(Avesia, Early Spring, 37 IA)
Liberating Avesia was a fairly straightforward task for the Infrastructural Navy. Most of it's settlements were coastal, had defenses that were at best out of date and were fairly easy to either capture or force capitulation out of. Even so there were a couple of towns that were inland and a whole lot of estates. Many of these were abandoned by their owners, some had defenders holding out desperate. Even so they needed to be cleared out. Mobs of armed liberate slaves were on the move around Porta Liberium (renamed Svobodagrad by Drive) were on the march, but to deal with the holdouts quickly and effectively army forces were deployed, among them was Nadia and her squad. Snuffing those bastions quickly before they had a time to dig in and coordinate with each other was critical for the speedy execution of the campaign. Drone recon had identified these bastions and had dispatched companies to clear them out.
Last afternoon she'd cleared out an estate which had been the base of about sixty of the bastards that had been desperately trying to throw up some walls around their estate pushing their slaves as to the breaking point to do so. They'd gotten lucky and had only suffered a couple wounded in that attack. Half of that bunch of slavers did not even have guns, just swords, maces, axes, crossbows and boarding pikes while those that did had little idea of how to use them properly. A few of them were actually old matchlocks. That night they'd feasted on the spoils of their victory. Earlier that morning they sent the wounded, captives and children in that base back to Svobodagrad under escort, but they had another target eighteen kilometers away. Normally that would have taken the better part of the day of marching, but fortunately for Nadia and the rest of her company they'd been provided with and trained in the use of one of the Committee's latest marvels. They called it a Bicycle.
The formation moved in single file with a couple of scouts a hundred meters ahead to probe for anything unexpected. She was alert, their had already been jumped by a suicidal young fool who had the bright idea to run in screaming with a scimitar and a flail in each hand to a gunfight. Despite everything she actually enjoyed the climate of the place, it was a wonderful change of pace after a Coldland winter and being cooped up on an over-packed ship. Maybe after the war she'd move to Colony-1, get a bicycle and explore that region. Of course to do that she'd need to make sure that she'd live to see that happy day and to make sure her squad lived to see their happy post war civilian lives (whatever they may be), which meant sorting out these slaving bastards in a proper and efficient manner.
(Avesia, Early Spring, 37 IA)
Not everything went as planned for the Infrastructurals. On the forth day of the invasion Lieutenant Vasily Valivov's 3rd Company was making it's way from a well dug in plantation to Selio's Pass. During the former engagement they had been spotted by a young scout, which was relayed to a column of 240 janissaries under captain Sextus Altovo. As the Infrastructural force made it's way to the inland town they Janissaries moved along goat paths at a forced march for two hours. The Janissaries got into position with twenty eight minutes to spare near House del Cucina's estate. They set aside the packs, loaded their weapons and knelt in a cops of trees, waiting for the right.
Things might have gone differently had Valivov decided to take the main roads rather than a more direct route or had sent a set of scouts ahead as a more experienced officer would have Altovo's plan might have been for naught. If Altovo had not been a former slave NCO who was awarded his freedom after only eight years for good service who'd spent his childhood but rather some deluded son of a plantation owner playing at war (as many of the officer's he'd served under was) who'd known the area when he was simply the son of a swineherd he would have been unable to set up in time. Things also might have unfolded differently if Valivov had not expended almost all of his platoon's grenades and 10mm N-Rounds in taking the plantation (which he had done while taking only loosing three men) and his company was not effectively down to only one shredder. Regardless, fortune had deemed that these things did unfold. As such when the Infrastructural Army company walked by their posisition while Altovo waited and watched. Then, when the bulk of their forces were a scant 30 meters away he made his move.
"FOR OUR KING AND MASTER!" He bellowed and with that his men opened fire. The fire was uncoordinated, many of the janissaries had chosen the same targets and the brush did disrupt the shots somewhat. Even so within three seconds 78 of the 154 Infrastructural soldiers were cut down with more lightly wounded. In the panic the survivors had begun to blast into the forest where a rising cry had come up and as they saw dozens of figures rise from the bush hurling themselves forward bayonets fixed through the scrub and gunsmoke. Many of them fell as they charged, either immediately or after staggering forward for a few meters. A couple stumbled over tree roots or rocks, but got back up again. Their soul shredder had spent one of his two mags in a blind panic doing little more than making a few trees burst into splinters as he desperately worked to cram the second magazine in. The Janissary's officers and a few of the NCOs had cap and ball revolvers and sent a few additional shots into the Infrastructural survivors, but this at best a side note. A shooting match with muzzle loaders against the Infrastructurals was suicide and their only option for victory was to get in close. All their soldiers new it and put all they had into closing that distance, thundering past the bush and slamming themselves into the survivors. The battle soon devolved into a frenzy of bayonets, rifle butts, pistol whipping, cutlasses, maces, picks and kicking, grabbing and punching.
