NationStates Jolt Archive

Esteemed leaders of the civilised peoples of earth, we of the Abargraptine People’s Republic humbly extend for your consideration an invitation to leisurely or officially visit our lately emancipated nation state. Our offer comes a year since the creation of Abargraptine freedom from the yoke of the extended Eastgate royal family, and occurs in celebration of that fact.

We have little to offer but the spectacle of the birth of our Republican Navy, the exuberant joy of our people, and the cultural and economic exchanges that may in future occur between our states should they be here introduced.

http://www.nationstates.net/images/flags/uploads/abargrapt.jpg
The People's Republic of Abargrapt Loyalty is my Honour


RAVEN SQUARE, KINDSLEY, ABARGRAPT

“Brothers! Sisters!” Cried Chancellor Swann, addressing the crowd at Kindsley city centre in the manner they enjoyed, all elevated for a moment to the level of their admired leader. All save the Mauatu, at least.

“It is a year since the consolidation of the Abatov Party and my election as Chancellor of the Abargraptine People's Republic...”

Ernest Swann never got far through one of his speeches without interruption by the rapture of adoring countrymen, today was no exception. He was eventually allowed to continue, and would tell the people what they wanted to hear; AS Abargrapt had completed her sea trials with success, and her sister, Kindsley was now afloat. The two mighty ladies would soon bring shame to the cursed Eastgaters, sailing The Continent’s waters without care for Federal warships, finally freeing Abargraptine shipping from the humiliation of enforced tariffs and searches.

Abargrapt need not fear, for the army too was strong, having achieved its treaty-breaking aim of two hundred thousand recruits. A country of fewer than sixteen million heads, the long oppressed little brother on The Continent had never been so well armed, and was certainly not well used to wielding greater military strength than its resented neighbour. Still, the people were not spoiling for a fight, the economic recovery also spoken-on by Kindsley was of more interest. Most Republicans were happy to spite Eastgate by their success, rather than go to the extreme of exacting direct revenge.

One might call these people naive for supposing that Abargrapt needed battleships to protect its shipping lanes from a few Federal frigates and ironclads...

(OOC: The history of the Abatov Party and of Ernest Swann’s rise to power may be found here in a
storm of flowing passion (http://www.nationstates.net/forum/viewtopic.php?t=136546&highlight=) that won Abargraptine independence from the Greater Federation of New Eastgate.)

(Bump because so far more than 50% of views have resulted from my own attempts to figure out what I'd done wrong code-wise :oops: I shall be back later to rattle sabres and make things happen.)

[The Kindsley Philharmonic performs Arther Hois' The Girl From Eam (described as a shorter and more imposing version of Bizet's L’Arlesienne), the Abargraptine national anthem]

At least one man in the crowd was shifting uncomfortably. Something in Mr Swann’s rhetoric unnerved one Mr Peter L. Rothschild, who had quite decided that a cry of ‘God save the King!’ might not go over so well. Instead, he pulled his overcoat - designed by Blackton of West Gallaga Street - a little closer over his slight frame and continued to listen as a band swung into motion.

Iansisle had been monitoring developments in New Eastgate and her neighbors fairly closely over the past few years. The foreign ministry wanted to consider it a periphary priority, especially compared to New Highlands members and the various superpowers with whom war was constantly looming, but Royal Mining and Manufacturing insisted. The bloated corporation was somewhat struck dumb by the vast virgin resources of the continent - a ‘new Gallaga’ was how Royal put it - and insisted. What Royal wanted, Royal always got.

So here was Rothschild, to establish a mission in what frankly seemed a dangerously liberal country. With the increasing republicanism and unionism among Iansisle’s malnourished masses, it would never do to let them hear one of Mr Swann’s speeches.

On the other hand, it might do well to bring New Eastgate and Abargrapt into Iansisle’s sphere of influence. No doubt other powers were enticed by the relative backwardness of Eastgate and Abargraptian defenses; it would never do to allow the riches of the continent to fall into Clerk or Chiang hands!

((ooc: I wasn’t quite finished rambling, but I’m being called away! Hope you don’t mind a (slightly) more modern power interfering; I gathered from your introduction that you wouldn’t. Anyhow, keep up the good work! I’ll bring this to some sort of point later.))

(ooc: Not at all. Abargrapt is already more advanced than New Eastgate in many respects, thanks to their complacency, so it wouldn't really be fair for me to say, 'no, I have to be the most advanced!' Plus I don't imagine we'd get much response at all if we shut out the modern world entirely :) So long as no one starts dropping orbital artillery shells for the sheer fun of it, we're okay.)

In the meantime... at Effermer, southeast of Kindsley (oh, this reminds me, I must arrange to get maps posted now that Abargrapt has been properly placed on 'The Continent'), the Abargraptine Republican Navy sought to placate impatient crowds.

A more modest affair than the much talked-about battleships Kindsley and Abargrapt, the small Parricide destroyer class was still exciting. The name may have seemed a little ominous... if only anyone had been interested in anything besides the fact of the class's record-breaking speed.

