first. “There is little enough meaning in my name Omatumanaman, for the people of France do not name their children in the manner that yours do.” Then I, too, told him the meaning of my name – or, at least, the part of it that held meaning.
“I greet you then, great Kings of France, on behalf of my people the Huron. My chief has bid me extend to you our warmest friendship and wishes you to consider entering into an agreement with the Huron. While we do not fear any tribes near our territories, we fear the peoples from across the sea – your own included – and wish to secure our hunting grounds through a treaty.”
“In my nation this is called an alliance,” said Henri. “We both agree to respect and protect each other’s provinces – lands – and to come to the aid of each other in times of war. Is this what your chief proposes?”
“It is, oh King.”
“And you understand that this commitment is binding on both nations?” For some reason I felt sorry for him, and for his simple people, and I wanted to be sure he understood the implications of what he was offering. “If your chief refuses to honour the alliance – his treaty – when the time comes, then the people of France will demand reprisals that would surely spell the end of the Huron people. You, of course, have the same rights should the people of France deny you aid in your own wars. Do you understand this?”
“I hear and I understand great King. This is the desire of my chief, and we are a peaceful people who rarely, if ever, engage in warfare.”
“Heaven help you, then,” I said, thinking of the plans that Henri and I had been discussing most recently.
“I agree to your proposal,” interrupted the King. “I will enter into an alliance with the tribe of the Huron and I will abide by its terms as, I trust, will you.”
“I must leave you now,” I said, for I could barely stand his innocence and naiveté. “My attentions are required elsewhere.”
I believe that he and Henri continued to converse for a little while longer until the effect of the leaves began to wane and they returned to their bodies. Later, the king would tell me that he had seen me clearly for the first time that day, and that he now had a new respect for my will and my desires that he had never appreciated before. We would now act as equals and he would release whatever hold he had over me, for he knew now my commitment to the Empire of France.
And on December 23rd, 1599, the Empire of France and the Tribe of the Huron entered into an alliance. They would come to rue that day.
Originally posted by Dyrlac
An errant "enter" key, perhaps?
Dyr
Nope. They offered and after thinking about it for a few moments I very evily agreed...
I don't even want to think about what your going to do to those poor innocent Huron. Ahh well, very fitting though .
RJ
.RJ
Oh, brother...
By the way, I'd be interested to hear the ghost's explanantion for this latest development in terms of Catholicism
Regarding your previous post, that did indeed sound very regal. Did you write that yourself? And, unless I missed something, the basic concept seems to be the same as the RL Edict of Nantes, except without the 100 fortified cities. Is that correct?
By the way, I'd be interested to hear the ghost's explanantion for this latest development in terms of Catholicism
Regarding your previous post, that did indeed sound very regal. Did you write that yourself? And, unless I missed something, the basic concept seems to be the same as the RL Edict of Nantes, except without the 100 fortified cities. Is that correct?
Originally posted by Sharur
Oh, brother...
By the way, I'd be interested to hear the ghost's explanantion for this latest development in terms of Catholicism
Regarding your previous post, that did indeed sound very regal. Did you write that yourself? And, unless I missed something, the basic concept seems to be the same as the RL Edict of Nantes, except without the 100 fortified cities. Is that correct?
Err...um...it must be in the bible somewhere. I'm sure I remember something about a burning bush...visions...that sort of thing...
The yellow part of the post is a very slightly edited version of the actual Edict of Nantes. For obvious reasons (something to do with the pages and pages of items - 30-something in all) I had to prune it down, so I kept some of the more important bits, edited them to fit the story, and axed the rest. Nicely spotted!
Carolus: you betcha.
RJ: Well, they asked...
Valdemar: Pretty much. There will be the odd time when I may return to it, but the balance of exporation will run concurrently with the conquests...
I'm pretty sure you're gonna call on those new Huron ally of yours in your war against spain. You know 4000 tomahawk wielding tech lvl 1 warrior could really turn the war around
You know, not to diminish your writing skill or anything, but I actually thought that might be the case.
All in all two very good updates.
(How the heck do you manage to be so productive? I can barely manage one update every other day.)
Mr T
As ever, you are an inspiration to us all. The detail of the Edict of Nantes is particularly interesting, and adds hugely to the flavour. And the tactics - very interesting indeed.
Now, we just need to get 1.05 here in the UK, and we can put that inspiration into practice.
Zagloba
As ever, you are an inspiration to us all. The detail of the Edict of Nantes is particularly interesting, and adds hugely to the flavour. And the tactics - very interesting indeed.
Now, we just need to get 1.05 here in the UK, and we can put that inspiration into practice.
