NationStates Jolt Archive

OOC: This thread is going to be used to augment some of the large events that the Reich is involved in. The King of Reichskamphen is now the Fuhrer of the Reich and the political situation is rather interesting now in the Triune Kingdom of Reichskamphen, Russapovia, and Scotta due to a recent revolution.

The entire Royal Family will be RPd and I am hoping to have ambassadors from friendly and not so friendly nations alike join the scene.

For now the King is away conducting a large Campaign against Communism. Here is the listing of the Royal Family and those in power

King Will Thompson II, Sovreign of the Triune Kingdom.

Queen Sarah Thompson, Wife of King Will.

Prince Will Thompson III, Son of King Will, Royal Governor of the Kingdom of Reichskamphen

Arch Chancellor, Count Viktor Leipzig; controls the Kingdom in the absence of the King.

Grand Duke Michael Thompson, son of Joseph Thompson(deceased), Nephew of King Will, Royal Governor of the Kingdom of Scotta.

Grand Duke Gerhard Kirsch, son of Gen. Walter Kirsch (deceased War Hero) Royal Governor of the Kingdom of Russapovia

Feld Marschall Wilhelm Wasserstein, Commander of the Armed Forces of the Triune Kingdom.

OberHauptmann Horst Leibgott, Captain of the Royal Guard, both Palace Guards and Royal Guard field divisions.

There are others, I will add more as time goes on. Those are the important ones for now.

IC: *Royal Palace; Reichsburg, Reichskamphen*

"Presenting...Her Royal Highness, Queen Sarah!" announced the Royal Crier.

Queen Sarah entered the room with a large procession of immaculately dressed female attendants. She was dressed in a gown of deep royal blue which drug the ground slightly as she wished not to offend the Puritain court by showing too much skin. For this same reason, the neckline of the dress was at the top of her neck and silken blue gloves graced her delicate hands. Her skin was white as snow with a few sparse freckles on her cheeks that lent her a friendly air. Her eyes were sky blue...hauntingly so; and her gaze could melt the heart of any man. Long, fiery, red hair cascaded down her back like a waterfall. It was slightly curled, but not so much so as to give it ringlets. Her long graceful neck was covered entirely by the blue gown. From what could be made out through the layers of elaborate dress, she was a shapely woman and a the finest specimen to be found in the Kingdom.

The court, dressed in the traditional Puritain black and white, contrasting sharply with her own colourful ensemble, bowed deeply before her as she entered the grand hall. One of the many Orchestras that performed at the palace on occasion...something which had become a part of palace life...began to play. The almost etherial strains of Debussy floated through the stilled air like a translucent whisp, a perfumed smoke.

Sarah walked over to the two thrones, not elevated or accentuated in any way as the King never liked to put himself apart from regular men...infact the only time they ever used the thrones was for having audiences, which this occasion was...and for State Ceremonies where they were required to take on the more traditional Royal role. Neither of them were really Royalty in the strict sense of the word. They ruled by mandate of the people and the only thing that made them differ from benevolent dictators was a crown.

Sarah took her seat upon the smaller right (her right) hand throne, the larger one on the left being used for the King's purposes. The Orchestra continued to play softly while the first man in line to have an audience with the Queen.

The man who knelt before the throne now was Grand Duke Gerhard Kirsch, the Royal Governor of Russapovia, clad in traditional Puritain garb. Sarah said to him, "Stand! Kneel before God...not before me." The Grand Duke rose up and said, "Your Highness, the main port of the Triune Kingdom, the great city of Kamphstadt is mostly within Russapovia, though a large part of it falls on the other side of the River in Reichskamphen. As you know...during the War against the Crown...Scottan forces under the order of Lord High Protector Joseph reduced the city to absolute rubble. We have been rebuilding...slowly but surely...but we cannot afford the reconstruction of the city using only the treasuries of our Kingdoms as there is so much else the money has to go towards as well and we are forbidden from increasing taxes. What we are asking...Your Highness...is for you to agree to the dispensation of money from the Royal Treasury itself to go towards the Reconstruction of Kamphstadt both on the Russapovian and Reichskamphian sides of the River." the Grand Duke looked at the beautiful queen expectantly.

"I do not consider myself qualified...good sir..." the Queen began, "in the matters of finance. That is the realm of the husband and it is his will that I must do...not what I would have done." she paused momentarily and realized that the response she had made...which was so natural to her...had greatly pleased the Puritain court which was observing her closely. "However, as I do know that my husband had previously allowed such withdrawals from the Royal Treasury...I shall allow them now. Speak to the Arch Treasurer and he will settle your affair. God Bless."
The Grand Duke bowed deeply and walked away towards the offices of the Arch Treasurer.

"Who is next?" the Queen asked warmly.

OOC: Anyone who wants to have an ambassador or someone ask something of the Queen can just pretend they were there and ask it here.

A women approaches, clad not in the typical finery of the Empire, but in a simple dress of jade green. The dress is not overtly flattering to the women's figure, nor does it seem to be overtly modest. Her hair is brown, with grey working its way inward, tied back in a long-flowing tail behind her head. Her eyes though possess a calm, quiet fire of intelligence and experience.
"Your Majesty," she says bowing before Queen Sarah. "I am Lady Diedre Rolt, servant of His Majesty, Emperor Gustav Alderman I of the Empire of Valinon. My Lady, the Empire wishes to pursue a long and fruitful relationship with the Triune Kingdom. Valinon would like to see increased diplomatic relations between our nations, as well as trade and other mutual benefits. We wish to see if you and His Majesty King Will II would be willing to endorse such endeavors."

The Queen told Lady Dierdre to rise up as the Queen stood herself. "Lady Dierdre Rolt. I forever owe to your country and your Emperor a debt of Gratitude for saving my life! Come here." the Queen motioned to Lady Dierdre. Sarah then put her hands on Dierdre's shoulders and kissed the air near to her cheeks on each side, a modest type of greeting considered suitable in the Kingdom. Queen Sarah then said, "I know the mind of my husband in this instance. If I did not, I would not say anything for to speak for my husband is not my place. However, it is the will of the King that Valinon and the Triune Kingdom grow strong together! God Save the Emperor!"

The Queen sat down as lady Dierdre was escorted to the Queen's ante room and told to wait there for just half an hour and the Queen would talk to her personally.

OOC: Anyone else?

Iesus Ambassador Anton Quintus would love to be involved, just abit busy right now:) so pencil him in....

Anton Quintis
Rank:Major-Legio Maria Paratroopers Vet.
Age:34
Single
Roman Catholic
Favorite story/line of the week:
"Did you hear the one about Lavina of Lavenrunz? HAR HAR!"

The Queen told Lady Dierdre to rise up as the Queen stood herself. "Lady Dierdre Rolt. I forever owe to your country and your Emperor a debt of Gratitude for saving my life! Come here." the Queen motioned to Lady Dierdre. Sarah then put her hands on Dierdre's shoulders and kissed the air near to her cheeks on each side, a modest type of greeting considered suitable in the Kingdom. Queen Sarah then said, "I know the mind of my husband in this instance. If I did not, I would not say anything for to speak for my husband is not my place. However, it is the will of the King that Valinon and the Triune Kingdom grow strong together! God Save the Emperor!"

The Queen sat down as lady Dierdre was escorted to the Queen's ante room and told to wait there for just half an hour and the Queen would talk to her personally.

OOC: Anyone else?

Lady Rolt stands in the Queen's anteroom, observing her surroundings. The Empire of Valinon has never been a very open nation, and for so long knowing as been a one way route, with information going in but very little leaving the Empire.
But now, the old ways are slipping. The days of Valinon's isolation are slipping by, and the promises of new leadership being stable and more open even if Old Emperor Gustav were to pass, is very good. Lady Rolt waits patiently, remember her brief meeting with Queen Sarah when she had oversaw her transferrance to safer territories in Alpha Centauri during the Reichskamphen Civil War.

After a short while, the petitioners had all been seen. The Queen was verily tired of hearing the petitions. Normally the King did that and she sat and listened to the Orchestra. "How I miss him..." she thought aloud.

The Orchestra sounded alarums (sound that announces royalty etc..) and the Queen rose slowly from her modest throne and walked into her ante room, the entire Court kneeling as she passed. A line of elaborately dressed Royal Guardsmen unsheathed their sabres and shouldered them in a salute as she passed. The two guardsmen with Halberds, standing like pillars on each side of the double doors to her ante room raised thier halberds and opened the doors for her to pass.

Grand Duke Michael of Scotta had come to visit a week ago and was still there. He was clad in traditional Puritain Garb...all black and white under shirt. His hair was jet black, like his clothes, and slicked straight back with a slight wave in the front that made it almost seem like a Pompadore. The Queen nodded to him and he casually returned the acknowledgement as he slouched deep in a corinthian Leather chair and continued to absent mindedly nibble on a small toast point with Caviar and sip at a glass of Cabernet.

The Queen walked in and noticed that the largest, most comfortable chair, the one with her initials and personal insignia, that she normally sat in was being taken up by the wife of Grand Duke Gerhard Kirsch of Russapovia, Caroline. She stared at the grande mosaic tiled floor beneath her, a look of despair in her deep blue eyes. Fine golden curls framed her snowy face and fell like a river teardrops to her breast. Caroline breathed in deeply as if she were about to blow the foundations off of the palace, but then exhaled so pitifully that scarce a hair upon the head of a man would have been ruffled by her wind.

Her husband was on the other side of the room sitting in the King's favourite chair, with three of the most beautiful of the Queen's chamber maids fussing about him, one...the most beautiful one named Renee sat upon his lap twirling his hair in her fingers and stroking the side of his face with her long refined fingers. The Queen glared at him with all the fire of her being. He never glanced over to see the Queen, but seemed to sense something had changed. The smile disappeared from his face and he abruptly stood nearly throwing Renee to the floor. He was the heart throb of every girl in the court and he thought it unfortunate that he had to settle for just one. The women all thought him to be dashing, gallant, heroic like his father...although a great sight better looking. He sauntered over, a little less confidently to the chair where his wife sat placed his hand upon her shoulder, bent over, and tenderly kissed the crown of her head. She smiled for the first time all day. He then looked up and saw the Queen whose expression had mellowed a trifle. He saluted weakly and walked over to her offering her a glass of Cabernet, which she refused politely. Caroline's expression was once again a forlorne one.

Queen Sarah walked in measured steps to one of the many chairs that court members would use to be near her and sat upon it, allowing Caroline to remain where she was. There were several people in the room, all partaking from a table of hors d'oeuvres...smoked salmon, caviar and toast, foie gras, baguettes and butter, and a huge assortment of cheeses. There were open bottles of Chateau Lafite Rothschilde Cabernet Sauvignon, 1984 vintage along with Courvoisier and Warre's Oporto. The many people in the room were partaking of this buffet in the centre of the room.

*OOC: Yall can join in*

##Puritans who have sumptuous feasts. How predictable.## pulsed Michael bitterly.

++Your sentiments are true, but they must not be expressed.++ replied Gabriel gently.

##Of course, my lord. We must be polite to these...people.##

++They are brave, good people. They are misguided. The former outweighs the latter in God's eyes.++

~~Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, indeed.~~ interrupted Uriel sardonically.

