Part #18: It Was Always Burning
Section #2: The Flame
"They will have to water the meadows of France with rivers of our blood before we ever cede a single grain of dirt. Let them bring their militaries, their machines, and even their monsters; the annals of history have already shown that God is a Frenchman."
- Sun-King Louis XV[1]
—|—
“The coronation of Charles III was a relatively bleak affair. Not because people feared the young man was inept, but rather because the realization was still hitting the nation that Richard was dead. He was one of the most controversial, dynamic, and yet beloved monarchs in English history, almost always loud in his belief that the king was a champion of his people against the machinations of Parliament.[2] In any room he left a presence, and though his hard pragmatism, sharp tongue, and abrasive nature has earned him the moniker ‘Coldheart,’[3] even his critics never failed to praise his nature as a good ruler.
Charles James, the Prince of Wales, was praised as being a fitting heir, but to fill the hole left by his father was no easy task. Many were comforted by his shared views of secularism but with a notably better view of Parliament. He believed it an almost sacred institution, and while certainly slanted to favor the Abhors, he was friendly with a number of Crofts, and shared a budding friendship with the Robert Sydney, the 2nd Earl of Romney, who would become the third Supreme Chancellor of Parliaments early into the new King’s rule. The general view was that Charles James, now King Charles III, would be an able ruler, one more willing to divide power with Parliament, but opinionated enough as not to allow his father’s work to be undone.
In terms of foreign policy, he had an active interest in the Colonies, believing that dominance of North America would mean dominance over the world, and had a number of projects for not only expansion, but better control of the colonial governments, modelled after the recent Spanish reforms. We know of this dreamed ‘Empire of North America’[4] from several drafted bills Charles III had penned even in the weeks leading up to his coronation, and it is a popular topic amongst theoretical historians. Elsewhere, his brother had just been crowned as King Canute IV of Denmark, and his hawkish view of the Holy Roman Empire made him a suitable guard dog while Charles focused on his inclinations for colonial expansion. But with his wife ruling ablely over Sweden, the couple had yet to produce an heir.
Their romance has been the topic of a number of novels throughout the ages, inspiring the decried but widely read genre of ‘malice affair fiction’ or ‘malaffair’ as it is often shortened. Two characters, greatly attracted to one another, greatly respecting of each other’s abilities and skills, often greatly amused by the other’s wit, nonetheless despise one another, trading barbs and veiled insults every moment of interaction. In defense of these novels, the relationship of Charles and Ulrika was, by all accounts, exactly that, brief though it was. Their lack of children was certainly not from a lack of trying, and once king, Charles made a handful of voyages to Sweden, and her to England, for the explicit purpose of intercourse now that matters were of even greater importance. Of course, unlike how the novels portray them, their minds were fixated on the stability of succession, not a single-minded desire for sex.[5] And several children, a total of nine, had been born, but none had yet survived to adulthood, many sickly as infants, and two dying from consumption at ages 6 and 9 respectively…
...Alas, only two years into his reign, King Charles III, without heir, perished. The cause of death? According to most, foul luck. Wandering the countryside, soldiers in an escort a ways back, Charles tripped and fell through the brush down a hill, his men scrambling to find him, but the hillside was difficult to navigate, and thick with trees and bushes. They found Charles covered in snake bites, as he happened to land on and near a gathering of adders. According to his own weak recollection, three had been fighting one another while a fourth watched, leading to speculation that Charles had the misfortune of interrupting a mating fight between a rather rare occurence of three males. As they bit him in defense, the king suffered intense pain, his screams driving his men on. They found him bloody and swollen, and rushed him back to London. Before he arrived however, the amount of venom is his system caused him to experience vomiting and incontinence, which quickly ensured that by the time the carriage was in sight of the city, his wounds were heavily infected. He was dead within a week…[6]
...The Newtonians notably began a program for the research of disease and treatment following the event. However, this did nothing to stem the effects of the event in the immediate aftermath. First and foremost was that, believing England’s chaos, spreading to Sweden and Denmark-Norway, would render all three states neutral, Archduke Leopold Karl raised his banner in rebellion against Emperor Friedrich Wilhelm, while the French and Spanish declared war on Portugal. Within a few years, this chaos as we know it would become known as the Great Eastern War and the First Iberian War. Indeed, the English remained neutral in these affairs, a great upheaval now occurring with an issue that greatly altered the balance of power in Europe: succession.
