Saga of the Storm: Part One
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Saga of the Storm was created by Criscomedia in October 2005, as a sequel to the Eye of the Storm IV Wargame. With aid from Empire Media, the story was written by a number of different authors; all of them being participants in the EOTS series. Saga of the Storm marks the first joint-production story in the history of Othertimelines.com.
Saga of the Storm: Part One covers events from 1915 to 1922. Events from 1923 onwards are covered in Saga of the Storm: Part Two.
Contents |
[edit] 1915, July
Directed by Comrade Conrad
Charge July 17th 1915.Feilds, Chihuahua Front, Mexican Empire
HIT THE DIRT! Jimmy, threw Himself Into the dugout in the Trench wall, The Air filled with Dirt, Shrapnel, and the Steaming meat of Soldiers that weren't as lucky. 'God" he said to no one in Particular. He breathed havily as he listened to the scream of the Shells as they filled the skies, both side's artillery throweing shell back and forth like a cruel game of catch. He slowly stood up, he still had a job to do.
Jimmy Howl walked out of the Dugout, trying Hard not to look at the pile of what was once human bodies to his left and instead, wandered shaken and Bereft in the Trenches, he saw a Corpral, smoking a Cigarette. "Hey" asked Jimmy "Where's the Captain?". The Man just glared, "What's it to you?" a Shell burst, this one fairly close. "There's a message is was supposed to give him." The man snorted faintly, "Charlie Trench, now get outta here" Jimmy Continued on his way through the weather-beaten mud-hole he called "Home" Upon entering charlie trench he saw Captain Richards and his cronies around a map of the Sector, "Captain?" asked Jimmy, "Yes Howl?" he asked in a demeening and sneering manner. "Orders from HQ, you were supposed to get them Pronto" Jimmy handed Captain Richards the blood-stained message, the Captain opened the Message and his face drained of Color. "What's up cap?" asked Jimmyu
"I've been ordered to attack.."
[edit] 1916, July
Directed by FTB
[edit] Chapter One
The Ship July 4th 1916-aboard the RNS Battle of the Florida Straits in Galviston Texas.
The City was in celebration- if one could call Galviston a city at this point- to celabrate of all things the Indipendency of the United states of America. Captain. Joe Mahan stood on the deck of the Battlecruiser Florida Straits and whatched with a weary eye. He had been here last July 4th and was not ready to let that day repeat itself. The City of Galviston was at this time bearly rebuilt. The Waterfront- AKA the Moneyearner- was back in place, it had been done since last december. but beyond that the city still lay in ruins from the NYR air campaine and the Final CS push into the city. The Waterfront was crowded with civie's who were partieing and setting up fire works. Last year one of the fireworks had turned out to be a Mortar and Joe pointed the fireworks to a squad of Able-Seamen led by a hard CPO who was the Cheif of Arms aboard the Battlecruiser. They were soon down checking the launchers and came back to the ship shure that the launchers were clear. Joe knew though that to trust a Texan or Mexican was to put ones life on the line. Had they not perpetually broken treaties and started no less then 4 wars! Joe called over for a young Corperal whom he had served with during the Naval war in the Carribian at wars end. Joe had decided that the best course of action right now was to head ashore in Civie's to keep an eye out, word was sent to the skipper and Mahan and the corperal, Harold Spurnmeyer set off for a walk on the "Bund"
[edit] Chapter Two
The Bund
Spurnmeyer and Mahan were walking along the 'Bund'- the main street of Galviston, the street was croweded with Texans, the two Marines didn't talk- to do such was to give them away as New Yorkers, not a good thing to be in Texas now adays. The street was crowded but it had been checked before, it was clear. Or it had been before... So the two continued to search. Walking around there were many signs on the Bund, from the Local goverment, from the occupation forces, and a few from the Falange Party- the dangerous anti-occupation forces, the party was Illeagal but strong, unfair conditions start uninteligent groups so... Any way. Mahan who was the G2 for the Florida Strates Marines paid much attenchion to the signs. They were new ones they showed CS army troops marching forward with dead civilians laying ahead. overhead a NYR Zepplin fired on a City , and a Californian Battleship off in the sea. These posters discusted the NACN troops. After all They had fought Honorably avoiding civilian deaths when ever possible it had been the Mexicans and Texans who had murdered civilians everywhere they had fought. The farther that Mahan and Spurnmeyer got into the city the more signs were up, most NACN troops dont go this far into the city normaly, to easy to get your throat slit by an Angry Falangest. It was getting late and Spurnmeyer fell in next to Major Mahan "Boss," he wispered "It's getting late, it isn't safe to be here after dark. Should we head back to the Strates?" "No, Dutch were going out for the night. I have a bad feeling about tonight, were going to look around" Last year was a fluke this year Mahan was shure that the Texans were going to attempt to sink the Strates.