Zagloba
Originally posted by Thanak
I'm pretty sure you're gonna call on those new Huron ally of yours in your war against spain. You know 4000 tomahawk wielding tech lvl 1 warrior could really turn the war around
You've got the right general idea but...
(1) What makes you think it's Spain? Oh, sure, I've got a CB and all, but how does that go about solving my little religion problem?
(2) What makes you think that the Huron would honour a call to allies? :evil_grin: Muah ha ha ha ha ha ha
Originally posted by thames
You know, not to diminish your writing skill or anything, but I actually thought that might be the case.
All in all two very good updates.
(How the heck do you manage to be so productive? I can barely manage one update every other day.)
I'm not surprised. There was hardly any evil or humour in it so it couldn't have been mine. Besides, even I'm not that verbose (I hope).
Well, amongst other things, it's one of those mixed blessings of my job. It's either really quiet or all hells' breaking loose. Most of what I do happens in really short, intense bursts with a fair bit of "down" time in between. I just keep a Word window open and type when I can. Add to it that I type quite quickly, already have most of the plot-lines for the next 200 years worked out, and have a DSL connection to do web-based research, and it's then quiet possible to write quite a lot of material in a fairly short period of time. Of course it could be argued that if I subsequently slaved and agonised over every phrase and paragraph, recrafting it and making it "perfect" then I could make it just that much better...which is true, but then I'd have to seriously cut back on all the other things I'm doing....like the Free Company, Genoa, Venice, Denmark, surveys, etc... In fact I am running behind in the LibrAARy project which is beginning to look more like a July unveiling, but I figure that's probably not a problem.
Most of all, though, it's because it's fun!
Things I enjoy, I devote a lot of time and enery to...Thank you sir. I was trying to figure out how to use it since it was a pretty important "event" in the history of France. The trouble related to all sorts of its smaller clauses...
Had I been thinking carefully at the time I was playing, I would have DOWed Spain sometime very shortly after the "At the Walls of Paris" event - which IMO should also give France a CB against Spain...not that I needed it since they're denying trade. Anyway, had I DOWed them it would have made it much easier to conform to history. As it was, I didn't so I have to scramble a bit...
This game was actually begun on 1.03 and then the 1.04 patch came out and I took the risk of a mid-game upgrade (in 1522) which seemed to cause no problems at all. had it been much later, I would have played it through before upgrading, or it it was much earlier then I'd have upgraded and restarted.
*****
I'm afraid that it may be several days before you'll see the next instalment (perhaps Monday or Tuesday?) because I have several other writing commitments to tend to that have much higher time priority - the Free Company, Genoa and the A-Team Venice threads. Not to worry...I'll be back.
In the meantime, thanks for reading.
1601 – 1608: The Question of Religion Resolved…and Payment Exacted for a Predictable Betrayal
In 1601 the burning question of religion remained as yet unsolved, though the Edict of Nantes had at least removed any direct threat of rebellion in France. Neither Henri IV nor I were truly satisfied, however, as the ongoing distrust between the nobility (and peasantry, truth be told) and the princes of the Church continued to simmer. There was little doubt in anyone’s mind that corruption extended all the way to the seat of Saint Peter and the latest Pope, Clemens VIII, had done nothing to change this. Already there were early rumblings within within the Germanies about forming some sort of “Catholic League” to counter the growing might of the Evangelic Union of Protestants. While this particular chain of events would not run their course for another six years, the seed were already been sown…and they were bitter seeds indeed.
It was the Pope’s most recent series of sermons (particularly his Christmas address of 1600) that proved to be the last straw as he stood in the pulpit, supposedly before the eye of God, and preached hellfire, brimstone and the desperate need for the Catholic nations of the world to provide money and men for the destruction of the schismatic Protestants. Had it not been for this last rather obvious plea for gold perhaps he would have received a warmer reception. As it was the various heads of state responded with only limited enthusiasm - if any at all – and the Papacy found itself an isolated rock in the troubled seas of a changing world. Without any allies, it was only a matter of time before someone took it into his own hands to set the matter straight. There was a problem, though. Any actions taken against the Holy See would incur the wrath of the rest of the Catholic world, and the prevailing atmosphere of uncertainty – in the European community in particular – was enough to prevent any overt moves for fear of reprisal. Save one.
Henri and I sat down in early February of 1601 and wrote a scathing letter to his His Holiness (or rather, he sat down and wrote, and I offered some suggestions), condemning his recent outbursts and demanding that he reform his errant ways. Clemens VIII responded with a scathing condemnation of his own, directly criticizing the French monarchy and slandering the House de Bourbon for harbouring and condoning Protestantism within the Empire of France. Rather than delivering it via courier, however, Clemens had the audacity to preach it instead from the pulpit of Saint Peters on Sunday March the 3rd. In doing so he sealed his fate, for the people of France were outraged and eagerly urged Henri to exact vengeance on their behalf.