Before his untimely death, Charles III had been declared co-monarch of Sweden, comparable to Ferdinand and Isabella. Yet without heir, a daughter had been born to Ulrika, but the child died in infancy a month prior. This meant that, at the time of his death, the line of succession to all of Charles’ titles fell to his brother Canute, who was, as has been discussed, the latest king of Denmark-Norway. His wife, though politically active, had become heavily pregnant with triplets, a rare and celebrated occurrence, and Canute’s own charisma and surprising skill at the Danish language had resulted in the growth of his power in court. As Charlotte Amalie became more and more devoted to raising their eight children, she at last abdicated in favor of her husband in 1739. Which meant that, in 1747, Canute had simultaneously become King of Denmark-Norway, England, Ireland, and Sweden.”[7]
- The Brief Reign of Charles III by Emily L. Darnell
“Canute had to think fast. His ascension was sure to have a number of impacts across the world, and while some men might have tried to lessen the pressure, Canute was as ambitious as they came. Rather than listen to his advisors and either abdicate the throne of England to his youngest brother Richard, abdicate the throne of Sweden to his sister-in-law, or abdicate the throne of Denmark-Norway to his eldest son James, the archaically named king instead pursued the maddest and most difficult option of holding on to all his titles.
Gifted with an appreciation of culture, and admittedly dreadful at strategy and warfare, he believed that the trick would be to ensure to placation of each nation’s populace while also building up reverence for himself as a symbol of the state. Admittedly, it seems he looked to Louis XV as a model, though accusations of anything like that would certainly be denied. It all began after his coronation. Swiftly, he dissolved the titles of the Kingdoms of England and Ireland, the latter in its most recently borders and equality of rank only recently existing with the ascendance of Charles III. Instead, he was now King of Albion,[8] which would be administered by the Three Parliaments of England, Ireland, and Wales, the English Parliament holding the most power, but with the Supreme Chancellor and the Privy Council holding authority over them all.[9]
Outside of the Isles, Denmark-Norway saw the creation of the Landsting, a legislature of lords that, while holding the power for the creation of law, was greatly limited in its powers. Working with Queen Ulrika, herself unwilling to remarry and rumored in popular myth to have to stabbed her own womb in furious grief, the Swedish Riksdag, though not ceded any true political power, was reorganized along English lines, but with respect to the classical estates in the form of a highly dysfunctional but popular four house system; the lowest house for the yeomanry, followed by the burghers, the nobility, and the clergy. In effect, while more representative, the lack of consensus ensured that its power was limited to merely continuing whatever policies the king had already implemented…
...Finally, he had himself coronated with a new title upon his ascension, one that would demonstrate his ambitions. He was Canute, King of Albion, Denmark, Norway, and Sweden, Emperor of the North Sea.”[10]
- Albion Rules the Waves by H. T. Kerrigan
“Archduke Leopold Karl is easily the most hated figure in German history, perhaps even European history. He was the culmination of all the worst aspects of a monarch: proud, fanatical, envious, cruel, and mad. Add in incompetent, and it is little wonder why history followed the path it did.
The rebirth of the North Sea as an amalgamated power, one more likely to ally with the now Protestant-led Empire against France, effectively removed all chances for the Archduke’s rise, especially since he refused to even talk with French diplomats. Instead, he would tell his own diplomats to speak to them for him, while they were in the same room. So, when King Charles III of England died, he acted. Sweden, Denmark, England, it would all be one, but it would take time to really come together.
Leopold actually thought about striking when King Richard died, because it seemed like the Stuarts in Scandinavia wouldn’t be likely to mobilize when their father had just died. But he backed out of it, and regretted doing so. When Charles died two years later, Leopold threw caution to the wind, and declared his rebellion. Despite lacking much support in the rest of the Empire, Bohemia, Croatia, and Hungary all eagerly sent their forces, which, when combined with the forces of the Bavarians and the Palatinate, meant they posed a legitimate threat to the Emperor.
Friedrich Wilhelm was shocked, and hesitated in his response. It was enough for Leopold to start to gain a bit of momentum. His soldiers marched and won during their first push into Würtemburg, whose Elector fervently supported the Emperor.[11] These early wins helped build a bit of momentum, and allowed the Hapsburgs to dig into the southern half of the Empire. Loyalists would eventually mobilize, but they were at a disadvantage.
Luckily for them, Leopold Karl figured that it was a good time to do something stupid. The Elector of Saxony had as of yet remained neutral for this first year of war; he was rather new to his throne, and had narrowly kept his title as Grand Duke Augustus III of Lithuania. In fact, he preferred Lithuania,[12] and spent a lot of time trying to increase its infrastructure and improve its economy. Leopold Karl, however, decided that the Grand Duke’s neutrality was just as bad as opposing him, and invaded while he was away.