++And enough from you, young one.++

"Planeshift completed sir! We are now on...what the...this is not Moag, sir! Come look!"
The captain grumbled a little and climbed the into the ships crows nest, all planes looked the same to him, unless they were'nt, in which case he invariably hated them.
"So, its green, it has grass and water, what more do you want?"
"Urza had his base on Moag, I dont think we've ever been here, sir."
The captain paused, it was not wise to anger Urza.
"Well, find the right one then! And wake Urza, maybe he can get us out of here."
Urza appeared next to him.
"We are not on Moag, what is wrong?"
The captain jumped, he hated it when people appeared out of thin air next to him, it wasnt natural.
"Were not sure, Lord, I am sending for the cartographer, he will know what plane were on."
One long search through the ships map tubes later they still didnt know where they were, Urza had even tried to 'walk the ship out, but met with failure, every time.
"Its like Phrexia, or Serras Realm, something wont let us leave-"
The ship suddenly dived.
"The engines have died! Everybody overboard! The engines gonna blo-"
And they were gone.
A microsecond later they reappeared on the ground, panting. Urza normaly changed humans into two dimensional shapes for a 'walk, but in this case he had no time, and the crew would take a short while to recover.
The ship began its death spiral, slowly circling until it crashed over a hill, out of view, some miles away, there was a brief lull, and then the power stones exploded, a huge cloud of dust and debries flew into the heavans and a small earthquake sounded.
"Damn." Urza muttered.

OOC: If you dont want fantasy in this RP, then please say so and just ignore this post, the only magic/artifice the crew has with them other than Urza was the ship and some personal weapons, just swords and spears, but stronger, Urza can obviously move about near-instantly at will, and fling fireballs, all that kind of thing, but I try not to godmod him too much :D

BUMP

Beebleman, The Minister of BUMP
http://boards1.wizards.com/images/avatars/Magic-Beebles.jpg

OOC: Milantos lol...introduce the Characters sooner or later have them talk to the Queen or something but I like the mental thing. Just be prepared to have to deal with the Puritain dislike of Catholicism or anything at all resembling it along with the fact that the Royalists like Milantos haha.

Fantasy can be RPd here but id prefer only one. And nothing too crazy. But the characters if they perform magic or something may have puritain justice administered because Christians dont think too kindly of Witchcraft.

OOC: Allright, Urza may end up burning some things though, but most of my fantasy tech went down with the Skyship, the powerstone weapons are normal swords and spears, but the powerstones help guide the weapons and increase hitting power.

OOC: Well talk to me before you do too much burning of things haha. I think it may be an interesting story line, dealing with witchcraft and all.

OOC: Be thankful Lady Rolt is not one of the return to Inquistion Catholics that are cropping up in the Empire.

Lady Rolt has been quietly sipping a glass of wine that she managed to acquire. She watches the rooms occupants, ranking them in her mind based on their apparent interest. The first one she threw to the bottom was the womanizing man trying to create his own minature haram. Then Queen Sarah enters, and Diedre restrains herself well as see watches the machismo Grand Duke making the scramble back to his wife.
Lady Rolt watches Queen Sarah's movements, deciding to discuss matters of state with her after Her Majesty has enjoyed a small break. After all, she has just come from the audiences of the day. Diedre sighs, and then moves to select some of the cheeses from their carefully arranged mountains.

Sarah wanted to slide deep into her chair and fall into a deep sleep. Every muscle in her body was dragging her down but sheer will power kept her sitting tall.

"Where is Lady Rolt?" she wondered to herself. She picked up her head to scan the room from left to right. As she reached the double door on the other side of the room, it opened halfway and Prince Will III quietly slipped in as though he were sneaking in somewhere. He hated making a fuss. Now 18, he was a particularly well appointed man. The women of the Court all noticed when he came in. Renee walked into his path twirling her hair coquettishly and saying in a high feminine voice, "Hello Prince William, how are you today?" she beamed a smile that no man could resist. The Prince looked into her eyes, said, "Hello, please stand aside, I need to speak with my mother." Renee kept smiling as she curtsied and stepped aside. When he had passed, she let her look of disgust show through.

Queen Sarah stood and strode over to where the Prince was. "Mother," the Prince said as he hugged his mother, "How does father manage the whole Reich, let alone the Triune Kingdom when I have so much difficulty maintaining just this Kingdom?"

The Queen smiled a quaint motherly smile and replied, "He does it because of the hard work of those below him. He does it because people like you do so well. When you are a King, that the greatest mansion in the world cannot stand with out a base, without a foundation. The foundation of the Reich and the Kingdom are the national and regional leaders, but more importantly, the base of the Reich is the people. Just as you would tend to the foundation of your mansion tend also to your people and to those beneath you for without them, you cannot stand."

Looking over the Prince's shoulder, Sarah spotted Lady Rolt at the food table. "I shall talk to you later, son." she said kindly to the Prince, placing a hand on his shoulder and walking off to see Diedra. The Prince crossed through another crowd of women and sat upon a wooden chair and began to read his Geneva Bible..."Damn Catholic's he thought. If it weren't for them, this would be the Bible of the World."

"Lady Rolt!" Sarah called out to Diedra accross the table. "I am so glad to see you again. Let us go over here and talk." she gestured to an empty corner of the room next to a windom overlooking the Palace Gardens.

Urzas crew had mostly recovered, three men were still out, basping for breath and blue faced, others simply staggered around, but a few were more quick to recover and were helping Urza tend the wounded.
Five men hadnt made it, Urza had only a split second to grab them, so he had missed a few, no doubt they were long dead now.

Urza dispatched a small party to the wreck, they returned with a small amount of food, sailcloth and wood, which was immidiatly made into tends and firepits, a few men were sent out to look around the country side, and see if any help was to be found.

A Scottan PzKpfw X Lord High Protector tank rolled through the forrest south of the crash site, its engine muffled significantly by expert mechanics loyal to the Protectorate. 15 soldiers dressed in Black, tattered uniforms walked along beside the tank, the insignia of Joseph's Republican Guard on their sleeves.

Ever since the collapse of the Protectorate and the return of the Monarchy, those loyal to the ideals of the Protectorate had scavenged what supplies they could and roamed the countryside of the Triune Kingdom, interfering with the Government's actions whenever they could but mostly terrorizing the populous like the Partisans of WWII. They stole what they needed but still went without. Their uniforms were ragged, torn, and dirty. Many had not bathed for weeks. Without the infrastructure of the Scottan Army to support them, they had nothing. It was close to a miracle that these men were able to commandeer a tank let alone find mechanics with the knowledge to muffle it that were loyal to the Protectorate. The men had heard the crash and were coming closer to inspect on the offchance some Royalists may have been unlucky and crashed a large plane.

Suddenly one of the men froze and held his hand in the air, causing the others to freeze, and the tank to quietly come to a halt. He had heard rustling of what sounded to be a couple of men in a grove of trees ahead. Orders went out for the men to fan out and assume the 360 degree defensive position around the tank.

"Wer da!?" the leader of the group yelled into the trees. There was no answer...he tried again, "Who goes there!?"

OOC: Alright you can take it from there.

"Lady Rolt!" Sarah called out to Diedra accross the table. "I am so glad to see you again. Let us go over here and talk." she gestured to an empty corner of the room next to a windom overlooking the Palace Gardens.

Lady Rolt carefully finishes chewing her small cheese cube before speaking, "Of course, Your Majesty."
Diedre moves with Queen Sarah toward the window overlooking the Gardens. Once there she allows her eyes to sweep across the well tended plots.
"Such a fine garden, Your Grace. And I must say your son seems to be growing into a fine heir to your husand's throne. I am sure that he will make a king that will be remember throughout Reichskamphen's history."

The three men stopped and turned around, having no idea what they had just been told to do, they hold their hands out in a gesture of peace and makes a slight bow, the leader then asks in Argivinan.
"Greetings, lord, do you happen to know the name of this world, we have been drivin off couse by something, and it seems that this place is new to us..." He stops at the blank look on the mens faces.
"Errr...."
In a gesture known to all humanity he slaps his hand against his forehead.
Making various gestures to indicate that he doesnt want to fight, he takes a necklace of some sort out of his pocket, and breaks the crystal in it.
A moment later Urza appears, they hold a hurried confrence in Argivian.

A little while later Urza approaches the group and speaks in their native launguage.
"I am Urza Planeswalker, I come from another world and would ask your help to repair my craft, for we are stranded here. Tell me, do you have a supply of powerstones that I could mayhaps purchase?"

"Thankyou so much, Lady Rolt. I am hoping that he shall be a great leader. God has blessed us with a fine family...well mostly." Sarah sipped at her wine.

"I think we should perhaps talk a little business. I am very eager to align with Valinon. You have done my family, the country, and the Reich a great service and we indeed do owe you very much." she took another sip of wine. "The greatest way to bring Valinon up in the world is for it to join the King's Anti Communist Front. Many great world powers are vieing for spots on the council table and I can guarantee Valinon a spot at the King's right."

"An interesting proposition, Your Grace. The Empire has traditionally shown very little sympathy toward communist regimes. A ruthless despotism overthrew the First Empire and set up the so-called 'People's Republic' of Valinon. That blasphemy against the Fatherland now barely survives in the form of the People's Republic of Greater Ironholm," Lady Rolt sips her wine, then motions for a waiter to refill her glass.
"However, Your Majesty, the Empire does have relations with several socialist nations, and we are home to a socialist government in eixle, formerly of Harding Beach Island. Before this can be fully considered, I must ask if His Majesty will draw a distinction between socialists and communists."

Ambassador Forsythe sat quietly at his desk, tapping the end of pencil on the polished woodwork in time with the ticking of the grandfather clock, his head in one hand, calmly going insane with anxiety. Sir Faraday, his first advisor, entered the stately office and crept across the inches-thick carpet, carrying a stack of reports in both hands.

"What are we going to do, Faraday? If word of this gets out we're all finished. The Ambassador-General will use as target practise and that's only if we even get back to the Conglomerate."

Faraday set the reports carefully on the desk, being careful not to disturb the documents already layed out. He leaned across the stacks, "There is still time. If we act now we can recover the documents before anyone notices they're gone."

"And what about copies? And the copies of the copies? By God do you know far this could go? This will mean war, a war the Conglomerate is in no condition to fight!"

Faraday stood up straight and began pacing the room, attempting to light the end of his pipe with shaking fingers, "We must do what we can with the time we have, take any advantages possible before word gets out."

Forsythe leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, indescribeable weariness etched across his features, "Send word home. Get me SO-6."

"My husband made a speech on that just the other night that was broadcast to the world. (OOC: Check Reich Regional...I need to put it on the forum...but komp stinks) He is taking an unusually hard line now. If the socialists agree to work with the Capitalists against the Communists, then they shall not be harmed, but if they support the Communists, then they may as well be Communists themselves. As he said, there are two groups of people in this world now. There are the Civilized peoples...which are inherantly Capitalist; and there are the Barbarian peoples which are Bolsheviks. Those who stand by the Bolsheviks, though they may not be technically Bolsheviks themselves, will be destroyed. It is simply insensibile to allow nations which Support Communism to continue on that path when we are trying to irradicate it. They will always come back and have places to hide if we draw such fine lines." The Queen leaned in closer to Lady Rolt and whispered, "I am under the impression that if a Socialist nation or people are useful to the cause and renounce Communist ways, then they shall be left alone."