AS Daughter's 501t standard load slipped down into the Pacific under the watch of several hundred locals and surely at least a few Eastgater spies. Almost everyone had heard hopeful talk of twenty knots.

Minister of the Navy Rolland Agaboon was on hand, in fact on board, to witness the begining of trials, and to announce data on the revolutionary vessel. The little vessel, its 6'7" draft leaving Agaboon rather waterlogged, sped about off shore, belching black smoke and inciting ripples of ooh and aah ashore. On her return to the harbour, AS Daughter was granted significant applause, which erupted upon Agaboon's announcement that she'd made 21.9 knots. No Eastgater vessel was known to have seriously threatened twenty...

((Glad to hear it! I am - as an early cold war nation technologically and rather earlier socially - rather used to people flashing about advanced technology, so I’ll try and keep my radio-controlled range finders, jet-propelled aero-flyers, and moving-picture boxes to a minimum in this thread ;).))

Now that the speeches appeared to be over, Mr Rothschild attempted to fight his way up to the front of the crowd. He figured a brief introduction of himself - and his country, if Abargrapt proved to be an introverted as Eastgate - would be in order. After all, the bulk of the mission’s personnel were arriving by fast steamer from the Shield in just a couple days, and they expected all the ground to be laid for them in the People’s Republic!

At last breaking out, with a few loud apologies and pardons, Rothschild started searching about for either Swann or anyone else who might appear to be in some position of power.

PM Yun Ren looked at the intelligence briefing, then placed it on her secondary pile.

After a while, she placed the note "more informatin" on the sheet.

Sudbury, Goston State

"Fiat lux!

"This session of the Combined State Senate will now come to order!"

And with the opening of the hall's huge drapes (Eastgate claims the world's largest curtains) the Pacific sun burst in to wake the apparently reptilian senators and tempt them into a furious activity. First Speaker Arch Bishop Edgar Hampshand of Raysee found his 97 year old voice insufficient to elicit the order he demanded, and it was half an hour before any real progress was made.

That real progress culminated in the official Federal opinion that the Abbie was up to no good, and the unofficial conclusion that it wouldn't end well for New Eastgate.

What actually was decided? Well, the FS Chelonia would be re-floated after a quick check for woodworm under her rusty iron coat, and she would call Swann's bluff by sailing into Abargraptine waters and policing like she'd not done in a decade. The King's Militia would redouble its duty shifts around the border to watch against Republican prospectors in the Great Efferus Flats.

Ah yes, the CSC really worked, so thought the fusiliers as they shrugged-off a quatermaster's insistance that he simply hadn't the right musket balls available, and that they'd surely follow on the next railer (train) to the border.

Big ol' OOC bumper-section!:

http://img48.photobucket.com/albums/v148/Chivtv/NS1/NewEastgateMap.jpg
"The Continent" to the Abargraptians, "New Eastgate" to... ah, New Eastgate

http://img48.photobucket.com/albums/v148/Chivtv/NS1/AbargraptMap.jpg
Abargrapt, The People's Republic of. You may be able to see where it fits into the Northeast of the former map.

All that does not appear to be covered by the PRA or by the five states of the NE Federation is claimed by NE, but not properly administered- in truth we've no right to claim it, and it's peopled mainly by Polynesian tribes such as the Mauatu. There are a couple of thousand prospectors and such scattered across the Flats, the western Clades, and the Collis et cetera. Real wild ah, east, and northwest stuff (Incidentally it is those lands which are crammed with gold, silver, copper, iron, coal, and weird things we've little use for, like uranium and oil).

For a little more info on New Eastgate, which is essentially Abargrapt's parent state, an out-of-date factbook exists here: http://www.nationstates.net/forum/viewtopic.php?t=96169&highlight= Of course that was compiled prior to Abargrapt's arrival on NS... now the population is roughly doubled, making NE almost twice Abargrapt's size. If the links at the bottom of the factbook lead to threads that haven't yet fallen off the edge of the world, you may find in the "Eastgate Federal Dispute" reference to one Peripheral Senator Kindsley, which ought to give clues on what happened at the end of the 'dispute' and who (in the IC world) founded Abargrapt. It also touches on the Mauatu and how life for them has just been a world of fun since the C16th. None of this is required reading, its just for interest's sake if anyone's curious about our little continent :)

At Raven Square, as the clouds began to spit on the crowd below, Rothschild may perhaps have been in time to see Swann's small frame stoop behind a pair of blue-stockinged riflemen and into the foyer of what once was the headquaters of the Principality Constabulary. On his passing, the rather brutish duo stepped in from the doorframe to cover the entrance, and the band played on, covering the bout of consumptive coughing that followed so many of the Chancellor's enthusiastic speeches.

On display, now crossed over the doorway in the hands of the guards, was some of the Republic's highest technology. The .25cal (Jason) Kadore Quick-Rifle could supposedly sustain more than ten aimed rounds per minute compared to two or three in the Eastgater muskets it replaced, and it was also quicker than the short rifles known to exist in the Federation. More than that, it was accurate and deadly to several hundred percent of a typical musket's range. Relatively few people had seen how clumsy a weapon it was, and no one had tried to drop individual rounds into its spring-loaded pan of a magazine during the heat of battle.

