A Diplomatic? Note

Early Morning (i.e., actually before noon!): At the offices of the Minister, Prince de Charade:

Servant: M’seur Bernard, there’s some sort of formal delegation from one of those German princelings here.
Bernard: Without an appointment? What the **** do they want?
Servant: They say that they have to present a Note to the Prince. (He hands Bernard a slaver with cartes de visite on them).
Bernard: Merde! The Migraine! and she’s coming officially?
Servant: With escort, translators, and attaches, M’seur.
Bernard: I’ll get the Prince prepared. (Sighs) Where are they?
Servant: Since they were on official business, M’seur, I have brought them past the foyer into the hall d’Assemblies.
Bernard: Move them on into the wardrobe, I guess. Serve them coffee and warn them that there may be a delay of (he checks the weather outside) about an hour to an hour and a half ... unless I get lucky.

Both men leave.
Bernard hurries down a back hallway into the groom’s waiting room. Seeing the Prince’s coachman sitting down with a pastry and latte, Bernard hurries over to him.
Bernard: Is he really here already?
Coachman: Oui, M’seur. He’s changing from his travel cloak in the wardrobe now.
Bernard: Now?!
Coachman: Oui?
Bernard hurries rapidly from room in considerable trepidation.

In the Wardrobe (actually, a suite of rooms), the Frankszonian party and the Prince du Charade enter simultaneously. The Prince is still attired in his burgundy and fur trimmed travel cloak and florid hat.
Margravaine Rhabbidiers (nasally): Merci! Your Highness! We did not mean to cause you to rush so suddenly, but we must discuss the note together ... and perhaps it is best that we do so before you have to actually read it.
Charade (somewhat startled and taken aback to find the party there):: It is nothing, my Lady. In Gallia, we do not wish to keep beautiful women waiting too long. I’ve found that they can be quite creative in overcoming such boredom.
A small gasp introduce Bernard, whose pace changes abruptly from a hurried rush to a sedate walk.
Bernard: Your Highness, the envoy of Frankszonia, to deliver a Note of State.
Charade: A Note of State? (he looks back at the Frankszonian contingent, noting the formal uniforms and the presence of an interpreter) If you would pardon me but a moment, my lords and ladies; I must change and ensure that the proper aides are present. In my office in half an hour?
Rhabbidiers: (curtseying) That would be most gracious, My Lord.
Charade: Bernard? (both men exit as other servants enter with trays and a steaming samovar).

Note from the Hurtshog Fahrtz to l'Intendant Bastille

Sire,
We apologize for recent impressment of several of your Gallian laborers into the forces of Frankszonia. After interviewing your straw bosses, however, it seems that the number so encumbered is only about a hundred or so, barely 20% of your work force. Since we have a sufficient number of skilled personnel in our debtor's prison, we would gladly permit them to be dragooned into your service for your projects in this area.

Please understand that this was not an intentional intervention, the press gangs were looking for mechanics and laborers, and in the low class inns at night, such distinctions are quite easy to ignore. Our own native labor pool has suffered much higher stress from the current crisis also. So the employment of these artisans by your foremen would ease a number of local political stresses.

Surely you are pleased with the quiet redeployment of Frankszonian main forces to the south. While we've retained some key units for our personal and urban security, we feeel that the Gallian muster in the area is sufficient to sustain order on the right bank of the Main.
\Our scouts have gathered information that implies that the Vile Stagonian force which recently struck us at Offenbach has redeployed to the south east, apparently planning to join in the Stagonian violation of peaceful Tipple=Bruder. In spite of the treacherous acquiesence of the Offenbach leaders in the Vile Stagonian duplicity, we feel that to support the Soweiter League and its associates is the best policy for an Imperial Frei Stadt. Therefore, our forces will again advance on Offenbach to see if this might draw back the Stagonian Brigade from their depredations in the Odin Wald.

Meanwhile, the battalions which so bravely held the Hesse-Sewald assault are being rebuilt at our outpost across the Main from Offenbach. While there, they are constructing earthworks sufficient for a battery of heavy artillery sufficient to reach across the river to the Offenbach docks.

While our officers are dismayed over the recent turn of international diplomacy, as an Imperial Frei Stadt not holding a distinct and explicit treaty of alliance with Gallia, we are compelled for the time being to withhold further direct assistance of your brave heroes. By the Imperial agreement, Frankszonia is no longer an enemy of Hesse Seewald. It is our sincere hope, however, that the Gallian Foreign Minister will soon rectify this rather embarrassing encumbrance with a sufficient instrument of friendship which acknowledges us as an autonomous entity.

