Map Thread XXII

Mappa Antica Liguria AFSNES 1.png


Hello everybody!
Here is another map done with Inkscape and taking place in the world of AFSNES, a collaborative alternate history map-game hosted in Civ Fanatics Forum many years ago in which I participated as a player, and the subject of most of my works.
Like my last map, the subject is the Kingdom of Liguria, the polity I actually played during AFSNES; while my last map depicted Liguria in 700 AD, at the start of the more “wargame-y” part of the game, this one depicts the dawn of Ligurian civilization in 500 BC, at the end of the first turn I played, during the more narrative and preliminary part of the game.

As said previously, being the “creator” of this nation (even though Das had to patch up my haphazard plans and ideas quite much, especially at the start of the game, to make any sense of my game orders, and therefore could claim the paternity as much as me), I felt much more freedom in my attempt to describe it, both in the map and the lore behind it, filling the voids left in Liguria’s history, trying to let it look as much as possible as a “real” nation, or at least a realistic one.
I hope I was able do such in an enjoyable way, shining a light on a relatively small part of AFNES’ world, a part that I hold much dear.


LIGURIAN PREHISTORY

Ligurians inhabited the coasts and the hilly countryside of Southern Gaul and North-western Italia since time immemorial, divided into numerous tribes (such as the Genuati, the Sabazi, the Vedianti, the Bagienni or the Taurini) and intermingling with their Celtic and Rasennan [1] neighbours; their settlements where generally built around small fortifications, with greater Oppidias, veritable fortified cities, generally reserved as the capital of various tribal confederations that arose over the centuries.

The Ligurians were polytheistic, with a pantheon much influenced by their Celtic neighbours, with deities such as Belenu, the sea-oriented Bornu, and Penninu the lord of high peaks; their centres of worship generally were situated into hilly or mountainous places and were marked by the raising of statue-menhirs. A great degree of respect was reserved for totemic animals (like Cycnu, the swan), depicted in religious paintings and adopted as regnal names by tribal leaders.

Ligurian tribes were generally disunited and infighting, with comparatively greater tribal federations arising briefly to deal with external dangers (for example during the wars against the Arecomician [2] before their migration south in the 12th Century, or during the Athanid [3] migration into the Eridanos Valley [4]), promptly collapsing after the abating of such dangers.


THE TARTESSIAN INVASION AND THE BIRTH OF THE KINGDOM

Ligurian history was completely turned around when Tartessian [5] ships, filled with colonists, merchants and soldiers arrived from the west around the 10th century BC. At first their contact was quite peaceful: trade was established over the Tartessian colony of Marsal [6], and the culture of the colonists (both the Cult of the Sacred Bull and the Tartessian Phonetic Language) begun influencing the Ligurian tribes more and more.

The peace gradually degraded over the subsequent decades as Tartessos became increasingly imperialistic; its meddling and military expansion aroused the Ligurian tribes, who started a sort of guerrilla campaign against the invaders, halting Tartessian colonization and harassing their merchants.

This conflict lasted from the 9th Century to the middle of the 7th Century, waxing and waning in intensity but never truly interrupted. The Ligurian tribes never really poised much of a threat for the Tartessians, with scarce victories when the tribes managed to stand together (like the massacre of a particularly daring expeditions at Taurasia [7], deep into Liguria, at the end of the 9th Century) and many defeats when the tribes squabbled among themselves, but nevertheless the Tartessian were never able to pacify the region or consolidate control far from the coast.


A breakthrough finally came at the start of the 7th century, when the first semblance of a unified Liguria state arose around the city of Genua [8], a mercantile settlement connected with the Rasna, Sardinia [9] and Arecomicia, and the foremost centre of worship of Belenu. In fact, in the nascent Kingdom the leader was the High Priest of the Belenu Cult, who styled himself as the Priest-King, supreme both in spiritual and earthly matters.

The new kingdom quickly managed to unite most of the Ligurian tribes under its authority, subduing the more unruly ones with the force, and begun a new phase of the war with Tartessos, more brutal and coordinated, yet only marginally more successful, as the Iberians were still able to repel the attacks of the Ligurian army against the colonies, and retaliated.

Still, the Ligurians managed to resist, and after saving their capital from a Tartessian siege (many say by a miraculous intervention from Belenu itself), were finally able to force the signing of a peace treaty in 653 BC: Tartessos would retain most of its coastal colonies, centred around Marsal, and the land of the Salluvi, a large Ligurian tribe in southern Gaul that rejected the authority of the Priest-King and sided with the invaders, but further expansion would be ceased, while Liguria would stop their constant raiding.