As all of our troops were otherwise engaged or a very great distance away, Henri and I determined to delay our response until some 17,000 infantry and 2000 cavalry could be recruited and 30 cannon be cast in the surrounding provinces. Overkill? Yes, for the Army of the Holy Cross only consisted of some 5,500 men. But we wanted to make an impression not only on the Pope but also on the rest of the nations of Europe. The Academie, too, wished to contribute to the revenge and introduced a special new brand of field armament for the campaign – which also had the notable side effect of suggesting further improvements that could be made to our methods of fortification.
Once all was ready, Henri made an unusual request of the Archbishop of Reims to address the congregation on Sunday September the 16th. Thinking that the King wished to perform some act of penance or make a public statement regarding a new shift in religious tolerances, the Archbishop agreed and thus it was that Henri became the first Monarch in history to issue a declaration of war from the pulpit.
Several thousand miles away an envoy would sit in the tent of the Huron chief on that same day, trying to explain exactly why it was that the Huron must declare war on a place called The Papal States that they neither knew about nor had any real means of reaching. After several hours of fruitless argument he left. It was hardly surprising, and his next act was to deliver the second document in his satchel: a detailed set of instructions for troops to be recruited and assembled with great speed on the Huron borders. Within a few months there would be a second meeting of the envoy and the chief of the Hurons, and then the blood would begin to flow.
But there was another, highly unexpected meeting to take place in the New World before this. The Chief of the Lenape, perhaps sensing the way that the wind now blew, invited us to enter a military alliance with his people. Incredulous at his good fortune, Henri readily agreed to this treaty. While this did not draw the Lenape into our war with the Papacy, the King began to amass troops near their border, fully expecting them to refuse to support the alliance when he would declare war on the Huron. He was to be disappointed in February of 1602 when they were asked to support our newly-declared war on Huron tribe, for they honourably agreed to support us.
It would take only eight months for the Papal defences to be shredded and the walls of Rome to fall. By July 22nd of 1602 Clemens VIII was in Paris, standing in irons in the main hall of the palace. Henri, in full regalia, was seated on the throne. Clemens was given only a tattered cassock. Assembled in the hall were as many of the Cardinals, Archbishops, Bishops and priests as could (and dared to) make the journey and could be accommodated.
“Who is this broken man cluttering up Our hallway? Who is this unfortunate?” enquired the king, in mock surprise.
“His Holiness, Pope Clemens the eighth, my liege,” responded the herald.
“Oh, so this is Clemens VIII? We are really quite surprised…you seem so small. Not like a Pope at all.”
Clemens seemed disinclined to offer a response - or perhaps incapable.
“So you are the man who has been making Our life miserable for all these many years? No. Do not bother to answer or protest. We are almost as aware of your sins as is God himself. All of Christendom is aware of them. It has fallen upon Us, and upon the people of France, to put an end to this travesty that has become the Papacy. The time has come, you see Clemens, for you to meet your maker.”
He paled.
“I will not send you to your fate unshriven, however. Know you that henceforth We shall be known as both King of the Empire of France and Defender of the Catholic Faith. We are now the de facto head of the Roman Catholic Church. As Our first act of magnanimity, you will be permitted to offer up your confession before you die.”
Clemens looked helplessly to one of his cardinals.
“No, Clemens. If you have a confession to make, and if you wish absolution for your sins – great as they are – then you must look to Us for your salvation. Come, you may speak it freely here, for we are all your breathren, are we not?”
The taunting and torment of Clemens would last little longer, for he refused to humble himself before Henri. Instead he seemed to steel himself for his demise and never spoke a word before he was executed later that evening.
The issue of religion was now, in our estimation, resolved.
Far to the west, generals Saint Esprit and Roquemaure were busily engaged in the slaughter of the Huron warriors and the rapid capture – by assault – of their poorly defended encampments. The Lenape, who had joined us in this enterprise, kept to their territories which was fine by us. During the course of the battles a new leader of men would emerge, an infantryman who showed remarkable poise under pressure and a real flair for exploration and conquest. On January 1st, 1603, Samuel de Champlain was elevated to the rank of brigadier. Before the year was out he and his generals would complete the conquest of the Huron tribes and their lands would be forfeit to the French Crown.