On the low balcony from which Swann had spoken, and that which Rothschild now approached, another large gentleman in blue stockings chuckled confidently in the course of dismissing some passing commentary on the Chancellor's health. Another Republican hero, to those who did not know him well, he still wore the blue sash that formerly marked him out as a Sergeant in what was then an illegal fraternity within a troublesome principality.

"Mr.Chairman! What of talk on raiding commerce between Eastgater and Nicobarese?" "Sir! Is it true that there is to be an iron tower... the largest structure on..." "The Mauat...The -oof- Mauatu community -oof- can't find work in... Abatov's new repu..." "Mr.Shoe...Chairman! Sir! 'The Federation has better footing on which to increase foreign trade, she shall simply out compete Abargrapt', what say you?"

The jostling showed no sign of relent as most of the crowd refused to disperse in spite of the rain and the conclusion of Mr.Swann's speech. The big blue fellow continued to chuckle and to brush off most approaches as were based on idle speculation.

"Gentlemen, gentlemen!" He laughed. "The Abatov Party has many, many great social, industrial, and economic projects either under way or under consideration, it is not my place to speculate..."

"...It is not your place as Party Chairman, Mr.Shoemake?"

"...Haha! What I mean is, it is not the time to delve into distractions, come the morrow we must all be in Port Eam for the review! I assure you, Abatov will in time erect monuments appropriate to the magnitude of our national progress, will deal with the Mauatu problem... 's problems, will seek and secure foreign trade, and all the while will continue to protect the interests of the Abargraptine people.

"Now, if we're all satisfied?"

How completely rude! thought Mr Rothschild as another arm shoved him out of the way. Of course, he’d never been on the floor of an IanCorp press conference, where this sort of uncouth behavior was more or less the norm. He tried to hold his own, but shouting out an introduction at the chairman of the party - with whose name he was vaguely familiar - in the manner of a reporter seemed terribly unprofessional.

“Mr Chairman! Sir!” shouted a short man with a rather large pot belly from the other side of the throng. “ A moment of your time - L. P. Baker, IanCorp Wire Services! Sir, do you know Chancellor Swann’s plans for economic expansion? Has Abargrapt been in contact with any extra-Continental powers? If so, with whom?”

Rothschild’s eyes went as big as dinner plates. He hadn’t known there were any other Shieldians in Abargrapt, let alone in this crowd! IanCorp, he reflected, has an annoying way of showing up just where they are least expected - and least desired.

"Ah, thank you, Mr.Baker. As Chancellor of the Abatov Party, which was elected as the Movement For Abargrapt by 85% of the popular vote, Mr.Swann has been planning for the expansion of our long enslaved economy since the begining of that movement...

"Erm, where in the past our economy was controlled from afar, by aristocrats and unelected Eastgater bourgeois entrepreneurs, and taxation was levelled against local interests without local representation... now we have won back control through the Movement and Abatov."

This was all well enough known by most assembled, and Shoemake was apparently speaking for the benefit of foreigners he believed made ignorant by years of neglecting Abargrapt's plight. Republicans who were familiar with the state and recent history of their economy were in truth the more ignorant and isolated parties, having long been screened against the outside world at the behest of those Eastgater businessmen. Almost nobody was worried about the direction in which Abargrapt's liberated economy was headed. Shoemake was still talking...

"...and public works. Now, now the Party, the Chancellor, and the Chairman elected by the people are taking back control of the people's economy.

"Even now Control Offices across the nation direct their professional statisticians -a career opportunity for thousands only made available since the revolution- in the gathering of impressive amounts of data on the supply and demand situation pertaining to every imaginable part of the economy... of a modern nation...

"As I myself am not Chancellor, it is not always my responsibility to be first in making economic contacts abroad... but as Chairman merely to review and perhaps to announce them... at this time I do not have any such announcements to make. Whether or not Chancellor Swann is involved in the early stages of... creating economic contacts... is a matter for the Chancellery."

The crowds were finally beginning to thin just a little, though by some coincidence the square's periphery was now peopled by several dozen Bluesocks. The Abargraptine weather was shifting back and forth quite dramatically, some people having departed to avoid the rain, while others anticipated the sky's clearing and were making their way to various parks.

Baker, who had been scribbling furiously on his notepad when Shoemake started talking, had dropped his arm down to his side by the time the party head finnaly rambled about to answering his questions. Cursing his own lethargy, Baker tried hastily to re-prepare himself, only to find that Shoemaker’s answer was a very clever admittance of total ignorance. With a polite ‘thank you’ and a less polite glare, Baker turned and started to push his way out of the crowd.

Rothschild considered Baker’s retreating form, then Shoemake upon the platform. He hadn’t been all that impressed with Shoemake’s rambling answer either, and decided that following the reporter to wherever would be a better use of his time. After all, IanCorp - ninety nine times out of a hundred - had much better connections and sources than the government.