The Peace of Cemenelos [10], as it would be called, was quite shaky, as the Tartessian weren’t actually defeated, and the Ligurians never really abandoned their pillaging ways, and actually increased their involvement in piracy, but Tartessos found itself occupied by civil unrest at home and a much more dangerous war with Rome in Italy, giving the fledgling Kingdom much needed respite. The Priest-Kings quickly began using their newfound prestige to consolidate and centralize Liguria, gaining the allegiance of more far-flung tribes on both sided of the Alps, and integrating even some Celtic tribes in the Upper Rhodanus Valley while Genua, now firmly involved in the Mediterranean trading network, grew to a veritable city and royal seat.

After the end of the First Italic War [11] and the stabilization of the civil unrest back in Iberia, despite widespread distrust of their old enemy from both the upper echelons of the Kingdom and the population, trading ties arose even with Tartessos, and cultural contamination continued, influencing in particular religion: inspired by the Cult of the Sacred Bull, the Cult of Belenu, one of the foundational pillars of the authority of the Priest-Kings, evolved into a henoteistic proto-religion, with the other deities confined to smaller roles.



PEACE VIGILANT: LIGURIAN CONSOLIDATION

Between the end of the 7th Century and the 5th Century BC, Liguria remained generally peaceful, except during the rise of the Caeon [12] Tribal Confederacy in Southern Gaul, when a particularly daring raid of the Luak devastated the Ligurian settlements west of the Alps. Stronger ties were forged with the Athanoi to the East, and with their lords, the Roman Republic, staunch enemy of Tartessos.

At some point it looked like the relationship between Liguria and the Iberian Demarchy [13] could be normalized, but the fire ignited by the Tartessian invasion still lurked under the ashes, ready to burst.
The Kingdom gradually centralized and strengthened over the decades, and even managed to cautiously expand, all while keeping a watchful eye over the Tartessian cities just to their south.

Control over the Rhodanus Valley was sealed, with local Celtic tribes subjugated, like the Allobrogi, or forced to move like the Sequani; the settlement of Vinoboda [14] grew greatly and received a great influx of Ligurian colonist, especially after it was heavily fortified as an answer to Caeonite raids.
To the north, the Ligurians expanded over the Alps in the attempt to secure the control over the vital mountain passes, and eventually invaded the Helvetic Plateau [15]; the Helveti were beaten over the course of decades of intermittent warfare, and forced to flee eastward, while the region was gradually settled and Ligurianized.


Liguria in 500 BC finally evolved into a coherent Kingdom, with guarded borders, strong allies and a (relatively) thriving economy; the near-absolute authority of the Priest-Kings permeated Ligurian society, and by the end of the century it begun encroaching the power of the tribal families, still dominant outside of the cities and ready to fight back.

The abating of war in the Western Mediterranean brought greater wealth to the Kingdom, as commercial links strengthened with Sardinia, Rome and even Arecome; Tartessian ports never really begun welcoming Ligurian ships even as the diplomatic relationship thawed somewhat, except in the city of Marsal, where Ligurian merchants were allowed to have their storehouses and trade with their Iberian colleagues.

The increasing wealth allowed the Priest-Kings to embark in a series of monumental building projects. The city of Genua was rebuilt around the new Royal Palace, the new fulcrum of Liguria both for temporal and spiritual matters; many old sanctuaries like the Belenu Shrine on Beigua [16], near Genua, or the Shrine of Penninu near Cemenelos were completely renovated, with greater Statue-Menhirs erected. Ligurian architecture never really reached in magnificence and opulence the heights of Tartessos and Rome, but it still distinguished the Kingdom from its Celtic and Caeonite neighbours.

Its armed forces were far from standardized, and was still made up of large tribal bands gathered by the Priest-King when needed; nevertheless, Roman influence, eased by the large degree of military cooperation between Liguria and the Republic as an answer to the Tartessian threat, brought the formation of the Royal Guard (or colloquially known as the “Son of Belenu”), a small but elite regiment of heavy infantry acting as the linchpin of the Ligurian army.



FOOTNOTES

[1] OTL’s Etruscans

[2] A Celtic tribe in southern Gaul that in the 12th century took to the sea and settled in OTL’s Sicily, rename Arecome.

[3] A Mycenean population, particularly fond of horses, that in the 12th Century BC departed from Boeotia and eventually invaded the Po Valley.

[4] OTL’s Po Valley.

