(Apologies for any misspellings of character names here ... a little discomfort healthwise, nothing serious, but I don’t feel like making all the corrections for my bad typing tonight) :_(
After some heated discussions, mostly involving who would be safest where, the whole party removes to the Redan Bastille (a reinforcement of the Frankfurter defenses obtained as a sop to local feelings during the construction of the nearby Gallian prison, both outside the main walls). Not only did all concede that it would be easier to intercept any attacks there, but also there were several crack units already deployed there in preparation for a grand review.
Gen. Broglie was puzzled, however, that the Sage Guard from Frankszonia would not be in the review. Not only was it a Guard unit, and thus usually a part of any formal visit, but also it contained some of the best drilled professionals in the area. Gen. Oscar Meyer grinned wryly and responded, “this week, a lot of the men in the Sage Guard Uniform are better drilled for hunting than for a parade.” The comment confirmed the suspicions that the military members of the party had already entertained about their local honor guard. The presence of squadrons of their own escort was comforting.
In spite of the terror of the previous hour, the Frankfurters cheerfully lined the streets and cheered from their decorated houses as the party paraded through the town under the brightly dyed fabric arches. Cuirassiers following the party scattered silver pennies among the crowd, and a large beer wagon stopped at each corner to hand out a keg. In the side streets, outdoor grills filled the air with enticing smells, promising a flavorful evening to partying throng.
“They seem awful cheerful,” young King Basil commented.
“I’ll drink to that!” The Hurtshog, who was riding with the other sovereigns, responded. “We take celebration as a serious commitment here.”
“So we’ve heard,” laughs Duke Wilhelm. “I wonder how the vivandiers are making out?”
“Fairly often, I hope,” Princes Stuftliana giggles.
“I’m sure,” Princess Alisona said with mock primness, “that their contributions to the general festivities are widely appreciated!”
—
When the party arrives at the redan and takes its place in a pavilion placed on the works, the Hurtshog convenes a quick council. “We have things to consider together,” he comments to his guests, and carefully chooses a spot downwind.
“Your security,” Col. Enigma complained, “seems rather like a sieve. I’d hoped for better after last time!”
“We don’t have the resources of Gallia,” Gen. Meyer snapped. “But we have more than our share of enemies who specialize in secret agents.”
“Gentlemen,” Gen. Broglie intervenes, “there is too much here to indulge ourselves. What information do we have?”
“First of all,” Gen. Meyer responds, “those guns at the Cathedral were northern made.”
“Northern?” Ritter Andrew asks. “I thought they would be Stagonian and from the southern forests!”
“We must consider,” Herr Kunnegunde (Frankszonian Chief Watchman), “that the guns were left behind. They may be a deliberate decoy.”
“But,” the Hurtshog continues, “there is also strong evidence of collusion among our many enemies. We’ve been on alert ever since we found out that Lady Pettygree was coming.”
“I’m hardly an enemy,” Diana protests.
“Indeed not, my Lady,” the Hurtshog responds. “Indeed, we have one regiment that would rather be here to defend you than our southern woods! However, is it not true that when you come this far into Germania, there is a Germanian agent of incredible skill who seems drawn to oppose you? After all, Comte Bastille, we have still received no word on what that little affair near here a couple of days ago was all about!”
Bastille and Broglie look at each other but say nothing.
“Right,” the Hurtshog continues, “and what information did your mother send you, Ritter Andrew?”
“She warns of ambushes, possible sabotage of the powder supplies, and the usual Stagonian poisonous wine.” The young man answered.
“Aha!” Kunegunde exclaimed, “We thought that was Roquefort again!”
“You knew about sabotaged powder and poison?” Bastille demanded indignantly.
“No, M’sr l’Intendant,” Kunegunde answered, “but you must ask the Hurtshog.”
As the group’s attention returns to the portly notable, he calls, “Baddmann! Bring in a keg.”
“So we can drink to it?” Gen. Broglie asked sardonically.
A well suited, middle aged man whom they had seen dancing with each of the ladies on the previous evening enters with another gentleman carrying a small wine barrel. A quick glance passes between Ritter Andrew and the second gentleman as the pair very carefully set the keg on a table.
“I’ve heard of your reverence for wines, your Highness,” King Basil comments, “but this is a tad extreme isn’t it?”
“Gen. v. Pilsner?” Gen. Meyer bows slightly, “if you would be so good as to step to the table to witness, please? Meanwhile, could the rest of you please step into the embrasures to enjoy the bands and the drills out in the drill field for a moment?”
The ladies and their men exchange worried glances ... what new fright is Frankfurter going to reveal? Lady Pettygree, however, pulls loose from Catherine’s worried grasp and steps forward with Cherish Masquerade. “We should probably also observe, General,” Diana insists.
Col, Enigma quickly offers to take her place, but she firmly places her hand on his chest and steps forward. Meanwhile, a double file of large grenadiers forms a solid wall between King Basil and Duke Wilhelm and the military clustered around the table. Baddmann and v. Mack are carefully and slowly working the top off of the keg.
“You will observe,” the Hurtshog begins, “that the keg bears the markings of the Chevert Estate and Vinyards.”
“But! ...” both Broglie and Bastille begin.
The Hurtshog stops them with a sharply upraised hand. “We know,” he nods his head. “Chevert is never shipped in barrels, the estate is very and properly proud of its glass works and its bottling process. An alert shipper brought this to our attention.”
“So that’s why you’ve been burgling the wine stores!” Bastille exclaims. “What is the poison?”
“You’ll be pleased to know, m’lord Comte,” Hzg. Fahrtz replied, “there’s not one drop of poison in the barrel.” He grimaces, “indeed, there’s not one drop of anything in the barrel.”
The collective puzzlement of the party is caught as Baddmann carefully lifts out a small spoonful of black and silvery powder. He flicks the powder onto the floor where it snaps, sparks, and smokes brightly!
“Mon Dieu!” Broglie exclaims. “We could all have small kegs in our quarters!”
“Which is why,” the Hurtshog answered grimly, “why we’ve planned for the fireworks and ball to be an affair in the park. I trust my Grenz and my Jaegers to catch assassins before they get too close out there.”
“May our own light infantry join yours, your Highness?” Gen. Broglie is polite enough to ask.
“We’d appreciate it, but be sure that the sergeants and officers know each and every face.”
“Of course!”
“And, your Majesty and your Highness,” the Duke turns to his guests, “if your escorts could also attend, with swords and whatever, I believe that my Chamberlain, l’Comte Beauphaup has managed to locate enough young ladies to partner them ... it will be a wonderful ball, hosted by the Guilds in your honor, Duchess Lynda. Unfortunately, there will be no masques or costumed waiters.”
“We must be honest with you,” Gen Meyer interjects. “We do expect some more ... ah ... interesting intrusions. But we are quite confident that they will be resolved as thoroughly as the affair Pettygree recently, no?”
The party smile rather nervously, and the ladies press their gentlemen with worried looks. At this, Princess Stuftliana, who had been acting as if a star struck girl to this point, stepped forward. “Dears, your presence would be very, very helpful,” she pleaded. “Besides, the Frankszonian people really have looked forward to seeing you at the ball. We have a wonderful seamstress here, and her girls can create and equip wonderful gowns with interesting features ... like this!” She suddenly displays an expensive pistol, seemingly from thin air. As the group’s collective shock settles, Stuftliana continues, “Alisonia, Diana, no whimpering. I’ve seen the reports on how well you handle pistols. I suspect that the vivandiers are no less qualified also. They are from Monte Cristo after all.” She grinned mischievously, “come, come, girls. Isn’t it time we demonstrated why we demand so much from our guys?” She looked out at the field where a Frankszonian militia unit and some Gallian musketeers were performing an “X” march through drill to the music of drums, trumpets, bugles, and a lot of tubas. “Let’s see if we can bore them as much as they do us!” Stuftliana concludes, laughing.