Avesian Janissaries were not the greatest warriors by any means, being about on par to the Drow slave soldiers on which they were modeled. Nor were their mundane bayoneted rifles the best weapons against armor like the steel cuirasses worn by the Riflers even though their secondary weapons were more up to the task. Both sides gave everything they had. Even so Avesian Janissary training did focus more in this up close and personal combat and they hit the Infrastructural lines with a three to one advantage in numbers. In that slugging match there was only one probable outcome and things unfolded as expected. In the end the Janissaries had lost 91 men with 47 more wounded including Captain Altovo, who had a few shotgun pellets hit his right arm. In contrast all but two of the Infrastructural Army riflers had in the end fled been killed either in the battle or by Janissaries bayoneting the wounded afterwards. Altovo's men celebrated that night on their victory on captured rations and had soon armed themselves with captured guns. Heady with their victory they felt that they could push the Coldlanders back into the sea.
Captain Altovo and most of his forces would die three days latter attempting to beak the siege of Selio's Pass.
(Valnothron Citadel, Valnothron, Early Spring 37 IA)
For decades after the Escort War there was one memory that would come up to Talnara ti'Valcas in recollection regularly enough that she would wrote of it in her diary and latter in her third
Dirvagiel*. Said memory involved a previous recollection, specifically to her childhood magic tutorials two hundred and forty years earlier and some exercises she had done, doing simple spells over and over again to hone her ability to shape the forces and produce desired results. Her abilities in turned out were somewhat above average even though a career in magery had little appeal to her. In that moment she recalled the fact that she pulled out one of those simple spells for the first time since childhood at meeting at the Citadel over the Invasion of Avesia.
It had been expected that the Infrastructural would continue playing it defensively, defending their coastlines and convoys. Maybe sending out a few ironclads to harry their fleet and shipping to thin out their numbers and hinder their war effort. The invasion of Avesia was an unexpected move, especially with their ties to Venoa. Even so the reasons for doing so were obvious as the place was a prime supply of fresh slaves and saltpeter when they were rebuilding and upgrading their flee. Several of House Valcas's contracts had gone up in smoke, prices were going up and completion dates for new Industrial projects and warships had been set back with increased price tags. By reports most of the island kingdom had already fallen even if their was still fierce fighting. It was a frustrating development, but while many of her peers could view this matter sensibly there were others who were not responding to this in a good way.
She'd gotten wind of a proposal by a group of figures from a few warrior houses who'd put together a proposed plan that they devised and were petitioning for some additional resources. Had laid out with a map of the island and a set of small model ships with some basic enchantments to make them move and fire off broadsides at certain queues. The plan itself was not badly put together given the circumstances, involving probing attacks to draw out their forces out so a force of a thousand or so elite warriors in runic armor to cleave through the coldlander scum and their pet rebels.
Even so once the presentation was done Talanara walked over. "Lord Senzalath. You and your associates have displayed many commendable qualities in your proposal: the general strategy is sound, as are your assessments of the strengths and weaknesses of their soldiers. Regardless, there is one problem that you have overlooked. Namely the matter of benefits and costs. We should make no mistake, in this attack losses in warriors, weapons, equipment, slaves and ships..." She swiped a model frigate from the table and incinerated it in a small fireball "...will be high and all we will gain from this is ashes." She let the embers fall to the floor and then laid a scimitar coin on the table in compensation.
Lord Senzilath's response to this was indignant. "Lady Valcas, I must concede that in the past decades your house's efforts are commendable. Your sweat and toil has yielded many new contrivances and improvements which have been a boon to us. However while you might take pride in your creations you should keep in mind why they were made. You sentimentality for your creations may stay your hand when action is needed oh most illustrious of artisans, but we are not so obsessed with the well being of our tools, finely made they are, as to never use them for their purpose. Even if a few ships are sunk and some of our warriors fall, we'll bleed out their forces, rally the Avesians, force them to abandon their quest and show the world the Golem Worshipers are still but mortals. And when Avesia rises again, we'll be sure that they deliver any order they owe you."