[5] OTL’s Tartessos, a southern Iberian civilization that in TTL’s avoided fading into obscurity and instead built an empire over Western Europe.

[6] OTL’s Marseilles, here founded by Tartessos and not Greek settlers.

[7] OTL’s Turin.

[8] OTL’s Genoa.

[9] A strange and isolationist of mask-donning people inhabiting Sardinia, and a piratical thorn in the side of Tartessos.

[10] OTL’s Nice.

[11] The first of a series of three wars between Tartessos and Rome that ended up with the destruction of the Italic power and Tartessian hegemony over Italia in the late 4th Century BC.

[12] A pre-Celtic, most likely Basque-like, population that inhabited TTL’s Aquitania and built a tribal confederacy divided into 5 different tribes, such as the warlike Luak.

[13] Tartessos government system between the 7th Century BC and the 3rd Century BC, with a powerless Regus and an empowered Sophetora-Magus (much like OTL’s Rome senate) that elects two Optimes to govern the state.

[14] OTL’s Vienne.

[15] OTL’s Swiss Plateau.

[16] OTL’s Monte Beigua.


CREDITS

Das – Moderator, curator of the whole scenario

JoesfStalinator – Arecoman Celts, Caerix and Tigranism

Insane-Panda – Tartessos

Dachs – Latins, Rome, Thuringia

Littleboots – Athanoi

LightFang- Sardinia

Flavius Aetius (me) – Liguria

erez87 – Caeon
 
3NIo933.png

The plane shook when it touched down on the rough tarmac of Beri's Rwa Enri International Airport. Newly built with funds from an IMF loan to replace the dusty airstrip which had previously served the Tzarfatian capital, the airport was already showing signs of poor maintanence. Coya started, but she seemed to be the only one worried - the rest of the plane was filled with pale Frangistanis, who got up and started pulling their luggage out of the overhead bins right away, much to the exasperation of the flight attendant.

After leaving the plane into the cool Tzarfatian air, Coya waited through a long mass of people - 'line' would be too generous - to get her passport stamped, then headed through the customs checkpoint. On seeing her invitation papers, the officials waved her through without searching her bags. She saw her contact right away - a dark face in the crowd of pink, looking chilly in a thin Eastern suit with a bright blue UN pin, with a similarly-dressed local behind him. As she approached, he spotted her.

"Coya Cusirimay?" he asked.

"That's me," she responded.

"Nice to meet you. Welcome to Beri." He pronounced it with a hard 'P'. "I'm Chikura Mutota. We spoke by email before."

"Of course. Great to meet you in person."

"Likewise. Got all your luggage?"

"Yep. I travel light." She lifted her yellow duffel bag.

"Great. Let's get going then." Chikura turned to the Frangistani beside him. "Nusom prea parti." The man nodded, and led them forward through the crowd towards the exit. In her mind, Coya grimaced - clearly, the three months of language training in Tunis hadn't done her much good.

The parking lot turned out to be little more than a dirt strip next to the airport building. There were only a handful of motor vehicles; mostly, the lot was filled with horses, oxen, and wagons, waiting to bring rare imported goods into the city. Chikura and the driver helped her load her things into the back of a white Jeep with the UNDP logo printed on the doors, and they settled in for the drive to the Representation Office.

"So you'll be the new specialist on the vaccination project in Ko', is that right?" asked Chikura.

"That's right," she said.

"First time in the field?"

"I did an internship in Kokand." She struggled to keep confidence in her voice. Kokand's Issikol Province, where she had done 6 months in a village attached to a similar UNDP project, was an adventure - and probably the experience which had got her this job - but it was nothing compared to what she had read about Tzarfat. In Kokand, at least, there was running water, cell service, and electricity much of the time, and she was always only a few hours away from a modern hospital.

"Ah, but Frangistan is different." He smiled knowingly.

"It's where the need is," she said.

"There is that." He turned and looked out the window. They were getting closer to the city, and dusty villages were beginning to pass by the window. It was nearing the end of harvest season, and they could see in the distance farmers beating rolls of wheat with hinged sticks to separate the grain from the chaff. It was brutal, backbreaking work, and the main occupation of more than three-quarters of the population still. "Normondi's a tough first assignment, though. The locals aren't too keen on vaccines yet. Not to mention, the situation on the ground is still tense."

"You've been? Any advice on what to expect?"

His smile faded. "A few times, just for business. It's an ethnic minority area, and they have a chieftain who's been stirring up resentment against anyone and everyone for political reasons. Now we have UNMIN in there and things have quieted down some, but a few years ago there was some real brutality going on out there." He paused, noting her discomfort. "But that's not something you need to get into on your first day in country. They'll go through that in orientation."

