On the Patreon thing...
It's not that I don't want to contribute (even just a little). It's that the just a little that can put toward my favourite creators has already been put toward a webcomic I read. And that sucks because I'd love to support both.
I liked the whole special update being in-universe fiction. It me reminds me of how I'd use other story Ideas of mine as in-universe fiction to establish their existence.
I know how it is. No worries. Glad you liked the special update idea.
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“Who can with outstretched hands uphold the sky
Or thrones maintain by simple loyalty?
Han’s day was done; two would avert the doom,
But failed, and carried anger to the tomb.”
“As all are born, so all must die;
People are as gnats against the sky;
But loyalty or piety
May give them immortality.”
“‘You call him lord and take his pay,
Then stand by him when danger nears.’
Thus to her brother spoke Xin Xianying,
And won fair fame through countless years.”
-Romance of the Three Kingdoms (OTL)
Hofburg Palace, Vienna, Austria, November 3, 1633:
Lady Elizabeth von Wittelsbach read the document. The news wasn’t great, but it wasn’t bad either, which was better than she’d expected considering the times. While the supplies of new recruits, equipment, and especially money from Saxony was weakening, peasant resistance didn’t seem to be rising. She knocked on the wooden table just to be on the safe side.
The report was written by the new governor of Saxony, former ambassador to the Roman Empire Count Philip von Stadion-Warthausen. On the one hand, she had reason to be annoyed with the Count; his reports to her brother on her conduct had not been complimentary.
Yet she wasn’t, aside from an instinctual spark anyway. Because he’d been right.
In Munich and on the road and here in Vienna she had heard the wail of widows and grieving mothers and she couldn’t help but wonder, as she had wondered before…
Was this my fault? If I’d been smarter, or kinder, or more loving…
And the most damning thing of all, the answer was yes.
She had loved Andreas III, adored him. That silly smile, his kind laugh, his sinfully soft hair; the memories of their early years before it had all gone wrong still brought warmth to her soul. And it had hurt terribly when he’d turned away from her to other women, and in her pain she had become angry and jealous and stupid. Instead of trying to win him back, she’d only pushed him away in her jealousy, which had only made her even more jealous, which pushed him away even more. And she had been too stupid to see that, until it had been too late.
She had learned much on the ride away from Constantinople and in the first months back in Bavaria, as her brother made his plans for this great and terrible war, because she had failed. It had been her task to get a scion of the House of Wittelsbach upon the throne of Constantinople, and because of her stupidity she had failed. Theodor would not have marched if Andreas III’s successor had been the son of his sister, but it was instead a Roman bureaucrat.
The path of Venus had not worked, so it would be the path of Mars instead. Elizabeth wondered, doubted, if it was even possible. But Theodor had insisted; it was his by right, and God would uphold those in the right; he would orchestrate their victory.
Sometimes, in quiet, when she let her thoughts unfold in an unguarded moment, she wondered about God’s orchestration. But instead of it being a plan for their ultimate victory, this was a punishment for the House of Wittelsbach, punishment for their pride, greed…and jealousy.
She did not know. But she did know what she was going to do. She had failed in Constantinople. God willing, she would not do so again. She would do her utmost to ensure that the House of Wittelsbach won this war, and if that was not to be, which by now it most likely wasn’t, then she would do her utmost to ensure that the House of Wittelsbach would survive the volcano.
Her brother the Emperor Theodor and Marshal Blucher entered the room, sitting down on the opposite side of the small table from her. Over Theodor’s head hung an equestrian portrait of Andrew III, the Warrior King of Hungary. It was a copy of the famous original; the original was on display in Constantinople, carted away after the sack of Buda. The current King of Hungary had not forgotten that humiliation, but he was also well aware that the Holy Roman Emperor was sitting in a palace and realm that’d been filched from the then boy-king.
“Your Majesty, Marshal,” she said, nodding at each in turn. They nodded back.
“We’re here to plan our overall strategy for the coming year,” Theodor said. “Obviously we’ll have to work out the details elsewhere with the appropriate subordinates, but we need to set the overall brushstrokes now so we can get what we need in motion.”
Elizabeth took out another document from her bag and slid it across the table to her brother. “I’ve been thinking about that.”