"While the generosity of your gesture is noted even if your proposed force can arrive in time and force the Infrastructurals into retreat your restored Avesian Kingdom would be hard pressed to feed itself, let alone restore the slave markets. Most of their settlements have fallen and have been sacked. A large chunk of the free population is either dead or captured, including many connected slave merchants and along with some of their suppliers. Much of their now diminished stock would have to be put down and their estates would be left in ruins. Even if you succeeded it would be decades at least before they would be back to their former output. And this at a time when we have unsettling reports from Venoa and that The Eternal Foe is readying it's fleet. You are asking this council to give resources squander ships and warriors on the vague hopes of preserving a scrap of a fallen kingdom. We might the fall of Avesia as being a failure on our part, but that is no reason to keep throwing our assets to burn with it."
And with that she got some support as well as some attacks from her usual lot of rivals. There was a fair bit of frustration over the invasion of Avesia in this stupid war and that might have been enough to get some support for this hair brained adventure they had planned. That enthusiasm would die down after the proposal had been shelved and as it's vague prospects of success shrank. This did mean there was a minor loss in political capital in the short term at least, but her prospects were tied with the strength of Valnothron as a whole which she would not see squandered. This fiasco was nipped in the bud, but ultimately that was only part of the efforts required to sort out the greater fiasco that had been festering for the past three years.
*Literal Translation 'Hundred Book' or 'Century Book'. A genre of memoir literature popular among Dark Elvish elite in which an individual recounts the events that happened over the course of a century of their lives, commonly written from those who are of the great houses.
(nisKalgan Estate, Avesia, Early Spring, 37 IA)
Baron Talvin nisKalgan was in the Avesian Nightmare, only worse.
Evey free man and woman in the Kingdom lived in fear of the day of a widespread Slave uprising. Slaves outnumbered the Free at least four to one at least and despite what sessions in the bedchamber might convince the foolish they had little love for their masters. There was always a risk that some incident would cause some slaves to lash out against their drivers, succeed and go on a rampage killing, looting and laying waste. If left unchecked these could spread and grow, picking up more slaves and weapons as they went. There had been three such uprisings in Avesian History. Fortunately they'd been all been snuffed out. Fierce as they could be rioting slaves with farm tools were no match for trained freemen with bows, swords, pikes, muskets and armor and the Avesians were always quick to respond to them when they happened. Regardless the fears of a servile revolt eclipsed all other worldly dreads. Famine could be averted by reducing the surplus chattel, slave raiders had no interest in souring business relations for short term gains, disaster could be rebuilt from and the invaders that might come their way would want their estates intact with experienced managers running it.
The Infrastructurals were a rude awakening indeed. Not only had they laid waste to Porta Liberium and set their armies to march through the island to cease estates, but everywhere they went they set slaves free, gave them weapons and let them loose on the island like some horrible hybrid of locusts and pitdogs. To Talvin this was madness. The wealth of Avesia lay in slaves and plantations, both of which would be ruined by this madness. There were those who hated slavery, but how would making the Islands into a carnal house make anything better? Had they no respect for the accomplishment of the bloodlines who by strength and cunning built a realm from nothing? And even if they don't the Dark Elves would come in with ten thousand warriors to carve through their rebels and laying waste to any adult to save their dependable providers. It would mean being left with mostly children for a time until their stock could be replaced but they could rebuild and the temporary adjustment would not be too bad. If only they would show up right now.
The estate of House nisKalgan was in the south of the islands on the Scourge Peninsula, by the time news got to him to move north to rally at Sensasperan those routes had been cut and they were surrounded. He'd mustered what defenses he could since then, but now they were beset by a mob of rebelious slaves armed with Coldland made guns. The barricades they'd set up had set up around the manner should have kept them back, then they blasted through them with rockets and handbombs. He had a hundred and twenty men fit to fight on guard plus dogs but they were being overwhelmed. He only knew a bit of this which had been relayed to him as he'd "commanded" from his dining hall all the while the sounds of battle grew closer.
He'd been trying to enjoy a nice vintage when one of his drivers came into his chambers with a sword and a spiked whip. Fernallo if he remember correctly, Helmsen the head overseer had spoken highly of him. "My Lord! The hedge has fallen! We've must leave!" This was followed by one of the windows shattering behind it's hasty barricades.
"V-Very well." He said as he got his pistol and followed the young man. There was a rough plan to flee into the mountains to an old hog hunting house. Even so they were turned around a couple of times by soldiers, gunfire and actual fire. Getting anywhere was difficult, especially since the Man nor was basically a collection of extensions accumulated over the last two centuries. Eventually the two of themselves found themselves in an empty slave dormitory (the household slaves had been locked in the celler) with the sounds of gunfire, death and bursting doors behind them. The one that they'd recently jammed with a table in haste would not offer much protection. Some of them were female. He had avoided battle so far but now that was unlikely.
"Fernallo" he whispered shakily.