She nodded.

"By the way, get your passport ready. We're getting close to the checkpoint."

She pulled her passport from her coat pocket and looked out the window. Across a dense thicket of shacks, she could see the waters of the Syen and the walls of Beri. She had seen the pictures before, but it was still a shock to see them - ramshackle and patched through they were, they formed a ring around the city, like something out of a storybook, and the red-and-yellow banner of Tzarfat waved from the parapets.

They stopped well before the walls, where a group of soldiers manned a roadblock guarding the suburbs. They made for a truly bizarre sight - dressed in thick felt armor, with chainmail on their torsos and tabards with the emblem of the Tzarfatian state, and armed varyingly with pikes, swords, and - in the case of their commander - a single rusty Ghurian assualt rifle.

Chikura and the driver - who she had learned was named Franswa - negotiated their entry to the city with their passports and a piece of rough beige paper. The commander seemed angry, but ultimately let them through.

"Everything go OK?" She asked.

"Yeah." Chikura chuckled. "They're just a little upset that we've got the royal writs, so they can't justify shaking us down for bribes." He handed her a thick plastic envelope, bulging at the sides. "This is yours. Keep it with you at all times. It will get you through every roadblock in the country, and could save your life if things get hairy."

She took the envelope and pulled the document out. It was firm and brittle, and had both a printed UN logo and a thick wax seal. The left side of the paper was covered in a dense handwritten cursive text in Rumic - she struggled to pick out even a single word she knew - while the right was printed in clean Arabic, which she briefly skimmed. "By the grace of God, Most Nasrani Majesty Rwa Luwi of Tzarfat ... safe passage in all toll and free roads of the negusate ... obstruction will be punished by quartering..."

"Quartering? They don't mess around here, do they?" she joked.

Chikura didn't smile. "Welcome to Tzarfat. Let's get to the compound."

As the car moved from the paved highway into the muddy dirt and cobbles of the outer city, Coya felt very far from home, and for the first time wondered what she had gotten herself into...



It's not too uncommon to hear about the living standards or governance practices of very poor and undeveloped countries as 'medieval.' This map is based on the question - what would it look like for a literally medieval society to interact with modern development institutions? Two notes - first, I know that medieval French would not result in the transliterations I used here, but I had difficulty finding resources of what would be more appropriate, so I hope any linguists reading will forgive the anachronism; second, I don't write narrative prose very often, but figured it was appropriate in this case since the details I would usually write in the explanatory comment are in this case already in the map. I'm open to any (constructive) criticism or tips anyone may have on that issue.
 
This is fantastic, is this a world where our ‘first’ and ‘third’ worlds are inversed? Also, is Ethiopia a major power in this world? Negus is a term from that part of the world if i remember right
I'm glad you like it! Sort of, but this isn't an alternate present; it literally takes place in our OTL 11th century. I wanted to show OTL development agencies dealing with the grinding poverty of the actual Middle Ages, which was in many ways worse than the poorest and most destitute areas on the planet today. In fact, the topline stats there underestimate the real nature of medieval poverty; it would probably be more like 95% working as subsistence farmers and more than that illiterate by modern standards. The rest is just a frame story - you can call it ASB or ISOT or 'Wakanda is real and it supports the liberal international order' :p.
 
3NIo933.png

The plane shook when it touched down on the rough tarmac of Beri's Rwa Enri International Airport. Newly built with funds from an IMF loan to replace the dusty airstrip which had previously served the Tzarfatian capital, the airport was already showing signs of poor maintanence. Coya started, but she seemed to be the only one worried - the rest of the plane was filled with pale Frangistanis, who got up and started pulling their luggage out of the overhead bins right away, much to the exasperation of the flight attendant.

After leaving the plane into the cool Tzarfatian air, Coya waited through a long mass of people - 'line' would be too generous - to get her passport stamped, then headed through the customs checkpoint. On seeing her invitation papers, the officials waved her through without searching her bags. She saw her contact right away - a dark face in the crowd of pink, looking chilly in a thin Eastern suit with a bright blue UN pin, with a similarly-dressed local behind him. As she approached, he spotted her.

"Coya Cusirimay?" he asked.

"That's me," she responded.

"Nice to meet you. Welcome to Beri." He pronounced it with a hard 'P'. "I'm Chikura Mutota. We spoke by email before."

"Of course. Great to meet you in person."

"Likewise. Got all your luggage?"

