NationStates Jolt Archive

Terror Incognitia;
Incognitia is a consultative monarchy.
Spread across what others might call Northern France, it is subdivided into shires, each shire divided into hundreds, and each hundred composed of trading towns and farming villages.
The men of each hundred meet several times a year to discuss issues of note. If they have any complaints, they bring these to the king's man who always attends. If they are not resolved, they can be raised again at the shiremoot, also regular, attended by representatives of each hundred, as well as king's men. If finally this does not satisfy, they may ask the king himself, or his advising council, the Witan.
(OOC:Yes, this is based on what I know of Anglo-Saxon England. So sue me :D )
Due to this stable, consultative social structure the society is generally peaceful and prosperous. When military force is required, in the marches the earls raise troops, for more general war the hundreds provide militia. For short periods, the entire adult male population is liable for military service. For longer wars, the hundred selects those to serve their country.
The military is equipped with a combination of axes, proto-longbows, and longswords. Solid defensively in a shield-wall, offensively their charge is intimidating, if somewhat ragged.
Cavalry use is minimal, light cavalry for scouting and harrassment only, generally because there is no established nobility to spend all their time learning to be knights.
On the waters, the King has a navy, comprised of longboats. This serves to protect against raiders; support the army on river operations; protect merchant trade, which is substantial; and 'show the king's banner' abroad.
Each King is selected from the prominent men of the land by the Witan. Selection processes for the Witan are indistinct, and seem to vary.
The King rules from Nescia (RL Paris), and the present king, Waltheof, is engaged on an aggressive campaign of expansion eastwards, against 'bandits and barbarians'. Despite growing discontent amongst the hundreds paying for this, and supplying the manpower, his army has thus far been successful. Only time will tell whether he expands the kingdom or leads his men to disaster...
(That is, fair warning to the Ralish that I'm on my way. If an invasion on my part is not wanted, the popular discontent can grow a little further, drawing him home...)

Caladonn was eager to establish relations with their neighbor across the channel. Though many of the Imperial Senate were off attending the wedding in Kamasha, a senior Senator was named diplomat to lead a mission to establish relations with Kamasha. A longboat was despatched, and arrived at the Seine soon after.

"Sir, a longboat!"
"Well, send the harbour-men out, you fool."

The longboat was shown in clear sign language where to dock, while a welcoming party was gathered on-shore.
"We bid ye well come in peace to Incognitia. Most like ye will want to speak with the king. Malchance he is on campaign in the East. I am Hereward, of the Witan, and we will welcome any proposal you bring."

OOC: I will send a small party from Lord Locke, he is interested to start trade once we gain our independance..so stand by... :)

OOC: Background info. Nescia, the capital, is literally on the site of RL Paris, so you have Ile de Cite at the heart of it, with Cathedral, castle etc, and the settlement sprawling across both banks as well.
The city as a whole has few really impressive palaces or churches - the castle and defences are solidly built and quite large, but grandeur is not part of it.
However, the city as a whole is quite soundly built, of stone and sturdy wooden houses. It gives an impression of overall prosperity, and most of the houses are very well maintained.
The people bustling along the main streets are quite tall - 6 foot is not uncommon amongst men - and the predominance is brown hair. Their business, in this city, is trade (what else) and the city revolves around a series of markets.
Important visitors from the docks will pass the fish market and livestock market on the way to the King's Hall. So does everyone else, but dignitaries are more likely to be bothered by the smell.

Provisionally, total population is 12 million. This includes small numbers of Celtic descendants in Britanny, and small numbers of Norse remants in Normandy (they lost, but were allowed to settle - just not rule), but is a vast majority of Anglo-Saxons. However, the minority races can speak at hundredmoots and shiremoots, can serve the king as any other man, hold property, trade, etc, and so are content to be part of Incognitia, and gradually assimilating, such that soon only hair-colour and local dialect words will show them out.

"Sir, a longboat!"
"Well, send the harbour-men out, you fool."

The longboat was shown in clear sign language where to dock, while a welcoming party was gathered on-shore.
"We bid ye well come in peace to Incognitia. Most like ye will want to speak with the king. Malchance he is on campaign in the East. I am Hereward, of the Witan, and we will welcome any proposal you bring."
"Greetings, we do indeed come in peace. I am Praetor Magnus Halmar, of the Imperial Republic of Caladonn, and I would like to discuss opening relations with Incognitia to coordinate our war against the Ralish and facilitate trade."