This doesn’t just anger Augustus and bring him into the war, it sends a message to every neutral party that Leopold Karl would attack them if they didn’t side with them. Surprise, surprise, they didn’t like that, and most of them declare openly in support of the Emperor. What could have been a decently equal battle, with a number of observers rooting for the seemingly more traditionalist Leopold, was now a pitched war where, if he wanted to win, the Archduke was going to have to fight to the last man…
...By the end of 1749, two years into the war, the Archduke’s men were being forced back. Wurtemburg and Saxony were on the offensive, the Palatinate was already falling, and the ledger was starting to appear scarily red. Bavaria was one of the few good things, so far holding strong and serving as a shield for Austria. But Leopold had made an error that every Hapsburg had been warned of for generations. Nearly all of his men were moved north, pulled from all the reaches of his power. And he left the south exposed.[13] In the autumn of 1749, Sultan Osman III declared war on Austria…
...Osman was the first Sultan to be described as Euro-fixated. He was smitten with Europe, and wanted not to merely conquer, but to raise the Ottoman Empire as a truly European power. Bold and strategic, the Ottoman economy was experiencing a boom under his reign, and the funds were used to purchase innovations and experts from Poland-Ruthenia,[14] Russia, and even Italy. The Ottoman military was equipped with some of the newest military technologies of the time, and they even found inspiration from the Mughals, who themselves found some inspiration from Jongkuo. That’s right; rockets…
...So this new army, massive, well-equipped, and well-trained, enters Hapsburg territory. And really, all the commanders knew they had to win. The army had been made in a time of plenty, but it had taken all of that plenty to make it. All the nation’s wealth was in that army, and the Sultan made that clear to his commanders. He also made it clear that most of the territory they would be taking would have little they could use other than food. So, a lot like the French, the Sultan sent negotiators, trained in European languages, to, well, negotiate, with the locals of conquered peasants. If they agreed to a large, but reasonable seizure of food, they’d be left pretty much alone. Now if they refused, they weren’t just slaughtered. Instead, the grain was taken by force, and then a contingent of less elite troops, headed by a small contingent of Janissaries, would show up and start implementing Ottoman rule to the fullest extent of law.
Yeah, a lot of peasants just gave them some food and kept their heads down.
By the spring of 1750, the Ottomans had taken most of Croatia, and much of Hungary. And as their fleet began to approach Italia, the Great Eastern War was properly underway.”
- Prof. Albrecht de Royeaux, lecture at the University of Kent
“The Austrian Mastiff, the Powys Fetchhound, the Long Island Bulldog, Scotch Molosser, the Long- and Shorthaired Plymouth Shepherd, and the Chien de Soleil. What do these six (technically seven) very different dog breeds all have in common? They were all bred during the Breeding Trend of 1720-1760. Of the three major Breeding Trends, it was the most important, creating many of the rules and traditions that remain today. The Canine Breeders’ Association finds its roots in the ‘Kennel Clubs’ that formed in Albion, North America, and France in this period…[15]
...The Powys Fetchhound was bred in Wales a bit prior to the Breeding Trend’s official start, but was not a codified, well established breed until 1722. A simple crossbreed between Irish Wolfhounds and English Mastiffs, early Fetchhounds were a collection of hybrids standardized by the efforts of the third daughter of the Duke of Powys, who, with her husband, would establish a breeder dynasty that lasts to this day. The fetchhound as we know it today is large, with long limbs and long, thick snouts. Typically fawn, white, or chocolate pied, the ideal fetchhound has a curved back, a long tail, lightly bowed legs, a smaller chin, and cropped up ears. Straighter legs are sometimes preferred, and non-show pedigrees often display thicker and straighter limbs for actual hunting.
A hunting dog, they enjoy quick bursts of activity before lounging, and thus, despite their size, the average person can care for one well so long as they take them for a daily run. They are incredibly obedient, a trait developed after their lacking aggression became apparent, but when left uncommanded, are known for their great desire for physical affection, leaning against their owners and objects. Though rare, some fetchhounds, if unused to outside stimuli, can become very skittish, resulting in the wildly popular images of these huge hounds cowering under chairs, seemingly unaware of how easily seen they are…[16]
...Built for war, the Austrian Mastiff has roots in the English Mastiff, but is more directly related to the Neapolitan Mastiff, both of which share heritage to the Molossus. Also known as the Colossus Molossus, Austrian Mastiffs were first bred by Archduke Josef von Hapsburg, who was in possession of a line of extraordinarily large Neapolitan Mastiffs. Dreaming of a hound so fearsome it scared swordsman and so strong that it could wear armor, the Archduke kept a pure line, that he reinvigorated every so often from the best and biggest dogs from his Italian holdings. English Mastiffs and specimens of the Powys Fetchhound were then mixed in until we have the largest dog in the world today.
Muscular, large, with tighter skin than an English Mastiff, the height of a fetchhound, and a large square head accompanied by a longer snout, the dog most iconically has a clipped tail, a practice that began after hunting and battlefield mutilations, and that often continues today, although, contrary to popular belief, the small, upright, almost sharp looking ears are naturally occuring. Most commonly fawn, blue, or black and white, brindle Austrian Mastiffs do occur and are recognized, typically being lightly brindled, but with dark and distinct marks, sometimes causing an erroneous reference to the dog as being a ‘tabby’ despite such a term being for cats.