"Yes my Lord?"
"If we're to get to safety we'll need to fight our way through their throngs. You'll lead the charge and i'll cover you."
"Are you sure sir?"
"Of course i am you idiot!" he said as he grabbed him by the arm and aimed his pistol at his head "This is my House, you are my servant and you'll defend it my way!"
Fearing what this man crazed with fear would do he he walked out sword and whip in hand in the hallway. The door then burst and open and he yelled before being cut down by numerous heavy blasts. In the confusion Talvin fired his pistol, but as his hands were unsteady, sulfury smoke filled the air and the fact that a door limited his line of fire he only managed to hit the wall. He'd hoped that in the confusion they'd missed him. Things quieted down for a few seconds save for the footsteps.
"Rotten hearted toad." A feminine voice said. He'd heard that voice before, though usually it was sweet rather than acidic. It sounded like Lililia. He had a hard time understanding why she'd join the Rebels. Some field hand who toiled under the whip he could understand. But even if she was not his favorite, he'd always spared his bedwarmers from toil, kept them well fed and honored them with his charm and (ahem) prowess.
"Do you want the handle?" Another woman said.
"I'll pass. Not my thing. Good enough the bastard's dead."
"Suit yourself. Their still might be some more of the scum."
They'd might have walked on after that if Talvin did not let out a small gasp. He'd subconsciously begun holding his breath to stay quiet and relaxed a bit too sharply. They noticed the change as did the women, he then looked at his pistol and saw with horror it's lock remembering that it was now empty.
(Venoan Steam Galley Scia, Open Ocean, Early Spring, 37 IA)
"Well Malonso, I must say that I'm impressed. This is a command worthy of pride." Captain Freilysiin ti'Jaimis said as she took a sip of wine. "As is this vintage." Both points were truthful enough though they glossed over important details. Her light frigate the
Qilthast (Stingray) had been on patrol for three months and this meet-up was a welcome diversion, even if some of the dispatches had given them some important context to the development.
"My family has some shipping contracts with a few of the better vinyards, that part of provisioning was nothing." Captain Malonso Cosetti replied "But I am flattered on behalf of the
Scia and her crew for your approval. She's among the finest craft the Arsenal has put together and I am truly blessed to be her commanding officer." He was a charming human, reasonably handsome with a pleasant educated voice, a reasonable command of the Dark Elvish Language and while he might not always convey that message to those he'd accept as guests (especially those fools who believed that any deviation from the marshal was an sure sign of utter weakness) it was clear that he was good at running his ships. The contrast between his crisp sailors and her motley slaves was obvious when she had come aboard.
The
Scia was the scout in a squadron of four steam galleys and a steam Galleass and it's captain had extended an invitation. Neither state had any cause for war at the time and she was genuinely welcome for a break. She'd brought aboard a couple of body guards who could carve through a good section of the galley's crew if push came to shove. Cosetti was enthusiatic and eager to show her about his ship. How the banks of oars had been replaced by a gundeck and steam driven paddlewheels which could be rigged to turn in opposite directions to turn the ship around quickly. Their new rifled cannons which had explosive shells. The fountains which produced cool drinking water. The electric lamps. The flushing heads. The rangefinders, the semaphore lamps and other contrivances before retiring for a quick period of refreshment in his quarters. All of which had an undertone which was simple enough to read. 'See this wonderful ship of mine. She's fast, maneuverable and armed with some of the best artillery that does not come with a hexagon on it. You'd not want to be on the receiving end of this ship's weapons. No, no, no. So, if you would be so good, remember this fact, write it down in your logs and submit it in your reports.'
"It is amazing the marvels that can now be made. Even so I've seen some of the new construction at Noljas's shipyards and i'm sure that they would make a similar impression on you. If everything goes well I might be captaining a steamship of my own in a few years."
"A noble ambition and one I would wish you luck in achieving." The Venoan replied. The words were well performed, but empty. There were glory hounds out there who desired to test their mettle against worthy foes and gloried in the defeat of enemies, but Malonso did not strike her as that sort. In that regard he was cut from the more common cloth that wished that wished all the foes that he might ever face were feeble, cowardly, incompetent, beset by never ending bad luck and equipped with shoddy, poorly made and obsolete weapons. She was not his foe yet, but that could change quickly if level heads did not prevail.
Even so, for all that there was nothing she could do about that situation. What she could do is take advantage of his hospitality, be it born of an ulterior motive or not as it was a reasonable diversion for a couple of hours. And in any case the wine was quite good.