"Yep. I travel light." She lifted her yellow duffel bag.

"Great. Let's get going then." Chikura turned to the Frangistani beside him. "Nusom prea parti." The man nodded, and led them forward through the crowd towards the exit. In her mind, Coya grimaced - clearly, the three months of language training in Tunis hadn't done her much good.

The parking lot turned out to be little more than a dirt strip next to the airport building. There were only a handful of motor vehicles; mostly, the lot was filled with horses, oxen, and wagons, waiting to bring rare imported goods into the city. Chikura and the driver helped her load her things into the back of a white Jeep with the UNDP logo printed on the doors, and they settled in for the drive to the Representation Office.

"So you'll be the new specialist on the vaccination project in Ko', is that right?" asked Chikura.

"That's right," she said.

"First time in the field?"

"I did an internship in Kokand." She struggled to keep confidence in her voice. Kokand's Issikol Province, where she had done 6 months in a village attached to a similar UNDP project, was an adventure - and probably the experience which had got her this job - but it was nothing compared to what she had read about Tzarfat. In Kokand, at least, there was running water, cell service, and electricity much of the time, and she was always only a few hours away from a modern hospital.

"Ah, but Frangistan is different." He smiled knowingly.

"It's where the need is," she said.

"There is that." He turned and looked out the window. They were getting closer to the city, and dusty villages were beginning to pass by the window. It was nearing the end of harvest season, and they could see in the distance farmers beating rolls of wheat with hinged sticks to separate the grain from the chaff. It was brutal, backbreaking work, and the main occupation of more than three-quarters of the population still. "Normondi's a tough first assignment, though. The locals aren't too keen on vaccines yet. Not to mention, the situation on the ground is still tense."

"You've been? Any advice on what to expect?"

His smile faded. "A few times, just for business. It's an ethnic minority area, and they have a chieftain who's been stirring up resentment against anyone and everyone for political reasons. Now we have UNMIN in there and things have quieted down some, but a few years ago there was some real brutality going on out there." He paused, noting her discomfort. "But that's not something you need to get into on your first day in country. They'll go through that in orientation."

She nodded.

"By the way, get your passport ready. We're getting close to the checkpoint."

She pulled her passport from her coat pocket and looked out the window. Across a dense thicket of shacks, she could see the waters of the Syen and the walls of Beri. She had seen the pictures before, but it was still a shock to see them - ramshackle and patched through they were, they formed a ring around the city, like something out of a storybook, and the red-and-yellow banner of Tzarfat waved from the parapets.

They stopped well before the walls, where a group of soldiers manned a roadblock guarding the suburbs. They made for a truly bizarre sight - dressed in thick felt armor, with chainmail on their torsos and tabards with the emblem of the Tzarfatian state, and armed varyingly with pikes, swords, and - in the case of their commander - a single rusty Ghurian assualt rifle.

Chikura and the driver - who she had learned was named Franswa - negotiated their entry to the city with their passports and a piece of rough beige paper. The commander seemed angry, but ultimately let them through.

"Everything go OK?" She asked.

"Yeah." Chikura chuckled. "They're just a little upset that we've got the royal writs, so they can't justify shaking us down for bribes." He handed her a thick plastic envelope, bulging at the sides. "This is yours. Keep it with you at all times. It will get you through every roadblock in the country, and could save your life if things get hairy."

She took the envelope and pulled the document out. It was firm and brittle, and had both a printed UN logo and a thick wax seal. The left side of the paper was covered in a dense handwritten cursive text in Rumic - she struggled to pick out even a single word she knew - while the right was printed in clean Arabic, which she briefly skimmed. "By the grace of God, Most Nasrani Majesty Rwa Luwi of Tzarfat ... safe passage in all toll and free roads of the negusate ... obstruction will be punished by quartering..."

"Quartering? They don't mess around here, do they?" she joked.

Chikura didn't smile. "Welcome to Tzarfat. Let's get to the compound."

As the car moved from the paved highway into the muddy dirt and cobbles of the outer city, Coya felt very far from home, and for the first time wondered what she had gotten herself into...



It's not too uncommon to hear about the living standards or governance practices of very poor and undeveloped countries as 'medieval.' This map is based on the question - what would it look like for a literally medieval society to interact with modern development institutions? Two notes - first, I know that medieval French would not result in the transliterations I used here, but I had difficulty finding resources of what would be more appropriate, so I hope any linguists reading will forgive the anachronism; second, I don't write narrative prose very often, but figured it was appropriate in this case since the details I would usually write in the explanatory comment are in this case already in the map. I'm open to any (constructive) criticism or tips anyone may have on that issue.
This is a Years of Rice and Salt sort of thing?