OOC: Tm me slutbum so I can figure out where this is going and what you would like to do.

OC: Personally, I like to keep my posts short and to the point, with a hint of (tasteless) humor. This way, I can get my point across. Just a short statement.

IC:

The Ur delegate arrives. Nameless, without bodyguards, her awkward stagger in an awkard outfit (neither sleek nor fashionable) drew the attention of Reichskamphen guards.

They proceed to intercept as she makes her solo walk to the Palace Happenings.

OC: More will be revealed later. Just an intro.

"My husband made a speech on that just the other night that was broadcast to the world. (OOC: Check Reich Regional...I need to put it on the forum...but komp stinks) He is taking an unusually hard line now. If the socialists agree to work with the Capitalists against the Communists, then they shall not be harmed, but if they support the Communists, then they may as well be Communists themselves. As he said, there are two groups of people in this world now. There are the Civilized peoples...which are inherantly Capitalist; and there are the Barbarian peoples which are Bolsheviks. Those who stand by the Bolsheviks, though they may not be technically Bolsheviks themselves, will be destroyed. It is simply insensibile to allow nations which Support Communism to continue on that path when we are trying to irradicate it. They will always come back and have places to hide if we draw such fine lines." The Queen leaned in closer to Lady Rolt and whispered, "I am under the impression that if a Socialist nation or people are useful to the cause and renounce Communist ways, then they shall be left alone."

Lady Rolt listens to Queen Sarah, her eyes filled with the look of one who is constantly listening, gathering knowledge, and then releasing some of what she believes.
"The Empire of Valinon would be willing to support such an alliance, of course. However, the proper government actions must be taken. This must be submitted before the Imperial Diet, but I am sure that His Majesty will support its passing. However, there is one thing, Your Grace. I must ask that those socialist nations allied with the Empire (I think there are about 5 or 6) be considered under our protection. Their polices can be monitored by our own alliances."

OOC: Can I send someone?

OOC: Sure you can, just keep it clean and good.

IC: "Of course." Sarah responded Sweetly "Any friend of the Empire is a friend of the Reich." She got a bit darker. "Just as any enemy of the Empire is our enemy as well."

*Outside the Palace*

The Palace Guards crossed their sabres in the path of the shabby looking Ur Delegate. "Who goes there?" the Guardsmen demanded.

OOC: Sure you can, just keep it clean and good.

IC: "Of course." Sarah responded Sweetly "Any friend of the Empire is a friend of the Reich." She got a bit darker. "Just as any enemy of the Empire is our enemy as well."

*Outside the Palace*

The Palace Guards crossed their sabres in the path of the shabby looking Ur Delegate. "Who goes there?" the Guardsmen demanded.

Father Zuke, an older man with a shaved head, a long silver beard that went down to his waist, shinning green eyes, dark skin, and wearing green priest robes with the lettering of the sacred church language used in the Church of Yevon waited quietly for his turn to speak with the Queen. The emeralds encrusted on the hems of the robe sparkled in the sunlight streaming from a nearby window, the priest smelled of the vanila incense so often used in prayer rituals employed by the Church of Yevon. "Hopefully I will get to make my request soon." he thought as his left hand cluched his roasry beads (with each bead with a symbol that spelled "Yevon" in the church language written in gold paint) and made a small prayer to Yevon for good luck.


http://images.google.com/images?q=tbn:5GE4rA0oKCcC:www.avalancheonline.net/yunaface2.jpg
Grand Maester Yuna, Beloved Leader of the Church of Yevon
”It is better to die in hope, than live in despair”- Yunalesca
The Theocracy of The Bevelle Empire

Some of the Puritain court gave the Yevon priest dirty looks, some discreetly, some more openly. One man leaned over to another and said, "Why are we allowing heretics into the court of the King? Instead of partaking of this and soaking in his evil, he should convert or be burned at the stake..."

"Lady Rolt," the Queen said, "I hope you shall forgive me, but some of the dignitaries in the court will need to see me now. There is never any rest for the weary. I hope you will join me for dinner tonight. You are welcome in the palace for as long as you wish to stay even if you wish to never leave you are welcome to remain. I shall speak to you later." Sarah stood and approached the Yevon priest giving the Court a dirty look of her own and charged them silently to hold their tongue and to behave themselves.

"Good day, sir." the Queen began, "I appologize if you have a title which I did not name, I am unfamiliar with such things. Please forgive some of the members of the court. They have a tendency to be unfriendly to non Christians...non Protestants really. I hope you are enjoying your stay in the palace."

OOC: you can ask what you want of her now. But remember the King is the best guy to ask and hes away at war. She can speak for him most of the time though

*Outside the Palace*

The Palace Guards crossed their sabres in the path of the shabby looking Ur Delegate. "Who goes there?" the Guardsmen demanded.

OC: I am assuming you are speaking to me, but it's okay.

IC:
The shabby overcoat seemed aged, rather than simply tattered. But the hooded figure did not reply at first.

A female voice eventually replied, after creating an uneasy silence among the guards.

"I was sent due to a personal invition by der Fuhrer Will Thompson of Reichskamphen in The Reich. You will let me in."

OC: I'm hoping to keep my character mysterious and kind of quirky, so let me in!! Let me in!!! :)

*coughs politly*

Some of the Puritain court gave the Yevon priest dirty looks, some discreetly, some more openly. One man leaned over to another and said, "Why are we allowing heretics into the court of the King? Instead of partaking of this and soaking in his evil, he should convert or be burned at the stake..."

"Lady Rolt," the Queen said, "I hope you shall forgive me, but some of the dignitaries in the court will need to see me now. There is never any rest for the weary. I hope you will join me for dinner tonight. You are welcome in the palace for as long as you wish to stay even if you wish to never leave you are welcome to remain. I shall speak to you later." Sarah stood and approached the Yevon priest giving the Court a dirty look of her own and charged them silently to hold their tongue and to behave themselves.

"Good day, sir." the Queen began, "I appologize if you have a title which I did not name, I am unfamiliar with such things. Please forgive some of the members of the court. They have a tendency to be unfriendly to non Christians...non Protestants really. I hope you are enjoying your stay in the palace."

OOC: you can ask what you want of her now. But remember the King is the best guy to ask and hes away at war. She can speak for him most of the time though

"Of course, Your Grace, I shall submit this proposal to His Majesty and the Imperial Diet as soon as I return to my embassy. And I would be delighted to join you for dinner."

OOC: Dominaria..check first page. You didnt respond.

OOC:
The three men stopped and turned around, having no idea what they had just been told to do, they hold their hands out in a gesture of peace and makes a slight bow, the leader then asks in Argivinan.
"Greetings, lord, do you happen to know the name of this world, we have been drivin off couse by something, and it seems that this place is new to us..." He stops at the blank look on the mens faces.
"Errr...."
In a gesture known to all humanity he slaps his hand against his forehead.
Making various gestures to indicate that he doesnt want to fight, he takes a necklace of some sort out of his pocket, and breaks the crystal in it.
A moment later Urza appears, they hold a hurried confrence in Argivian.

A little while later Urza approaches the group and speaks in their native launguage.
"I am Urza Planeswalker, I come from another world and would ask your help to repair my craft, for we are stranded here. Tell me, do you have a supply of powerstones that I could mayhaps purchase?"

Duke Tueren Ourn, cousin of King Wasterin II, arrived at the Puritan court to speak to the Queen. His announcement to the guards was that he was Duke Tueren Ourn, His Majesty's Ambassador. Any intelligence profile on him would indicate that he held his title due to it being bestowed on him, rather than tied to any land in Aerion's new semi-feudal system. The Duke stepped into the court wearing the highest ceremonial wears, mirrored off of what the Ducal Courts, and Royal Court in Aerion had been adopting from other court dress. He wears a very fine red coat, over various layers of elegant silk, lace, and satin. His elegant, extravigant outfit is that of 18th century French fashion. The outfit is embroided with golden threading throughout, and elaborate designs. Golden buttons adorn it as well. His two male attendants that follow him are just a bit more toned down, though almos up to the extravigance as his own outfit. As he stands awaiting the Queen, he leans on his fine walking stick, holding it by its large diamond knob. He is in sharp contrast to the Puritan court, indeed.

Some of the Puritain court gave the Yevon priest dirty looks, some discreetly, some more openly. One man leaned over to another and said, "Why are we allowing heretics into the court of the King? Instead of partaking of this and soaking in his evil, he should convert or be burned at the stake..."

"Lady Rolt," the Queen said, "I hope you shall forgive me, but some of the dignitaries in the court will need to see me now. There is never any rest for the weary. I hope you will join me for dinner tonight. You are welcome in the palace for as long as you wish to stay even if you wish to never leave you are welcome to remain. I shall speak to you later." Sarah stood and approached the Yevon priest giving the Court a dirty look of her own and charged them silently to hold their tongue and to behave themselves.

"Good day, sir." the Queen began, "I appologize if you have a title which I did not name, I am unfamiliar with such things. Please forgive some of the members of the court. They have a tendency to be unfriendly to non Christians...non Protestants really. I hope you are enjoying your stay in the palace."

OOC: you can ask what you want of her now. But remember the King is the best guy to ask and hes away at war. She can speak for him most of the time though

Father Zuke replyed, his voice giving away his great age (he is 80 years old), "Greetings your grace, I am Father Zuke, the High Priest of the temple of Djose sent by the Church of Yevon, the Church that has reigned over The Bevelle Empire and the continent of Spira for over a millenia, to request that a formal embassy be established between The Bevelle Empire and Reichskamphen." Zuke looked directly at the Queen while he said this, giving no heed or attention to the courters muttering.


http://images.google.com/images?q=tbn:5GE4rA0oKCcC:www.avalancheonline.net/yunaface2.jpg
Grand Maester Yuna, Beloved Leader of the Church of Yevon
”It is better to die in hope, than live in despair”- Yunalesca
The Theocracy of The Bevelle Empire

*Dominaria*
"Perhaps these people can help us overthrow the King?" mused one of the Scottan soldiers. "A return to the protectorate would be a dream come true."

"Calm," said the head of the group. "They are just as likely to favour the King as they are to favour us. The best thing we can do is simply kill them and take what they have."

The men shouldered their rifles and leveled their sights on the men who were conferencing a bit away. "Ready....aim...."

The night was pierced by three single shots. The three Scottans who were aiming at the visitors dropped dead, the back of their heads blown off. The Scottans run and hide behind the tank. The turret turns to where the shots had come from and fires, breaking a tree in two like a toothpick.

One after another, shots come from the other side and begin to pick off the men hiding in the tank. One...two...three...four more dead. The tank began to turn and run and the men jumped on the back and ran away.

Shots continued to echo as two more men fell off of the tank, shot dead while it ran away.

A man in a camouflage with a Royal Guard patch on his shoulder rose up and looked over at the 9 dead Scottans.

He let his gun fall by his side and held his hands out for them to see he meant them no harm. He beckoned them to come along with him.

*Pagan Priest or whatever he is*

"Matters sensitive as this must not be discussed in front of the court. Perhaps we ought to talk later in a more private setting. My official stance is supposed to be a desire to see you burned at the stake...I hope you understand why I cannot discuss these matters in public. I would exhort you to talk to Arch Chancellor Leipzig. He is upstairs in his office at this time of the day." The Queen informed the Priest.