(Dragonstorm Bay, Early Spring, 37 IA)
Weithyn of the house of Heisidel, Captain of His Radiance's Royal Ilvannan Navy Arrowship
Fensymil (Stormseeker) was in a good mood. After six years never leaving sight of the coastline her ship was once again riding the waves of the open ocean. The wind, the spray, the smell and the sensation of the ship plowing through the waves were all exhilarating as it ever was on its own made all the finer by the fact that her ship was a living thing being handled by wind mages and expert mariners. But there was also the the thrill of the hunt.
For two centuries she'd served the High Kingdom at sea against the Corrupted Ones. She'd manned the lines, steered ship, helped the ship-tenders heal her vessels between fights, strengthened the shields and offensive spells, oversaw the guns and cut down more than her share of black hearted vermin and their pet wretches with bow, blade and boarding pike. One does not survive that long against the Dark Elves without mastering the ways of combat, let alone too centuries. Even so there was always a risk of falling and in her long life she saw too many beautiful ships of her crewmates, heroes, friends and in a few cases lovers fall.
Humans and Dwarves talked of "Wars" with the Drow but the High Elves knew better. There was one war between them and the world they sought to enslave, which had waged for four millennia. There were lulls in this war when either side was recovering its strength and they would at times they would feign charm and make their deals when direct force to take what they wanted could not be mustered. They stayed free because the High Kingdom never forgot that they were at war. A war that could only end when the last of their degenerate kind lying still in a pool of his own tainted blood. Nor did she, and few things gave her the same thrill that laying waste to their fleets did.
But to that end she'd gotten a wonderful new tool: a dozen Infrastructural guns. They were not pretty, but they were quick firing, long ranged, accurate, clean and fired devastating explosive shells. Even the best Dwarven guns with strength and fire runes could not match them in anything other than weight of shot. She'd have to be conservative with her ammunition. If a bunch of bumbling Coldlanders who'd never sailed anything bigger than a rowboat two decades ago could use them successfully against the Corrupted Ones the thought of what the true masters of the sea could do with them was intoxicating.
(Sensasperan, Avesia, Early Spring 37 IA)
The nine days after King Tilsio-VI's arrival in Sensasperan were spent marshaling their resources. Citizens, artisans, their families and supplies were gathered from the surrounding estates during that time. In total he'd manage to gather up about 13,000 people (more than four time's the town's initial population) with some 4,800 men fit to fight. The Militia was drilled, though less than half of them had guns and many of the guns they did have were old matchlocks and similar. Those that had any skill in metalworking were put to work making weapons. Women and slaves made powder. Some forces were sent to scout things out, harass the invaders and to relieve those towns and estates under attack. Few who left on such missions returned and those that did brought news of hordes of rebel slaves, ransacked estates and Infrastructural Soldiers that could cut you down if they even got a glimpse of you. Doing so was costly, but if nothing else it would slow them down and thin out their ranks. He hoped that this would be enough to let them weather this storm until aide arrived to turn the tide.
However on the tenth day they made their march on the small mountain town. Infrastructural Soldiers came up the passes in neat ranks backed by a rabble of armed slaves, camped along the western front of the city. The Infrastructurals gave their terms: all citizens were to stand down, surrender their weapons and renounce all titles of nobility and claims to human chattel. All slave drivers over the age of 40 and torturers were were to be executed by firing squad while the rest would be Relocated. There were a few who advocated taking this offer and in truth he seriously consider it for a few seconds. But ultimately that fear could not overcome his hope that the Drow would come and he refused their offer. Most said that his refusal was stirringly passionate and dramatic, which he took as a complement to his acting skills. Even if the effect was spoiled a few minutes latter when the bombardment began.
For the next day and a half the Avesian defenses were pounded with rockets and shells that blasted apart stonework and men. They had only a few guns and a limited supply of ammunition, but they had enough to tear defenses asunder from over a mile away. They also had a few marksmen which further thinned the Avesian ranks. There was a big initial salvo, a few shots afterwards on a regular schedule and then a second salvo once additional supplies had arrived at night, which came with a charge. They still had enough gunners to inflict some losses on them, but that was nowhere near enough to stop them.
He'd attempted to stir his defenders on against these impossible odds, but that had ended badly. Being out and where he could be seen by his men meant that the the enemy could see him and by extension, shoot him. Even with runic plate that was tempting fate and so he was forced to retreat into the bombed out warren the town had become. After that, things got chaotic as Avesians clashed with the waves poured in. Some panicked, but most (and in particular his body guard) fought to the end. Which was admirable in a lot of ways save of course for the 'end' part.
