Something a little different. Full size/non-shittily-compressed version
here. If you get all the parallels, you win all the European History Nerd points.
The climatic worst-case scenario has come and gone. Runaway warming has long since melted away the final remainders of the Ice Age and replaced them with vast, broad seas spilling over the ancient breadbaskets of the world. Desertification and extreme weather came next: Ukraine and the the Amazon a dustbowl, mercury topping 70°C in the blasted wastelands of Syria, and cyclones tearing away every sign of civilization in the sunken jungles of the Mississippi and the Yellow River. By the end of the centuries of disaster, little of the surviving lands bore any resemblance to their old-world namesakes. But while humanity would suffer under the privations of this new, unforgiving world, the human race would not be extinguished. It had suffered worse before and come back stronger. So the tempest-tossed survivors banded together and, out of the ashes of the societies that came before them, built a society for themselves in the strange world they now called home.
Centuries have passed again since then, and from the catastrophe scattered bands of subsistence farmers, nomads, and scavengers have created a society that has recaptured a spark of the glory days. Armed with the last remnants of the prized pre-catastrophe technology, the survivors of Europe are pushing beyond the obsolescing feudal governments that allowed them to survive in the harsh, lean times of the Fallen Years, and new scientific discoveries are changing life in the bustling port towns of the Baltic Sea and the North Sea every day. Explorers, too, are pushing the boundaries of the harsh climates of the European continent, sailing further and further south down the Lusitanian coast, scouting the south shores of the Black Sea, and traversing deeper and deeper into the Great German Desert.
In broad strokes, the world in the Second Renaissance can be compared to that of the First. Swedish and Gothic merchant republics dot the coasts of the sunny, Mediterranean Baltic, controlling trade across the narrow straits of Vänern and Øresund. The old and stately Kingdom of Norway, deep valleys rich with Bordeaux grapes and terraced with wheat, fends off both ambitious Icelanders angling for more of the prosperous, fertile Vestlandet and the resurgent Sámi, once a bare minority in the unforgiving northern taiga, who with newly arable land now preside over a large multiethnic empire (tottering and overextended, but it's more than they could say before) stretching from Jemtland to Murmansk. Finland and Meänmaa, once rife with as many petty, squabbling fiefdoms as lakes, have come under a single king that now threatens from across the Bosporan Onega the stagnating, byzantine Russian Empire.
Southwest of Moscow, moving towards the centre of the European continent, the heat grows oppressive, and little of agricultural value can be grown. The ancient lands of Russia have themselves been riven in two by the Great Grass Sea, a dry, scorching grassland with long, flat seasonal riverbeds flowing languidly towards the brackish Dnieper Sea. Here, between the arid Donlands and the Podolian desert, sunbaked Kiev is the linchpin of a Russian Songhai, the trading post where Caucasian and Rhomanian nomads bring rare goods to ship north to Moscow. Sometimes, reed ships from farther afield, like the jungle kingdom of Greece, arrive, bearing unusual relics from the ancient world.
North of the dusty Kievan borderlands, minor states people the islands and the northern coastlines. Estland, Lettland, and Ljetva, with a Sicilian or Cypriot climate, are dotted with olive orchards, and their oil is said to be among the finest in Europe. (For this reason, of course, the Kalmar Republic and the Vasa Republic have been struggling for control of them for hundreds of years.) Greater Poland juts out among a steamy archipelago: here villages cling to the coast, where they can fish and seek shade under the broad date palms, but many seek fame and riches by trekking to the sandy ruins of Kraków and Lublin in Lesser Poland. The German shoreline is much the same, with littoral emirates buoyed by trade with Gothland to the north, but is distinguished by the river Rhine, one of the few great rivers of Europe to remain flowing year-round. Fed by heavy rains and even the occasional snowfall in the subtropical Swiss Alps, the wide river irrigates the Palatine lowlands like the old Nile, spilling over the sands of the Saxon Desert with a verdant bloom, and opening onto the magnificent Rhine delta. Extending the metaphor, Essen is Alexandria, the great port on the coastline kept above water with extensive reclamation, and Frankfurt is Cairo, capital of the German nation, relieved of the blistering heat by cool winds from the nearby Rheinsee.
France is no more: Normandy and Brittany are independent-minded islands, oriented more towards their aims on the (hundreds of) British Isles, where the weakened England struggles to fend off challenges from Scotland to the north, Scandinavia to the east, and Wales to the west as well as the Normans and Bretons to the south. Île-de-France is a pyretic, poorly-dredged swamp, but the petty kings of La Vieille can gloat about the immense, iron-wrought ancient Lighthouse of Paris, while those holding court in Poitiers—as prosperous as they might be—sit at the fringes of the European sphere, largely ignored by everyone except the Spanians, who pretty much everyone can agree don't really count as European.
But things are changing in Europe. The Kola march, long the least prosperous and most isolated of Sápmi, has begun to press back against Meänmaa and Finnmark, conquering the strategic city of Kiiruna (Giron, to the Sámi) and driving the Norwegian settlers of the north coast to the islands. Norway, in turn, has all but banished Iceland's claimant to the throne—only the fortress of Narvik remains under Icelandic control, similarly, the beleaguered English have finally driven the Bretons to their Cornish pied-à-terre. And Finland threatens the rotting empire of the Rus; having captured half of the strategic Onega straits, it is gathering armies and fleets to finish the job.