[edit] Chapter 3
Risistance
Mahan and the Corperal were walking by some houses when a shotgun went off, both droped. But the Corperal didn't get up the round had blow away half his head. Mahan looked behind him- night riders. The Terror group in the Former Texas territories the men wore white hoods to hide their faces. The Corperal had been right they had gone to far into the city and now a good man was dead. Before Mahan could do anything though a riflebut hit him in the head and through him into darkness. A few hours later Mahan a woke in what looked like a basement of a blown out building. He was chained up to the floor. It was dark, no one was around. He sat their for a long time until a man in. He was a white- no blacks joined the nightriders. And he pulled Mahan up. "Come on Yonker, the boss wants to show you something" So Mahan was brought up out of the basement and up three floors- looked like it was a warehouse before the war. On the top floor a group of men were looking out the windows. One of them turned around to look at Mahan. the Major recognized him at once he was Brigader General James Thacher a former Texan Ranger and Wanted War criminal, he had ordered the exicution of 40 African-American Confederate Troops. "Hello Major! Beautiful day isn't it?" he said to the Prisnor. "I wouldn't know sir I havent been out of my cell all day." The Brigader General Laufed at that "Of course not you could have ruined the opperation." Mahan stared at Thacher so he was going after the Strates then, it was the only thing worth attacking in Galviston. "Come over and look at this major." Thachter led Mahan over to the window and pointed at the Battlecruiser "Fred over their," pointing at another man with a motion Camera "Is filming the death of your boat." "How are you going to do this?" Mahan had been wondering that question for a year, he knew it was bound to happen eventually, the Texans would work to sink a ship in Galviston not just damage it. "Well you can just watch and see..." And whached they did. The Night Riders plan was well planed. 2 Miles up towards the Gulf a tender was dropping mines into the Harbor currents. 15 were let into the sea and carried by the tides towards the Pride of the New York Fleet, its crew unaware that their doom was eminent. 45 minutes after they were droped into the harbor the 1st mine hit the Florida Strates. In the next 6 minutes 7 mines would hit the ship. The last 4 were unnessessary because Third went off next to the fuel tanks explodeing the ship. When the last one hits the ship Mahan is draged off back into the basement, tears in his eyes.
[edit] 1916, July
Directed by Texan4Ever
Tripoli, July 20, 1916.
Governor-General Guiseppi Garibaldi of the Italian colony of Libya paced around in the main suite of the grand hotel in Tripoli. It had been one year since the Great European War had been over. Germany and her Axis allies had triuphed over Russia and her allies first, then overwhelmingly against Italy. Although Italy had managed to win more land and naval battles in the Medditeranean than did the British. To add to that, Russian troops occupied Tripoli. Well, a year later Italy has yet to give up her largest colony and thus Garibladi remains where he is. Currently, since Russian troops occupy the governors palace, he has his seat of government in the central hotel of Tripoli.