Showing posts with label Lady Pettygree. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Lady Pettygree. Show all posts
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
A Morning's Entertainment
Imagine Johannes surprise when Erwin says in response to his question, "I brought four of my 'fancy' pistols. Would you care for a pair? And when did you ever know me to have an unloaded one about?!" Baddmann gave an approving grunt as the two double barreled pistols disappeared under his cloak.
Mack continued, "I learned this trick when I was in Canada. Buck and ball with a large charge of powder is the key. Makes a hell of a loud noise, you can hit almost everyone in a small room with at least a pellet or two, the cloud of smoke comes in handy if you have to retreat, and by the third shot most crowds have found better places to be, leaving one shot in reserve. Tonight, my friend, I am loaded for bear. Although I'll settle for stag!"
“More like a filthy old goat, I’m afraid,” Johannes responded. “We suspect that Roquefort and M’Lady are involved too.”
“No wonder every time I look around, I see an alert soldier of some type!” Erwin responded. “Looks like you’re going to try to swat flies with cannon balls!”
“That’s the general idea,” Johannes responded. “Hesse Cassel armies are too close to overlook the chance that either the guilds or the Resistance will make a serious effort ... and with all these agents in town, it’s likely that some of them are suggesting it.”
Even though, Johannes sounded like he was just grousing, v.Mack’s watchfulness had been suddenly amplified by what he’d heard. His eyes were moving from one deep shadow in the night bound street when he chanced on a face moving through a light, “Rottenbrat!” he hissed to Baddmann and quickly gestured at an otherwise nondescript laborer still putting up bunting.
In moments, their two horses were at the foot of the man’s ladder and four pistols were held close to some very sensitive areas. “Okay, Hans,” Baddmann growled, “come down very slowly and lean on the wall.
“Private!” he gestured to a nearby soldier, “call for the sergeant of the guard.”
As the soldiers clustered around him and thoroughly searched him, Hans Rottenbrat protested his innocence and productivity. V. Mack had already climbed the ladder for himself, however, and found a smelly, black rag in the folds of the bunting lying under a glass ball.
“So, Stagonia plans on Frankszonia having a hot time tomorrow?” he challenges the now silent and surly agent.
“Ver*%&#!!” Baddmann exclaims. “We’ve got miles of very expensive and brightly died cloth hanging on every house! It will all have to be checked tonight!”
“No need,” Rottenbrat asserts, “I just had time to put up one.”
After the prisoner is removed and handed over to the Gallians for deposit in the Bastille, Johannes and v. Mack hasten to the palace to spread the alarm. As. V. Mack delivers the letter to Andrew, Herr Kunegunde orders the town criers out while the tour party is still happily entertained inside the palace grounds. Several more incendiary devices are found in a couple of hours, and the city returns to its uneasy slumber.
___
In spite of Frankfurter’s fears, the night passed peacefully. The gathering at the palace, aided by the glittering presence of Princess Alisonia, Lady Pettygree, and Lady Masquerade is a social triumph. Princess Stuftliana choose the auspicious moment to make her reentry into the social whirl, looking exotically lovely in a simple gown from Frau Ewewarp. In recognition of the exhaustion of the day’s travel, the party breaks up at midnight.
In the hazy morning, Duchess Lynda and her ladies are awakened by sweet flute music being played by a quartet in the courtyard of the Beerstein embassy. After a breakfast featuring a selection of Frankszonia’s sausages, the ladies are especially delighted by the tour of the porcelain industry. Excellent Delft ware and brightly painted ceramics are displayed for their pleasure. They each get to select a set of some design that they personally find pleasing. After a short coffee with the other high level guests of the Duchy, they get a brief tour of the sausage factory. L’Comte Beauphaup apologizes for the shortness of the tour, but the factory in full production is hot, smelly, and very noisy.
To compensate for the chaotic racket of the sausage factory, the party is led to view the Frankfurter cathedral and the materials used in the coronation and annointing of the Holy Roman Emperor. While they tour the building, choirs take turns singing various hymns and historic songs from the choir stalls.
As they wander through the dusky corners of the Gothic edifice, a gentleman passes Lady Pettygree and whispers, “God save King Charles. Watch the wine.” Before she or Cherish can respond, the man is lost in the shadows. They step behind a pillar to discuss the incident with Catherine when an old woman brushes by who says, “Why do you tempt fate? Germania, though it gives you admirers also gives you deadly greetings. Look high and low!” Then, as a puff of incense causes the ladies to blink and sneeze, the old woman also is gone from sight.
Now thoroughly alarmed, the ladies seek out Col. Enigma who has so often protected them in the past. The whole party, however, is led out to the square, where in one corner a luncheon pavilion has been erected. There, brass bands of school children serenade them, one group presenting “The Tuba Sonnata”. The luncheon is lively ... exquistely grilled fish, bratwurst, and other items blend with the best beverages, laughter and chatter as the ladies and lords flirt and the children from the bands march by, red faced with pride.
Suddenly, the happy noise is shattered by the loud staccato of musket fire! As bullets smash into the crystal and china on the tables by Pettygree and Duke Wilhelm, the ever present guards spot the smoke from the roof of the Cathedral. Gallian and Frankszonian troops return fire, though the professional ear of the officers in the party notice that some of the Frankszonian “Guards” are equipped with rifles. Other soldiers dash into the building to try to catch these dastardly assasins.
The party members begin to scatter as the ladies scream and the men curse, but Col. Enigma catches a glimpse of an old lady beckoning by the Rectory. With loud commands he manages to herd the notables into the house and to get soldiers stationed at some of the windows. Ritter von Meltzer and Ambassador Sgnori Vittorio Moretti demand why they’ve been brought into this building with its large windows when the already garrisoned inn on the square had been closer. Even as the normally imperturbable colonel hunts for a good excuse, a loud, bright explosion tears out of the inn’s basement.
“I knew it!” Enigma exclaims and dashes off to find Lady Pettygree.
For about an half hour, the square is filled with competing troops ... cavalrymen from the Grand Tour, Frankszonian guards, and Gallian Grenadiers. As the confusion and furor die down, and as the smoke from the badly damaged inn settles, the Archbishop reports that the assassins seem to have escaped! “There are just too many hidden passages and acloves in the cathedral,” he explains. “Given the all the confusion outside, if the evil men had the foresight to dress in uniforms, they probably had an easy time making their withdrawal. We did, at least, find the three weapons they were using.”
Mack continued, "I learned this trick when I was in Canada. Buck and ball with a large charge of powder is the key. Makes a hell of a loud noise, you can hit almost everyone in a small room with at least a pellet or two, the cloud of smoke comes in handy if you have to retreat, and by the third shot most crowds have found better places to be, leaving one shot in reserve. Tonight, my friend, I am loaded for bear. Although I'll settle for stag!"
“More like a filthy old goat, I’m afraid,” Johannes responded. “We suspect that Roquefort and M’Lady are involved too.”
“No wonder every time I look around, I see an alert soldier of some type!” Erwin responded. “Looks like you’re going to try to swat flies with cannon balls!”
“That’s the general idea,” Johannes responded. “Hesse Cassel armies are too close to overlook the chance that either the guilds or the Resistance will make a serious effort ... and with all these agents in town, it’s likely that some of them are suggesting it.”
Even though, Johannes sounded like he was just grousing, v.Mack’s watchfulness had been suddenly amplified by what he’d heard. His eyes were moving from one deep shadow in the night bound street when he chanced on a face moving through a light, “Rottenbrat!” he hissed to Baddmann and quickly gestured at an otherwise nondescript laborer still putting up bunting.