Extremely intelligent, Austrian Mastiffs are clever dogs that tend to grow bored easily. While aggressive, they are highly loyal, and surprisingly good around children. Despite their loyalty, however, they have a strong will, and often only obey one master and one alone, with some stories featuring Austrian Mastiffs that refuse to obey others after their masters die. It is thought their intelligence allows them to seemingly understand who their masters feel subservient to, as they are notably passive with such people. Those beneath or equivalent to their masters, however, can expect to see a great deal of calculated rebellion and intimidation. Children, as mentioned, are a notable exception due to the Austrian Mastiff’s protective instincts, recognizing children as pups. This does not make the Mastiff a good family pet, however, as they need good ways of venting aggression.
One of the world’s premier military dogs even in the modern age, those with highly active lifestyles can do well with an Austrian Mastiff, and are encouraged to purchase bites sleeves and entertain their Mastiff with a game of forearm-centric tug-of-war…[17]
...The Long Island Bulldog, or Pølsedogs as they are commonly called, were bred in, you guessed it, Long Island. Originally meant to hunt small creatures like foxes, hares, small boars, and weasels that were imported to Long Island for hunting its breeders had a simple idea: create a dog that could chase creatures into their burrows, but that could also bite and clamp down hard enough to drag the creatures out. Taking a variety of badgerhounds and most famously the Pembroke Welsh Corgi, they bred in the stout and strong British Bulldog and the Long Island Bulldog developed as we know it today, immortalized by Altman’s famous description; chubby, stubby, and ugly as hell.
Wrinkled along its medium snout, the thick body of the Pølsedog earns it its nickname, the small legs keeping it low to the ground, while its lock-jaw allows it to drag foxes and hares out of their dens as their little legs move them backwards with surprising power, all combined with a short but thick tail meant to pull the dog by. Needless to say, a good tug-rope is this playful breed’s favorite toy, and it will happily entertain itself if you bolt one to the ground. Don’t place on the wall unless you want it to tear the thing out! Either white or ‘liver-spotted’, the Pølsedog makes a lovely pet, though be sure to clean its wrinkles often, with the same going for its lovably flopping ears…[18]
...The Scotch Molosser, or simply Scotch, was bred in the Scottish colony of Dalriadda as a fishing dog. With an incredible endurance and abnormally webbed paws, the Scotch has mysterious beginnings. A number of factors came together, likely influenced by mastiffs and Portuguese working dogs, to create the Terre Neuve Water Dog, an early breed that was quickly interbred with Scottish Deerhounds, Great Pyrenees, and Spanish Bulldogs to create the Scotch Molosser as we know it.
Medium in size, the Scotch has a distinct appearance shared by all of its descendants, notably a longer snout, big triangular ears, a strong jaw and chin, and light wrinkles on the forehead. What makes the Scotch most unique, however, is the fluffy, water-resistant double coat that becomes most notable on their legs and underside. Their backs have shorter, but dense hairs, while their heads and tails has the shortest hairs. This appearance and its national origin have also led to the nickname ‘Clydesdale Dogs.’
Famed as a rescue animal, the Scotch is a great pet for active families, being playful and non-aggressive. Good with children, it will easily keep up with them, which makes it a poor dog for urban life, unless you plan to walk it for several hours a day. A large yard, or better yet a swim bath, is ideal for this breed to tucker itself out in. Fetch, both on land and in water, is the best game for them, and hunters will find they excel as fowl retrievers, given how many fowlhounds descend from them.
Recognized in black, silver, and bridle, there are a number of golden Scotches, from whom the Sunny Fowlhound was bred, but this coat is officially considered an abnormality…[19]
...The Plymouth Shepherd is from neither locations of England or New England named Plymouth. It is instead from al-Khalas, where Moroccan immigrants bred the dog from the Berber Aidi, breeding it mostly with Hadrian Sheepdogs, resulting initially in a lengthening of the Aidi’s coat into a straight, silky form that we know today as the Longhaired Plymouth Shepherd, though there has been a push, particularly from the URN, to have the breed officially renamed to the Khalan Shepherd. However, the fact remains that the breed was most popularized by the development of the Shorthaired Plymouth in the Hudson Valley. Although mostly identical on a physiological basis, the Shorthaired Plymouth Shepherd has very fine, short fur, like that of a greyhound, and is believed to have developed from a recessive mutation that was then encouraged by breeders. Seemingly radically differing, they have identical behaviours, and off-spring are always long-haired. The Shorthair was sold to Europeans and other, warmer English colonies from Plymouth, New England, and the Longhaired variant came to be as well, earning it its name.