Anyway, amazing map, but I was wondering, why Tzarfat? Reference to "Western Nasrani" means that they're Christian. I guess we can't call them Franjistan or similar because that's apparently the name for all of Europe, but it still seems weird to use the Jewish name (I say Jewish and not Hebrew because it's likely that France is not the Tzarfat referred to in the Bible)
 
in old French i reckon 'Nous sommes prêts à partir' would be something akin to 'Nos prestes somes a partir' or 'Nos prestes esmes a partir' which would respectively be pronounced [nɔs prɛs.tɛs sõ.mɛs a par.tir] or [nɔs prɛs.tɛs ɛs.mɛs a par.tir]
I am just a linguist and not an Old French expert, so this might be incorrect
 
This is a Years of Rice and Salt sort of thing?

Anyway, amazing map, but I was wondering, why Tzarfat? Reference to "Western Nasrani" means that they're Christian. I guess we can't call them Franjistan or similar because that's apparently the name for all of Europe, but it still seems weird to use the Jewish name (I say Jewish and not Hebrew because it's likely that France is not the Tzarfat referred to in the Bible)
Thank you! The idea behind that is that the name comes from a neighboring group, like how our word for the country which calls itself Druk Yul is the Nepalese Bhutan. As you saw, 'Frangistan' is Europe as a whole, and I was unable to find a more appropriate exonym, but historical accidents happen all the time, and it wouldn't be unreasonable for the advanced civilization growing in the southern hemisphere might get its information from expelled Jews - especially if they are actively aiding refugees in an otherwise medieval world.
in old French i reckon 'Nous sommes prêts à partir' would be something akin to 'Nos prestes somes a partir' or 'Nos prestes esmes a partir' which would respectively be pronounced [nɔs prɛs.tɛs sõ.mɛs a par.tir] or [nɔs prɛs.tɛs ɛs.mɛs a par.tir]
I am just a linguist and not an Old French expert, so this might be incorrect
Thanks for the comment! Historical linguistics is really interesting but I feel it's often hard to find good resources on how things used to be pronounced without getting into the weeds of particular sound shifts. What I would really like is a dictionary showing how words I could look up were pronounced at different points in history, but I haven't found such a thing yet.
 
Thank you! The idea behind that is that the name comes from a neighboring group, like how our word for the country which calls itself Druk Yul is the Nepalese Bhutan. As you saw, 'Frangistan' is Europe as a whole, and I was unable to find a more appropriate exonym, but historical accidents happen all the time, and it wouldn't be unreasonable for the advanced civilization growing in the southern hemisphere might get its information from expelled Jews - especially if they are actively aiding refugees in an otherwise medieval world.

Thanks for the comment! Historical linguistics is really interesting but I feel it's often hard to find good resources on how things used to be pronounced without getting into the weeds of particular sound shifts. What I would really like is a dictionary showing how words I could look up were pronounced at different points in history, but I haven't found such a thing yet.
the wikitionary kinda does that but not to a great extent
 
3NIo933.png

The plane shook when it touched down on the rough tarmac of Beri's Rwa Enri International Airport. Newly built with funds from an IMF loan to replace the dusty airstrip which had previously served the Tzarfatian capital, the airport was already showing signs of poor maintanence. Coya started, but she seemed to be the only one worried - the rest of the plane was filled with pale Frangistanis, who got up and started pulling their luggage out of the overhead bins right away, much to the exasperation of the flight attendant.

After leaving the plane into the cool Tzarfatian air, Coya waited through a long mass of people - 'line' would be too generous - to get her passport stamped, then headed through the customs checkpoint. On seeing her invitation papers, the officials waved her through without searching her bags. She saw her contact right away - a dark face in the crowd of pink, looking chilly in a thin Eastern suit with a bright blue UN pin, with a similarly-dressed local behind him. As she approached, he spotted her.

"Coya Cusirimay?" he asked.

"That's me," she responded.

"Nice to meet you. Welcome to Beri." He pronounced it with a hard 'P'. "I'm Chikura Mutota. We spoke by email before."

"Of course. Great to meet you in person."

"Likewise. Got all your luggage?"

"Yep. I travel light." She lifted her yellow duffel bag.

"Great. Let's get going then." Chikura turned to the Frangistani beside him. "Nusom prea parti." The man nodded, and led them forward through the crowd towards the exit. In her mind, Coya grimaced - clearly, the three months of language training in Tunis hadn't done her much good.