*Pagan Priest or whatever he is*

"Matters sensitive as this must not be discussed in front of the court. Perhaps we ought to talk later in a more private setting. My official stance is supposed to be a desire to see you burned at the stake...I hope you understand why I cannot discuss these matters in public. I would exhort you to talk to Arch Chancellor Leipzig. He is upstairs in his office at this time of the day." The Queen informed the Priest.

Father Zuke nodded thinking it rather strange that the policy of Reichskamphen would be to burn him alive until he remembered the Churches policy about all other religions in The Bevelle Empire and reminded himself that the reason he was here was to promote the ideal of the new Grand Maester, to promote connections to the outside world for the first time in over a thousand years.


http://images.google.com/images?q=tbn:5GE4rA0oKCcC:www.avalancheonline.net/yunaface2.jpg
Grand Maester Yuna, Beloved Leader of the Church of Yevon
”It is better to die in hope, than live in despair”- Yunalesca
The Theocracy of The Bevelle Empire

Urza shrugs, then gestures to the men to follow, thinking something along the lines of the Scottians.
As they step over the bodies Urza stoops to grab one of the strange weapons, being entirley unfamiliar with slug throwers, he quickly disasembles it.

OOC: That was me, :oops:

* Aerion*

Royal Guardsmen opened the doors to the Queen's ante room and allowed the delegates to enter. The hostess bade them to enjoy the food and drink provided.

OOC: You will want to go to Arch Chancellor Leipzig as well. The Queen will talk to you but she is tired and will want to rest up a trifle.

One of the attendants questions as to the location of Arch Chancellor Leipzig, with the intent that upon finding out, the entourage will proceed to meet with him.

Father Zuke departed the throne room (after taking out his cane of oak wood laced with silver and topped with a dragon's head ornament) and took a deep lungfull of air before climbing up the stairs towards the office of Arch Chancellor Leipzig. "I am too old for this." the priest thought as he took step after painful step up the stairs.


http://images.google.com/images?q=tbn:5GE4rA0oKCcC:www.avalancheonline.net/yunaface2.jpg
Grand Maester Yuna, Beloved Leader of the Church of Yevon and The Bevelle Empire
”It is better to die in hope, than live in despair”- Yunalesca
The Theocracy of The Bevelle Empire

The Headline on the Reichsburg Times read in large letters that filled the entire first page. "ESAMOPIA SURRENDERS! KING WILL VICTORIOUS!"

Fireworks went off all accross the Capitol as the Napoleon Smoothbore Cannons fired salutes. 500 in all. These were the Cannons that 200 years ago that day had been used to defeat the Foreign Government of Reichskamphen and establish the 200 year old Thompson Dynasty with the reign of George Thompson III who came to be known as King George the First.

The King was due to arrive soon with elements from AG Hammer which had fought in Esamopia. It was to be a grand parade.

OOC: RP it later.

In the city of Bevelle, in the Palace of St. Bevelle, Maester Auron Fortitelli read the article in the Reichsburg Times about the takeover of Esamopia while drinking cuvu juice, a powerful energy stimulant. The Maester looked at two of his personal Warrior Monk guards and thought, "This world that the Grand Maester wishes us to interact with... Perhaps we should of remained isolated from the cares of the world, too late to backout now isn't it, well it's time for my morning exercises." the Maester then stood up and left the breakfast room and headed towards his own personal gym to exercise and practice with his favorite sword.


http://images.google.com/images?q=tbn:CCi0OHimLFoC:mb.vgdirectory.com/poster/wallpaper
Maester Auron Fortitelli, Commander of the Warrior Monks
The Theocracy of The Bevelle Empire

OOC: We will skip the victory parade etc. I dont feel like staging all that stuff. Just pretend it happened.

IC: King Will opened the doors to his private chambers, unhooked his sword from his belt and flopped down on the bed like a sack of potatos. He sighed deeply, massaged his temples, and rose to a sitting position. He began to mutter, "At least it wasn't a very tough fight...but my Lord...all those people dead. No matter how much I pray for forgiveness, I feel that Hell still awaits me..." With an extra push, he rose up and changed out of his Royal Guard uniform and into his regular court clothes.

He was dressed more like a gentleman would be in the late 1700's and early 1800's. He wore a crimson jacket and pants. His jacket was embroidered with Elaborate Gold Scroll work and his initials were scattered throughout the embroidering. His neck cloth was folded in the Napoleon style which appeared very regal. Will bent down and put on his black shiney boots which went up to his calf and tucked his red pants into them. Putting on a belt with a very shiney gold belt plate worn by the Royal Guard, Will reached for his court sabre which he wore at public non military functions in the palace. It was odd for a member of the Royal Family or court to be caught without a sword on at least a large decorative knife on them.

Walking over to the mirror, he examined himself thinking, 'not too bad for an old man.' and immediately walked into the Royal Reception room where they had large private parties, often much more relaxed than the formal court functions but dress codes were enforced. The Crier announced, "Presenting His Royal Highness, King William Andrew Thompson the Second, victor of the war for Esamopia!"

As all gathered shouted "God Save the King!" the Kings heart sank a little bit lower in his chest. The thought that the loss of so many lives could bring such joy. Victory was not to be celebrated in his mind but a victory over a foe was to be followed by praying for the dead of both sides and for the enemy that they may not suffer greatly.

OOC: Approach the King, talk to him, whatever, he will respond in kind.

Father Zuke reached the office doors of Arch Arch Chancellor Leipzig and after catching his breath from the long climb up the stairs (long for someone his age) and knocked on the door.

"Come in!" Arch Chancellor Leipzig yelled to him jovially. "Sit down! Can I get you a drink?" without waiting for his answer, Leipzig placed three drinks before him, a water, a soft drink, and a Scotch and Soda. "If you don't drink you have the water and the Coke and if you dont like one you have the other!" He smiled as he moved around energetically. "So what can I do you for?" he thought this reversal of words was funny.

OOC: If you know the simpsons, this guy is kinduv like Hank Scorpio from the episode where Homer moves to a new town and works for a new company which really turns out to be an evil empire.

"Come in!" Arch Chancellor Leipzig yelled to him jovially. "Sit down! Can I get you a drink?" without waiting for his answer, Leipzig placed three drinks before him, a water, a soft drink, and a Scotch and Soda. "If you don't drink you have the water and the Coke and if you dont like one you have the other!" He smiled as he moved around energetically. "So what can I do you for?" he thought this reversal of words was funny.

OOC: If you know the simpsons, this guy is kinduv like Hank Scorpio from the episode where Homer moves to a new town and works for a new company which really turns out to be an evil empire.

Father Zuke entered the room, just a little apherhensive of the strange man, "I will stand thank you and no I do not wish anything to drink, your Queen said to speak with you regarding an embassy between Bevelle and your nation."

"Sure, sure!" he said over happily swiping the drinks off the table and into the floor. "Don't worry about it! There's maids here!" He walked over to the Father and said, "You do know this country is Puritain...and very very fundamentalist? I mean I am sure that an alliance can be made and maintained, but normally countries like yours wish not to be allied with countries like mine. I am sure through working together, we can do something really grand!"

"Yes I am sure, but if we work together we can achieve something grand." Father Zuke said as he took out a small rag and wipped his bald head, he was taking the news of Dyku's Rebellion and his theft of ruleship of the Djose Temple that he had learned on the plane to Reichskamphen rather hard.

Count Mirbach, envoy extraordinary of Lavenrunz, wearing his full dress court uniform, ceremonial sword at his side, approached with a very correct bow and said, "May I congratulate Your Majesty on a great victory on behalf of Her Majesty Empress Joanna?"

OOC: Sorry for taking so long.

IC: "Why thankyou," the King bowed. "I would wish you to send a message to Empress Joanna for me when you have the chance. If you will be staying in the Royal Palace over night, we can talk over dinner."

The King then continued along, spoke to a few more people then retired to his personal Chambers.

Later that night the King sat down to dinner and awaited the arrival of Count Mirbach.

"At least it wasn't a very tough fight...but my Lord...all those people dead. [i]No matter how much I pray for forgiveness, I feel that Hell still awaits me...[i]" [Emphasis added
Now if only he believed in free will. ;)

OOC: Can I still join, or is it too late? Also, since my country is Catholic will my ambassador be persecuted? :?

God bless,

The Republic of Syskeyia

OOC: No, this thread is dieing a slow death, join and revive it.

Your Embassador shall not be persecuted physically or attacked etc etc. He will get the cold shoulder from some people in the court but the Royal Family treats everyone with respect.

Free Will? Bah. I believe in predestination. GOOOOOO CALVINISM!

Also, I think it may be interesting to have an RP debate about those issues.

OOC: No, this thread is dieing a slow death, join and revive it.

Your Embassador shall not be persecuted physically or attacked etc etc. He will get the cold shoulder from some people in the court but the Royal Family treats everyone with respect.

"Yes that is expected but a price one pays." Father Zuke said

"I hope everything is in order Father Zuke." Arch Chancellor Leipzig said, handing Zuke a folder with his proposal in it. *Check TGs*

Two Royal Guardsmen then escorted the Father out of the office. *He can go where he wants...to see the Queen, the King, anyone else.*

Leipzig collapsed in his chair, the smile falling from his face like a dropped boulder the moment that the door closed behind Father Zuke. "My word..." he muttered under his breath. "What have I become...allying with heretics." he sighed loudly, then reminded himself with his common saying: "It's only politics, not a church service..."

The voice of his secretary then came over his comm. "There is some strange man here to see you. He says he represents some of your devoted followers in Scotta..."

Leipzig, unaware of the mans identity quirked his eyebrow a bit. "Let him in." he said finally.

The doors opened and a man in a black uniform strode through the door. He was not particularly striking. He wasn't fat nor was he thin. His eyes were dull, his speech was plain...he was not a person one could find something interesting about...couldn't be picked out of a crowd. He walked up to one of the chairs infront of Leipzig's desk and sat down.

"Your Emminence," he began "You are a Scottan by birth..."

"This is true." the Arch Chancellor replied.

"Then should something be wrong in Scotta...you would be obliged to help in any way that you could due to your loyalty to your home and your people correct?" the man leaned in a bit as he said that word to give a feeling of confidence.

"I suppose that is correct..." Leipzig responded warily, unsure of where he was going.

"Then you would be obliged to help us with the problem of policemen who are supposedly serving our interests but are oppressing us in truth." the man baited him.

"Of course!?" the Arch Chancellor replied with great outrage. "What district is this occuring in? I shall intervene myself and get those men off the streets!"

"It is occuring in all of them, your emminance." the man replied.

"All of them?"

"All of them."

"Who is in charge of these policemen?" the Chancellor enquired.

"King William Thompson the second." he answered.

"Well of course he is in charge of them, he is in charge of the entire Triune Kingdom. Who in specific is the trouble maker?"

"The King himself." the man again answered.

"Are you speaking treason sir!? The King would never order his Royal Police to do such a thing!"