He picked it up. “What is it?”
“Prospective peace terms with Demetrios Sideros.” She very carefully did not refer to him as Demetrios III.
Theodor’s face darkened. “No peace terms, not unless it involves him relinquishing the crown he stole from me.”
She took a deep breath. “Theodor, that’s not going to happen.” There, she’d said it. Before her brother could object she continued. “Even with the losses in the autumn, we still have a lot of bargaining chips. We still have Vidin and Upper Macedonia and occupy Serbia, the Banat, and Transylvania. And Ibrahim’s causing all sorts of trouble in Syria. I’m certain Demetrios will be willing to exchange a few million hyperpyra for those and peace so he can focus on Ibrahim.” She hoped.
“We really need the money,” she added. “We can use it to pay off our creditors.”
Or to help beat down Henri and Ottokar when they stab us in the back.
“I’m not going to bargain away my God-given rights for some gold like I’m a Lubecker,” Theodor protested.
Elizabeth looked at Blucher, her eyes appealing for assistance. The Marshal, well into his eighties, stroked his thick white moustaches. “Your Majesty,” he said. “You should consider peace. The Danube is not an option anymore. It’s too well-fortified now and we lack the resources to tackle their river fleet. There’s no way we can militarily force the usurper out.”
Theodor clapped his hand on Blucher’s right shoulder. “I don’t disagree with you, my marshal. Militarily, you are right. But this isn’t just a military contest.”
“How so?” Elizabeth asked, her eyes narrowing and her heart dreading.
“This is also political. Even using the Danube, it’s still a long haul to Constantinople and the Herakleian Walls are a tough nut to crack,” Theodor replied. “But the mob of Constantinople is fickle. There have been repeated feelers to me, promises of loyalty.”
“They didn’t do us any good this year!” Elizabeth snapped.
“That’s because we weren’t close enough. We didn’t hit any big targets. Almus or Nikopolis doesn’t mean anything to the average burgher of Constantinople. But there’s another approach, Macedonia.”
“Macedonia?!” Elizabeth protested.
He ignored her tone. “Yes, Macedonia. We already have most of the upper part, which admittedly is the part not worth very much. First we take Skopje, breaking into the Axios River valley. It’s richer than what we’ve already grabbed and the road network is really good, better than most of the Danube stretch. It’s not as good as the Danube, mind you, but it’s the next best thing. We move down the Axios and once we break out into Lower Macedonia the army can live off the land; that area is more than rich enough. Then Thessaloniki. Taking that will certainly get the attention of the Constantinople mob.”
“There’s no way we can supply the army from Thessaloniki to Constantinople,” Blucher replied. “Lower Macedonia would support the army for a time, but the supply lines to Constantinople from there would be hideously vulnerable to seaborne raiders. We’d have to detach so many guards that by the time we reached the City, the Teicheiotai would be enough to beat us. And Skopje and particularly Thessaloniki are no small matters themselves.”
“I know that,” Theodor answered. “But Skopje and Thessaloniki can be taken. And militarily, you’d be right. Even with those we still don’t have the forces to threaten Constantinople. But this is a political matter as well. Once you take Thessaloniki, Constantinople will revolt. Like I said, there’s already discontent, and they won’t tolerate a feckless bean-counter who has to borrow a spine from his wife after a disaster of that magnitude.”
Elizabeth wasn’t so sure. She knew the Constantinople mob was fickle, but she’d learned not to underestimate the former Eparch after she’d discovered he’d been ready to blow her up on the Night of the Tocsins. And even if the mob did throw Demetrios out, there were still his son Odysseus, Alexandros Drakos, and Andreas III’s bastards. Plus a lot of other choices that didn’t involve a Latin Catholic.
The problem was that Theodor had his mind made up regarding the character of Demetrios, and nothing she could say would change his mind. Although to be fair, a lot of that was from her letters when she was being an idiot Empress of the Romans. “Where are we going to get the supplies, the men, the
money for this?” she protested.
Theodor smiled. “Little sis, you’re really good at that sort of thing. You’ve managed spectacularly so far.”
“And I can’t keep it up much longer,” she admitted.