The parking lot turned out to be little more than a dirt strip next to the airport building. There were only a handful of motor vehicles; mostly, the lot was filled with horses, oxen, and wagons, waiting to bring rare imported goods into the city. Chikura and the driver helped her load her things into the back of a white Jeep with the UNDP logo printed on the doors, and they settled in for the drive to the Representation Office.

"So you'll be the new specialist on the vaccination project in Ko', is that right?" asked Chikura.

"That's right," she said.

"First time in the field?"

"I did an internship in Kokand." She struggled to keep confidence in her voice. Kokand's Issikol Province, where she had done 6 months in a village attached to a similar UNDP project, was an adventure - and probably the experience which had got her this job - but it was nothing compared to what she had read about Tzarfat. In Kokand, at least, there was running water, cell service, and electricity much of the time, and she was always only a few hours away from a modern hospital.

"Ah, but Frangistan is different." He smiled knowingly.

"It's where the need is," she said.

"There is that." He turned and looked out the window. They were getting closer to the city, and dusty villages were beginning to pass by the window. It was nearing the end of harvest season, and they could see in the distance farmers beating rolls of wheat with hinged sticks to separate the grain from the chaff. It was brutal, backbreaking work, and the main occupation of more than three-quarters of the population still. "Normondi's a tough first assignment, though. The locals aren't too keen on vaccines yet. Not to mention, the situation on the ground is still tense."

"You've been? Any advice on what to expect?"

His smile faded. "A few times, just for business. It's an ethnic minority area, and they have a chieftain who's been stirring up resentment against anyone and everyone for political reasons. Now we have UNMIN in there and things have quieted down some, but a few years ago there was some real brutality going on out there." He paused, noting her discomfort. "But that's not something you need to get into on your first day in country. They'll go through that in orientation."

She nodded.

"By the way, get your passport ready. We're getting close to the checkpoint."

She pulled her passport from her coat pocket and looked out the window. Across a dense thicket of shacks, she could see the waters of the Syen and the walls of Beri. She had seen the pictures before, but it was still a shock to see them - ramshackle and patched through they were, they formed a ring around the city, like something out of a storybook, and the red-and-yellow banner of Tzarfat waved from the parapets.

They stopped well before the walls, where a group of soldiers manned a roadblock guarding the suburbs. They made for a truly bizarre sight - dressed in thick felt armor, with chainmail on their torsos and tabards with the emblem of the Tzarfatian state, and armed varyingly with pikes, swords, and - in the case of their commander - a single rusty Ghurian assualt rifle.

Chikura and the driver - who she had learned was named Franswa - negotiated their entry to the city with their passports and a piece of rough beige paper. The commander seemed angry, but ultimately let them through.

"Everything go OK?" She asked.

"Yeah." Chikura chuckled. "They're just a little upset that we've got the royal writs, so they can't justify shaking us down for bribes." He handed her a thick plastic envelope, bulging at the sides. "This is yours. Keep it with you at all times. It will get you through every roadblock in the country, and could save your life if things get hairy."

She took the envelope and pulled the document out. It was firm and brittle, and had both a printed UN logo and a thick wax seal. The left side of the paper was covered in a dense handwritten cursive text in Rumic - she struggled to pick out even a single word she knew - while the right was printed in clean Arabic, which she briefly skimmed. "By the grace of God, Most Nasrani Majesty Rwa Luwi of Tzarfat ... safe passage in all toll and free roads of the negusate ... obstruction will be punished by quartering..."

"Quartering? They don't mess around here, do they?" she joked.

Chikura didn't smile. "Welcome to Tzarfat. Let's get to the compound."

As the car moved from the paved highway into the muddy dirt and cobbles of the outer city, Coya felt very far from home, and for the first time wondered what she had gotten herself into...



It's not too uncommon to hear about the living standards or governance practices of very poor and undeveloped countries as 'medieval.' This map is based on the question - what would it look like for a literally medieval society to interact with modern development institutions? Two notes - first, I know that medieval French would not result in the transliterations I used here, but I had difficulty finding resources of what would be more appropriate, so I hope any linguists reading will forgive the anachronism; second, I don't write narrative prose very often, but figured it was appropriate in this case since the details I would usually write in the explanatory comment are in this case already in the map. I'm open to any (constructive) criticism or tips anyone may have on that issue.
its so interesting, just a different transliteration of French makes it look so foreign-love this map Neon!

Who are the Brofens and whats the etymology?
 