The town was not laid out with any major plan and shanties and rubble simply made things more confusing. For a few minutes he wandered effectively blindly through the chaos until a small group of Janissaries came in to bring him back to the Count's mansion. However a group of Rebel Slaves also found him and began to pour fire into him. His armor held up pretty well against the fire and he was confident that he could get to safety before the strengthening spells forged into the steel failed. However by sheer luck one round managed to find it's way between his helmet and his breastplate and went through his neck.
(Svobodagrad (Formerly Porta Liberium), Avesia, Early Spring, 37 IA)
It had been ten days since the fall of Sensasperan and six days since the destruction of the last Avesian Estate. A few small pockets of resistance lurked in the wilderness but scattered and without supplies they would be nothing more than an annoyance. Over all Drive was satisfied with the operation. Everything had happened in a reasonable timetable and losses were acceptably low. A more seasoned force more used to this sort of climate could have done things more quickly, but the relevant fact was that the main military objectives of this operation were met. Now came the political phase of their operation.
In truth this was something that Drive was not particularly fond of. In general he found the administration of military affairs to be more stimulating than this matter and was generally happy to leave political tasks in the hands of Supernova or Critical Mass. Even so he was the Committee Member on the scene and this was an essential part of the plan.
With Sensasperan fallen requests were sent out to the Captains of the various rebel companies to discuss the future of the islands. The wording was carefully chosen to convey the fact that they were not under obligation to do so. In total some 41 came out of some 57 companies. Many of them made their way back to Svobodagrad and were quarted in the former royal palace. Their men were billeted in various homes of the now deposed elite and inns. All the while they were monitored. They were a loud and rowdy bunch who made the most of their newfound freedom. While most of them wore the simple impromptu uniform that the committee had supplied them most of them had added to it in various way. Most of them were illiterate and a few fist fights had to be broken up. Even so they had been elected by their companies to serve as their leader. Crude or not, they had a spark of legitimate authority to them.
In the evening Drive came in to give his proposal. Many of them were a bit shocked at the sight of him, but they soon got over it. Most of them knew that he was not human and the fact that he'd both overseen their liberation and had provided them with free food and beer was more than enough to relieve their suspicions.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, " he said in an authoritative but friendly tone in the Avesian Laguage. "I am glad to say that our initial goals have been achieved. The Kingdom in Avesia is no more and those who it held in bondage now once again have their fates in their hands." This got a cheer from the gathered leaders. "Never the less there are still some issues in regards of what the future of this island shall be. Some will desire to leave for the mainland and we will be willing to provide some transport to those who want it, at the same time we will be willing to provide further assistance to those who decide to build new lives here. However to deliver these things, leadership among the free peoples of Avesia is required and while we are glad to be your liberators and friends we are not your conquerors. The future governance of the Avesian Islands is in the hands of it's people and given that you have risen to be the most prominent people in the island The Central Committee would recognize your authority over said islands. To ensure that things go smoothly, we have a proposition as to what shape this government would take."
For the next fifteen minutes he rattled off a basic outline as to the new government's shape. The government would be run by the Star Council, who's first members would at first be the gathered captains and who would be elected afterwards when they stepped down, passed away or were voted out by 75% of their fellows. Said council would elect one of their ranks to serve as a Prime who'd serve for one year long terms. The Prime would appoint judges and would have the right to pardon people, but not to sentence. No Judge could hold elected office. Nobody could be punished without trial. Local government would be handled by elected mayors and town councils. The estates would be broken up into small farms. All former slaves would be citizens in this New Republic as would anyone born in the Republic. A section of the surviving slavers of the old kingdom would deported to serve as detentional laborers in the Petrolium Colony and a number of their children would be sent to either the Colony or to the Coldlands to be raised in orphanages. Slavery of any sort would be illegal and any slave found in the Republic would automatically be set free. All male citizens would be required to serve in the militia and a small army and navy would be maintained for coastal patrols, man fortresses, act as elite troops and train up soldiers. Said forces would be provided with 20,000 rifles, 50 cannons and a supply of ammunition. Infrastructural Drill Sergeants would train up their forces and a shipment of machinery would be sent in to develop some industrial capacity on the islands. Some 20,000 former slaves would be allowed transit to Torion, Oestia, Venoa, the Petrolium Colony or a few other locals in the general area gratis (in part using commandeered ships). Some were also allowed to enlist in the Infrastructural Navy or Merchant Fleet. Though if they were not willing to accept the constitution, Infrastructure was not ablidged to provide aid.
Most accepted the proposal. It seemed like as good a deal as any. A few hold outs existed but most of them simply wanted a bribe to go with it or some concession such as ownership of a captured manor house or larger plots for members of their rough company. By lunchtime the next day he got Forty One signatures on the new constitution, which was announced to the public to cheers. Soon copies of the constitution would be put up in public places around the island.