In moments, their two horses were at the foot of the man’s ladder and four pistols were held close to some very sensitive areas. “Okay, Hans,” Baddmann growled, “come down very slowly and lean on the wall.
“Private!” he gestured to a nearby soldier, “call for the sergeant of the guard.”
As the soldiers clustered around him and thoroughly searched him, Hans Rottenbrat protested his innocence and productivity. V. Mack had already climbed the ladder for himself, however, and found a smelly, black rag in the folds of the bunting lying under a glass ball.
“So, Stagonia plans on Frankszonia having a hot time tomorrow?” he challenges the now silent and surly agent.
“Ver*%&#!!” Baddmann exclaims. “We’ve got miles of very expensive and brightly died cloth hanging on every house! It will all have to be checked tonight!”
“No need,” Rottenbrat asserts, “I just had time to put up one.”
After the prisoner is removed and handed over to the Gallians for deposit in the Bastille, Johannes and v. Mack hasten to the palace to spread the alarm. As. V. Mack delivers the letter to Andrew, Herr Kunegunde orders the town criers out while the tour party is still happily entertained inside the palace grounds. Several more incendiary devices are found in a couple of hours, and the city returns to its uneasy slumber.
___
In spite of Frankfurter’s fears, the night passed peacefully. The gathering at the palace, aided by the glittering presence of Princess Alisonia, Lady Pettygree, and Lady Masquerade is a social triumph. Princess Stuftliana choose the auspicious moment to make her reentry into the social whirl, looking exotically lovely in a simple gown from Frau Ewewarp. In recognition of the exhaustion of the day’s travel, the party breaks up at midnight.
In the hazy morning, Duchess Lynda and her ladies are awakened by sweet flute music being played by a quartet in the courtyard of the Beerstein embassy. After a breakfast featuring a selection of Frankszonia’s sausages, the ladies are especially delighted by the tour of the porcelain industry. Excellent Delft ware and brightly painted ceramics are displayed for their pleasure. They each get to select a set of some design that they personally find pleasing. After a short coffee with the other high level guests of the Duchy, they get a brief tour of the sausage factory. L’Comte Beauphaup apologizes for the shortness of the tour, but the factory in full production is hot, smelly, and very noisy.
To compensate for the chaotic racket of the sausage factory, the party is led to view the Frankfurter cathedral and the materials used in the coronation and annointing of the Holy Roman Emperor. While they tour the building, choirs take turns singing various hymns and historic songs from the choir stalls.
As they wander through the dusky corners of the Gothic edifice, a gentleman passes Lady Pettygree and whispers, “God save King Charles. Watch the wine.” Before she or Cherish can respond, the man is lost in the shadows. They step behind a pillar to discuss the incident with Catherine when an old woman brushes by who says, “Why do you tempt fate? Germania, though it gives you admirers also gives you deadly greetings. Look high and low!” Then, as a puff of incense causes the ladies to blink and sneeze, the old woman also is gone from sight.
Now thoroughly alarmed, the ladies seek out Col. Enigma who has so often protected them in the past. The whole party, however, is led out to the square, where in one corner a luncheon pavilion has been erected. There, brass bands of school children serenade them, one group presenting “The Tuba Sonnata”. The luncheon is lively ... exquistely grilled fish, bratwurst, and other items blend with the best beverages, laughter and chatter as the ladies and lords flirt and the children from the bands march by, red faced with pride.
Suddenly, the happy noise is shattered by the loud staccato of musket fire! As bullets smash into the crystal and china on the tables by Pettygree and Duke Wilhelm, the ever present guards spot the smoke from the roof of the Cathedral. Gallian and Frankszonian troops return fire, though the professional ear of the officers in the party notice that some of the Frankszonian “Guards” are equipped with rifles. Other soldiers dash into the building to try to catch these dastardly assasins.
The party members begin to scatter as the ladies scream and the men curse, but Col. Enigma catches a glimpse of an old lady beckoning by the Rectory. With loud commands he manages to herd the notables into the house and to get soldiers stationed at some of the windows. Ritter von Meltzer and Ambassador Sgnori Vittorio Moretti demand why they’ve been brought into this building with its large windows when the already garrisoned inn on the square had been closer. Even as the normally imperturbable colonel hunts for a good excuse, a loud, bright explosion tears out of the inn’s basement.
“I knew it!” Enigma exclaims and dashes off to find Lady Pettygree.
For about an half hour, the square is filled with competing troops ... cavalrymen from the Grand Tour, Frankszonian guards, and Gallian Grenadiers. As the confusion and furor die down, and as the smoke from the badly damaged inn settles, the Archbishop reports that the assassins seem to have escaped! “There are just too many hidden passages and acloves in the cathedral,” he explains. “Given the all the confusion outside, if the evil men had the foresight to dress in uniforms, they probably had an easy time making their withdrawal. We did, at least, find the three weapons they were using.”
Monday, July 6, 2009
The King is Coming, The King is Coming!
The ladies gather chattering in Capitaine Malecki's residence. After their adventure and the excitement, the conversation is perhaps a little louder than usual. Even the fine vintages, including some fine old bottles of Chevert don’t seem to calm them. Some of the local battalion’s musicians gather outside to play a few pieces ... and to practice their regimental music. In all the noise, the clatter of hooves from a hard ridden horse and the challenges of the sentries are almost missed. Col. Enigma, who had been inside the house with the Princess Allisonia, however, has learned to always be on his guard when the Lady Pettygree is in the area.
Quickly pulling a pistol from his waistcoat, he steps beside a window and looks out past the drapes.
“Something’s happening,” Diana warns her friends, and in a moment, the cheerful party falls silent and alert ... a surprising number of other pistols appear from the voluminous folds of the ladies’ riding gear. The sound of the guards snapping to attention, and the command “Present ... Harms!” from outside, however, reassure them. Thus, when the door is opened, the young rider is not shocked by the sight of an unseemly number of gun barrels pointed at him. Rather, he minces inside in his silken brocade uniform, fluttering more lace than a rose bush has blooms. He pouts in attempt to appear serious, and bows to the assembled party.
“M’Lords and M’Ladies” (except it should be in stilted school French) the youngster proclaims, “I have the honor a message for Her Highness, the Princess Alisonia, and the Ladies Pettygree and Masquerade to be carrying.”
Even as the Princess begins a gracious reply, Lady Pettygree asks, “From whom does this missive come?”
“It is an urgent note from my Lord, L’Comte de Beauphaup, m’Lady.”
“The old fart’s private diplomat,” the captain declares. “What’s up, lad?”
“If my Ladies will read this missive,” the youngster responds, “I’m sure all will be made clear.”
Lady Cherish Masquerade quickly accepts the proffered envelope, breaks the seal and unfolds the stiff parchment. “Diana,” she exclaims, “King Basil could be here any moment!”
—
In Frankfurter, adjutants and notables are scurrying about in haste. L’Comte Bastille is interrupted in his interrogation of the new prisoners by an harried looking aide. The would be assassins are hurriedly stripped and locked away while the Gallians send their own swarms of messengers into the countryside and to the nearby encampment. Cloth merchants are raided for bolts of cloth to be used as bunting which swarms of apprentices and mechanics quickly nail over the main intersections.
At the palace, Moosart scrambles to get his little orchestra together while the Hurtshog consults with his diplomatic advisors and the StadtRadt leaders. “Can we put together a quick agenda?” is the question on everybody’s mind.