As best as he could, Rothschild began elbowing people out of his way and chasing the reporter..

“Baker! I say, Mr Baker!”

The sound of a clipped Shieldian accent calling his name gave L.P. Baker a slight pause. The little man peered around out of small, beady eyes at the short, lanky type chasing him.]

“Who the devil are you?”

“Rothschild - P.L. Rothschild, with the foreign service.”

“Oh.”

“Where are you off to now?”

“See if I can get an audiance with the Chancellor.” Baker looked Rothschild up and down. “It’d never do to drag a governent stiff along with me, though. Why don’t you head back to the Shield and play politician mock-up with the rest of your friends? It’d make those of us who are doing the real work’s job much easier.”

Rothschild had been prepared to laugh good-naturedly, but as the insult grew in length, he found himself unable to do anything but flap his jaw open and shut. Baker turned and waddled down the street.

The Shieldian accent/s (I forget/don't know where Baker's from) drew some attention from more than just their own users. It wouldn't be many minutes before a helpful bluestockinged constable approached either man if he remained long on the streets...

(Well guess who fell asleep with the reply box open and forgot everything he was going to say :oops: )

"Visitors, are we, gentlemen?" The blue-stockinged gendarme was a tall fellow lucky enough to have grown-up with timid siblings from whose plates he could compile each day meal enough for a growing boy. In his belt he wore an ugly but apparently modern revolver on one hip and a wooden baton on the other.

"I wouldn't suppose we have papers or escort, perchance?"

Either way, Trooper Hager -who, despite his cavalryman's title, had never in his life been near a horse- was in an uncharacteristically even mood and wouldn't be engaged in an abuse of power today, unless provoked. How helpful he might be was anyone's guess.

(ooc: For the record, if anyone else has nothing better to do than investigate the state of nation and navy in one of the greatest backwater's on earth, it's not too late to show-up.)

((oh, for Pete's sake - this server!))

“Now look what you’ve done,” hissed Baker as the bluestocking approached.

“He can give us directions,” proposed Rothschild optimistically. “Hullo!” he called to Trooper Hager, waving.

“Yo-” started Baker violently, but quickly hushed up as Hager closed with them.

"Visitors, are we, gentlemen?" The blue-stockinged gendarme was a tall fellow lucky enough to have grown-up with timid siblings from whose plates he could compile each day meal enough for a growing boy. In his belt he wore an ugly but apparently modern revolver on one hip and a wooden baton on the other.

"I wouldn't suppose we have papers or escort, perchance?"

“Yes,” replied Baker quickly before Rothschild - for whom the term ‘papers’ was quite unfamiliar - could say anything. He produced a thick file. “I’m a reported for IanCorp Wire Services - here’s my press badge. I do hope I haven’t caused you any inconvenience, sir.”

Rothschild, meanwhile, merely stood by gaping his mouth. A quick, venomous glance from Baker made it abundantly clear that he shouldn’t expect any help from the portly reporter.

((ooc: Sorry! I sort of accidentally forgot about this thread :oops:. My apologies; won’t happen again!))

Hager glanced at Baker's badge and then took hold of the file for a moment, skimming his eyes across it and then taking a moment to look around the street while he opened the file. He tried to maintain an air of authority, and to give the impression that his glances were in vigilance when in fact he was hoping to spy a colleague who might help him to deal with two differing contacts.

Seeing none he nodded and returned the file to Baker and said that he was free to continue his business.

"If you require some sort of direction perhaps you would like to acompany your shifty friend here to the station, I'm sure you can find whatever you're looking for.

"I'll have to insist that you, sir..." He said, looking to Rothschild, "...come along anyway, so we can sort-out the details of your business in the Republic."

Hager took a step into the middle of the cobbled street, looking up and raising a hand to stop one of the few horse-drawn buggies that could be seen struggling through the Republic's bumpy lanes.

(ooc: Heh, it's all right, no one else seems interested at all *sniffle* I mean, the Eastgaters aren't entirely welcome anyway, but you get the idea. Em, I wasn't sure if I should proceed all the way to the station in this post... I know there's not a lot of information, but I thought I'd best give Baker the chance to choose one way or another, and Rothschild the opportunity to panic or protest if he likes :) )

“No, that’s quite all right,” replied Baker with a wicked smile. “I don’t really know this man at all. He just ran up to me in the street.” With that, he tipped his hat at Hager, assured him he could find his way around, and took his leave.

Meanwhile, Rothschild was still flapping his mouth open and shut like a suffocating fish. Just as the true meaning of ‘Give one Shieldian a knife and he’ll gladly cut another’s throat’ sunk in, his voice suddenly came back.

Not that “But - Baker - Shield - wait - diplomat!” would be winning him any appeals, of course. It was his last effort before allowing himself to be led away by Hager.

((I know; that’s really too bad. Well, we can only keep bumping this; maybe someone’ll see the light ;)))

Baker snickered. The foreign service was so easy to manipulate!