Drive had some doubts about the longevity of the system. This leadership, while vigorous lacked any experience while the populace of Avesia had a mix of those who resented authority and people who had habitual obedience beaten into them. A strong man could cease power, as could someone who was good at administration and making alliances behind the scenes. Even so, this was still a more productive measure than letting the captains fight over the island like a flock of gulls on a rotten fish. The threat of war and general cooperation should get most of them to go along with it for some time at least and if nothing else freed slaves were often quite resistant to going back into bondage. Give his drill instructors a few months and they could snuff out any hopes of the Dark Elves might have about a profitable Reaping.
(Detention Center 2, Svobodagrad, Free Avesian Republic, Early Spring 37 IA)
'Pick your Battles.' That was the first rule of a mercenary company and one which Acel Nicellon of Fallion's Fists company learned early. He had managed to become one of the company's five Lieutenants and while admittedly a big part of that was that he knew his letters and the company had an abundance of dead men's shoes to fill this fact was obvious to him. When you led a team on a raid and find another enemy team, fight them when you had the advantage. When you were choosing what side in a conflict to get a contract with, go for the one who'd most likely win.
Of course you often did not have that option, sometimes the battle was picked for you and you had to fight it anyway. More so in recent years. Not that things had been getting more peaceful on the mainland, but the countries that fought those wars had become less interested in hiring them. The Fists had to settle for lower rates doing either low end garrison work or being thrown into the meat grinder. In the last ten years the formerly 421 strong company had lost more 300 troops in battle. They managed to find some replacements in the usual sources (outcasts, gang members, bandits, refugees, peasant boys looking to see the world, etc) as well as the remnants of old companies that hadn't survived the meat grinder that war was becoming, but despite that they were still down to about 260 troops. The smaller the company the weaker the price it could command both in absolute terms and per head, the less likely it was for them to come out with the spoils of war and the greater the chance that they'd be destroyed outright.
A month ago they'd come to Avesia to try to solve that problem. It was a common enough stop for companies to bolster their ranks. The Kingdom's requirement that all free men keep arms meant that there were plenty of potential recruits who could supply their own gear. There were also fathers who wanted their sons to learn how to use them under the tutelage of seasoned veterans, which provided a modest but safe cash-flow. Then there were the slaves. The King would sell a few of his Janissaries to foreign buyers and they were generally good solid fighters. Then there were slave Stevedores and Farmhands. They were generally strong, used to impoverished conditions, cheap and were often pathetically grateful to the men who freed them. Just as importantly those looking for mercenary companies often sent agents to Avesia. Acel had expected that they'd spend a few months here licking their wounds and get some half decent contract. He did not expect a dozen Infrastructural warships to show up in Porta Liberium's harbor.
Even so, captain Fallion made the right call. When word got about about who was coming the Fists packed their bags and moved a few miles to the north to a goat field where they made camp. When a royal official came to hire them, offering each member of the company twenty Lyra (more what the average member would make in a year on campaign in the good old days) and lordships for the officers, they were refused. When they threatened that they would be hunted down by the Kingdom's armies if they did not comply The Captain's response was simple and hit the nail on the head.
"How many Necromancers have you got?"
Eventually they gave up trying to dragoon 323 uncooperative mercs to their doomed cause and they watched as the Coldlanders overran the city. As that happened he'd come in with a truce flag and an request for employment. Things were a bit tricky since only a few of their officers knew some broken Venoan, Torionese or Allergonian. But eventually they'd managed to get a contract for some guard work.
Though there was a lot of butchery a fair number of Free Avesians were captured, many of them were inured in the surviving pens of the slave markets for the time being. The Coldlanders hand them cleaned out and had ripped out the chains, but they still served their purpose. The Infrastructurals measured them, used their 'camera' things to make pictures of them and wrote reports about them. Every day more of them came in and after a few weeks some of them were taken away to their ships. Their job was simple, keep the former slavers in, keep them in line and keep the ex-slaves out until this lot was entirely deported.
He'd heard talk about the new "Free Avesian Republic" that was being made and thought about it as he ate an orange. It sounded nice but he had his doubts on how effective it would be and how long it would last. Moreover he'd probably never come back to Avesia once this job was done. The pay was not great, especially since four fifths of it was there Paper Money instead of proper coin. But for all that he was satisfied with this contract. Better work for Credits from the winning side then to lay dead alongside the losers with a purse full of gold.