"It isn't the Royal Police...it is the Royal Army. Reichskamphian troops defile sacred Scottan soil with their presence. We were brought into the Kingdom through marriage and ever since, the Thompson dynasty has trampled upon us. We grew complacent under the yoke but when Joseph came...we got the fire back in our guts and we threw off the yoke. Now it is back on us...these soldiers make us loyal at gunpoint but we will never stay otherwise." the man was ranting now.

"SILENCE!" Leipzig yelled. "You speak treason!"

"No. You do! You speak treason by defending that tyrannt. Your first duty and service is to your home, to Scotta! You defile her name by allowing the Huns to keep their filthy feet on Scottan soil!"

The chancellor sat down and did not speak. The man continued.

"You have the power now to free us from oppression. You have the power now to take unto yourself the power that has been abused by the Thompsons for 300 years. Instead of sitting at your desk complacently and being yourself an instrument of oppression...you could break our chains..."

The Arch Chancellor continued to listen contemplatively.

"Will you be content to play second fiddle to some two bit tyrant all of your life? You will never inherit the throne...but you can use the power it has vested in you for good...if you order the troops to leave while the King is away on one of his expeditions...you will free us. Then, the Scottan armies can mobilize and free our brethern in Northern Russapovia."

"I want you to stay in the Capitol...three days. In that time, I will decide whether or not to help you or hang you. Now leave." the Arch Chancellor ordered.

The man bowed deeply and walked out.

Father Zuke took about three steps out of the office before suffering from a severe coughing fit. "UGHCHOOO!" for several minutes before recovering and swallowing a small white pill, without further explanation he began his slow and painful walk down the stairs.

A Royal Guardsman noticed Zuke's plight and offered, "Would you like to ride the elevator instead?" he paused a moment "Perhaps it would suit you better?"

"Thank you." Father Zuke said just before a bad coughing bout hit him hard.

Grand Duke Michael walked slowly down the large hall. His left leg drug a bit behind him. His right hand clutched a snifter of brandy like a claw grasping a ball on one of those decorative chair legs. A few men passed by him and bowed or saluted as he passed. The Royal Guardsmen along the hall saluted him as he passed by extending their halberds at arms length and then retracting them after he had passed.

(OOC: His Character profile is at the front)

His long black cloak fluttered behind him as he walked though there was no breeze. He began to ascend a large flight of stairs, laboriously reaching the summit after a few minutes. A few steps later he found himself at the door to the office of Arch Chancellor Leipzig. Without knocking, he opened it up and strolled in. "Leipzig..." he said outloud.

"Yes?" the Arch Chancellor responded, turning his tall backed chair around to face the intruder. His finger tips were pressed together contemplatively for yet another moment until he brought them down to the desk and asked in his perpetual falsely cheery mood, "How can I help ya?"

"I came here to petition you for a good work." he threw a lock of his long dark hair out from in front of his face with is pale hand. The room almost seemed to get a few degrees colder.

Leipzig shuddered as Grand Duke Michael sat down. "You see," Michael's voice was smooth as silk, but as his finger traced the rim of his brandy glass, his voice seemed to attain the quality of a spiderweb being thrown upon the skin. "for many years now, Scotta has been oppressed by Royal troops. We don't want them there. You don't want them there and I don't want them there. My father gave Scotta the freedom it deserved. And from him, you inherited the Triune REPUBLIC." he put emphasis on that last word.

Leipzig's mind wandered back to the day that he had inherited that post. Joseph Thompson had outlawed the monarchy. He renounced his title and had become the new foreign minister. The Royalists attempted to regain power through arms and were succeeding rapidly. The Scottan army dealt a great defeat to the Royalists but Joseph had been assasinated and the provinces of the other Kingdoms began dropping away. Things were bleak. He had heard about the death of Joseph and the victory at the battle of lower Vicksburg on the same day. The later in the morning and the first at night. He had turned on the television that night and his jaw dropped as he saw the headline, "Lord High Protector Joseph Thompson Dead. Provinces in Reichskamphen and Russapovia quickly seceeding." Before the shock could set in, a letter with the seal of the protectorate was placed on his desk. It was the much publicized letter in which Joseph named his heir. He had inherited a falling empire. He adopted the title of Lord High Protector and held it for a day before he issued his first and last decree, restoring the crown and the kingdom to the pre protectorate state. King Will and shown mercy to him and in order to reunite Scotta with the Kingdom had made him his second in command.

'Do I want it back?' he thought to himself. 'Should I desire what I had but for a day? God help us all'

OOC: w00t! My 500th Post! ;) And my return to RPing! :D

IC: REICHSBURG, REICHSKAMPHEN

If it isn't raining, it should be, thought Paul Nangchi, newly appointed Syskeyian Ambassador to Reichskamphenn, as his limousine raced through Reichsburg to get to the palace.

What have I gotten into?, the ambassador pondred to himself. It was bad enough that this was a Reich nation- well, in that regard at least it wasn't Iesus Christi- but it was a Puritan/Calvinist nation to boot. It wasn't the fact that they denied the Papacy that bugged him- he'd had many Protestant friends over the years- it was the fact that they considered the Holy See to be the seat of the Antichrist that got his metaphorical goat. [i]Oh well, blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness sake."

His stay in Reichskamphen bad been short right now. He arrived at Reichsburg airport in a Syskeyian jet, and went to the Syskeyian embassy. Today being All Saints' Day, he attended Mass (OOC: I'm assuming there's at least one Catholic Church in Reichsburg? If not for the 12 Catholics in Reichskamphen ;) then at least for the Catholic foreigners -embassy people, etc.) and now was on his way to the palace.

His arrival at the destination interrupted his thoughts.

OOC: He's in the court now. :D

God bless,

The Republic of Syskeyia

OOC: There were Catholic Churches in Reichskamphen a long time ago. The Calvinist people overran the churchs, smashed all of the idols and graven images and confiscated the buildings. Many of the gaudy buildings made more for man and less for God were torn down. The only one remaining is now the home of the Reichsburg Congregational Church, the King's Church. There is still a Catholic underground and maybe a small leanto in the woods that is used as an altar for papist ceremonies...but Catholicism is outlawed for any Reichskamphian citizen. And yes, we do believe he is the anti-Christ. This should be interesting.

IC: The Royal Guard escorted the Syskian group to their new chambers in the Royal Palace where they would live with the rest of the court and with the other foreign dignitaries.

After this, the Syskians reported to the King's ante room where he was still entertaining. The King sat in his chair with the rest of the nobles around him and even some foreigners. One of the Puritain courtiers, Count Wilhelm von Oberhausen who governed the city of Oberhausen, walked up to the delegation and shook hands. Then, noticing the crucifix, with a picture of Christ on it around one of their necks he asked, "Are you Catholics? I can tell by the graven image around your neck that defiles and violates Gods law. Didn't you read the sign?"

"What sign?" said the delegation, obviously offended.

"Its on the city gates. It was carved there after the reformation. It says, 'Papa Persona Non Grata'. We don't want the Pope or his minions here. All Saints day is it? So I guess you will go pray to the dead like a horde of filthy pagans will you? Pray to your Saint Innocent III and Saint Julius II. They are truly saintly. What miracles have they performed? The miracle of being the anti-Christ!" there was such vitriol in the eyes of the Count that all were taken aback.

The King noticed this happening and walked over to them. "I see you have met Count von Oberhausen. I suggest you be on your way, Count." he looked at the count with a reprimanding glance. The Count walked away with his tail tucked between his legs. "Come, let us eat."

Over dinner a conversation began. "Not to attempt to offend our honoured guests," another noble, this time from Reichsburg, Count Dietrich von Reichsburg, asked "but where in the Holy Scripture does it justify prayer to the dead who have passed on. Your Saints are so varied. Innocent III...who was not so innocent, is a Saint. Even if one or two among all of these men you have named are truly blessed, we should still not pray for them to intercess on our behalf. Elijah and Moses were great figures in the Old Testement, but you never saw Jesus praying to Elijah for help. He prayed to God directly. You are teaching as holy law the doctrines of men. Church teaching and practice mean nothing if they are not rooted in the Bible. Sola Scriptura!"

The King judged that Count von Reichsburg's statements were much less offensive than Count von Oberhausen and decided to sit back and see what the reply from the papist delegation would be.

*Grafiti on the wall of a building in Reichsburg*

In large letters was written:
Papa Persona Non Grata...it isn't a joke!
Papists Get out! Roma Delenda Est! Roma Delenda Est! (Rome must be destroyed! Rome must be destroyed!)

There was a crude drawing of Sainte Peter's Cathedral in Rome with fire spitting out of the top and a little figure in a mitre hanging in the centre of the square. Above it was written, Deos Vult, or "God Wills It." The Motto of the Catholic Crusades.

OOC: There were Catholic Churches in Reichskamphen a long time ago. The Calvinist people overran the churchs, smashed all of the idols and graven images and confiscated the buildings. Many of the gaudy buildings made more for man and less for God were torn down. The only one remaining is now the home of the Reichsburg Congregational Church, the King's Church. There is still a Catholic underground and maybe a small leanto in the woods that is used as an altar for papist ceremonies...but Catholicism is outlawed for any Reichskamphian citizen. And yes, we do believe he is the anti-Christ. This should be interesting.

OOC: OK, there's a Catholic chapel in the Syskeyian embassy. The delegation went to Mass there.

After this, the Syskeyians reported to the King's ante room where he was still entertaining. The King sat in his chair with the rest of the nobles around him and even some foreigners. One of the Puritain courtiers, Count Wilhelm von Oberhausen who governed the city of Oberhausen, walked up to the delegation and shook hands. Then, noticing the crucifix, with a picture of Christ on it around one of their necks he asked, "Are you Catholics? I can tell by the graven image around your neck that defiles and violates Gods law. Didn't you read the sign?"

"What sign?" said the delegation, obviously offended.

"Its on the city gates. It was carved there after the reformation. It says, 'Papa Persona Non Grata'. We don't want the Pope or his minions here. All Saints day is it? So I guess you will go pray to the dead like a horde of filthy pagans will you? Pray to your Saint Innocent III and Saint Julius II. They are truly saintly. What miracles have they performed? The miracle of being the anti-Christ!" there was such vitriol in the eyes of the Count that all were taken aback.

The King noticed this happening and walked over to them. "I see you have met Count von Oberhausen. I suggest you be on your way, Count." he looked at the count with a reprimanding glance. The Count walked away with his tail tucked between his legs. "Come, let us eat."

"Skéftomai óti eímaste ópws ton Ntániel sto krisfy'geto twn liontariw'n," one diplomatic aide whispered to the other. I think we're like Daniel in the lion's den.

"Nai, móno ta liontária ítan sympacitikótera," replied the other as he nervous put his neck crucifix underneath his suit. Yeah, only the lions were nicer...

OOC: The delegates here are whispering in each other to Greek. Can your computer see £?!=?ƒøº±<pi>

My the religious differences between Syskeyia and Reichskamphen have made diplomatic relations sort of BUMPy, don't you think?

God bless,

The Republic of Syskeyia

OOC: Unique way to approach the argument. Not seen it done thusly before. I have not the time to respond in full IC fashion for now. No I cant see the greek. I will bring out the other verses tommorrow and tell you what Calvin thinks lol. Just remember that even though there are religious differances, the King, Queen, and Arch Chancellor do not oppose doing business with even the heretics in the Yevon cult so worry not.