Energetic and dutiful, Plymmies, as many call them, are no-nonsense dogs that have a strong herding instinct, and most famously have a habit of nipping pants and shoes or nudging legs to corral groups of people into more orderly formations. They don’t typically like to play, but do follow children and the elderly around with a watchful eye, making them a common animal for the handicapped as well as a show breed. Poor in constrained environments, space to exercise with fetch and racing is best, often why they are good for getting people outdoors. However, they do take a firmhand, though are notorious for breaking composure to beg for food.
White and spotted are the most common coats for the breed in both variants, though solid black can occur in Shorthaired Plymmies…[20]
...Tiny, bright, and loud. If any dog fit these descriptors, its the Chien de Soleil. The ‘dogs of the sun’, Soleils are the dog most closely associated with Denisia, but actually begin their lineage in Pomerania, with the German Spitz, a type of dog breed noted for its fur. A variety of spitz were gifted to Louis XV by Emperor Friedrich the Great, who, while despising the French, hoped he might manipulate the new king into pursuing a defensive policy rather than an offensive one. While this was for nothing, the Sun-King loved the look of the dogs, and had breeders get to work.
The breed was first made to become brighter, taking the brown, blonde, and black Spitz and breeding them to become entirely a rich golden hue, with increasing amounts of puffing fur. That fur, iconic for its grouping in pointed ‘rays’, was paired with ever pointed ears and nose, the tail also made to curl up into a point. Once all of this was achieved, the task became to make the dogs smaller and smaller, until we have the tiny dog we know today, its smallness matched only in magnitude by its regality. Characterized as particular and posh, they are lazy dogs that happily sit in the lap and enjoy being pet, its size making walking around the house plenty of exercise. Its also known to bark loudly, surprisingly loudly, at many things, and as such make decent alarm dogs. This nature as a lazing, loud, sun-like dog made it loathed for a number of reason by rebels, resulting in its survival in Denisia, Laurentia, and Louisiana today…”[21]
- Dogs of the Breeding Trends by Alan Patrick Moore
“Prussia is a sandbox, incapable of sustaining itself, and its primary vassal is a swamp. Austria controls defensive mountains and a massive empire of fertile lands. You ask, why am I bringing such matters to your attention? Because, good lords, which do you think will always work to benefit you? The one who needs your crops, commerce, and men? Or the one that could stand alone and leave you by the wayside?
Now the Emperor has sought to bring the Empire together, and has curtailed tradition liberties and autonomy granted to his loyal subjects. But look upon our enemies! The French rule through one man who likens himself to God, who acts without need for discourse. While we bicker, the Sun-King will crush us, and so we must become an Empire in more than name. But never has the Emperor forgotten your rights. The Diet has been empowered to see all your voices heard, the cantonal system fully allows you to determine the men you give, the borders help you to ensure the protection of what is yours! The Archduke, spawn of a peasant woman and a man addled by madness, he has crushed all voices that speak against him, has removed all sovereignty from the kingdoms that he inherited, he has called to arms every man regardless of what his lord says, and he has brought naught but ill of to who do not admit the supremacy of the Papacy.
Disagree with the Emperor. Hate him, perhaps. That is your freedom as a lord of this Empire. But the question is not if you prefer the company of the Emperor or the Archduke more. The question is which do you believe, when their back is pressed against a wall, will not gut you to save themselves?”
- Prince Sigismund Friedrich to the Imperial Diet, 1748
“The start of the war was Olivenza. The border town was ever in dispute, and the beginning of the First Iberian War was when Portuguese troops heard rumors of a Spanish expedition into Portugal through the town. In reality, the King of Spain had decided to build a fortification in the town, but not to go further until Portugal struck first...
...The skirmish saw only one Spanish soldier dead, but it came at a time of opportunity. The English were in a time of confusion with the death of Charles III, and the Great Eastern War had just started with Archduke Leopold Karl’s rebellion. Encouraged by France, King Felipe declared the incident an act of war, and mobilized his forces to begin a full-scale invasion, beginning at Olivenza. An initial success allowed for a push into Portuguese territory, but the Spanish calvary would soon find itself utterly routed by Pedro III’s men at the Battle of Evora. This battle demonstrated the power of the newly advancing late powderlock guns for the first time, their firerate now officially rendering cavalry ineffective against rifle lines.[22]
Evora would only be one of a few shining points in the war for Portugal, however. Unlike his father, Pedro III was a far better diplomat than commander, only ever playing the role of strongman against Spain because of court pressure. He had made fast friends with Charles III, and sent numerous gifts to Emperor Friedrich Wilhelm, and even made diplomatic inquiries with the Ottoman’s, whose westward reach was ever stronger due to the War of Gibraltar. A far cry from the strong will of his father, Pedro relied heavily on the guidance of the Duke of Trancoso.