The consensus is that the presence of the lovely and widely admired foreigner noblewomen is a real boon, even if their presence was part of another nefarious plot by the occupying forces of Gallia. If they will participate, a reception and informal fete would give the city a night to spruce up. In the morning, a quick formal inspection of some show troops followed by the mandatory tours of the excellent ceramic works (and a good source of exquisite gifts for all the visitors) and the famous sausage works, followed by a tuba concert. Then a real ball to the music of Moosart’s musicians.
The guild syndics, of course, hope to corral the various diplomats with the party and obtain good contracts for the long lasting Frankfurter field sausages, artillery from the foundry shared with Offenbach, and similar condiments. Their primary anxiety is that the Hurtshog is going to try to intervene to make these contracts very favorable for the young King Basil, as his opposition to the Turkish hordes may open up new products for pork based products.
=—
As the afternoon wears on, the convoy of the Grand Tour is delayed by numerous check points. The closeness of major armies for Gallia and Hesse Seewald involves numerous little challenges for the diplomats riding with the party. Finally, a couple of chivalrous generals from the opposing sides generate special passes and each contributes a ceremonial escort ... a fact grimly noted by some nondescript shepherds as the party passes through one of the many woods near Frankfurt.
As the now enlarged party exits the hills overlooking the fortress town and its surrounding encampments, two squadrons of cavalry approach. The first to arrive is a somewhat dusty but otherwise impecable Col. Enigma and a troop of hussars. With a lovely caracole, he brings his troop into the double file reception lines along the road. Riding up to the royal coach, he makes is bow and politely welcomes King Basil and Reich Duke William on behalf of l’Comte Bastille, Intendant of Frankfurter, and General Broglie of the nearby Gallian army.
While the hussars, whose escorting troops seem to gravitate towards the vivandiers from Monte Cristo, squeeze in beside the considerable force already present, a glittering troop of Frankfurter Guard Cuirassiers arrives at a more sedate pace. General Hottatrot rides forward to deliver a somewhat florid greeting, but winks at the ladies as he delivers it. Ritter von Meltzer, in command of the convoy’s escorting cavalry, however, notes that a considerable number of dragoons had peeled away from the Cuirassiers during their approach march and seemed to be carefully searching the fields and copses off the road.
“Is there some problem?” he inquires of General Hottatrot ... indicating one of these hunting parties.
“Rumors, my man, rumors only,” the genial general responds. “Just taking precautions against any eventuality ... we are rather close to some angry folks here!” he laughs.
*Ja,* King Basil thinks, *rumors, Das is richtig ... und rumors in Morea wenn Ich comt also*
Quickly pulling a pistol from his waistcoat, he steps beside a window and looks out past the drapes.
“Something’s happening,” Diana warns her friends, and in a moment, the cheerful party falls silent and alert ... a surprising number of other pistols appear from the voluminous folds of the ladies’ riding gear. The sound of the guards snapping to attention, and the command “Present ... Harms!” from outside, however, reassure them. Thus, when the door is opened, the young rider is not shocked by the sight of an unseemly number of gun barrels pointed at him. Rather, he minces inside in his silken brocade uniform, fluttering more lace than a rose bush has blooms. He pouts in attempt to appear serious, and bows to the assembled party.
“M’Lords and M’Ladies” (except it should be in stilted school French) the youngster proclaims, “I have the honor a message for Her Highness, the Princess Alisonia, and the Ladies Pettygree and Masquerade to be carrying.”
Even as the Princess begins a gracious reply, Lady Pettygree asks, “From whom does this missive come?”
“It is an urgent note from my Lord, L’Comte de Beauphaup, m’Lady.”
“The old fart’s private diplomat,” the captain declares. “What’s up, lad?”
“If my Ladies will read this missive,” the youngster responds, “I’m sure all will be made clear.”
Lady Cherish Masquerade quickly accepts the proffered envelope, breaks the seal and unfolds the stiff parchment. “Diana,” she exclaims, “King Basil could be here any moment!”
—
In Frankfurter, adjutants and notables are scurrying about in haste. L’Comte Bastille is interrupted in his interrogation of the new prisoners by an harried looking aide. The would be assassins are hurriedly stripped and locked away while the Gallians send their own swarms of messengers into the countryside and to the nearby encampment. Cloth merchants are raided for bolts of cloth to be used as bunting which swarms of apprentices and mechanics quickly nail over the main intersections.
At the palace, Moosart scrambles to get his little orchestra together while the Hurtshog consults with his diplomatic advisors and the StadtRadt leaders. “Can we put together a quick agenda?” is the question on everybody’s mind.
The consensus is that the presence of the lovely and widely admired foreigner noblewomen is a real boon, even if their presence was part of another nefarious plot by the occupying forces of Gallia. If they will participate, a reception and informal fete would give the city a night to spruce up. In the morning, a quick formal inspection of some show troops followed by the mandatory tours of the excellent ceramic works (and a good source of exquisite gifts for all the visitors) and the famous sausage works, followed by a tuba concert. Then a real ball to the music of Moosart’s musicians.
The guild syndics, of course, hope to corral the various diplomats with the party and obtain good contracts for the long lasting Frankfurter field sausages, artillery from the foundry shared with Offenbach, and similar condiments. Their primary anxiety is that the Hurtshog is going to try to intervene to make these contracts very favorable for the young King Basil, as his opposition to the Turkish hordes may open up new products for pork based products.
=—
As the afternoon wears on, the convoy of the Grand Tour is delayed by numerous check points. The closeness of major armies for Gallia and Hesse Seewald involves numerous little challenges for the diplomats riding with the party. Finally, a couple of chivalrous generals from the opposing sides generate special passes and each contributes a ceremonial escort ... a fact grimly noted by some nondescript shepherds as the party passes through one of the many woods near Frankfurt.
As the now enlarged party exits the hills overlooking the fortress town and its surrounding encampments, two squadrons of cavalry approach. The first to arrive is a somewhat dusty but otherwise impecable Col. Enigma and a troop of hussars. With a lovely caracole, he brings his troop into the double file reception lines along the road. Riding up to the royal coach, he makes is bow and politely welcomes King Basil and Reich Duke William on behalf of l’Comte Bastille, Intendant of Frankfurter, and General Broglie of the nearby Gallian army.
While the hussars, whose escorting troops seem to gravitate towards the vivandiers from Monte Cristo, squeeze in beside the considerable force already present, a glittering troop of Frankfurter Guard Cuirassiers arrives at a more sedate pace. General Hottatrot rides forward to deliver a somewhat florid greeting, but winks at the ladies as he delivers it. Ritter von Meltzer, in command of the convoy’s escorting cavalry, however, notes that a considerable number of dragoons had peeled away from the Cuirassiers during their approach march and seemed to be carefully searching the fields and copses off the road.
“Is there some problem?” he inquires of General Hottatrot ... indicating one of these hunting parties.
“Rumors, my man, rumors only,” the genial general responds. “Just taking precautions against any eventuality ... we are rather close to some angry folks here!” he laughs.
*Ja,* King Basil thinks, *rumors, Das is richtig ... und rumors in Morea wenn Ich comt also*
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
A Very Dry Vintage
A Very Dry Vintage
It was a dark and very quiet night (okay, I couldn’t resist). With no moon, the stars over Frankfurter sprinkled back from the wavelets on the Main. Along the unloading piers for the Gallian depot, the sentry marches tiredly on. Quietly, after the sentry has passed, two figures suddenly appear on one of the barges and step quickly across to the pier to one of the ramshackle sheds thrown up by the Gallian suppliers. The smaller fiddles with the door for a second, steps through and then back out and nods to the larger. The large man, who even in this dim light looks like an old copper statue, ducks under the lintel and a moment later steps back out carrying a barrel. The two step back onto the barge and disappear. The whole action taking less than a few seconds.