Free of the burden, he started heading towards front office of the Principality Constabulary.

(Sorry about the disappearing act. I was busy, ah, sleeping, mostly :) )

Hager and the Sergeant discussed Rothschild's fate in slightly hushed tones, the occasional smile cracking between them. It probably didn't look all that threatening, frankly. The station was quite tidy, quite professional in organisation. There was to be seen quite a lot of Abatov paraphernalia- little cast statues of mythical heroes and such, photographs (not colour, of course) of various important types from Chancellor Swann to the area commander of the Republic's new police force. On the wall a couple of crossed plug-bayonets that, if given chance, the Sergeant would explain as originating from the last Eastgater war, captured from the enemy at some engagement or other.

Whether the Abargraptines had any chance to take even such slight prizes in that shambolic attempt at a war of expansion was anyone's guess.

Eventually, after a uniformed ten year old boy was handed a note and sent running somewhere, the Sgt. had Rothschild brought a cup of tea. Local stuff, describes a, "a bit watery" by Eastgaters perhaps used to a more flavourful blend.

The station's commander was a little more cautious than had been Hager, as he'd presumably heard some word of Abatov's desire to make contacts before the Eastgaters did. He was actually interested in hearing Rothschild out, though clearly in no rush to let him on his way.

Back at Raven Square the crowd was finally well and truly dispersed, and the Bluesocks were slightly less evident. They were still near-by, for Swann had not left the former Principality Constabulary into which he retired his troubled body, but most had taken to the church hall. Religious buildings were often commandeered for party business, presumably with the intention of showing who exactly was boss. Swann one, God nil.

(Ah, unless you count the consumption, God's not a consumptive, is he?)

On displaying his respectable documentation to the fusiliers at the former constabulary's doors Baker was allowed into the rather excessively resplendent building. Much of its decor was a hangover from the Principality, of course. Again Abatov's hand did the touching-up, however. Portraits commissioned by gentlemen were replaced by hurried depictions of Republican glory, generations-old marble busts with cheap casts of living heroes, and whole lengths of wall showed off the photographed faces of the new nation state's much different elite.

Baker was informed that, apparently, the Chancellor would like to see him in fifteen minutes or so. Swann may have liked being in charge, but he was keen to appear always one of Abatov's people and he was a curious fellow who... well he really liked to be in charge of every little thing more than he liked the aloof feeling of national significance.

Within twenty minutes he'd probably be telling Baker that this sort of thing was what divided Abargraptine from Eastgater! King Paul wouldn't take time from his sporting and feasting to deal with even important affairs of state!

((Hey, no worries, I understand the sleeping thing entirely ;)))

Rothschild accepted the tea glumly and waited to tell his story. There were two sorts of people in this world: those who fought on, and those who crumbled. The fighters, rare as they were on the Shield, tended to go into the Navy rather than the Foreign Service.

The station and its trinkets would have been of great interest to Rothschild, had the circumstances been different. As it was, he sat reciting lines in his head and waiting for his detainors to ask him a question.

Baker, in the meantime, knew all the proper flattery to be used on such an important personage. Perhaps he’d never dealt with someone with as actual much power in a state as Swann, but every minor aristocrat on the Shield liked to play as if they were the High King of the Empire.

“Of course, Chancellor,” he said, bowing as best as was possible over his considerable potbelly. “I do so appreciate your taking the time to talk with me; surely, a mere reporter such as myself has no right to demand an audience. Now, then, I represent the Iansislean International Telegraph Corporation of Gallaga Street. We’re most interested in establishing a branch office in your country, but I’m sure I can contact your subordinates to hammer out the details. I really wanted to ask you about your plans for establishing contact with extra-Continental powers, such as Iansisle.”

‘The Iansislean International Telegraph Corporation’ was really something of a misnomer nowadays. IanCorp, as it was known, had gotten its start laying wires from Ianapalis to Vesshampton to Fort Jackson to Nusheld to Great Walmington, but its real money now came from the keneral news rags and the teneral moving-picture houses.

(It's still not to late for others to get a presence in a little backwater on the cusp of industrial revolution on a large, sparsely peopled continent, you know!)

"So... you're not from around here?" Rothschild was asked by a less than creative Hager, while the Sgt. sat himself down at the desk beside which the Shieldian had been placed.

"Are you here in pursuit of business?" Asked the Sergeant. "We haven't seen a lot of foreign interest since... well, since before my time, before we lost the last war."

Chancellor Swann, by contrast to the burly BSU (Blue Socks Unit, sometimes Bluesocks Security Unit) recruits, was a wirey little person of pale complexion. Small of frame after a malnourished youth and tired by his partially disguised illness, Ernest's eyes remained two quite intense and lively little points of light. They flicked frequently to Baker and away again as he flattered Swann's status.

"Reporters that speak for and to the people have every right." He said, trying to strike a balance between strength of tone and respect for the possibility of giving himself another coughing fit- he'd used a lot of his reserve in the speech today.
"Extending our emancipated hands to the world is something of great personal interest to myself and real significance to the life of the republic, I feel. I see no reason why some sort of business should not be done, eh Chairman?"