Meanwhile, an anti-Stagonian alliance has arisen all over the continent. Indeed, we expect to hear of a major clash in the region of Tipple-Bruder as soon as the weather clears enough to permit movement.

Meanwhile, let us toast the honor and vigour of our cousin, your Gallian Monarch!

Herr Stanken, Hurtshog Fahrtz von Frankfurter
by the hand of le Comte de Beauphaup ...

Tides on the Main ....

Frankszonian forces continue to assemble in the Saxenhausen area south of Frankfurt. At Offenbach, however, the citizens notice that across and slightly down river from their town, large gun emplacements are under construction.
These do not appear, at the moment, to be Frankszonian units, but rather small units of local Stadtholders ....

In Frankszonia itself, rumors abound that the recent catastrophe at Offenbach was the result of secret collusion between Stagonia and Gallia. Folks around the Hurtshog's court, however, insist that such a conspiracy is "too Cheezy". Somehow this does not reassure the mechanics, who resent the presence of Gallian laborers in their area.

Nonetheless, a force of some four to six thousand men is definitely gathering south of the Main along with its normal gaggle of camp followers.

stumbling along

Been a tad ill lately, so the blog has suffered.
However, I'd recommend you all go to the Empire vs Elector blog to get connections to several quite lovely accounts (and photographs) of the nice battle at Offenbach.

Further developments now coming in ...

Frankszonian forces moving into Saxenhousen area south of Frankfurter, sending out scouts looking for the Stagonian column which they lately faced.

An alliance is forming in and around Tipple-Bruder to face another Stagonian column in the sodden November weather in the Wodenwald ....

(for which I'm feverishly trying to paint 72 figs for the Stagonians ... might not get done in time).

More later, probably next week ...

Offenback Falls!

Alas, it seems that the vacillations of the local Offenbach leaders has left them victims to Stagonian duplicity. The tiny, brave brigade; which Frankszonia had so generously sent to their aid in response to the earlier Stagonian Ultimatum was driven back.
We gather together again.
We call upon all the friends of the Soweiter League to assemble against the Vile Stagonian invasions.
Offenbach shall be free again!