“Well, I’ve gotten you some help in that regard. I received news from Henri II. He’s increasing the subsidy by 50%, he has Vauban organizing a new and even larger artillery train, and he’s also sending 6000 infantry.”
“Henri can’t be trusted. He’s going to stab us in the back.”
“Of course he is,” Theodor replied. Elizabeth blinked in surprise. “But he won’t. Not while we’re still fighting. I know he doesn’t care about my rights, but he’s concerned about Roman power too. Plus even if he did try to attack us, he first has to go through Lotharingia. And Albrecht hasn’t sent any troops to the Danube and he’s hiring more Spanish mercenaries. And all those rich Dutch towns he has are well fortified; Henri’ll want Vauban to deal with those, which is problematic if he’s down in Macedonia along with ten thousand hostages to Henri’s good behavior.”
“He might go for it anyway,” Elizabeth said. “Lotharingia alone can’t stop him.”
“Perhaps, but Henri is the type to hedge his bets. We still have a large and powerful army and I’m sure Vauban has told him all about Bone Breaker.”
“All the more reason to make peace now while we have the strength to keep Henri honest.”
He leaned back. “Sis, you’re not thinking this through. Let’s say we make peace with Demetrios. The Hungarians and Bohemians go home, and now Ottokar has the muscle to cause a ruckus, whilst Henri has no reason to wait any longer. While if we stay at war, Ottokar can’t cause trouble because he has no army with him.
“Henri and Ottokar are both problems that need to be dealt with, but the way to deal with them is to win this war. Once the resources of the Greeks are joined to our cause, they can be dealt with. While if we back out now, not only will that show weakness but it will leave our enemies free. And that’s assuming that Demetrios would be willing to make peace so easily.”
Elizabeth had to admit that a lot of that was valid. “But even if you take Thessaloniki and Constantinople revolts, what is to prevent Demetrios from pulling a Nicaea?” she asked. “Even without Ottokar or Vauban, there will be a point where Henri will move if it’s advantageous for him, costs be damned.”
“You mentioned it earlier: Ibrahim. A combined German-Greek army, marching down to liberate Jerusalem, destroy Mecca for good, and drive the Turks back into the wastes of central Asia from which they sprang. It’ll be the crusades as they were meant to be, before the Papacy twisted them.”
Elizabeth could think of objections. For starters, that was assuming the Romans would cooperate even if they believed his intentions, which she doubted. And while Theodor was ransacking Syria or Mesopotamia, what was Henri doing? And that was disregarding the fact that Ibrahim was Henri’s ally. But she knew her brother; he had that far-off dreamy look in his eyes, and that look did not brook argument.
Perhaps there was another way. “And how is all this supposed to be paid for?” she asked. “The Triune subsidy won’t be enough.”
“Keep doing what you’ve been doing. I trust you will find a way.”
Meaning you don’t know.
But perhaps having to talk about money might scare you off this madness.
“I’m running out of ideas. By the Virgin, I’m
investing in some of the Roman war popes to try and make money. I’ve been using a Bernese intermediary to purchase them on the Venetia exchange and turning around and selling them for an up-charge to Saxon burghers who don’t have ready access to the money markets.” The dreamy look in her brother’s eyes was starting to glaze over, which was a good sign. “And they’re going for it despite the upcharge, and it’s a hefty one. They want to get their money out of the markets here and think they can get better investments with Demetrios III-”
As soon as the words left her mouth she knew she’d made an irrevocable mistake. Theodor’s face twisted in anger. “I will not hear that usurping clerk spoken as such, particularly by my own family,” he snarled.
“Theodor, I’m sorry-”
A sharp hand gesture cut her off. “You’ve spent too much time in Constantinople.”
If that’s a bad thing, then why do you want to conquer it? “I’ve made my decision. There will be no peace, and no talk of peace, unless it involves that…usurper vacating what is rightfully mine. And you, sister, will do your utmost to ensure that the family lands support our righteous cause with all materials required.”
He stood up, turning his head to Blucher, his face softening. The Holy Roman Emperor patted the old general on the shoulder. “Sorry that you had to see that little family squabble. But don’t fear. With you as my sword, the Greeks will be brought to heel.” And with that, he left the chamber.