Following these two rapid annexations, we enjoyed several years of uncharacteristic peace during which the king would finance numerous colonial expeditions that met with considerable success. A new vein of gold would be discovered I Steiermark, further increasing the value of our mines there; and the explorer-Admiral Vergennes continued to chart his way around India and into the islands that lay beyond. To avoid starvation, Vergennes secured (at not inconsiderable additional expense via diplomatic channels) two treaties to allow his ships – and any that might follow – to use the ports owned by Bengal and the Koreans to resupply.
After five years, however, the now somewhat elderly Henri – who’s health was failing - began to lust for one last war by which he might be remembered.
In 1601 the burning question of religion remained as yet unsolved, though the Edict of Nantes had at least removed any direct threat of rebellion in France. Neither Henri IV nor I were truly satisfied, however, as the ongoing distrust between the nobility (and peasantry, truth be told) and the princes of the Church continued to simmer. There was little doubt in anyone’s mind that corruption extended all the way to the seat of Saint Peter and the latest Pope, Clemens VIII, had done nothing to change this. Already there were early rumblings within within the Germanies about forming some sort of “Catholic League” to counter the growing might of the Evangelic Union of Protestants. While this particular chain of events would not run their course for another six years, the seed were already been sown…and they were bitter seeds indeed.
It was the Pope’s most recent series of sermons (particularly his Christmas address of 1600) that proved to be the last straw as he stood in the pulpit, supposedly before the eye of God, and preached hellfire, brimstone and the desperate need for the Catholic nations of the world to provide money and men for the destruction of the schismatic Protestants. Had it not been for this last rather obvious plea for gold perhaps he would have received a warmer reception. As it was the various heads of state responded with only limited enthusiasm - if any at all – and the Papacy found itself an isolated rock in the troubled seas of a changing world. Without any allies, it was only a matter of time before someone took it into his own hands to set the matter straight. There was a problem, though. Any actions taken against the Holy See would incur the wrath of the rest of the Catholic world, and the prevailing atmosphere of uncertainty – in the European community in particular – was enough to prevent any overt moves for fear of reprisal. Save one.
Henri and I sat down in early February of 1601 and wrote a scathing letter to his His Holiness (or rather, he sat down and wrote, and I offered some suggestions), condemning his recent outbursts and demanding that he reform his errant ways. Clemens VIII responded with a scathing condemnation of his own, directly criticizing the French monarchy and slandering the House de Bourbon for harbouring and condoning Protestantism within the Empire of France. Rather than delivering it via courier, however, Clemens had the audacity to preach it instead from the pulpit of Saint Peters on Sunday March the 3rd. In doing so he sealed his fate, for the people of France were outraged and eagerly urged Henri to exact vengeance on their behalf.
As all of our troops were otherwise engaged or a very great distance away, Henri and I determined to delay our response until some 17,000 infantry and 2000 cavalry could be recruited and 30 cannon be cast in the surrounding provinces. Overkill? Yes, for the Army of the Holy Cross only consisted of some 5,500 men. But we wanted to make an impression not only on the Pope but also on the rest of the nations of Europe. The Academie, too, wished to contribute to the revenge and introduced a special new brand of field armament for the campaign – which also had the notable side effect of suggesting further improvements that could be made to our methods of fortification.
Once all was ready, Henri made an unusual request of the Archbishop of Reims to address the congregation on Sunday September the 16th. Thinking that the King wished to perform some act of penance or make a public statement regarding a new shift in religious tolerances, the Archbishop agreed and thus it was that Henri became the first Monarch in history to issue a declaration of war from the pulpit.
Several thousand miles away an envoy would sit in the tent of the Huron chief on that same day, trying to explain exactly why it was that the Huron must declare war on a place called The Papal States that they neither knew about nor had any real means of reaching. After several hours of fruitless argument he left. It was hardly surprising, and his next act was to deliver the second document in his satchel: a detailed set of instructions for troops to be recruited and assembled with great speed on the Huron borders. Within a few months there would be a second meeting of the envoy and the chief of the Hurons, and then the blood would begin to flow.
But there was another, highly unexpected meeting to take place in the New World before this. The Chief of the Lenape, perhaps sensing the way that the wind now blew, invited us to enter a military alliance with his people. Incredulous at his good fortune, Henri readily agreed to this treaty. While this did not draw the Lenape into our war with the Papacy, the King began to amass troops near their border, fully expecting them to refuse to support the alliance when he would declare war on the Huron. He was to be disappointed in February of 1602 when they were asked to support our newly-declared war on Huron tribe, for they honourably agreed to support us.