(Tivro Foundry, Tivro, Kingdom of Torion, Early Spring 37 IA)
Word of the Infrastructural Ultimatum to Avesia was sent out by Linkglass less than an hour after the message was given, spreading to Venoa, the Drow States and six more of the Island Kingdom's main trading partners first and spreading out from there, aided by messages given by Infrastructural Embassies once the invasion began. There were some people who applauded the Central Committee for snuffing out that nest of slavers and pirates. There were others who were outraged that the Infrastructural War Machine destroyed a sovereign nation because it did some things it found distasteful and was indirectly supporting their enemies. There were also people who were upset that a once reasonably well off place to sell stuff to had been snuffed out and glad that one of their rivals was gone. There were also four other states, like the Jumhuria of Halrizuud, who's response to this was unbridled terror.
As such, Hirhsin bin-Kulshar (ambassador of Halrizuud to the Kingdom of Torion) made the four day long journey to Tivro in a small convoy. The city was smaller than the Capital and less grand. Even so it was growing with numerous new buildings being put up and shanty towns growing on it's outskirts, in particular around his destination. There were a lot of men and Dwarves walking about with aprons and sooty clothes. He'd read long ago that the local river and some coal mines had let Tivro become a center of metalworking for the Kingdom centuries ago and business had been good for them. After sending out a servant to see to accommodations at a coaching house he made his way to the City's Foundry. Hirhsin and two of his bodyguards made their way past the receptionist and to a clerk with a few Trono handed out to smooth the process. He concealed some satisfaction in the surprise that the dull associate said when not only did a southern merchant prince strode into his room, but a pair of the Jumhuria's Sterling Guard stride into his room. He also concealed a sneer at the electric lamp on his desk.
"Good day, Senior Recart. I am Ambassador Hirhsin bin-Kulshar of Halrizuud, I know my sudden arrival is quite irregular but these are irregular times. I have come on behalf of my government to place an order. What are your largest guns."
The clerk took a second to gather his thoughts, then he became all business. "Well currently those are the are the the new 96 Pounder Rifles. Most impressive pieces able to throw a roundshot more than four and a half miles. We're currently testing out some new 120 Pounder Rifles that we believe which should shoot even further. If everything goes smoothly we should begin production of those in two months."
"While we have full confidence of your abilities my government holds the position that we need artillery now. What do you have in stock?"
"Well we have sixteen 96 Pounders in our warehouses..."
"...and what will be ready soon?" Hirhsin interjected.
"Well we have four more that should be finished tomorrow and another four that should be done in five days."
"And four more in nine days?"
"Well yes."
"Good. We'll take all 36 of them."
"Hold it now." The clerk replied with a worried grin on his face. "This is not a bakery. Those guns were ordered by His Majesty's Government. We'd be more than happy to accept your own contact."
"Tell me, how much does each of your guns cost?"
"Four hundred and thirty Trono a piece."
Hirshin lifted his hands and one of his guards put a small lacquered box with the chest of the Republic on the desk. He unlocked it and opened it to reveal the glittering coins within. "We are offering 200 Thanes for each. Or 300 Lyra, or 600 Marks. In cash, up front, right now." The clerk was struck dumb, the smallest of which was worth nearly twice a Trono. "Enough to cover our quick purchase, your masters to give a full refund to His Majesty in apology for the delay and some more on the side for good measure. We'd also place an order for the new hardened armor piercing shot and twelve of those 120 pounders."
"Well, I'd need to take this upstairs and inspect your coin, but um, I think we could make this happen" The Clerk had acquired the nervous look of someone who's heard something which sounds too good to be true, but fervently hopes it is.
"Of course!" A few hours latter more than 10,000 Thanes exchanged hands and arrangements were being made for barges to take the cannons downriver where they would be shipped to the small slaver republic as soon as possible. Some refunds (though not full) were given to the Royal Government for the delay on delivery, some of which found their way back into the foundry's pockets as twelve more 120 pounders were ordered. This also meant that some 340 tonnes of iron were unexpectedly expended by the Tivro Foundry and about a thousand tonnes of coal was needed to process it, which caused them to suddenly go out and top off their stock which in turn helped push up already rising prices. This was not the only case in which this happened. The four other major slave ports were desperate to upgrade their defenses and do it quickly, getting new artillery (as well as other arms and armor) where they could and paying a premium to get it ASAP. Combined with everything else, this sudden rush for armaments by the Slaver States provided a sudden jolt to the steadily increasing cost of iron and coal that further enticed speculators and spurred on a trend who's effects would be felt far and wide, from village forges to the halls of kings, from the Principality of Oestia (and it's distant colonial ambitions) to the Naga Rajs. Bust most profoundly in the Drow States.
Just as the Central Committee had planned.