Last Minute Diplomac y

Even as the Frankszonian officers glower at the rascally captive, the carriage of l’Comte d’Beauphaup clatters into the yard. Everything is held in suspense as guards quickly leap to the door and assist the elegantly attired young diplomat descend from his ornate vehicle. Seeing the flouncy lace shake in the man’s springy step, the captive leans out the window and shouts, “Guiles!”
“Ryan! you scoundrel!” laughs the count. “Whatever are you doing with this crowd?”
“Same thing you like to do,” Ryan rejoins, “holding hands with the most hirsute guards.”
The guards momentarily flinch away from him, but the mutual laughter of the two men, keeps everyone else from intervening. As the count traipses into the room, he gets serious. “I’m glad to catch you here, Ryan. There’s work to be done.” Then, without a further comment to anybody , he pulls Ryan aside into another room from which they expel the various aides, clerks, and officers.
“Ryan,” the count begins, “you’ve got to help me get the Soweiter Burgomasters to reason. The Stagonian forces coming down the river outnumber both of us together, and Gen. Chevert is on the wrong side to intervene.”
“Reason, I suppose, means submission to your Hurtshog’s whims and abandonment of our ancient liberties?” retorts Ryan scornfully.
“No!” the count continues angrily. “That’s what the first provision was meant to secure! Your “ancient liberties” are not by Imperial Edict and have never been acknowledged by Hesse Darned Stadt nor by Nassau. Frankszonia, however, has all of that.”
“Just how does our inclusion as a Frankszonian town defend it for our selves?” Ryan responds skeptically.
“Look, the Frankfurter Bundt is NOT the Stadt Council of Frankszonia, never has been. Wurstinburgers and other great towns have always been represented ... joining the bundt actually increases your status as well as gives an almost automatic improvement to the whole Leagues status.”
“I’ve never heard of becoming a protectorate increasing anyone’s status!” Ryan snaps.
“A mutual defensive alliance might have sounded better,” Guiles admitted, “but do you really want your boys getting blown away in fights with Limburger or Munster or Hamburger? Let alone becoming Gallian cannon fodder.
“Look, the Hurtshog isn’t gaining all that much by this. He’ll lose the tarrifs on the hundreds of tubas you sell each year in Frankszonia; he’ll lose a major bit of the river tarrifs on traffic past the bridge. Moreover, as a Frankszonian “protectorate” he can pressure L’Intendant Bastille into dispatching the many fine crafts men and engineers from Gallia along with our own laborers for the restoration of your towns defenses. Scheise! three modern redoubts, even if just ditch and dirt, would triple your town’s resistance.”
“You can promise these engineers?”
“They’ll be here within 36 hours of any agreement.”
“So your officers can use our own men to seize rule in the town?” Ryan turns away, “You know us better than that!”
“Verdamnt! Ryan! ‘Intact units,’ ‘Intact units.’ Do you honestly belief any lieutenant, hauptman, or especialy a Feldwebel of Soweiter would permit such an abuse?”
“Then why under YOUR officers and command?”
“We’ve got the more troops. Your units are Reichs Armee trained, ours are Germanian ... orders from the commanding General would be confused by your obersts and intendants. Besides, the Hurtshog has put together a real army staff ... look at the guys next door!” The count pleaded. “Offenbach simply must let itself become an active part of the Frankszonian community!”
“We are ourselves, not you,” Ryan snarls. “And what happens if, no when, the Stadt Council tells you how to use your offers?”
“Get real, Ryan,” Guiles answers sadly. “Stagonia shall not be allowed to obtain the tuba works intact. I play an Offenbach tuba, what do you think I want?”
Ryan looks out the window at the traffic of messengers and patrols for a moment. “Guiles,” he says, “even if it ruins us, they can’t swallow the arrogance of the proclamation.”
“Then reword everything to whatever works.” the count urges. “We need commitments to achieving the purpose together ...” a sudden clatter interrupts them. The various Obersts are leaving, looking grim and purposeful and with determined strides to their soon galloping mounts.
“You know Haugen Bienz.” the count continues. “If a diamond ring would roll by his foot, he’d stomp on it in case it was green fly .... and Woad and the big guns will be here in hours. The Hurtshog doesn’t want to hurt a hut here, but Stagonia must not obtain the works intact.”
Beauphaup opens the door. “Bienz!” he shouts, “quickly, before you do anything else, get this man a pass through our lines, a good horse, and a neat aide to ride escort!”
“Ach!” the general replies, “you diplomat! Ve haff un grosse schlact hier und Sie vill to gift this rascal stuff stop our soldiers? Nein!”
“In the Duke’s Name!” Beauphaup responds more forcefully than any of the officers had ever heard. Suddenly, Beauphaup pulls of his heavy riding gloves and thrusts a ring under Haugen Bienz’s nose. “And, under the Seal von Frankfurter! Now yield and obey!”
“Ja! Ich musten!” the general stammers. “Schnell, ein Grande Pferd und mit him, Emil!”
Within moments, the two riders dash off into a swirling mist which is rising into the cold air ....


Taking the terms in order:
One: Offenbach retains its membership and participation in the Soweiter League.
This is a matter for the League and not something to be ruled on by foreign nations.
Two: Offenbach shall appoint two representatives to the Frankfurter Bundt to represent its interests.
The League is more than willing to send an ambassadorial contingent to Frankfurter to represent the interests of the League and its members.
Three: Offenbach shall accept Frankszonian protection.
While Hesse-Offenbach and the Soweiter League is quite capable of defending itself we would graciously accept, as equals, an alliance against Vile Stagonia or other enemies of the League.
Four: Offenbach’s military shall be incorporated as intact units into the Frankszonian forces observing Vile Stagonia.
Hesse-Offenbach as a member of the Soweiter League cannot and will not place its forces under the command of foreign officers.

graffitti appearing along the Main River

Stagonian Verses:

I don’t know, though I have heard
That the cuckoo is the Stagonian bird.

Though clearly descended from Father of Lies,
That’s not why horns are above the Stagonian eyes.
It’s a question of legitimacy,
And perhaps too much intimacy
With what a small drink in Stagonia buys!

Old Stagonia must sponsor the writer’s art.
See how great is just fiction’s real part
With colorful mendacity
Recounting their descendency
Where mothers can’t tell the fathers apart!

The tale of Stagonia’s minister’s execution
Is a rumor precluding a proper prosecution
For the mangled man’s state
When crushed by the weight
While evading a stronger husband’s perception.

If Bob’s your uncle by a relation
Not found in a legal, recorded compilation,
In Stagonia, no fuss;
Indeed it’s a plus
To be born into such a relative complication!

No wonder Stagonian noses stick in the air,
For looking down, their men could never dare. .
If he chanced a quick glance
Down about his pink pants,
He’d find much less than he expected there!