Italian politics seem to be stable, at least for now. The National Socialists and the Fascists, now under a army Major named Mussolini, are united under one cause. National Socialism is now all but the idea that spurred many parties like fascism all over Europe and North America. It is now up to the Fascists to take complete power in Italy. Too bad, Garibaldi thought, as Fascists were too radical and had a very anti-Communist stance. Garibaldi's party sought freedom for every social class, particularly the lower ones. Also, strong nationalism was implied, but Fascism is just too radical.
Soon after the Great European War, the Italian navy built up again and re-took control of the Canary Islands. Italy is once again somewhat of a colonial power. In fact, most Libyan's prefer Italy as they give them many liberties and allow them to take many prizes of war during times of war. The Russians on the other hand, seem to be extreamly brutal and prejudiced towards them.
Oh well, Garibaldi thought, that's life. His duties kept him buisy most of the time. As Governor, as General and as a nationalist figure for Italy. No matter how powerful these Fascists get, Garibaldi still holds the highest power of any National Socialist group in Italy. As another note, Garibaldi continues to be a figurehead for all nationalist struggles in Eastern Europe as in North America.
[edit] 1917, July
Directed by Okie
The Mexican dust, churned up by the trucks passage along the lonely dirt road, blew into Pvt. Jake Owens’ face, clogging his eyes, mouth, and nose. He pulled out a dusty handkerchief and wiped his face, it probably left nearly as much as it cleaned off, but at least he could see. The trucks 7 other occupants were suffering as much as Jake. “Damn Southwest,” said Pvt. Sean McBride off to his left, “what the hell do we want with it anyway? The climate is shit, the people will slit your throat if you give em a chance, and the beer tastes like piss. “How’d you even know what piss tastes like Sean?” retorted another of the truck’s passengers. It brought a few low chuckles, but most just kept quiet. Jake sympathized with Sean’s point of view, Jake was from West Tennessee himself, and he couldn’t have cared less about Mexico or Texas, but the days when the Army let privates make their own decisions would be the day the Army disappeared. “Hush up damnit.” yelled the typically angry of voice of Cpl. Hayman. “We’re almost there and if I hear one godamned peep out of any of you lowly sons of bitches before the Lieutenant says so, I’ll personally blow his brains out.” The truck lurched to an abrupt halt, and the soldiers clambered out, slinging their Tredegar rifles over their shoulders of their khaki uniforms, now thoroughly coated with dust. Lieutenant Germain quickly announced “Alright boys you know the drill, move quiet, don’t let them know we’re there till I give the word. Sergeant Gilbert, take your squad, you’ve got the left flank, Heaton, you’ve got the right, get into position, don’t let them get past you. Move in skirmish formation, plenty of space, don’t bunch up. Let’s move” Jake trudged on through the desert as the sun beat unmercifully down on him, after a couple minutes of walking the Lieutenant motioned them to hit the dirt. Jake went flat like everyone else, as the flanking squads spread out along both sides of their target. It was a little Mexican hamlet, probably not more than 100 citizens, eking out a life near the dusty road. Someone had tipped off Confederate authorities that the village was the center of some anti NACN activity, and so Jake found himself here lying flat in the desert. Lieutenant Germain looked at his watch, nodded, and drew out his whistle. A moment later its piercing shriek echoed through the settlement, as the concealed CS troops stood up and charged into the town. “Estacionamiento tranquilo hacer non mudar por favor.” yelled Lt. Germain as he ran into the village. Four CS soldiers split off from the squad, investigating houses on either side of the road. A very frightened Mexican senorita opened the door to one of the houses, the soldiers entered, and after a cursory check, announced the house was clean. The second house was proving more obstinate, after yelling at them to open up several times, the soldiers simply smashed the door down with their rifle butts. As the first one stepped into the house, however, a shot rang out, and the soldier fell to the ground, clutching at his bloody stomach. Germain yelled, “Hayman, take your boys and deal with that house.” We raced towards it, hearts pounding, as we approached, the Mexican came running out, hands above his head, screaming “Rendicion,” the smoking revolver still clutched in his hand. The comrade of the dead man raised his rifle to his shoulder, took aim, and squeezed off a single round that turned the Mexican’s head into a bloody pulp. Hayman detailed me to guard the door, as he and several others rushed into the house. Lieutenant Germain walked over, looked at the corpse, looked at the soldier who had shot him, and simply said “Good work.”