Abatov Party Chairman Hercule Shoemake had appeared again in the background, and moved his frame slightly at Swann's address, saying nothing.

"Of course it would have to be understood to be a limited affair, in the People's Republic industry, information, and profit is something for the people rather than companies or, dare I say, foreigners."

Swann wasn't primarily concerned with international opinion- growing up in the Principality didn't give one much scope for consideration of the world beyond The Continent. He was interested in public opinion at home, but didn't worry too much about upsetting foreign authorities with his sweeping reforms. The possibility of offence being caused by his increasingly unfair treatment of the native Mauatu didn't even cross his mind since his only other point of reference, The Federation, still operated a slave economy in some parts, with the Mauatu and other Polynesians on the bottom rung. Repossessing a few businesses and casting the odd slur didn't seem significant.

"Still, still, our situation remains difficult. Abargraptine industry is expanding much more quickly than Eastgater, of course, but the Federation maintains it deserves all the resources of the continent. It may be important, in the short term, for the Republic to secure imports of all manner of goods. Likewise our great works and expansions require revenue, and though they may have been a pittance, the loss of Federal subsidies can not merely be ignored.

"But I digress, I'm sure the point of our interest is not lost. I'm afraid that my time is short, I am to attend the departure on her first voyage of our second battleship, the Kindsley.

"Hercule, see that our guest is offered a seat on the railer, if he has time and interest in the affair."

Swann's scheduel was clearly quite the demand to place upon a consumptive such as he, but he planned to rest solidly on the journey to the coast, ahead of appearing to see off the eight-thousand ton vessel. Railer, of course, was a Continental term used in reference to a train.

No one was going to force Baker along, and plenty of relatively important sorts were to remain, allowing him to arrange details of future interaction and business if he desired.

“I am a representative of His Iansislean Majesty’s Government,” said Rothschild at once in response to the sergeant’s question. “I came to Abargrapt in good faith and with no false pretenses in order to...uh... erm, pardon?”

After a repetition of the question, Rothschild’s cheeks blushed slightly. “Oh, us, well not business in particular. I am a representative of His Iansis - well, I guess you heard that already. His Majesty is very interested in opening friendly relations with all Pacific based powers. I was sent here - in good faith and with no false pretenses, like I said - to make contact with the local government and try to establish a mission.”

----

Baker scribbled various things down. His hand was moving fast enough for one to wonder if it wasn’t all a great show. Of course, the locals probably reckoned without one of the latest inventions to come from the fertile minds of the Shield: a miraculous pen with a ball-bearing rather than a nib. Granted, one had to be careful that he didn’t end up with a shoddy product likely to dump its ink on the user as on the paper, but a properly manufactured one was the journalist’s best friend.

He looked mildly surprised at the invitation to ride on the railer out to see Kindsley. He assured Shoemake that the offer was most readily accepted and thanked Swann.

“Of course,” Baker added, standing. “I ought to grab my proper jacket if I’m to go out to the coast. Thank you for taking time to answer my questions, Chancellor; I’m sure our readers back on the Shield will appreciate it greatly.”

((ooc: Sorry this is so long in coming / short / less than insightful.))

((Just to apologise for my lack of activity. I haven't got a very good excuse besides, "feeling a bit blah" and being low on creativity at the moment. At least there aren't many participants to let-down just now, and Iansisle appears to have more than enough going on itself in the meantime. I think I've just given myself food poisoning, though, after trying to make myself a proper English breakfast and getting bored and frustrated part way through frying...ah...everything I could find, heh, so if I vanish again, don't worry, I'm just in hospital, is all.
For now, I hope there's no complaint if I just jump ahead to big-picture dramatics and assume things to have continued as is for individual characters. Once I get more of my own characters I'll start to use them a lot more. I'm afraid I probably spent too much time thinking about potential characters that would now by...mysteriously vanished anyway. Ooh, maybe I should try a Life-in-Caligo-Labour-Camp thread. Er, later. This post isn't going to get much better, I'm afraid, but I have to get myself moving again, damn it!))

After quite some delay and a fair bit of low-key intimidation, Rothschild and most other foreign visitors like him were eventually to find that Abargrapt was fairly keen to find export markets (mainly for raw material as skilled-labour was almost entirely focused on a few major Abatov pet-project public works) and to acquire cheap luxury items that the People's Republic simply didn't have time to produce but wanted to show its people and the outside world that it could afford.

(That is the worst case of run-on sentence ever, aside perhaps from those referencing small Welsh villages by name.)