Trancoso’s brilliance had guided Portugal through an economic downturn, outbreak of disease, and conflicts with the Galician Xunta. And he was a talented commander, who successfully repelled Spanish troops in the north, and before he attempted his ill-fated charge into Spain, Pedro named him commander of all of Portugal’s forces. Some claim his promotion made him overconfident, but regardless of how or why, the fact remained that Trancoso would be knocked from his horse and trampled at the Spanish border…
...Pedro focused on survival. His guns were advanced, and heavy use of riflemen ensured that a defensive line running from Porto to Lisbon was went unpierced by Spanish forces for two years of warfare. But in that time, all of Algarve and much of Alentejo, fell to Spain. The Galicians in the north, while feeling abandoned, rallied their own morale and, together with the headless army of Trancoso that had been slowly pushed back for the last year, maintained their own, separate military strategy that had thus far defended much of Galicia…
...Until the Siege of Porto, the Iberian theatre itself grew into a constant ebb and flow well into 1751, breaks in the King’s line repaired with the aid of naval attacks drawing Spanish troops away from the region. But the colonial affairs were a different story. Neglected by João and Pedro alike, the colony of Brazil had fallen into a sort of lull, its administration going through the motions of maintaining itself, slowly expanding its ports, the northern and southern halves of the colony operating almost independently of one another. Thanks to the administrative reforms of Spain, their colonial garrisons and fleet were mobilized and on the attack before Brazil had even learned they were at war.
Naval bombardments, coastal invasions, and land expeditions, the successes of the Viceroyalty resulted in its motto, shouted by commanders and soldiers for years to come: Nobiscum Deus, God is with Us…
...Despite this total domination over the meagre Portuguese forces in the New World, the Spanish Empire would take a blow with the death of King Felipe V in 1751. He was succeeded by his fourth son as King Alfonso XII, who wished the war to be quickly ended so that he could begin consolidating his power, many preferring his elder brother Luis who died under suspicious circumstances only months earlier. Demanding a more decisive victory, he sent a massive force to punch throw the line, ceding territory in the south, so that his forces could break through and siege Porto. Left only with Lisbon after Porto’s surrender three months later, King Pedro III agreed to an unconditional peace.
He was shocked to discover a generous offer awaiting him. He would lose Brazil, but his holdings in India and Africa were to be kept, maintaining the Portuguese trade-post empire, and while it was no secret that Alfonso was originally going to be placed on the Portuguese throne by his father, rather than place his own younger brother Felipe on that throne, he would let Pedro III keep it. The condition, however, was that Pedro’s daughter, the Infanta Catarina, be married to Alfonso’s own young son Carlos. While he would have to suppress a Galician revolt against the treaty, Pedro enthusiastically agreed, sealing his nation’s fate.
Louis XV, meanwhile, was rather angered to hear that he had not been consulted on a treaty ending a war where his own troops had been used once Spanish forces were drained in the meat grinder of the Porto-Lisbon line. It also foiled his plans for a Bourbon Portugal for another two generations, and Galicia was not the independent duchy for his second son as he had planned either. In compensation for this offense, Alfonso gave the Sun-King the colony of Brazil, admittedly with borders altered, granting Spain much of the interior Amazon and everything south of the Rio Uruguay…”
- The Iberian Wars by Thomas Ubaru
“When word reached the Emperor and his loyalist forces that the Ottoman’s had declared war upon Austria, confusion was quickly met with smug satisfaction. They had no doubt the Turks would be defeated, but at great cost to Austria. In fact, Emperor Friedrich Wilhelm eagerly awaited the petition for peace from the Archduke, which he would graciously accept before allowing the Austrian’s troops to rush southward and win, but not after a thorough thinning that would prevent any Hapsburg, like the now grown and cunning Leopold Josef, from organizing any proper rebellion for two lifetimes.[23]
But the petition never came. Instead there was a mass shift of men as the Archduke unveiled a new mad scheme for victory. German and Bohemian troops were sent south, while Hungarian, Croatian, and Italian troops came to relieve them. The plan was that such foreigners would be desperate to win and return home, and without knowing anyone nearby or even speaking the language of the inhabitants, the soldiers would be unable to desert. Perhaps not the worst of plans, but the issue was complicated by the heavy fighting occuring in the Bavarian Alps and Sudeten Mountains. Without any knowledge of the geography, many soldiers and units became lost, dying in the cold or running so low on supplies that as soon as they made their way out, the first acts they performed were raids on nearby towns for food.