Elizabeth rubbed her temples. “He’s-” She bit her tongue to keep her from saying what she was thinking.
“Thank you for not finishing that,” Blucher replied.
She looked up to see the old man smiling gently at her. “You weren’t very much help,” she said.
“I know. But I’ve been a soldier for over sixty years now, and know when I see a battle that I cannot win.”
“You must know his plan is insane.”
“It is. A bit of insanity is good in war plans though; it makes them harder to predict. And politically, if Constantinople were to rise up…”
She looked at him quizzically. “It’s me here. Don’t try to pretend that you think that’s a likely outcome, especially an uprising in his favor.”
“Alright, it isn’t. But those are his orders. So it doesn’t really matter what I think.”
“You’re the commander of his armies.”
“And he is my commander.”
“He wasn’t always…”
Blucher raised an eyebrow at what she’d said, and what she hadn’t said. “Yes, I served Duke Karl during the Brothers’ War, and I changed sides. But I swore an oath to your father, my friend, that I would
protect and
serve his children to the best of my ability in all things. And I will not break that oath. Andreas Drakos once said that anything can be taken from a man, save his honor. That he must give away. I will not do so.”
“Yet if you think this won’t work, why not resign? Why participate in this madness?” She felt a bit dirty suggesting this, which smacked of treachery against her brother.
Yet was it treachery if it was to foil a self-destructive plan? But she still said it; perhaps a shock like that might wake Theodor up. And yet it might not.
“It won’t work, my lady,” Blucher said softly. “I could resign. It would shock him, dismay him, but then he would assign someone else. Or lead the army himself. But whatever he does, my resignation will not stop it but it will decrease any chance, if it has any, of success. So it wouldn’t do any good. I call him lord and take his pay, so I must stand by him when danger nears. If the danger is because of his failings, that does not absolve me of my duty to him.”
“It might shock some of the princes…” she argued hesitantly.
“You know as well as I that won’t make a difference. He is a Wittelsbach, of the Imperial line. And everyone knows that Wittelsbachs don’t lose, ever. Somehow they find a way.” He was right, Elizabeth knew, even as she’d said it. The Wittelsbachs had ruled the Holy Roman Empire for close to three centuries now. Frederick III Wittelsbach had been the only Latin lord able to stand against Andreas Niketas; they’d seen the empire through the dark days of the Great Hungarian War. The Great Northern War, the Brothers’ War, the wars on the Rhine, had only made them stronger. No one would turn on Theodor, not yet anyway. The family name, for all the tarnish from the year, still meant far too much in the lands of the Germans.
Elizabeth sighed. “Wish you could disagree with me?” he asked.
“Yes,” she sighed again. A pause. “Duty is heavier than a mountain,” she whispered, quoting the words of Shimazu Tadatsune. “But it’d be nice to have wiser lords.”
“Not going to argue with you on that. But we play with the cards that God has dealt us. Perhaps it’s a bad hand, but we play with what we have. And that’s what matters in the end.” A pause. “You’re not going to do anything foolish now, are you?” Blucher asked.
She shook her head. “No.” If she turned against her brother, she might be able to rally some of the Wittelsbach lands and various Imperial princes behind her on the promise of peace with Rhomania, but she was a woman and Theodor was a man. Regardless of his faults, that biological fact would loom large. All she’d really end up doing would be to create a new “Brothers’ War”. Which would probably encourage Demetrios to keep in the fight whilst simultaneously triggering a Triune and Bohemian reaction.
“Good. And please don’t change your mind. Theodor is right about one thing. God put everyone where they are, when they are, for a purpose. We can’t know the mind of God, but he gave us minds of our own, so we can guess at his purpose. Perhaps God sent Theodor to humble the pride of the Wittelsbachs. But I think if he wanted to end them, he would not have sent you.”
She swallowed. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“You’re very welcome, my lady.” A pause. “Now shall we get down to work on this fool plan?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Perhaps if we cause enough damage, we can force Demetrios to hand over an Iskandar-size subsidy,” Blucher added. He didn’t sound optimistic but she appreciated the reminder that they could, possibly, salvage something good out of this.
“That would help a lot.” She looked at the report from Saxony. “Now based on this, I can promise you…”