The railer to Port Eam was an interesting affair. The People's Republic had made a point of being different to the old Principality and to the Federation, and to do so anywhere and anyway possible. This meant that the railer ran on a narrow gauge and dispensed with the gigantic wheels seen on the Federation's [thinking, thinking, thinking] Arnold (whew) engines. The engine comprised several small boilers with two steam crews working the long, slender vehicle, one of them facing backwards, and many of the carriages were open. The Chancellor's carriage was half-closed with a canvas shade over the other half, and the whole train was covered in flags and insignia. The railer was reasonably fast by standards of the continent, often topping 40mph, but the layout of the nation's new rail system -one of Abatov's big public works- was not always efficient; the long, narrow trains required incredibly slow bends.

At Port Eam the bodies of the two largest ships ever to travel the waters of The Continent could both be seen as AS Kindsley prepared to join her sister. Rhetoric was the order of the day as a whole parade of Party dignitaries had their say. None received a response close to the rapture reserved for Swann, of course, as men bellowed their support and more than a few women swooned during the weedy Chairman's oration.

Several dozen lucky souls -including those travelling on the Chancellor's railer- were able to set foot on the second Abargraptine battleship. Once aboard, Minister of the Navy Rolland Agaboon swelled his chest and let out a lot of propaganda and a fair few genuine statistics.

The Kindsley, second of the Abargrapt Class, was 347'5" long, 61'3" wide, and sailed on an average 21'7" draft for which Agaboon was glad after his soaking on the first Parricide destroyer. She displaced 7,904 tons today, and 8,764 on a full load, if her months-old sister was a measure. Aboard -guests excused- were 42 officers and 417 enlisted men.
Eight Endo-of-Eam Model I coal-fired boilers turned out 9,800 horses worth of drive for the ship's two shafts. These were designed to give 16.2 knots, but on trials the Abargrapt had made 17.1. Significant coal bunkerage and wonderful Abargraptine engineering efficiency meant that the battleship could sail for 4,850 nautical miles at her 9 knot cruising speed, or sprint a full two thousand.
The armour on which Agaboon and his audience stood was two to almost three inches of the finest Republican steel, which was thicker than that on the belt and all the way up to eight inches. The conning tower had up to ten inches! No Federal cannon could touch that! Agaboon was quite adamant. The barbettes that hoisted giant shells up to the primary turret fore were protected by more than eight inches of the very best, and the thickest armour ever cast on the Continent protected the face of that huge weapon-house.
As for the armament, well, gentlemen, could you not see it all around?
The primary armament was carried on the foredeck in that massive turret, which mounted two 11"/32 calibre Odsen Steelworks guns. These could, apparently, reduce any Eastgater fortification in impunity.

Some shuffling occured at the talk of firing on Federal shores, but then who else had the navy to design weapons against? You were all enthused by this programme, you knew what it was for! Against who else do you suppose that the Federation maintain fifty-thousand ment-at-arms?

The Abargrapt Class ships carried a heavy secondary battery of four 8.1"/36 calibre Caligo Foundry guns in two turrets aft, and a light secondary battery of eight single-mounted 3.2"/43 Caligo guns along the broadsides. These last weapons poked through apatures over the belt, and had limited elevation but were said to track quickly and fire with accuracy.

Finally there could be seen some of the six .42" Rumm Hand-Cranked-Six-Barrel Rack Anti-Boarding Repeater Guns that were mounted about the superstructure of each battleship.

Baker didn’t know too much about naval affairs, but he knew enough to realize that the cream of the Abergraptine Navy wouldn’t last ten minutes against the late Undauntable, let alone one of His Majesty’s modern ships of the line - or even one of His Majesty’s modern cruisers. But he was far too polite to say so. Baker instead “ooh!” and “aah!”ed along with the rest of the crowd as each new statistic was revealed and found his mind wondering how the 11”/32 Odsen would stack up against the Syndicate’s 12”/40 Mk. I that had been mounted on the King Ian class. Probably not too well.

Not that Iansisle’s first modern battleships had fared all that well. King James had been sunk at Salvador; King Ian and King Toto IV sold into Walmingtonian service as HMWS Iansisle and Royal Oak, respectively; and King Ian III converted into the mobile aero-flyer dock Vanguard. Iansisle had been sunk later when the aged ship came under the direct fire of Bismarck at the Battle of the Denmark Strait*. Fortunately, the third generation Walmy battleship Queen Mavis had been there to save the day and turn back the German monstrosity.

Baker tried to push these irrelevant thoughts from his head and concentrate on that secondary battery Agaboon was rambling on about.

Meanwhile, Rothschild was amazed by the success his stammering and general incompetence had brought about. He started making plans for the imminent arrival of the Shieldian mission.

((* In our multi-verse, the Battle of the Denmark Strait was due to a feint by the German Admiralty. They gambled that a sortie by Bismarck and a heavy cruiser squadron would pull the RN and the RWN out of place long enough for several commerce raiders to escape into the south Atlantic. They were also quite right; the day was only saved by a Calarcan heavy cruiser group ( led by the Admiral Coney, if memory serves) which intercepted them before they could rendezvous with the Ercolanian fleet or escape into the vast ocean.))