In general, raiding and pillaging was in high occurrence, little sympathy given by soldiers who felt just as the Archduke predicted; they wanted to win and go home, and thus had no issue slaughtering German peasants, who quickly came to resent Austria as the commander of these ‘huns’. Thus, despite victories in pushing northward, much of the held territory had to be pacified constantly. With more troops in the north than fighting the Ottomans, Leopold Karl had demonstrated a strategy that Emperor Friedrich Wilhelm quickly copied; secure the crown, and then take the remaining troops of both sides and demonstrate to the ambitious Ottomans the Empire’s might.
Since the Siege of Vienna in 1683, the Ottomans had no longer been a true threat in the eyes of Imperials. With the exception of Transylvania, the Ottomans had utterly capitulated at the end of the last war, and many knew of their military woes fighting Russia and Persia, which were both costly victories by all accounts. But Osman III had been busy. His modernising of the military had at first been met with criticism, but once implemented and drilled ad nauseum, it was one of the best in the Near East. Likely, he could not have properly invaded and succeeded against a united Christian effort, and likely would have still been vanquished by a united Imperial Army. But with the civil war ongoing, the Ottomans were a true threat, and one neither Friedrich Wilhelm nor Leopold Karl properly feared. The Battles of Sisac, Cazin, Debrecen, and Szeged, also known as the Four Triumphs, were military conflicts in Croatia and Hungary that happened within the same week by the many prongs of the Ottoman forces. Each was a victory for the southern Muslims, and by the end of the week, at the dawn of 1752, two-thirds of Leopold Karl’s German and Bohemian forces had been slaughtered. By Spring, the Ottoman’s were in sight of Vienna. But the Archduke, while admittedly surprised, was not afraid.
He sent word to the remaining men in the south to regroup and prepare to relieve Vienna, while a small detachment from the north was brought in to help defend it. The rest, however, were commanded to continue the push northwards until the Emperor capitulated. Predictably, the Italians who ended up brought in to defend Vienna were quickly beaten and forced to retreat into the city’s walls. But they had taken a fair number Ottoman’s down with them, enough that the relieving army would have a fighting chance when they arrived. Unfortunately, they never did arrive. Instead, they were met by the Ottoman force that had invaded Croatia, and, after a brief skirmish, they surrendered, eventually becoming the first of Austria’s defenders to defect to the enemy. As the siege stretched into a month in length, it seemed that the walls of Vienna would break, as new Ottoman cannons had finally arrived. Pulled by a team of fifty horses, once in sight the new experimental weapon was allowed to slowly creep forward into range. Inspired by his voyage to Italy, where he became obsessed with Renaissance inventors, Osman III had commissioned the creation of an artillery cannon that moved on wheels and was protected by an outer shell. Crude, slow, and unable to move anywhere on rugged terrain, the cannon found one use that made it endure for a few years longer before it was scrapped as overly expensive; with its shell, it could take a number of direct hits from enemy cannons and keep firing.
With two of these new colossi in place, they began to hammer the fortifications with a ferver. It seemed apparent that, without any sort of aid, the Turks were going to succeed. But Leopold Karl refused to seek aid from his enemies in the north. Instead, he remained certain that God would intervene, as many believed he did in 1683. The Archduke put on full regalia, with fine, bright red silks and gold thread, powdered, white gloves, and jeweled slippers. He wore on his head the Crown of Emperor Rudolf II, and held a solid gold globus cruciger, and matching scepter. A priest was called, and they anointed him and his objects in oils. He walked, slowly and calmly, until he stood at the battlements, the Ottoman cannons firing below. Raising his arms up, he shouted in German, “These walls shall hold!” The sun, still rising, then shined upon him, directly, making the red of his garb shine and the gold of his crown and objects gleam. Again he shouted, this time in Italian, “These walls shall hold!” Now, German and Italian soldiers alike looked upon him, and they shouted with him a third time. Some say the Archduke did so in Italian, which he preferred, others say in German, which he used more regularly. Regardless, indeed, he proclaimed a third time, his soldiers chorusing, “These walls shall hold!”
As those words left his lips, every man on the walls felt invincible, knew that God would win them this day, like the Crusaders in Antioch. That moment ended as, all of them looking upon their leader, a well-aimed cannonball removed the Archduke’s head in a splattering of blood, brain, and bone, shattering the crown of Rudolf into bits of mangled gold…”[24]
- The Great Eastern War and Its Effects by Gregory L. Capaldi
“The northern battles continued on despite the Ottomans pressing so close to Vienna. Reports were also trickling in of Ottoman naval attacks on Austrian holdings in Italy, with descents close to Naples and even in Sicily making short work of the area now that the Archduke had stripped it of every soldier he could. These reports, as well as those of the conquests of Hungary and Croatia, demoralized the troops of Leopold Karl rather than galvanize them. They wanted to give up, go home, maybe grab their families and relocate them before the Ottomans slaughtered them. Desertion reached new heights as the soldiers formed bandit groups, hijacking caravans, horses, and wagons so that they could begin travelling south.