Right now there are a bunch of idiots in the USSR who can't tell the differnace between IC and OOC and are mobilizing a great defense of their nation against an attack that isnt even going to come unless they decide to piss us off. We raised their name in a summit where it was pointed out that anything past a certain point would not be known to the outside world. They apparantly are to idiotic to get that though.

If this goes downhill King Will may have to leave but I dont think it will go downhill.

"The case you have presented before us," Count von Reichsburg began, "Is a good case to support Biblical foundations of prayer with others. It is good to pray with others and to pray for others and to ask others for prayers for you. However, nowhere do you present evidence of asking for prayers from the dead. Though the lowest in the Kingdom of heaven is greater than the greatest man on this earth, it means not that they have any greater pull over God than you or I. Plus, they are passed on. They live with the father. Their prayers have been answered. They are no longer men and cannot pray for you after they are passed on. What this practice harkens back to is the pagan supplications to dead ancestors for forgiveness and assistance. Christ is the final intercessor and the final sacrifice."

"Well said." King Will nodded towards Count von Reichsburg.

"Many thanks, Will" he responded.

The guests were perhaps taken aback by the familiarity with which the King was addressed. His formal title was used only in letters and decrees. He felt it too ostentatious and a bit blasphemous to do otherwise.

The King then began to speak. "Ladys and Gentleman of the Court, respected dignitaries, I have come to a decision on a great issue. I have decided who I shall appoint as my heir. He shall..." the King paused for a minute and grabbed his chest, wincing a slight bit. Seeming a bit better he returned to speaking, "He shall be..." the pain returned and continued longer. "You know...it's the funniest thing...I can't feel my arms..." he said weakly. "Forgive me, O Father for all that I have done. Thy Will be done..." he said as his body went limp causing him to fall facefirst into the bowl of soup infront of him. His eyes rolled into the back of his head and his mouth flailed open. His wife, sitting beside him let out a shrill scream and pulled him from the bowl wiping his face popping it on either cheek yelling, "Are you Ok!? Mein Leiber! Speak to me!!" The King did not respond. Other women in the court began to scream as some of the men sat staring blankly and others rushed to the King's aide. "God Save the King!" many yelled. This time, it was not a show of Bravado or a powerful declaration, it was an earnest plea for the Holy Father to intervene and save their sovreign from the dark clutches of death.

THe King's personal surgeon felt his pulse, and felt nothing. Then the surgeon laid him out flat on the floor and tore open his doublet, placing difibrilator pads on his chest. "Clear!" he yelled as he administered a shock. The King's body convulsed. "Clear!" he went again. He kept trying but each time, the King's pulse failed to resurface. The surgeon reached into his bag and pulled out a hypodermic needle, drew a fluid from a small bottle and jammed the needle straight into the King's heart, slowly releasing the fluid. His heart began to flutter a bit, then ceased to beat again. The surgeon stood up, looked at those around and announced, "The King is dead." He looked at the King's arm and saw his distinctive scar from where he had been hit by a sabre in a duel in his youth. He took the King's finger print and compared it to a sample he had in his kit. He looked at his teeth to further verify his identity. "Yes..." he said more softly...almost disbelieving, "The King is dead."

OOC: This time for real.

Thirty minutes later, the distinctive bell like sound of the Brass smoothbore Napoleon field cannons being fired was heard throughout Reichsburg. As the bell of every Church in Reichsburg tolled 55 times, once for every year he had reigned as King. Mourners with Candles gathered by the hundreds of thousands in the streets of the Capitol. Many gathered by the gates of the Royal Palace itself.

The Royal Guard Garrison of Reichsburg were also in the streets openly embracing and weeping. Most bars in Reichsburg either closed to honour the King or declared that all drinks were on the house. Many went through the streets with pints of beer in their hand and tears rolling down their cheeks. Little boys ran wildly, not knowing the seriousness of the situation. One lone soldier, a private of about 16 years of age who volunteered for duty in the Royal Guard sat below the equestrian statue of King Will II where the horse had reared up on its hind legs and Will was holding the banner of the 3rd Royal Infantry. The scene was taken from the battle of New Braunau where King Will, when still in his 30s personally seized the colours and turned the tide of a great battle. He stared up at the kind looking face as a single tear slashed the cobblestones below his feet. He pulled out a small flute and put his lips to it. The sweet, bright notes of Amazing Grace floated forth. Some around him stopped and listened. Tears came running down his cheek more openly as he continued to play. The crowd around him joined hands and began to sing, "When we've been dead ten thousand years, bright shining as the sun, we'll have no less days to sing God's praise than when we'd first begun."

Grand Duke Michael looked down upon this scene from his window in the palace and violently closed the curtain to block it out.

Accross the way, Prince Will crossed out to the crowd on horseback. He walked over to the group which was singing, joined hands with two of the lower class workers and began to sing with them.

"The case you have presented before us," Count von Reichsburg began, "Is a good case to support Biblical foundations of prayer with others. It is good to pray with others and to pray for others and to ask others for prayers for you. However, nowhere do you present evidence of asking for prayers from the dead. Though the lowest in the Kingdom of heaven is greater than the greatest man on this earth, it means not that they have any greater pull over God than you or I. Plus, they are passed on. They live with the father. Their prayers have been answered. They are no longer men and cannot pray for you after they are passed on. What this practice harkens back to is the pagan supplications to dead ancestors for forgiveness and assistance. Christ is the final intercessor and the final sacrifice."

"Well said." King Will nodded towards Count von Reichsburg.

"Many thanks, Will" he responded.

The guests were perhaps taken aback by the familiarity with which the King was addressed. His formal title was used only in letters and decrees. He felt it too ostentatious and a bit blasphemous to do otherwise.

The King then began to speak. "Ladys and Gentleman of the Court, respected dignitaries, I have come to a decision on a great issue. I have decided who I shall appoint as my heir. He shall..." the King paused for a minute and grabbed his chest, wincing a slight bit. Seeming a bit better he returned to speaking, "He shall be..." the pain returned and continued longer. "You know...it's the funniest thing...I can't feel my arms..." he said weakly. "Forgive me, O Father for all that I have done. Thy Will be done..." he said as his body went limp causing him to fall facefirst into the bowl of soup infront of him. His eyes rolled into the back of his head and his mouth flailed open. His wife, sitting beside him let out a shrill scream and pulled him from the bowl wiping his face popping it on either cheek yelling, "Are you Ok!? Mein Leiber! Speak to me!!" The King did not respond. Other women in the court began to scream as some of the men sat staring blankly and others rushed to the King's aide. "God Save the King!" many yelled. This time, it was not a show of Bravado or a powerful declaration, it was an earnest plea for the Holy Father to intervene and save their sovreign from the dark clutches of death.

THe King's personal surgeon felt his pulse, and felt nothing. Then the surgeon laid him out flat on the floor and tore open his doublet, placing difibrilator pads on his chest. "Clear!" he yelled as he administered a shock. The King's body convulsed. "Clear!" he went again. He kept trying but each time, the King's pulse failed to resurface. The surgeon reached into his bag and pulled out a hypodermic needle, drew a fluid from a small bottle and jammed the needle straight into the King's heart, slowly releasing the fluid. His heart began to flutter a bit, then ceased to beat again. The surgeon stood up, looked at those around and announced, "The King is dead." He looked at the King's arm and saw his distinctive scar from where he had been hit by a sabre in a duel in his youth. He took the King's finger print and compared it to a sample he had in his kit. He looked at his teeth to further verify his identity. "Yes..." he said more softly...almost disbelieving, "The King is dead."

OOC: This time for real.

Thirty minutes later, the distinctive bell like sound of the Brass smoothbore Napoleon field cannons being fired was heard throughout Reichsburg. As the bell of every Church in Reichsburg tolled 55 times, once for every year he had reigned as King. Mourners with Candles gathered by the hundreds of thousands in the streets of the Capitol. Many gathered by the gates of the Royal Palace itself.

The Royal Guard Garrison of Reichsburg were also in the streets openly embracing and weeping. Most bars in Reichsburg either closed to honour the King or declared that all drinks were on the house. Many went through the streets with pints of beer in their hand and tears rolling down their cheeks. Little boys ran wildly, not knowing the seriousness of the situation. One lone soldier, a private of about 16 years of age who volunteered for duty in the Royal Guard sat below the equestrian statue of King Will II where the horse had reared up on its hind legs and Will was holding the banner of the 3rd Royal Infantry. The scene was taken from the battle of New Braunau where King Will, when still in his 30s personally seized the colours and turned the tide of a great battle. He stared up at the kind looking face as a single tear slashed the cobblestones below his feet. He pulled out a small flute and put his lips to it. The sweet, bright notes of Amazing Grace floated forth. Some around him stopped and listened. Tears came running down his cheek more openly as he continued to play. The crowd around him joined hands and began to sing, "When we've been dead ten thousand years, bright shining as the sun, we'll have no less days to sing God's praise than when we'd first begun."

Grand Duke Michael looked down upon this scene from his window in the palace and violently closed the curtain to block it out.

Accross the way, Prince Will crossed out to the crowd on horseback. He walked over to the group which was singing, joined hands with two of the lower class workers and began to sing with them.

"What do we do now?" asked a rather weary Arch Chancellor Leipzig.

"What can we do?" added the young Prince Will, who, though badly hit by his father's sudden death, was still serving his home.

"There is nothing WE can do." began the Captain of the Royal Guard, "but there is something that you can do, your Highness." he said to Prince Will. "You can skip this nonsense with the Parliament and the Nobles and just crown yourself King. We can't have another Protectorate and there is just enough sentiment accross the nation that it is entirely possible."

"To be fair," Leipzig interrupted, "There is also just as great of a possibility that the Nobles and Parliament will attempt to take control themselves and make the crown irrelevant."

"And there are movements in my Kingdom," added Gerhard Kirsch, Royal Governor of Russapovia, "To break away from the Reich alltogether. Polls all accross the country show that approval polls for Matthew Iesus are at an all time low. Last time I checked about 22% say that they disapprove of his leadership. Before the King's death, there was open talking of wanting will to, "March on up to Iesus Christi and hang President Matthew right up."

"The overall sentiment in my Kingdom," said Grand Duke Michael who sat, cloaked in shadows, the glowing tip of his cigar occasionally burning a bit brighter as he took a drag. "Is for a return to the Protectorate. I have recieved letter after letter exhorting me to take some type of action on behalf of Scotta."

"Whatever we do," Leipzig spoke above those who were talking, When he had their silence and attention, he continued, "We must keep the Kingdom intact. We cannot let any one Kindom cleave away from the whole."

"Gentleman, Before we do anything, we must await the decision of the Parliament which is currently in session." Prince Will concluded the discussion.
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The Parliaments of Scotta and Russapovia joined the Parliament of Reichskamphen to make up the Grande Parliament. They met in the Parliament Chambers which were constructed as the east wing of the Royal Palace. As they met, the Nobles from all over the Kingdom held a meeting to decide succession to the throne.

*Parliament*
Prime Minister Alexander Kole stands up and addresses the combined houses of Parliament.

"Gentleman and Ladies, we have before us here a grande decision. We must decide the successor to the throne of the Triune Kingdom. But before we do thus we must decide whether or not to maintain the office of King as a traditional head of state. Let us vote."