"Praetor Halmar, it has long been a subject for regret to us that we have no formal relations with your country.
The trade - well, our ports are open. If yours are also, we need discuss that matter no further.
As to war-pact, the King is advancing on the Alshorian territories in the southern mountains. We eagerly await word as to whether they will choose to join us or to fight. If they fight, we will soon be defending ourselves against Alshorian armies, I have no doubt.
In which case, co-operating with yourselves might help secure our eastern flank, and will in any case do us no harm.
The Witan will need to consider this in full session, as the King is absent. I will join my brothers in council. You may come if you wish; if not you will be informed of our decision when we have made it."
He turned, in his flowing robe, and glided off towards the council chamber. He had no escort - he needed none.
(Word hasn't yet reached Nescia of the latest events in the Pyrenees).

"Praetor Halmar, it has long been a subject for regret to us that we have no formal relations with your country.
The trade - well, our ports are open. If yours are also, we need discuss that matter no further.
As to war-pact, the King is advancing on the Alshorian territories in the southern mountains. We eagerly await word as to whether they will choose to join us or to fight. If they fight, we will soon be defending ourselves against Alshorian armies, I have no doubt.
In which case, co-operating with yourselves might help secure our eastern flank, and will in any case do us no harm.
The Witan will need to consider this in full session, as the King is absent. I will join my brothers in council. You may come if you wish; if not you will be informed of our decision when we have made it."
He turned, in his flowing robe, and glided off towards the council chamber. He had no escort - he needed none.
(Word hasn't yet reached Nescia of the latest events in the Pyrenees).
"I assure you, it has been no different for ourselves, friend Hereward. Our ports are indeed open, and in fact Consul Galatar has departed to negotiate a union with Iceland and Greenland to the north, which will further increase trading opportunities. (OOC: This union has been accepted, but the Praetor doesn't know it yet) "I have no doubt that the Ralish will rebuff your reasonable demands; they did the same to us, and sent back our diplomat dead. It seems that we will soon be allies in this great endeavor; Caladonn is already engaged in Frisia and Osteia, so unfortunately we can spare no troops to aid you at the moment, but that might be possible at a later time. If you do wish to push northwards towards Germania and Frisia, then we should coordinate further to catch the Alshorians in a pincer.

I fully understand the need for your democratic processes; in Caladonn we have a similar institution, the Imperial Senate. I would be honored to observe if you so wish." Halmar followed the Incognitian.

"Democracy? I did not say it would be put to the shires; the Witan is a council of the wise, not of the people. We balance the wants of the people, spoken for by hundredmoots and shiremoots, with the needs of the country.
It is a pleasure to know you share our policy on trade; you will have traders visiting you shortly, I am sure.
And now we are here."
They had reached the Witan-Hall. Well-built, though plain of all decoration, it did not look as though it housed the regency and kingmaking for the kingdom. It's purpose was not hidden, just any who didn't know could have walked past and hardly noticed it.
Walking in, Hereward entered the main meeting hall; a cosy room, with large comfortable chairs, and a group of men and women of varying age.
"Brothers, I bring before you a Praetor of Caladonn, our neighbours across the Narrow Sea. They wish to trade with us, and ally against Alshor. For trade, their ports are apparently open; for alliance they are already at war, and fighting in Osteia and Frisia."
One of the older women spoke "I am Aelfrith, welcome to an assembly of the Witan; not many foreigners see this.
Obviously we heartily approve the trade agreement, do we not" searching look around the chamber, meeting with nods.
"As to alliance...we expect war with Alshor, but if it has begun we have not yet heard, and we may be unwilling to ally if we get what we wanted without fighting. Are any other nations involved?"

In Nescia, elsewhere, was one of the strangest sights in the world...she was currently limbering up, swinging a light sword, moving swiftly from one stance to another.
"Cwicflaed! Cwicflaed!" She turned to look at the speaker, and any observer would have ignored the beauty of her face and been transfixed by the piercing quality to her eyes.
"What is it, father?"
"You may get your chance. A harvest fyrd has been called, and you at least are not needed on a farm."
"But will they take a woman?"
"Perhaps. They will certainly take a 'boy'. And with all that I've taught you, you can make enough of a name to reveal yourself by the end of the war."
A wolfish grin was seen on her face.
"If you aren't leading an army in ten years, less, I'll be both surprised and disappointed, Cwicflaed."
"Are you not going to lead one now?"
"No. Men still have as little respect for a cripple in time of war as they do for a woman."
"But you were the best, and could still strike any of them down; and lead the army to victory."
He sighed "I would not cut down my countrymen to prove I can fight, even if I can't walk very fast. And in the army, if you can't fight you aren't allowed to lead.
Go and prepare. I'll have preparations started for a going-away feast."
"Yes, father."

(This is introducing a character I'll be using wherever the fighting turns out to be hottest a bit later. For those who remember, Elara rides again.)