For his part, the Duke of Bavaria kept a strong effort, his lands remaining as of yet untaken by the Emperor’s forces. But his death in the winter of 1751 meant that the territory was now under the control of his son Albert VI, who fought only because he refused to suffer humiliation. Silesia, however, could not be protected as men left it in droves. The army of Württemberg would come in and restore order, hanging or expelling much of the former Hapsburgist soldiers. As the Bavarians ironically did the same in the Sudeten mountains, they suddenly saw a sight that made them panic. Just past the mountains, the Bohemian heartlands was being invaded by an army bearing the crescent of Islam.
The Ottomans were there, forces moving past Vienna as the siege went on. Now caught between two enemies, the Duke Albert was unsure of what to do, and prepared to send word to the Emperor for a ceasefire. He waited first, however, to hear from Vienna and see how dire straits the army was in after they defeated the Turks. When word did arrive, he expected tales of a narrow victory or a god-given triumph. The latter would mean something to raise morale, and possibly to convince other princes of the Empire to join them. The former would complicate matters further, however. If the victory at Vienna cost too much, surrender to unite against the Ottomans was the only option. If the cost was within reason then a status quo antebellum could likely be arranged. But the message that arrived contained information that the Duke had not once considered.
He passed it on to the Emperor, alongside an offer of peace, and it gave Friedrich Wilhelm a heart attack when he read it, the first of many to grip him before his death in 1753. Many amongst his court refused to believe it, thought it a trick or a misconception. Prince Sigismund, who knew his father would be soon dead and so had become increasingly active, was for once at a loss for words, unable to summon one of his famous speeches to rally all listeners. The message, which broke the Duke’s spirit, nearly killed the Emperor, and left the famously gregarious prince speechless, contained only three words that while written in German, thanks to the efforts of the playwright Morgan Alder, are best remembered in English:
VIENNA HAS FALLEN
And with it, so did Austria."
- In the East Rose the Sun, by Mohammed Müller[25]
—|—
[1] This quote presently feels disconnected, but is in a sense a teaser of what’s to come.
[2] Which effectively gives him mandate to act absolutist.
[3] And also because he oppressed the Scots, but everyone now believes he was right to suspect them. It’d also be ‘Coldhearted’ but that does work as well as a pun on Lionheart.
[4] This TL has enough Thandean allusions as it is!
[5] Trashy novellas romanticizing unhealthy relationships are an unfortunate constant of the human condition.
[6] Woe the King, killed by Black Adders.
[7] Balance of Power? What’s that?
[8] Now you see the purpose of all that poetry junk.
[9] English Monarchy is a lot more absolutist, but nowhere near as much as it might have been.
[10] Have I mentioned I have a fascination with the Danelaw?
[11] He’s an Elector because of the man’s father after all.
[12] Not a fan cities really, and Dresden is where everything happens in Saxony.
[13] The impact of the Battle of Vienna and the Great Turkish War cannot be understated. There really was a belief that the Ottoman’s were at last no longer a threat.
[14] More on this country later.
[15] Considering how artificially and intentionally created by particular people and cultures dog breeds are, you’d think they’d come up more. I also like dogs.
[16] This the same lineage as Great Danes. And the Powys is literally a Great Dane, except with standards more akin to how Scooby Doo is drawn than present proper GD dog show standards.
[17] If you want an image of this dog breed google: Mabari Dog
[18] Look up a Bulldog Corgi mix, take that head, then look up Pitbull-Dachshund mix for the body. Pølse is Danish for sausage.
[19] Basically it’s a Lab in the head and tail, German Shepard length back fur, and by the bottom it has Newfoundland fur. Dalriadda is the name for Scottish Newfoundland.
[20] Give an Aidi Border Collie (Hadrian Sheepdog) fur for the Longhair, and then give it no fur for Shorthair.
[21] Think a smaller, louder, fluffier Pomeranian.
[22] This happened in the War of Austrian Succession in OTL
[23] Unity against a common foe? Ha!
[24] Yeah wearing bright colors and shining gold isn’t the best when you’re in front of a line of enemy artillery.
[25] This is one of several Muslim German names I’ve used for authors. Also notice things before like there being Viennan forms of coffee, the drink of the Muslim world in TTL.
[P.S.] Oof. This is the culmination of a lot of plans, from Josef’s return and failed quest for power, to Catherine of Russia making Osman obsessed with Europe, to even the Hohenzollern Hapsburgs, to setting up the marriages and power structure of England and northern Europe, to even chopping up Poland-Lithuania. And with these events, from here on out the ripple effects give me a lot more freedom of control, with almost no one born pre-PoD or even raised by people pre-PoD being in power once Friedrich Wilhelm passes.