The electronic screens infront of the parliament members were all touched and the results beamed to the Prime Minister as soon as all had voted.

The result with 498 of 500 voters being present, the vote is 320-178 in favour of retaining the Crown.

Now we have heard the debates about the best choice for King, let us now choose from Prince Will Thompson III, Arch Chancellor Viktor Leipzig, or Grand Duke Michael Thompson.

*Meeting of Nobles*

"So we are all agreed that we will elect the natural heir to the throne as our next King." Count von Reichsburg began, "but now we must decide what to do if Parliament doesn't elect him."

"Do what needs to be done," Count von Oberhausen replied, "Disband Parliament." the others nodded in agreement.

"We will be opening a great can of worms, but it is our only choice." Count von Reichsburg agreed.

In the name of God and the reich, we express our deep sorrow at this tragic event. Christ has taken him home, and his eternal reward is our loss.
A billion rosarys are being offered , and to his family we offer a silver pair of rosary beads dated from the 17th Century,as a sign of our love and devotion to this great man who has gone home.

Anton Quintis
Ambassador to teh Royal family.

*Parliament*

"With 498 of 500 voters present," the Prime Minister began, "The results are thus. 212 in favour of Prince Will Thompson III being the next King, 234 in favour of Grand Duke Michael being the next King, and 32 votes in favour of Arch Chancellor Leipzig as being the new King." He paused momentarily, "Though Grand Duke Michael has the greatest number of votes (Because of the Large number of Scottans in the Parliament), he still does not have the necessary majority vote of 251 to be crowned the next King. We also have recieved word from the head of the Convened Nobility of the Triune Kingdom that they have unanimously selected Prince Will Thompson III to be the next King. This creates a certain amount of tension."

Just then Grand Duke Michael strode into the chambers of Parliament and raised his hand to be recognized. "Gentleman and Ladies of the Royal Parliament, it is my proposal that this issue be resolved the way it was done many hundreds of years ago within this Kingdom. The two who contested the throne, in this case myself and Prince William, would meet in an open field and duel with sabres until first blood or death." this caused a great commotion within the chambers. Some seemed supportive, others were aghast.

When the issue was put to a vote it barely passed, but regardless, it did pass. The Vice Prime Minister went immediately to fetch Prince Will for the duel which was to take place at noon that very day in a field just outside of Reichsburg.

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*Meeting of Nobles*

"They appear to want Michael for their King...but first they want a duel." reported Count von Reichsburg after reading over the parliamentary report.

"We can't risk our sovreign in a duel. The best with a sword is often not the best at commanding men or ruling a nation. We cannot risk our country in such a venture. We must immediately disband Parliament." argued Count von Oberhausen.

The esteemed Count von Magdeburg, head of the Scottan Nobles, who had up until this point remained silent spoke up. "Michael is my Grand Duke, but I will not have him as my King. He is not mentally fit for such a position. We have to find some way to legally disband parliament."

"Aha!" exclaimed the Captain of the Royal Guard, who was immersed in a book. "It says here that the Parliament is not allowed to make any decisions which could possibly condemn the King or one of his relatives to death. Though the duel has been traditional in the Triune Kingdom, it was not mandated by Parliament, it is actually expressly illeagal to do so. And under those grounds, the Ruler has the right to disband Parliament."

"Then this is what we shall do." said Arch Chancellor Leipzig. He turned to address the Captain of the Royal Guard. "Mobilize the Garrison of Reichsburg and have them surround the Parliament building. I will report there in person shortly."

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The Garrison of Reichsburg, now uniformed and fully equipped appeared as a Napoleonic Army, finely clad in ornate uniforms yet brandishing modern weapons. The trisword and crown standards of the Royal Guard blew in the wind as group after group of men marched up to the Parliamentary Chambers and surrounded them. Cannon were rolled into place to support the troops.

Count von Reichsburg, clad in a bright red and very ornate outfit which seemed from the 1700's and a powdered wig of just the same nature, walked boldly into the chambers of parliament flanked by a full Battalion of the Royal Guard, Guillaume Roi division. The count walked down the centre aisle of the Parliament chambers amidst gasps of horror and surprise as Royal Guard troops filed in behind him and went down every aisle taking aim at the men in their chairs. The count then unfurled a piece of parchment and read it aloud, "By order of his Emminence, Arch Chancellor Viktor Leipzig, Ruler of the Triune Kingdom in Absentia Regem, the Parliament is to be disbanded until further notice and all decisions and actions it has taken previous to this moment but after the death of King Will are to be declared null and void. The Parliament is to be disbanded for deliberately endangering and possibly condemning to death a relative of the King which is expressly forbid in Article 7 section c of the Royal Parliament's Charter. Go peacefully or we will use force." He rolled up the parchment and waved his hand. The soldiers then prepared their weapons to fire. The men of the Parliament were then escorted out of the hall and into a series of holding cells where they were all held to prevent the Parliament from meeting outside of chambers.

*Royal Palace Reichsburg*

The members of Parliament were being held within the palace under armed guard until it was deemed safe for them to reconvene. The Vice Prime Minister reached for his comm as one of the Parliament members inquired about his purpose in using his comm. He replied to them, "I am going to notify people on the outside. We have the Parliamentary Militia, and though it is mostly mercenaries and civilian volunteers it could break us out so that we may restore order."

"No." the other man exclaimed. "Do you want another civil war to wreck the Kingdom? There are pools of gasoline all about...what you will be doing is not helping to prevent a fire, but making the spark to start it. We must think of the good of the Kingdom before the good of ourselves."

The Vice Prime Minister begrudgingly put his comm away.

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"But your highness!" Leipzig almost whined to the Prince, "You cannot duel with Grand Duke Michael. It will only escalate tensions between Reichskamphen and Scotta and will most certainly result in one of your deaths or much worse...the survival of one and the beginning of a war."

"Silence." the Prince commanded, "It is a point of honour and my honour shall not be brought into question. I have been challenged to a duel so I will accept."

*Later that day, field outside of Reichsburg*

Prince Will and Grand Duke Michael stood, in full court attire, clad as men would be in the 1700s in powdered wigs and frilly outfits. The seconds of Prince Will and Grand Duke Michael met in the centre as the two combatants glared at eachother.

"First Blood or Death." Prince Will's second asked.
"This will not do." replied the second of Grand Duke Michael. "It must be to the death...we cannot have one survive and command an army that would tear this land apart."
"Very well." Will's man agreed. "To the death."
"As for weapons...heavy sabres." Will's man continued.
"Agreed." replied the other second.

Prince Will's second stood in the centre and annouced to the gathered crowd and the combatants, "This will be a duel to the," he paused a moment, "to the death with heavy sabres...for the throne to the Kingdom...may the best man win."

The two comabatants chose thier weapons and stood at enguard...

"Isnt there a more...hmmmm errr rational..I mean....hmm peaceful way to resolve these issues..."
Anton Quintis generally couldnt believe that such things could happen, really..."quite...different"
In accordance with the Fuhrers orders, Anton Quintis presented a formal letter asking...
"dear friends, is violence really the answer? as sons of Christ isnt there a more noble way through..what use is the spilling of your blood when we have all been washed clean by the blood of the lamb, what would King Will have done? think of him and Christ your king!
blessed are the peace makers"

OOC:no idea who he'd present the letter to, or if i'd would get presented in time....but ya know...its a formal thing to do!

"Your eminence", the messenger threw himself at Jaars feet. "Young Will is going to duel against Duke Michael of Scotta."

The benevolent Jaar looked tired. "Yes, I know and their future is shrouded with mystery. I'll try to contact them both and make them avoid this folly. A duel will throw us into the same chaos as The Reich had before, when King Will was presumed dead. It is NOT the time." Jaar took his head in his hands and tried to mentally send a vision of what would happen if the duel would be. It was a world of chaos, fire and killings. Jaar tried to intensify the vision, he didn't knew if the two combatants would be able to receive the image. But with some luck they would think of the consequenses.

fighting to the death is honorable, talk is cheap

~Sultan Omar supporting the right to blood feud~

Grand duke Michael pulled back and swung at the left shoulder of the Prince with his Royal Guard Sabre with an unusual show of aggression for such occasions. Without batting an eyelid, the prince parried the swipe and threw himself a bit back out of distance of his opponant's blade. The prince then lunged in and swung laterally around the chest of the duke. He moved to parry, but the Prince feigned under his guard and brought his sabre up at a 45 degree angle, putting a foot long gash in the duke's chest. He stumbled back for a moment looking at the blood. The colour was fast disappearing from his face. Despite this, the duke pointed his sabre at the Prince, not thinking completely clearly now, and charged head on. The prince made it appear as if he were to parry, but at the last second stepped aside bringing the blade of his sabre down lengthwise accross the Duke's back, leaving another huge gash.

The Duke fell to his knees and the Prince instictively moved to help him wishing to spare him death. As the prince got closer, the Dukes sabre slashed out and put a small cut in one of the Prince's ankles. Knowing now what he must do, he brought his blade down, removing the sword from his opponant's hand, leveled his own sabre, taking great aim, then swung. The duke's severed head then fell to the ground, rolling a bit before coming to a stop, the tongue flailing out. His body collapsed forward limply.

The Prince dabbed at his light cut with a small hankercheif. Suddely, his eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed. The surgeon ran to him to check his pulse but he was already dead. Quickly the surgeon grabbed the Duke's sword, and upon swabbing it, found traces of a horrible neurotoxin. He had poisoned his blade.

*Royal Palace*

"Both dead!?" Arch Chancellor Leipzig exclaimed in disbelief. "Damn that Michael...what a cowardly fiend."

"What do we do now?" asked Count von Reichsburg.

"Our options are thus." began the Count of Oberhausen. "We can either let Queen Sarah remain as Sovreign until her death, which, due to her young age, would take some time. We could make Grand Duke Michael's son Nicholas the King. He is only 5, but you, Arch Chancellor could rule for him until he is ready. We might be able to get the Scottan out of him in that time. Next, we could make you, Arch Chancellor, the King...or Lord High Protector should you choose it thusly. As long as you do not chase us out of our land like that fiend Joseph, we can do without the crown. Infact as there is no King but Chirst...it might be favourable. Or...we could allow the Parliament to reconvene and give the Prime Minister the status of head of state and establish a Constitutional Monarchy."

"Nix the last option." said Leipzig. "I have just thought of something...I could marry Queen Sarah and maintain the Thompson line's claim to the throne and also rule it wisely unlike a Scottan could."

"Get the Queen, see if she will have this." commanded Count von Reichsburg to his servant.

Just then Count von Magdeburg, who had been absent from all of the previous events, burst through the doors. "Arch Chancellor!" he yelled out "We have news!"

"I know, I know...they both died." the Arch Chancellor replied lamely.

"No, no. Not that. Do you remember the defeat of the Royal Army of Reichsburg during the Wars of the Protectorate?" Magdeburg asked.

Leipzig winced at the painful memory...Joseph...the very thought of that time made him recoil. "Yes I do. Why must you bring the issue up now?" he replied.

Magdeburg took a great breath and began his story. "It was assumed that Mark Kesselring, or rather should I say, Mark Thompson, was killed in that battle. Many of his subordinates saw him killed and reported thus. However, this appears to have not been the case at all. Yesterday, one of the hold out patrols of the former protectorate which, from time to time, causes mischief for us, was defeated and its members captured. Upon being interrogated their leader led our men to a cave where 'Someone Important' was being held. When we arrived, we found Captain Kesselring in a room behind a large steel door...a prisoner of the last vestiges of the Protectorate."