Outside the local market, the fyrd muster was taking place.
Veteran squad-men were taking the names of those coming to serve; their ages; and previous experience.
"Come to join up, have you?"
A tight nod, as though the recruit was afraid of their voice. <soon learn> the veteran thought to himself.
"Right, name."
"Cwicweald" (OOC note. I retained the Cwic for recognition, but changed it to a more masculine suffix - she's now living power, not living beauty.)
"Age."
"Fifteen summers." (A lie to cover lack of facial hair).
"Your grandad's weapons I guess...ever used them before?"
"Yes!"
"Good" <oh no, another youth who's swung a sword and now thinks himself a champion>
"Well, you'll find your squad over that way. Report to Cuthbeorn. Training starts tomorrow - early. Welcome to the Northforest Hundred Fyrd."
And as simply as that, Cwicflaed was in the army, for the duration of the conflict. It would get harder from here, but she had a razor to make it look like she was shaving, and her most obvious womanly features were well covered. There were plenty of youths who hadn't shaved in the fyrd, though most would be staying at home. She had to prove herself good enough to march with the army, not be left to guard the walls with the younglings and cripples.

OOC: Time to finish my Caladonnian diplomacy, I think.

IC: "Gentlemen, an urgent message."
Aelfrith had just been called to the entrance a few moments before; she now returned.
"What news?"
"We are at war with Alshor. The King has, as we fortunately anticipated, called a harvest fyrd across the land. We may face invasion in any of the shires from the south-east to the coast of the Narrow Sea.
Praetor, in light of this development, you may tell your people this. We accept an alliance. We will help your people where we may; we will not attack any nation allied with yours, and may consider allying ourselves with them; and we ourselves will not rest until we are finished with the Ralish threat.
We will not make a separate peace with the Ralish, and will consider your doing so as gravest treachery.
Is that acceptable?"

OOC: More Cwicflaed, part because it needs doing, and partly because this stuff is addictive (probably not for reading, but certainly for writing). I want to show more of the story, not knowing if anyone actually reads it.

IC: Training had indeed started early next morning. They were up before the sun, breaking camp and preparing for a march. And this was late spring, so that meant early. Monasteries with clocks might have called it 4am, but none of them knew that.

"Come on, keep it up you laggards! I'd wanted to be another mile along by now! This pace is no good when you're outmanouevring the enemy!"
The new soldiers hadn't learnt much. Cursing the squadmen was one of the first lessons. To be fair they were marching at 4 miles an hour, with full kit and short breaks, and had been doing so for several hours.
The softer ones had already fallen back - the first test in selecting those who would march with the army was seeing who could march.
Cwicflaed was breathing hard. She was glowing...okay, she was sweating buckets. This was almost as much to do with the ordeal of having had to urinate just off the line of march - standing up! feeling she was sure to be discovered - as with the marching.

###Several hours later
Having marched twenty miles with their kit on their backs (the rest had stopped after ten) and still only in the mid-morning, it was time to practice fighting.
Swords were kept in scabbards, leather covers placed over axe-blades, and spear-heads removed. You could still get severe bruising, but no-one would die.
Cwicflaed was now facing a grizzled axeman, veteran of a dozen campaigns.
"Come get it, youngling." he taunted.
"Too old to walk over here? I shall have to oblige you then."
"Ooh, it's got a pair of balls. They might need chopping to size."
She swung first, hitting his shield as expected. He siezed the opportunity to chop, but she placed her shield to angle it away. With his right arm still down and away from his body, she aimed a thrust into the gap, but he turned bringing his shield between, and swiped his axe at head-level. She ducked, swung at his legs...and he fell. Cursing. He still held his axe and shield, but she now had an opening, and called on him "Yield"
"Very well youngling, you did well. Now we try again."
The next bout he won. They ended the session honours even - he was more tricky, she was faster.
The first morning of getting into the field army had gone well. There were two and a half days more before she could be sure. And already she was exhausted...

OOC: Time to finish my Caladonnian diplomacy, I think.

IC: "Gentlemen, an urgent message."
Aelfrith had just been called to the entrance a few moments before; she now returned.
"What news?"
"We are at war with Alshor. The King has, as we fortunately anticipated, called a harvest fyrd across the land. We may face invasion in any of the shires from the south-east to the coast of the Narrow Sea.
Praetor, in light of this development, you may tell your people this. We accept an alliance. We will help your people where we may; we will not attack any nation allied with yours, and may consider allying ourselves with them; and we ourselves will not rest until we are finished with the Ralish threat.
We will not make a separate peace with the Ralish, and will consider your doing so as gravest treachery.
Is that acceptable?"
"This is indeed acceptable, and I thank you for this opportunity for new friendship across the Channel. I must return to Caladonn to bring these happy tidings, but I hope we shall meet again soon, together on the field of battle."

With that concluded, the Witan turned to other business. Aelfrith would show the Praetor out with due honour.
As to the agreement, who needed to write anything down? It was simple enough...and they were men of their word.