In the dark, sentries exchange the sign and countersign, and the local private wearily plods back the wier to the other end of his beat. As he passes, a strange, long boat with both ends curved up and together slips silently out into the river. The two passengers steadily and stealthily dip their paddles into the water and cross over towards Saxenhousen.
“That was quick, Moose Hunter,” the short man in the front of the canoe whispered. “Are you sure you got one?”
“Third one I picked up, Johannes,” Moose Hunter replied. “It’s full, but there’s no liquid in it.”
They quietly finish their voayage and get pulled through the muck on the south shore by a couple of soldiers. The barrel is lifted onto a small cart, and the soldiers led by a young Fahenjunker and an Hauptman hurry through the dark streets followed by Johannes and Moose Hunter. They stop at what appears to be a run down boarding house and carry the barrel inside. The soldiers step outside again and march away except for the two officers who move slowly towards a darkened inn.
“So! Our little Gallian lap dog is stealing from his master again!” the Fahenjunker cheerfully commented.
“Hush!” the Hauptman answered quickly. Then he looked carefully around and lowered his voice. “It’s time you started to pay attention to things that a nobleman should notice. And it’s time you learned to keep your mouth shut too, now that Kunegunde has Bastille’s little house to take the blame for his actions.”
“I’m sorry, Father,” the youngster apologized. “What is it that you want me to notice?”
“Frankszonia has fought four wars with other Gallian allies ....”
“And the Hurtshog has carefully held back the best troops at the last moment to ensure that they win!”
“... But under the cover of those little squabbles, the Hurtshog has eliminated the pockets of territory cutting up out Stadtholdings and more than doubled our territory and resources.”
“So he’s a good little Hurtshog who is nicely improving his claim,” the youngster snorted.
“Wake up, Son! The Hurtshog and his councilors are quite serious about Deutschland vor Deutsche Volk. They’ve got this impossible dream of some sort of confederation of little states that can keep the big boys from tearing up our towns for their playground.”
“Isn’t that what the Wieners and their Reich are supposed to be doing?”
“Ja, and you can see for yourself how wonderfully well THAT is working.”
“So what? If our tiny army sneezes, Bastille and Broglie will impress whoever is unlucky enough to survive “
”If Germania and Hesse Seewald win another big one nearby, where will all those Gallian troops be? With the Resistance fighters who always seem to get away, the supposed deserters under Pepperoni and Braunsweiger, and few other friends like Hesse Fedora, I suspect that the Hurtshog will have enough to hold Frankfurter until relieved.”
“So we’re going to double cross the frogs?”
“Only if we have to. We are quite aware that neither Germania nor Hesse Seewald are really all that interested in having a lot of little autonomous duchies to deal with. Now hush. Not a word of this even to Mother or you sister and especially not to Fraulein Busch!” At this point, they open a dark door from which light and laughter spilled.
Back at the rooming house, two nobles carry lamps into the dark sitting room. They are accompanied by a scholar. One of them reveals a prybar and starts to open the barrel.
“Careful, Your Highness!” Johannes urges.
“Somebody has to, and too many have to be hurt for me these days,” the stout man answered.
As the lid rises, a dark powder is revealed. All turn to the scholar who comes forward, lifts a small pinch out and carries it to a lamp where he studies it with a magnifying glass.
“Well, Rabbi?” the other nobleman demands.
“You were right, General,” the scholar answers. “It’s not gunpowder. This looks more like the flash powder they put into fireworks to make the loud noises. Frankly, it could dangerous if somebody charged his piece with a normal measure.”
“Are you positive, Badmann, that the Gallians don’t know about this yet?” the Hurtshog asked.
“I’m not sure,” Badmann responded. “This barrel is marked the same as that spoiled juice that Bastille and all the Gallian peers drink.”
“Then there should barrels like this in the private quarters of almost every Gallian notable around here,” Moose Hunter grunted.
“Do we tell them?” the general asked.
“I’m not sure yet,” the Hurtshog mused. “We do brief our cleaning ladies and so forth right away ... let’s see if we can get this stuff before it goes off. This could be M’Lady’s or Stagonia’s handiwork, but Roquefort has his own nefarious agenda, and we’ve put a monkey wrench in it. He may be looking for some sudden job opportunities for his own agents.”
There was a moment’s silence, and the Hurtshog turned to the scholar. “I’m a bit thin right now, Rabbi,” he said, “but I think that boatman friend of yours and his family ought to spend the next Passover in Jerusalem on a small stipend. Otherwise, let’s get this to a more useful spot. Moose Hunter, Lady Pettygree is nearby. That means M’Lady is too. Hunt her and see if any threads come loose. Guten Nacht!”
The noblemen both walk quickly out of the room and disappear down the hall towards the back of the house.
It was a dark and very quiet night (okay, I couldn’t resist). With no moon, the stars over Frankfurter sprinkled back from the wavelets on the Main. Along the unloading piers for the Gallian depot, the sentry marches tiredly on. Quietly, after the sentry has passed, two figures suddenly appear on one of the barges and step quickly across to the pier to one of the ramshackle sheds thrown up by the Gallian suppliers. The smaller fiddles with the door for a second, steps through and then back out and nods to the larger. The large man, who even in this dim light looks like an old copper statue, ducks under the lintel and a moment later steps back out carrying a barrel. The two step back onto the barge and disappear. The whole action taking less than a few seconds.
In the dark, sentries exchange the sign and countersign, and the local private wearily plods back the wier to the other end of his beat. As he passes, a strange, long boat with both ends curved up and together slips silently out into the river. The two passengers steadily and stealthily dip their paddles into the water and cross over towards Saxenhousen.
“That was quick, Moose Hunter,” the short man in the front of the canoe whispered. “Are you sure you got one?”
“Third one I picked up, Johannes,” Moose Hunter replied. “It’s full, but there’s no liquid in it.”
They quietly finish their voayage and get pulled through the muck on the south shore by a couple of soldiers. The barrel is lifted onto a small cart, and the soldiers led by a young Fahenjunker and an Hauptman hurry through the dark streets followed by Johannes and Moose Hunter. They stop at what appears to be a run down boarding house and carry the barrel inside. The soldiers step outside again and march away except for the two officers who move slowly towards a darkened inn.
“So! Our little Gallian lap dog is stealing from his master again!” the Fahenjunker cheerfully commented.
“Hush!” the Hauptman answered quickly. Then he looked carefully around and lowered his voice. “It’s time you started to pay attention to things that a nobleman should notice. And it’s time you learned to keep your mouth shut too, now that Kunegunde has Bastille’s little house to take the blame for his actions.”
“I’m sorry, Father,” the youngster apologized. “What is it that you want me to notice?”
“Frankszonia has fought four wars with other Gallian allies ....”
“And the Hurtshog has carefully held back the best troops at the last moment to ensure that they win!”
“... But under the cover of those little squabbles, the Hurtshog has eliminated the pockets of territory cutting up out Stadtholdings and more than doubled our territory and resources.”
“So he’s a good little Hurtshog who is nicely improving his claim,” the youngster snorted.
“Wake up, Son! The Hurtshog and his councilors are quite serious about Deutschland vor Deutsche Volk. They’ve got this impossible dream of some sort of confederation of little states that can keep the big boys from tearing up our towns for their playground.”
“Isn’t that what the Wieners and their Reich are supposed to be doing?”
“Ja, and you can see for yourself how wonderfully well THAT is working.”