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its so interesting, just a different transliteration of French makes it look so foreign-love this map Neon!

Who are the Brofens and whats the etymology?
Thank you! It's the Duchy of Provence, recently victorious in their guerilla war of independence against the Huangdi of Rum, minus the letters P and V :p. The borders in the Rhone river valley remain in dispute, and will remain so until ICJ factfinders on the ground complete their mission and have a ruling issued.
 
Thank you! The idea behind that is that the name comes from a neighboring group, like how our word for the country which calls itself Druk Yul is the Nepalese Bhutan. As you saw, 'Frangistan' is Europe as a whole, and I was unable to find a more appropriate exonym, but historical accidents happen all the time, and it wouldn't be unreasonable for the advanced civilization growing in the southern hemisphere might get its information from expelled Jews - especially if they are actively aiding refugees in an otherwise medieval world.
Not saying you need to change anything, but maybe something from Gaul? The Arabs probably first encountered mentions of the place from the Romans, who called all of what is now France "Gallia" of some form or another. Al-Jaliya?
 
I'm glad you like it! Sort of, but this isn't an alternate present; it literally takes place in our OTL 11th century. I wanted to show OTL development agencies dealing with the grinding poverty of the actual Middle Ages, which was in many ways worse than the poorest and most destitute areas on the planet today. In fact, the topline stats there underestimate the real nature of medieval poverty; it would probably be more like 95% working as subsistence farmers and more than that illiterate by modern standards. The rest is just a frame story - you can call it ASB or ISOT or 'Wakanda is real and it supports the liberal international order' :p.
This is wild. I know your intent was different, but I like it so much more as an alternate modern day. Amazing.
 
So, this is a draft map for the latest update for my WTLB TL (also sometimes called the Leveeverse), which has been almost a year in the making (good God, writer's block SUCKS).

Anyway, this update features a breakup of the Ottoman Empire circa 1880 and the various states which emerge from that. I'm working on adding the Asian territories to this map, but figured I'd go ahead and share what the European/Balkan situation looks like circa 1884 (when the update concludes).

The straw that broke the camel's back re:the Ottoman Empire was a series of revolts in Epirus and Macedonia, which the Greeks were all too eager to support. The Megali Idea gets a huge shot in the arm ITTL, thanks to a more-disastrous defeat for the Ottomans resulting from a war with Russia circa 1877. Also ITTL, the Treaty of San Stefano is more-or-less accepted, leading to Big Bulgaria.

When these revolts break out, the Ottoman government, just beginning a transition to a parliamentary and less-monarchical form of government, is sharply divided along largely religious lines about how to respond, if at all. Eventually this leads to a complete breakdown of government, the violent ouster of Sultan Murad V, and various ethnic/religious groups trying to pick up the pieces of the empire.

Ottoman territory in the Balkans (which, at the time of the revolts, isn't much) joins up with Greece in a union. A group of left-wing parliamentarians, along with a large Jewish community, form a republic in Thrace (which doesn't last too super long but hey, it's there). Albania works to try to provide a counterweight to Bulgaria and Greece (but mostly Bulgaria) in terms of the Balkan power dynamic, especially by trying to provide a base of power for Muslims on the peninsula. Conflict will eventually rise between Albania and its neighbors for Muslim-majority territory, but how this shakes out is anyone's guess (it will be discussed several updates from now).

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Not with a Whimper, but with a (lot of) Bang(s): what if rng decided the success of presidents?
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From the Fall of Washington to the failed coup of Foss, there were 14 coups in the nation of Jefferson, Quincy Adams, Pierce, and Cleveland, and yet, Democracy has won in the end. Although depending on who you ask, the USA is either a failed state who's essentially a dictatorship, or a Truly Free democracy whose people are among the most friendly and educated in the world. The truth, as it always is, a mix of both and yet neither. While it *is* true that the American People have a high degree of freedom, they still only have 2 options to choose, with the loser still having a chance to be president in a (lack of a) heartbeat, to say nothing of the near impossibility for most people to get into any seat of state politics, much less national. Although the pessimists *do* claim too much is wrong, seeing how the United States is one of the few major nations not to follow the post-Danubian system of ethnic states (with only Russia to join them in the powers list), which is more than the British or French can say at the least. However, despite the rough past the nation has had, America is one of the last truly Free nations, as the Bonepartes suspend the Assembly, and the British once again lose another leader in less than 2 months, the United States stands strong in her own way, Rejecting both the Reactionary Order and the Freedonian Chaos, America has chosen the third option of Determination, and is that so bad?
 
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