Time in Swann's utopia rolled on, and the general standard of living could be seen to improve week on week. The Continent had simply never seen major, organised public works. These ideas just seemed to be flawless! Industry was massively more productive than anyone could have imagined- even the shameless yes men feeding off the Chancellor's aura found that they'd under stated the potential of Swann's revolutionary plans.

As yet there were no cracks!

Next week, though nobody yet knew it, there would be established the first commodity control office as Abatov felt the softest of pinches from the unprecidented central planning of their republic's economy. The army was to buy hundreds of tons of leather for its soldiers, and was of course going to pay the going rate as established by Abatov. Nobody else would be able to get more than a few scraps after than, and would be prepared to do anything to get them. The tanners would at first still be told by central government that leather was only a level 3 product and as such had an upper limit in terms of retail value. Next week, the army would march and it would need spare boots and more saddles and ammunition belts so forth, and the tanners would feel cheated out of a great potential profit, and they would blame the government, and so would the people who had to do without leather, and then so would the army, because the tanners couldn't afford -indeed weren't allowed- to get their hands on enough skins to meet demand, and somebody really ought to be collecting data on these changing market forces, in future, and it was time to employ a few score thousand civil servants, and it was going to be expensive, and that just meant that the army could only be supported for a few weeks and had to secure wealth while it was and it had to march faster and it had to get that ruddy leather!

The Shieldian mission, for all the urgency with which it had been dispatched, was hardly established when the news of Andrews’ coup and Bradsworth’s revolution reached it. However, it accepted the sudden, bloody change of events on the Shield and continued to act under the United Kingdom just as it had under the Grand Empire.

Disturbing news a little closer to home were scattered reports of Abargraptine army preparations. Rothschild and his staff kept as close an eye on those rumors; it might have simple explanation, or it might be a full-scale mobilization. Either way, Kindsley Station simply didn’t have the resources to follow up on any intelligence tips which may have wandered its way.

(OOC: I just thought I'd say, for anyone following along, that the shooting has started, here: http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=340651 and that, for the record, the distant result of all this is very basically agreed already, so don't worry if at any point it looks as if somebody's godmodding... no one cares :) )

While the shiny, happy, civil self-glorification may appear to have ended with the outbreak of active hostilities between the People's Republic and the Greater Federation, the shores of Abargrapt seemed still very far from any trouble. The pomp that surrounded the latest fleet review was little reduced by the pressures of undeclared war as Abargrapt's cruisers were officially displayed to the public for the first time.

In truth the value of the ships was debatable, as their limited range and the turning of Waylu State to the cause of the Republic meant that no enemy ships were likely to pass far within the engagement envelope of the Abargraptine fleet. Still, the possibility existed for deployment to Waylu for extended hostilities, and in the meantime the ships made much of Abargrapt's public feel quite safe.

Dragoman Class Light Cruisers
Dimensions: 297’11” x 52’1” x 19’4”
Displacement: 3,601ts standard, 4,302ts full
Crew: 19 officers, 217 enlisted
Power and Performance-
Boilers: 6xRelam Works Model II coal-fired
Shafts: 2
Horsepower: 9,000
Range: 3,100 nautical miles at 9 knots; 2,300 nautical miles at 16 knots
Speed: 20 knots
Armour-
Steel;
Belt: 1.2” to 4.1”
Deck: 0.7” to 1.8”
Conning Tower: 1.9” to 3.4”
Barbettes: 2.9”
Bulkheads: splinter only
Turrets: 1.1” to 4.5”
Armament-
Primary Battery: 6x 4.4”/38 Odsen Steelworks guns in three turrets, one fore and two aft
Heavy Secondary: 4x 3.2”/43 Caligo single-mount guns along broadsides
Light Secondary: 3x 42” Rumm Hand-Cranked Six-Barrel Rack Anti-Boarding Repeater Guns on superstructure
Hulls: 4; AS Dragoman, ?, ?, ?

Extraordinary Class Heavy Cruisers
Dimensions: 318’2” x 58’1” x 20’4”
Displacement: 5,804ts standard, 6,747ts full
Crew: 27 officers, 293 enlisted
Power and Performance-
Boilers: 8x Endo-of-Eam Model I-B coal-fired
Shafts: 2
Horsepower: 9,800
Range: 3,975 nautical miles at 9 knots; 1,785 nautical miles at 16 knots
Speed: 18.5 knots design; 19.1 knots trials (Extraordinary)
Armour-
Steel;
Belt: 1.6” to 5.6”
Deck: 0.9” to 2.2”
Conning Tower: 3” to 4.9”
Barbettes: 4”
Turrets: 2” to 6.5”
Armament-
Primary Battery: 4x8.1”/36 calibre Caligo Foundry guns in two turrets, one fore and one aft
Heavy Secondary: 6x 3.2”/43 Caligo single-mount guns along broadsides
Light Secondary: 3x 42” Rumm Hand-Cranked Six-Barrel Rack Anti-Boarding Repeater Guns on superstructure
Hulls: 3;AS Extraordinary, Obstinate, Adamant


(Not greatly important, and the thread's more or less defunct, but I thought that since I had them, I may as well post the details somewhere)