“So what? If our tiny army sneezes, Bastille and Broglie will impress whoever is unlucky enough to survive “
”If Germania and Hesse Seewald win another big one nearby, where will all those Gallian troops be? With the Resistance fighters who always seem to get away, the supposed deserters under Pepperoni and Braunsweiger, and few other friends like Hesse Fedora, I suspect that the Hurtshog will have enough to hold Frankfurter until relieved.”
“So we’re going to double cross the frogs?”
“Only if we have to. We are quite aware that neither Germania nor Hesse Seewald are really all that interested in having a lot of little autonomous duchies to deal with. Now hush. Not a word of this even to Mother or you sister and especially not to Fraulein Busch!” At this point, they open a dark door from which light and laughter spilled.
Back at the rooming house, two nobles carry lamps into the dark sitting room. They are accompanied by a scholar. One of them reveals a prybar and starts to open the barrel.
“Careful, Your Highness!” Johannes urges.
“Somebody has to, and too many have to be hurt for me these days,” the stout man answered.
As the lid rises, a dark powder is revealed. All turn to the scholar who comes forward, lifts a small pinch out and carries it to a lamp where he studies it with a magnifying glass.
“Well, Rabbi?” the other nobleman demands.
“You were right, General,” the scholar answers. “It’s not gunpowder. This looks more like the flash powder they put into fireworks to make the loud noises. Frankly, it could dangerous if somebody charged his piece with a normal measure.”
“Are you positive, Badmann, that the Gallians don’t know about this yet?” the Hurtshog asked.
“I’m not sure,” Badmann responded. “This barrel is marked the same as that spoiled juice that Bastille and all the Gallian peers drink.”
“Then there should barrels like this in the private quarters of almost every Gallian notable around here,” Moose Hunter grunted.
“Do we tell them?” the general asked.
“I’m not sure yet,” the Hurtshog mused. “We do brief our cleaning ladies and so forth right away ... let’s see if we can get this stuff before it goes off. This could be M’Lady’s or Stagonia’s handiwork, but Roquefort has his own nefarious agenda, and we’ve put a monkey wrench in it. He may be looking for some sudden job opportunities for his own agents.”
There was a moment’s silence, and the Hurtshog turned to the scholar. “I’m a bit thin right now, Rabbi,” he said, “but I think that boatman friend of yours and his family ought to spend the next Passover in Jerusalem on a small stipend. Otherwise, let’s get this to a more useful spot. Moose Hunter, Lady Pettygree is nearby. That means M’Lady is too. Hunt her and see if any threads come loose. Guten Nacht!”
The noblemen both walk quickly out of the room and disappear down the hall towards the back of the house.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Ein Appeal zu der Volksrad
A personal message from the Hurtshog Stanken Fahrtz v. Frankfurter to the Deutsche Adelborn (German nobility):
My dear Cousins:
It has come to our attention that some consider Frankszonia to be an imperialist, aggressor state. This seems to have arisen due to our campaign to create a Super Sized Fry Stadt.
Ironically, this mis apprehension devolves from our desire to create a less plastic situation in which the dignity and freshness of our Folk is swallowed up by some six million strong ogre. Indeed, even though we in Frankszonia are ourselves perforce occupied by the Gallian hordes, one may notice that our struggles are often with our soi distant allies therein who have been caught undermining the autonomy of a local franchise.
Indeed, unlike other self proclaimed defenders of the Deutsche Mark, almost before the furor of conflict has fallen silent, the leaders of our neighbors have found themselves in the Frankfurter Bun, with the flavor of their office and authority enhanced rather than reduced.
Come, the Kreis are sounding for the defense of the Empress and our Graftsen. We are one Folk. Let us all go together in one Folk’s Wagon!
Sincerely,
Hzg. F v Frankfurter
My dear Cousins:
It has come to our attention that some consider Frankszonia to be an imperialist, aggressor state. This seems to have arisen due to our campaign to create a Super Sized Fry Stadt.
Ironically, this mis apprehension devolves from our desire to create a less plastic situation in which the dignity and freshness of our Folk is swallowed up by some six million strong ogre. Indeed, even though we in Frankszonia are ourselves perforce occupied by the Gallian hordes, one may notice that our struggles are often with our soi distant allies therein who have been caught undermining the autonomy of a local franchise.
Indeed, unlike other self proclaimed defenders of the Deutsche Mark, almost before the furor of conflict has fallen silent, the leaders of our neighbors have found themselves in the Frankfurter Bun, with the flavor of their office and authority enhanced rather than reduced.
Come, the Kreis are sounding for the defense of the Empress and our Graftsen. We are one Folk. Let us all go together in one Folk’s Wagon!
Sincerely,
Hzg. F v Frankfurter
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Eventual Events
First, on the Frankszonia blog, I've updated the lists and profiles of folks who are supporting the Elector versus Gallia inside Frankszonia.
About this time,Baron Wiffen Fhartz von Inkblot zu Grossen and General Braunschweiger should show up in the Germanian headquarters seeking an audience with the Elector and the duke of Hesse Seewald.
Also, while Gen. Broglie and the Intendant Bastille are in conference, they are interrrupted by a commotion. An officer barges into the room with a sergeant and an old Moustache. The enlisted men's uniforms are spattered with blood.
"Report!" barks Broglie.
"Sire" the officer salutes clumsily, "there's been an poison attempt. These clods killed the poisoner before we could question him."
"Pour Certament!" exlaims Bastille.
"No! No!" the Moustache pleads.
"Sire!" the sergeant complains, "we caught him in the act of dosing the officer's mess kettle. We took him alive in spite of his struggles, but as we were forcing him into the hall, his blood suddenly spurted all over us. None of my men had so much as drawn a bayonet!"
"This note was found upon the assasin, my Lords," the officer contiued.
Gen. Broglie takes the scrap and reads, "Die Reine geffallen am der Main."
Bastille chokes for a moment as he wonders, is this the hand of the infamous Stille Fhartz or another nefarious bit of Frankszonian politics?
Meanwhile, the Hurtshog with his main forces is almost a day's march to the northwest, approaching Ginnheim. They hope to disperse the concentration of Resistance, Cheezers, and Hang Overians who are in an entrenched camp in the woods near Russelheim.
About this time,Baron Wiffen Fhartz von Inkblot zu Grossen and General Braunschweiger should show up in the Germanian headquarters seeking an audience with the Elector and the duke of Hesse Seewald.
Also, while Gen. Broglie and the Intendant Bastille are in conference, they are interrrupted by a commotion. An officer barges into the room with a sergeant and an old Moustache. The enlisted men's uniforms are spattered with blood.
"Report!" barks Broglie.
"Sire" the officer salutes clumsily, "there's been an poison attempt. These clods killed the poisoner before we could question him."
"Pour Certament!" exlaims Bastille.
"No! No!" the Moustache pleads.
"Sire!" the sergeant complains, "we caught him in the act of dosing the officer's mess kettle. We took him alive in spite of his struggles, but as we were forcing him into the hall, his blood suddenly spurted all over us. None of my men had so much as drawn a bayonet!"
"This note was found upon the assasin, my Lords," the officer contiued.
Gen. Broglie takes the scrap and reads, "Die Reine geffallen am der Main."
Bastille chokes for a moment as he wonders, is this the hand of the infamous Stille Fhartz or another nefarious bit of Frankszonian politics?
Meanwhile, the Hurtshog with his main forces is almost a day's march to the northwest, approaching Ginnheim. They hope to disperse the concentration of Resistance, Cheezers, and Hang Overians who are in an entrenched camp in the woods near Russelheim.
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
Gallian's Wintering In Germania And Elsewhere
Gallian's Wintering In Germania And Elsewhere
Narrator: Snow and cold weather in western Germania brought military operations between Gallia and Freyburg versus Hesse-Seewaldt and Britannia to a halt. As we begin 1758/2008, it may perhaps be useful to recall....