[edit] 1917, November
Directed by Crisco
Luisa Gonzalez looked around the newly-built Chamber of Government in downtown Valparaiso, saddened at what had become of her country. It had been two years since the traitorous invasion of Chile by Argentina and Bolivia, and the Republic held on by a mere thread. Outside, flowers bloomed in the spring rain, signalling that summer was soon to arrive, and usher in the year 1918. Her nation was on the verge of revolt; the horrors of war had made the people call for peace, even if it was under Communist rule. As Chile’s first female Senator, she felt an enormous weight on her shoulders, as the government around her debated legislation that would crack down on protestors, and keep the country fighting.
A wave of sadness washed over her as she thought of what her country had gone through since the invasion. The Argentines had swept straight to Pacific Ocean under the hot sun in January 1916, taking Chillan, Concepcion, and Talcahuano for themselves. The Argentines had advanced north and south along the coast from their severing point, dividing Chile in two. The southern portion of the nation was clearly lost after this, and it was confirmed by the Argentine capture of Valdivia in the winters of September 1916, Punta Arenas in what was more of a forgotten conquest later that same month, and finally, by the capture of Puerto Montt in February 1917. What remained of the Chilean Army in the south faded into the rugged coastline, and despite their defeat, was still today a very capable guerilla warfare machine.
However, she thanked God that the Chileans had managed to build the motorized carriers that the Argentines had, and she knew that was the only reason her nation was still alive. The invaders were at Talca before they had them, and even at that, the numbers of the Argentines still overwhelmed them. Two years later, their soldiers were fighting in Rancagua, and Chile was desperately close to losing the basis of its population. In the north, the Bolivians had barely advanced to Copiapo, but the victories in the north did nothing to appease the people. After the 4th Great American War, the world seemed contented to lick its wounds, and was so sick of war that saving Chile from the Communists wasn’t high on their list of important things to do. Mexico was sinking into poverty and depression, what was once Texas lacked any reason for existing, and Europe, after their Great War, seemed to be siding with the North Americans in their lethargy.
Suddenly, she was shaken out of her thoughts by a large explosion outside the chamber. Windows shattered, pelting her with glass. The roar of human emotion washed in through the open window. Looking outside, she saw thousands, if not tens of thousands of angry citizens, armed with weapons and red flags. The revolution that the government was in the process of preventing was occurring as they debated what to do. Sounds of gunshots and broken objects filled her head as the Communists mobbed the building. The chamber began to empty with a speed she had never seen. Hurrying towards the small emergency exit, she fought with everyone else to save their lives. A loud crash marked the Communists breaking down the main doors, and barging into the room. There were no security forces to be seen anywhere. Looking behind her, she saw the President, still standing behind his podium, fall in a blaze of gunfire. More gunfire followed, and she realised that they were being mowed down from behind. A stampede followed, and minutes later, she was happy that she was alive. Only two other Senators had survived.
They made their way north to Coquimbo, where they hoped to form a government-in-exile. Upon arriving there, they found that the Communists held that city as well. Upon further investigation, they found that the entire nation was under the command of the Communists; the only free area remaining was in the south, where guerillas held the southern coast against true Argentine control. The three of them fled south, towards the sole refuge they had remaining.
Three days later, the Communist government in Valparaiso surrendered to Argentina.