It would take only eight months for the Papal defences to be shredded and the walls of Rome to fall. By July 22nd of 1602 Clemens VIII was in Paris, standing in irons in the main hall of the palace. Henri, in full regalia, was seated on the throne. Clemens was given only a tattered cassock. Assembled in the hall were as many of the Cardinals, Archbishops, Bishops and priests as could (and dared to) make the journey and could be accommodated.
“Who is this broken man cluttering up Our hallway? Who is this unfortunate?” enquired the king, in mock surprise.
“His Holiness, Pope Clemens the eighth, my liege,” responded the herald.
“Oh, so this is Clemens VIII? We are really quite surprised…you seem so small. Not like a Pope at all.”
Clemens seemed disinclined to offer a response - or perhaps incapable.
“So you are the man who has been making Our life miserable for all these many years? No. Do not bother to answer or protest. We are almost as aware of your sins as is God himself. All of Christendom is aware of them. It has fallen upon Us, and upon the people of France, to put an end to this travesty that has become the Papacy. The time has come, you see Clemens, for you to meet your maker.”
He paled.
“I will not send you to your fate unshriven, however. Know you that henceforth We shall be known as both King of the Empire of France and Defender of the Catholic Faith. We are now the de facto head of the Roman Catholic Church. As Our first act of magnanimity, you will be permitted to offer up your confession before you die.”
Clemens looked helplessly to one of his cardinals.
“No, Clemens. If you have a confession to make, and if you wish absolution for your sins – great as they are – then you must look to Us for your salvation. Come, you may speak it freely here, for we are all your breathren, are we not?”
The taunting and torment of Clemens would last little longer, for he refused to humble himself before Henri. Instead he seemed to steel himself for his demise and never spoke a word before he was executed later that evening.
The issue of religion was now, in our estimation, resolved.
Far to the west, generals Saint Esprit and Roquemaure were busily engaged in the slaughter of the Huron warriors and the rapid capture – by assault – of their poorly defended encampments. The Lenape, who had joined us in this enterprise, kept to their territories which was fine by us. During the course of the battles a new leader of men would emerge, an infantryman who showed remarkable poise under pressure and a real flair for exploration and conquest. On January 1st, 1603, Samuel de Champlain was elevated to the rank of brigadier. Before the year was out he and his generals would complete the conquest of the Huron tribes and their lands would be forfeit to the French Crown.
Following these two rapid annexations, we enjoyed several years of uncharacteristic peace during which the king would finance numerous colonial expeditions that met with considerable success. A new vein of gold would be discovered I Steiermark, further increasing the value of our mines there; and the explorer-Admiral Vergennes continued to chart his way around India and into the islands that lay beyond. To avoid starvation, Vergennes secured (at not inconsiderable additional expense via diplomatic channels) two treaties to allow his ships – and any that might follow – to use the ports owned by Bengal and the Koreans to resupply.
After five years, however, the now somewhat elderly Henri – who’s health was failing - began to lust for one last war by which he might be remembered.
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Maps, maps, maps...
I haven't really posted a comprehensive set of maps, so...
Europe after the annexation of the Papal States
Our newly-established (and unmentioned in the AAR) colony in Fernando Po
Our newly-establish (and unmentioned in the AAR) colony in Karoo
Eastern North America after the annexation of the Huron
Western North America...with a few new establishments...
South America...essentially unchanged since the surrender of Portugal
I haven't really posted a comprehensive set of maps, so...
Europe after the annexation of the Papal States
Our newly-established (and unmentioned in the AAR) colony in Fernando Po
Our newly-establish (and unmentioned in the AAR) colony in Karoo
Eastern North America after the annexation of the Huron
Western North America...with a few new establishments...
South America...essentially unchanged since the surrender of Portugal
Last edited:
MrT wrote:
Quotations from the rock opera Jesus Christ Superstar cannot go unremarked upon...
Originally posted by Misha
MrT wrote:
Quotations from the rock opera Jesus Christ Superstar cannot go unremarked upon...
I was wondering if anyone would pick up on that. I figured it might be either Norgesvenn or you. It just seemed so horrendously inappropriate that I had to do it.
thames: thanks...I think it's his cousin.
Oh, and a belated thanks to Faeelin. Surreal is right. Even I didn't quite know where I was going with that one until I'd finished writing it.
I must say I was downright disappointed when the Lenape honoured the alliance when I DOWed the Huron. I was looking forward to a nice string of conquests until they did that. Then I was hoping they'd make peace early or something but they stood by us all the way.
I just had to edit my original post above because I discovered, going through my notes this morning, that I was confusing the Lenape for another tribal alliance...so the sentence "Though neither of us knew it at the time – nor would Henri live to see it – I would later come to think of this as the most fortuitous alliance we ever made during the seventeenth century." has been axed. Sorry for the confusion, all.