OOC:
Hello, I'm new. After a week or so of lurking, I've decided to make a thread and get my feet wet. I put some research into the Second Northern War, and I decided to make a Swedenwank-ish TL. Please don't blame me if this gets boring or goes way off course from reality.
The Great Deluge
City of Stettin
Swedish Pomerania, Holy Roman Empire
February 16th, 1655
“Mr. Ambassador, you cannot fathom the consequences. Your entire Commonwealth lies within the Tsar's grasp! If you cannot back the Empire in our invasion of Russia, Mr. Ambassador, Sweden will have no choice but to plow through Poland first!” Never one to put off his point, Sven's weakness as a diplomat was beginning to show. But why not?, he snarled in his head. These talks had gone on for three days, and the arrogant Poles kept changing the subject to their King's claim to the Swedish throne. Could the fools not see the threat at hand?
The old Pole looked straight into Sven's eyes. “The Commonwealth cannot further the goals of Sweden until a rightful king is put upon her throne. And I have made myself clear who that king is.”
Sven glanced around the room. It was an old merchant's hall, renovated for diplomatic purposes. Strewn across the walls were shields emblazoned with the arms of Gustaf, and lanterns adorned the rest. The room smelled of burning wood, incense and the good night air of the Baltic. He looked back at the Ambassador. “It is getting late, my good sir. I wish only one cession from you tonight: grant Swedish forces passage into Russia. All I ask, all we ask, is a month of military access from your Commonwealth. One month.” Hastily, he added, “for fair compensation, of course.”
The Polish ambassador looked down for a moment, as if to think. When his eyes met again with Sven's, one could see the fire in them. “Absolutely not. As I have stated, Poland and Lithuania will have no dealings with the illegitimate throne of Sweden. I promise you, there will be no compromise! Good night, Mr. Ambassador!” He leapt up hastily, and left into the cold night. Snow swept into the room as he slammed the door, dancing with the embers of the dying fire.
Sven was left at the long table to think. He stared into the dance of snow and cinder, and wondered. What on Earth could have gotten in to those cursed Poles? These negotiations were getting nowhere. This was the time to act, not to tarry! Sven toyed with the idea of invading Poland, simply out of spite. It seemed reasonable, the East half of the Commonwealth being under Russian occupation. And if they refuse justified warfare for political squabbles, it's only a matter of time before Russia finishes them off. And that we cannot allow.
A door closed behind him, and Sven turned around. Charles X, King of Sweden had emerged from his chambers. “I do hope you got all you could. That foul man and his fouler king won't last long. Pray tell, did you get anything accomplished?”
“No, sire.”
“Nothing at all?”
“I'm afraid he continued to ramble on about his king, and little else.”
“I thought as much. Those arrogant buffoons.” He chuckled. “Well, it looks like we've got our war planned out for us.”
“What do you mean, sire?”
“You know exactly what I mean.”