Germania (See the “Friedrich” board game map, if you please):
Koblenz, Gallian magazine of:
10,000 Gallians.
Frankfurt Am Main, Gallian Magazine of:
15,000 Gallians commanded by l'Intendant Bastille.
Bastille released some Frankzonian prisoners for Christmas.
Frankzonians were grateful and impressed.
West of Frankfurt and Koblenz, west of the Rhine:
Winter Encampment of l'Duc de Broglie and l'Duc de Poyanne's Army.
de Broglie is in Versailles. De Poyanne temporarily left the Main Army to inspect the Koblenz garrison, also under his command.
Large Main Army, 20,000 estimated soldiers.
Gemünden, Fortress of:
Lt. General Chevert has encamped his entire Army here refitting for the Spring Campaign. Some think he will be ordered into Bohemia (Saxe-Bearstein) when the Armistice between The Imperium and Germania falls to pieces. Should there be trouble in Frankzonia he is within two days march of Frankfurt Am Main, the latter to the westward of the fortress. Estimated to have 15,000 soldiers.
In Scotland:
Charles Edward Stuart landed with a battalion of Royal Scots in mid December. There he met with clans loyal to his family and merged clan forces into what he hopes will be an uprising to recover Scotland and the throne - at least in Scotland. The Prince and the Royal Scots were brought by a Gallian naval squadron, the latter returned to Gallia. Can we expect more soldiers to be sent? Well dear reader we must await the results of the meeting of l'Chevalier du Nord with the Gallian Foreign Ministry. Du Nord had previously been on Shetland and then was with the Prince in Scotland. Finally scouts have looked in on the nervous garrison of Edinburgh reporting disconsolations and trepidations among the troops of George II, fearing a Clan Uprising - again.
On Shetland:
No Gallian presence there once l'Chevalier du Nord was wisked away to Scotland in a clandestine but fraternal voyage. However, Gallia supports Tradgardland's occupation and we may presume Tradgardland may be happy with the above diversion to Scotland to keep Britannia discombobulated. Perhaps there is a political combination we have yet to learn about, eh?
Fortress of Louisbourg, New World:
Governor Silhouette is marooned by the ice in the harbor. Plans are afoot for the Spring thaw. Is there something cooking with Ny Tradgardland to vex the Brtitannians nearby?
At Versailles:
Parties and more parties. There we see our dear ladies, Lady Diana Pettygree, Lady Cherish Masquerade and Lady Belle Silhouette. Marshall Broglie is in residence too along with all the other Gallian personalities not already mentioned.
Meanwhile:
We may imagine Gallian soldiers enjoying the fireplaces in their barracks, singing songs, dreaming of home, manning outposts, awaiting plodding supply trains from home while sentries walk their posts peering into the distance for the unlikely appearance of Der Erbprinz or the Marquis of Granby. Patrols are periodically sent out in search of mischief. Nothing so far. The foe must also be enjoying the respite.
Posted by Gallia at 9:44 PM
Narrator: Snow and cold weather in western Germania brought military operations between Gallia and Freyburg versus Hesse-Seewaldt and Britannia to a halt. As we begin 1758/2008, it may perhaps be useful to recall....
Germania (See the “Friedrich” board game map, if you please):
Koblenz, Gallian magazine of:
10,000 Gallians.
Frankfurt Am Main, Gallian Magazine of:
15,000 Gallians commanded by l'Intendant Bastille.
Bastille released some Frankzonian prisoners for Christmas.
Frankzonians were grateful and impressed.
West of Frankfurt and Koblenz, west of the Rhine:
Winter Encampment of l'Duc de Broglie and l'Duc de Poyanne's Army.
de Broglie is in Versailles. De Poyanne temporarily left the Main Army to inspect the Koblenz garrison, also under his command.
Large Main Army, 20,000 estimated soldiers.
Gemünden, Fortress of:
Lt. General Chevert has encamped his entire Army here refitting for the Spring Campaign. Some think he will be ordered into Bohemia (Saxe-Bearstein) when the Armistice between The Imperium and Germania falls to pieces. Should there be trouble in Frankzonia he is within two days march of Frankfurt Am Main, the latter to the westward of the fortress. Estimated to have 15,000 soldiers.
In Scotland:
Charles Edward Stuart landed with a battalion of Royal Scots in mid December. There he met with clans loyal to his family and merged clan forces into what he hopes will be an uprising to recover Scotland and the throne - at least in Scotland. The Prince and the Royal Scots were brought by a Gallian naval squadron, the latter returned to Gallia. Can we expect more soldiers to be sent? Well dear reader we must await the results of the meeting of l'Chevalier du Nord with the Gallian Foreign Ministry. Du Nord had previously been on Shetland and then was with the Prince in Scotland. Finally scouts have looked in on the nervous garrison of Edinburgh reporting disconsolations and trepidations among the troops of George II, fearing a Clan Uprising - again.
On Shetland:
No Gallian presence there once l'Chevalier du Nord was wisked away to Scotland in a clandestine but fraternal voyage. However, Gallia supports Tradgardland's occupation and we may presume Tradgardland may be happy with the above diversion to Scotland to keep Britannia discombobulated. Perhaps there is a political combination we have yet to learn about, eh?
Fortress of Louisbourg, New World:
Governor Silhouette is marooned by the ice in the harbor. Plans are afoot for the Spring thaw. Is there something cooking with Ny Tradgardland to vex the Brtitannians nearby?
At Versailles:
Parties and more parties. There we see our dear ladies, Lady Diana Pettygree, Lady Cherish Masquerade and Lady Belle Silhouette. Marshall Broglie is in residence too along with all the other Gallian personalities not already mentioned.
Meanwhile:
We may imagine Gallian soldiers enjoying the fireplaces in their barracks, singing songs, dreaming of home, manning outposts, awaiting plodding supply trains from home while sentries walk their posts peering into the distance for the unlikely appearance of Der Erbprinz or the Marquis of Granby. Patrols are periodically sent out in search of mischief. Nothing so far. The foe must also be enjoying the respite.
Posted by Gallia at 9:44 PM
Thursday, September 13, 2007
Divers News From Gallia
Divers News From Gallia
Esteemed Gentlemen,
Mostly to keep me on track, may I offer this news?
------------------------
Gallian Armée du Marshall de Broglie:
Near Minden, Germania where the Britannian Army and her allies are posted.
Broglie pursued the Marquis of Granby after the latter was defeated in June at Gütersloh, Germania.
--------------------------
Gallian Armée du Lieutenant General de Chevert:
Adjacent to the fortress of Gemünden awaiting Der Erbrpinz von Hesse Seewald. An Avant Garde of Frankzonians blocks the main road northward from which Der Erbprinz must march, if he marches south. Chevert retreated to this location after his defeat at the hands of Der Erbprinz at Salzungen in August. The army is just about fully recovered. The fortress anchors Chevert's flank. Confidence is returning. The armée of Lt. Gen. de Poyanne is near at Frankfurt Am Main and Lt. Col. Enigma and his cavalry are returned to the theatre.
------------------------------
Gallian Magazine At Frankfurt Am Main:
l'Intendant Bastille's paranoia has subsided regarding mischief, confusions and intrigues everywhere. Calm has been restored especially since Lt. General de Poyanne remains close by with his 25,000 Gallians. Rebels were scattered by the latter some weeks ago making things more peaceful. It also helps Bastille's digestion that the Ladies Pettygree and Masquerade left under the care of a massive brigade of cavalry commanded by Lt. Col. Enigma at the very height of politcal distress. The latter has just returned to Frankfurt Am Main awaiting orders. The new jail is filled to near capacity with rebels.