All were shocked upon this revelation. Magdeburg continued, "Apparantly, after the battle, a Scottan patrol came accross his body, and recognizing him to be the first born of King Will with his first wife took him up and brought him back to headquarters. It was only then that it was discovered he was still barely clinging on to life. Doctors worked well into the night but they managed to save him. By the time the Republican Guard made its grande retreat out of Reichsburg, Mark Thompson was healthy enough to be taken along. Hoping to somehow destabilize the postwar government, one of the regional Scottan commanders ordered Mark to be held in captivity by a patrol of Radical Republicans who would rather surrender their lives than their cause. They went out during the night and caused trouble for us while leaving him back at their base, a prisoner. He is a bit gaunt now, but none too worse for the wear. He was analyzed by a Psychiatrist and seems to be in good mental health."

"Then he," said a breathless Leipzig, "Is the rightful heir to the throne of the Triune Kingdom!" a loud cheer erupted from the gathered nobles after the Chancellor had finished speaking. "Bring him to Reichsburg at once. It is still early in the morning. We can coronate him today and hold a ceremony later. We need to firmly establish the crown before anything else can go wrong."

*Later that day*
The nobles had gathered and the Parliament, under orders of the heir, was released from house arrest to bear witness at his coronation. The representatives from the synods of Reichskamphen, Russapovia, and Scotta, each adorned in black clerical outfits and white powdered wigs each gave their consent that Mark Thompson should be crowned King.
Then Arch Chancellor Leipzig, the highest non Royal Family official in the government gave his consent. "Then so be it." declared the Prime Minister firmly, "That you, Marcus Antonius Thompson, also known as Mark, shall be the Sovreign of the Triune Kingdom of Reichskamphen Russapovia and Scotta. God Save the King!" he exclaimed as he placed the crown on the head of Mark who was now in his father's coronation robes.

"Let it be known," Mark began, "That I am not my father. I aspire to one day be as great of a leader as he was, but I am differant from him. We do things differantly as well. Our styles are not the same. It will take much adjusting from the long reign of my father to my own reign, which, Providence be willing, shall also be a long and fruitful one. Let us begin the national struggle towards greatness. God Save the People!"

The crowd responded, "God Save the King!"

"With the peaceful conclusion of the standoff in Esamopia, it looks like Marcus's crown has just withstood its first storm." declared Count von Reichsburg.

"Yes," replied the Captain of the Royal Guards, "It does appear so. But the question is, can it weather another? Our separation from the Reich has been taken well in some areas and not so well in others. The Reich is our home just as much as the Triune Kingdom is our home."

Count von Oberhausen, a stict adherant to the Iesus theory of government and complete lover of all things Iesus Christian, exclaimed, "Hear, hear! And it is abhorrant that he should insult the Fuhrer like that."

"Hold your tongue!" exclaimed Grand Duke Gerhard Kirsch, Royal Governor of Russapovia. "It is not your place or mine to critisize the actions of our sovreign. He has founded the region of Greater Prussia which shall soon outshine the Reich!"

"This region you speak of, has but one member, the Triune Kingdom." retorted von Oberhausen.

Kirsch, not to be beaten, began again, "But you neglect the fact that King Marcus has not yet had the opportunity to advertize his region and that Esamopia is due to join us soon."

"It remains the same way, Esamopia is essentially a colony of the Triune Kingdom. It will still be just us. And these nations that are won by adveritizements, will likely be nothing more than a crock of upstarts." Oberhausen returned fire, with a bit more vitriol.

"But already, our new region has many many great allies so that growth is assured." said Kirsch now turning a bit red.

Oberhausen snapped back, "Why must you constantly lie like a..."

"Enough!" Arch Chancellor Leipzig cut them off, "As it stands now, there are great divisions within the Triune Kingdom just as there were before. There were the nations which wanted to leave the Reich, all but the very northern tip of Reichskamphen, the south and mid west of Russapovia. And there were those who wished to adhere to the Reich, "The northern part of Reichskamphen, near Oberhausen, Scotta, and the remainder of Russapovia. We are pretty well split down the middle. Only now, the other side is winning the battle and the images of crowds pulling down statues of Matthew Iesus in disgust only further deepen the divides. What we need to do now is instead of fighting about whatever action our sovreign takes, we need to ensure the unity of the Kingdom. We must ensure that the Triune Kindom remains Triune."

"Perhaps, what we need is a little disunity..." mumbled the Scottan Count von Magdeburg. These remarks stirred other rumblings within the assembled nobles.

"Mayhaps we should reopen the doors of Parliament and allow them to sit for a few sessions?" suggested Kirsch.

"Let Parliament sit again? When we so flawlessly did away with them? Why on earth would we do such a thing?" inquired the Count von Magdeburg with Count von Oberhausen and many other nobles nodding in agreement.

"For the purpose, Good sir," Kirsch answered, "of allowing the people to have a voice and to prevent a tyranny from arising."

"The Scottan Parliament has already met this week," added von Magdeburg. "They were discussing the issue of seceeding from the Triune Kingdom to rejoin their brothers in the Reich who this Ghost King managed to remove them from.

The Russapovian Count Kamphstadt added in, "And the Parliament of Russapovia was indeed discussing that selfsame issue before the Royalist Party won the vote to have the issue crushed. It cant be brought up for another year, but it may indeed resurface."

"Indeed,"began Chancellor Leipzig, "This is the reason we cannot allow the Parliament, though this destroys me inside, to convene. They will only deepen the divisions in our country and throw our Kingdoms apart.

Just then a messanger came in and handed Chancellor Leipzig an envelope with the seal of the Scottan Prime Minister. He opened it up:

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Your Emminence,

It has likely come to your attention that the Parliament of Scotta has the necessary votes to effect a secession from the Triune Kingdom. This is an action we intend to take. When this is done, we intend to shed the vestiges of the Monarchy and return to the Protectorate. As you were the Last Lord High Protector, it is only fitting that we should offer to you this position first and with it an opportunity to serve your home, your motherland, Scotta. We await your reply>

Sincerely,
Helmut Lang
Prime Minister of Scotta.

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Leipzig quickly scrawled out a reply and sent it on its way to Scotta.

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Mr Prime Minister,

I gladly accept your offer. Wait on me, I shalll arrive shortly and am leaving now. God Bless,

-Leipzig.
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He then leaned over to the head of the Royal Guard and asked, "Is Lignum Crucis still in Scotta?"

"Yes sir, it is in the south near to departure." replied the head of the Royal Guard.

"Good then order it to turn around and head for the Capitol of Scotta." Leipzig demanded. "Pressing issues preclude my further presence at this meeting gentleman, he said to the nobles, good day to you all." He then threw on his coat and ran for his Limousine, which took him to the Airport, from where an airplane took him straight into the Capitol of Scotta. The Royal Limousine escorted by Royal Guard cars picked him up and rushed him off to the Parliament house of Scotta.

He walked up the aisles of the Scottan Parliament, his cape flowing behind him and the Parliament cheering him wildly. He stood atop the podium and began to speak whereupon all in the room fell silent. "What you have done today, oh loved Scotta, is not saved your Mother's life but stabbed her in the back." He then clapped his hands thrice and every door into the room swung open and was filled with Royal Guards who marched down the aisles and seized the leaders of the individual parties and keeping the others in place at gunpoing. "You have turned your back on your sovreign and your brothers in the other two Kingdoms. I am as Scottan as any among us, but I cannot bear with good conscience the burden of knowing it was due to my inaction that the Triune Kingdom cleaved apart." A rising Chorus of Boos drowned out the Chancellor's speech as the Royal Guard gathered up the members of the Scottan Parliament and carried them off to Centreville Prison, the most wretched prison in all of Scotta.

"What the Hell did you do that for!?" demanded Count von Magdeburg to Leipzig.

"What the Hell did I do what for, Charles? You think I really would dissolve the Parliament. Those aren't Royal Guards. If you looked closely, you could see the tattoos of the Republican Guard on their forearms. The real Royal Guard is coming...just down the block...they think I took care of it. The men just went downstairs and made the vote in the Bomb shelter, then we set them straight." Leipzig replied.

"Arch Chancellor!" Prime Minister Helmut Lang yelled after Viktor Leipzig, "The vote is cast, 258 to 42 in favour of breaking from the Triune Kingdom. You are the defacto ruler of Scotta."

"I wish to take the title of King." he said firmly, "Take the crown jewels of the pre Triune Scottan Kings and ready them for use. We can't have every Royalist in Scotta siding with the Ghost in Reichsburg."

"Very well your highness, you will have the Crown." replied Helmut as he went off to fetch the crown from its presentation box in the centre of the Parliament.
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In Reichsburg, the Scottan nobles who sided with this new King, all but one, packed their things, withdrew their funds from Triune Accounts and took the train to Magdeburg.

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*Coronation Ceremony*

Helmut Lang took the Crown up off of its pillow and turned to the crowd announcing, "I, Helmut Lang, Prime Minister of Scotta, do hereby conferr upon Viktor Leipzig the crown of Scotta and do hereby make him King Viktor the First! God Save the King of Scotta!"

The crowd took up the cheer, "God Save the King!"

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Count von Magdeburg walked around the map of the Triune Kingdom spread accross the table as King Viktor looked on from a few feet away.

Magdeburg spoke..."The 25 northern counties of Russapovia legally belong to Scotta as they were cleaved away when the Reichskamphians married into the Scottan line. We have a fully mobilized Scottan Army...we can move in and just take them...a huge chunk of the Triune forces are in Esamopia."

"Good idea." Viktor said grandly, "Let us move forward with this plan. You, count, studied tactics under King Will, therefore perhaps you are the best choice for the command of this operation."

"Thankyou." Magdeburg bowed deeply. "But first, we have to take care of Lignum Crucis...it is already within our borders."

The Royal Governor of Russapovia, Gerhardt Kirsch, sat in conference with King Marcus, discussing the next move to make.

"Let's face it. We can't defeat the Scottans. If we keep fighting they will take over my country! We definately can't have that." Kirsch said.

"Calm down," Marcus said, "I am going to the front myself soon. I will bring us a victory."

Gerhardt flew into a rage, "Where? A victory where? In your imagination maybe. We have no more men. The entire Royal Army of Northern Russapovia was dessimated. The only thing left of the army is about 50,000 men running like scared girls to New Braunau with the Scottan's hot on their tails. Within two days, at this rate, the Scottans will be at the gates of New Braunau. And if we fight them there, we lose the city...that 1000 year old city. I won't have it. Either you talk terms with Viktor or I seceed from the Kingdom as well and make my own terms."

"You listen here Gerhardt!" the enraged King yelled out.

"No YOU listen here Marcus!" Gerhardt cut him off, "If you don't make peace, I will make peace!" with that Gerhard stormed out of the King's office.

Then, Marcus hit his intercomm button and paged the Royal Guards downstairs, "Guards, Royal Governor Kirsch will be trying to leave the palace shortly. Detain him. Throw him in Capitol Prison for treason. I will be travelling myself to New Braunau immediately."