--------------------
At Versailles (Gallian capital):
The party of Lady Diana Pettygree and Lady Cherish Masquerade arrived at Versailles and are recovering from their lightning fast jounrney from the Gallian magazine of Frankfurt Am Main. Lady Pettygree has requested an audience with the Gallian Foreign Minister, Prince du Charade to present to him a letter from the Frankzonian government. So far the Prince has not asked Lady Pettygree to attend him with the letter.
--------------------------------
Gallian Foreign Ministry:
The Prince de Charade issued an opinion to the King that the perpetrators of the fire attack from a certain nation of the Orient be tried as spies. He further noted a declaration of war at this time would be pointless. Time will allow some action another day. The war in Germania and alarms from Governor General l'Duc de Silhouette from the Fortress of Louisbourg on Cape Breton Island in the New World are keeping Gallia busy enough. Charade is about to write a letter full of thanks to the the Gallian ally Freyburg for reinforcements en-route into the Gewrmania theatre of war.
------------------------------
Aboard l'Vengenace:
Enseigne Bargot reported to l'Capitaine that the frigate has logged an amazing 1,200 miles in six days from Louisbourg in the New World bound for Le Havre. The frigate is amazingly fast and was aided in this journey by convenient sea currents some navigators say come from the eastern seaboard of America and the Gulf of Mexico. Our voyagers do not know the wind of an approaching but distant hurricane to said eastern coast also added significantly to their journey. At this rate they will reach Le Havre on the 20th instant or thereabouts. The ship carries important diplomatic dispatches from Ny Tragardland and the Gallian Governor General of the Fortress of Louisbourg, l'Duc de Silhouette.
--------------------------------
Naval Hospital at Le Havre:
The chief surgeon is about to dismiss the recuperating Tragardland diplomat von Bergman. He thinks the 20th instant will be the day. Von Bergman is understandibly in earnest to resume his mission to Versailles to court the Prince de Charade into an alliance with his country. Von Bergman's gruesome wound suffered in the naval battle between l'Vengeance and Invinceable has healed miraculously. Lucky fellow.
--------------------------
Aboard Britannian Frigate Invinceable:
Damage suffered by lucky long shots in the naval action of mid-June with l'Vengeance is repaired. A new bowsprit and foremast have been fitted at the naval yard at Portsmouth. The captain desires permission to resume cruising off the Gallian coast, especially to return favors with his nemesis aboard l'Vegeance.
---------------------
Channel Isle de Pettygree:
Lady Pettygree's father is very ill. He may request that his daughter and son return home to his care.
----------------------
That Woman:
Wherabouts unknown. Presumably she will appear in an intant to advise Lady Pettygree how to preserve herself from next dangers.
----------------------
The Mysterious Nemesis!:
Her wherabouts also unknown.... Who? What? Why? Where? Does she exist?
-------------------
Colonel Bauer:
The enigmatic Hesse-Seewald Black Hussar Officer. Wherabouts unknown but is presumed to be with Der Erbprinz or the Mysterious Nemesis.
----------------------------
Der Erbprinz:
No doubt massing for the next battle. Where will he strike?
----------------------------
Votre Serviteur,
Bill Protz
Esteemed Gentlemen,
Mostly to keep me on track, may I offer this news?
------------------------
Gallian Armée du Marshall de Broglie:
Near Minden, Germania where the Britannian Army and her allies are posted.
Broglie pursued the Marquis of Granby after the latter was defeated in June at Gütersloh, Germania.
--------------------------
Gallian Armée du Lieutenant General de Chevert:
Adjacent to the fortress of Gemünden awaiting Der Erbrpinz von Hesse Seewald. An Avant Garde of Frankzonians blocks the main road northward from which Der Erbprinz must march, if he marches south. Chevert retreated to this location after his defeat at the hands of Der Erbprinz at Salzungen in August. The army is just about fully recovered. The fortress anchors Chevert's flank. Confidence is returning. The armée of Lt. Gen. de Poyanne is near at Frankfurt Am Main and Lt. Col. Enigma and his cavalry are returned to the theatre.
------------------------------
Gallian Magazine At Frankfurt Am Main:
l'Intendant Bastille's paranoia has subsided regarding mischief, confusions and intrigues everywhere. Calm has been restored especially since Lt. General de Poyanne remains close by with his 25,000 Gallians. Rebels were scattered by the latter some weeks ago making things more peaceful. It also helps Bastille's digestion that the Ladies Pettygree and Masquerade left under the care of a massive brigade of cavalry commanded by Lt. Col. Enigma at the very height of politcal distress. The latter has just returned to Frankfurt Am Main awaiting orders. The new jail is filled to near capacity with rebels.
--------------------
At Versailles (Gallian capital):
The party of Lady Diana Pettygree and Lady Cherish Masquerade arrived at Versailles and are recovering from their lightning fast jounrney from the Gallian magazine of Frankfurt Am Main. Lady Pettygree has requested an audience with the Gallian Foreign Minister, Prince du Charade to present to him a letter from the Frankzonian government. So far the Prince has not asked Lady Pettygree to attend him with the letter.
--------------------------------
Gallian Foreign Ministry:
The Prince de Charade issued an opinion to the King that the perpetrators of the fire attack from a certain nation of the Orient be tried as spies. He further noted a declaration of war at this time would be pointless. Time will allow some action another day. The war in Germania and alarms from Governor General l'Duc de Silhouette from the Fortress of Louisbourg on Cape Breton Island in the New World are keeping Gallia busy enough. Charade is about to write a letter full of thanks to the the Gallian ally Freyburg for reinforcements en-route into the Gewrmania theatre of war.
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Aboard l'Vengenace:
Enseigne Bargot reported to l'Capitaine that the frigate has logged an amazing 1,200 miles in six days from Louisbourg in the New World bound for Le Havre. The frigate is amazingly fast and was aided in this journey by convenient sea currents some navigators say come from the eastern seaboard of America and the Gulf of Mexico. Our voyagers do not know the wind of an approaching but distant hurricane to said eastern coast also added significantly to their journey. At this rate they will reach Le Havre on the 20th instant or thereabouts. The ship carries important diplomatic dispatches from Ny Tragardland and the Gallian Governor General of the Fortress of Louisbourg, l'Duc de Silhouette.
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Naval Hospital at Le Havre:
The chief surgeon is about to dismiss the recuperating Tragardland diplomat von Bergman. He thinks the 20th instant will be the day. Von Bergman is understandibly in earnest to resume his mission to Versailles to court the Prince de Charade into an alliance with his country. Von Bergman's gruesome wound suffered in the naval battle between l'Vengeance and Invinceable has healed miraculously. Lucky fellow.
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Aboard Britannian Frigate Invinceable:
Damage suffered by lucky long shots in the naval action of mid-June with l'Vengeance is repaired. A new bowsprit and foremast have been fitted at the naval yard at Portsmouth. The captain desires permission to resume cruising off the Gallian coast, especially to return favors with his nemesis aboard l'Vegeance.
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Channel Isle de Pettygree:
Lady Pettygree's father is very ill. He may request that his daughter and son return home to his care.
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That Woman:
Wherabouts unknown. Presumably she will appear in an intant to advise Lady Pettygree how to preserve herself from next dangers.
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The Mysterious Nemesis!:
Her wherabouts also unknown.... Who? What? Why? Where? Does she exist?
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Colonel Bauer:
The enigmatic Hesse-Seewald Black Hussar Officer. Wherabouts unknown but is presumed to be with Der Erbprinz or the Mysterious Nemesis.
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Der Erbprinz:
No doubt massing for the next battle. Where will he strike?
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Votre Serviteur,
Bill Protz
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