[edit] 1920, April
Directed by Texan4Ever
Paris, France April 1920
Notre Dame Cathedral was packed this day, which happened to be the holy mass for Ash Wendsday. Pope Benedict XV himself was leading the mass, which signalled the end of the long oppression the Communists in France had done onto most of the Christian religions. But now that Germany has northern France, or liberated France as most refer to it, life has gone back to something close to usual for the French people. They are occupied, yet free to practice religion and be a member of most political parties. This was the first visit to France the Pope has made. First he went to Avignon to see to the large amounts of Papal treasury there along with the government and military of Avignon, both of which are still sizeable and very efficient. Either way, many turned out to this mass, German occupiers and French civilians alike. Among the crowd is the commander of the French Army Corps within the German Imperial Army, General Foch. He was an aging man, but a pius Catholic. After the mass, the Pope toured Paris, saw the sights and realized France is actually doing good under the Germans. Pope Benedict himself was impressed at how quickly he was able to turn liberated France back into a devotedly Catholic nation. In fact, he had managed to even return much of the German lower classes back to the faith. This of coarse came with the help of the once German police officer, now Papal Ambassador to Germany, Joseph Ratzinger Sr. A good man with a nice family. "Yes", thought the Pope, "If I were to die today, I know I did my best to return much of Europe to the faith, and keep it sacred and holy."
[edit] 1920, May
Directed by Doom
Vienna, the Republic of Austria, May 19th, 1920:
The single red banner flapped lazily against the backdrop of the clear blue sky over Vienna, in a distinctly lethargic manner that seemed to underline the general sentiment that had pervaded Europe ever since the World War, five years ago. The sense of lethargy seemed to belie the otherwise fiery speech the communist agitator holding the flag was bellowing.
"Oppressed peoples of Austria! Arise, break your chains and throw off the capitalist plutocrats who torment you so!" The youthful, overzealous communist cried, as the half-dozen cronies about him stood by with banners and placards of their own. Stroking his short, well-trimmed black beard, the man at the other end of the street watched with some amusement as he allowed his small Jack Russell, Blondi, to go about his 'business' on the street corner, noting that no one even looked twice at the radicals. The Austrian people by and large could have cared less for the various radical factions that plagued the nation, and, at least as far as Adolf Hitler's political tendencies went, that was a good thing. He cared even less for the various fascist and even anti-semitic movements that were making an increased appearance throughout Europe, particularly Austria.
Now the police had arrived to enforce the distinctly anti-communist, or rather, anti free-speech, laws that had recently been put into effect. A pair of officers, truncheons out, pounded down the street towards the agitators. However, rather than scattering like most political groups did when faced with the law, one of them reached into his heavy overcoat, withdrawing a handgun.
"Death to the bourgeois!" The man, a dark-haired youth no older than twenty cried, discharging the weapon with a sharp crack that seemed to drown out all other noise on the busy street. Blondi cowered behind Adolf, terrified by the sudden noises. Both policemen dropped to the ground, scrabbling for their own pistols. The young communist was alone, his compatriots having fled into the many dark alleys Vienna had to offer, havens all for such brigands. One of the policemen was up and kneeling now, steadying his hand with the other as he aimed his gun down-range.
The youth was firing one-handed, using an old colt .44 design from the 1890's, and had never fired a weapon in anger before this. The Police officer was aiming from a kneeling stance, with both hands, using a German-built, modern, 7.65mm Luger, and had shot six people over his eight-year career. Fragments of shattered cobblestone flying about him from the inaccurate fire, the officer pulled the trigger, blasting the youth backwards, hurling him to the ground as if shoved hard by an angry and potent force.
Adolf simply stood, half in shock, half in bemusement. Even from a distance, the dark red blood staining the walkway was clearly visible. Hitler was a gentle person, he had crusaded all his life against the use of violence and force as a deterrent. He had never seen death, or even violence of any kind, past a handful of drunken brawls, and now even seeing it as a simple observer from a distance struck him dumb with shock.
Blondi tugged at his leash, brave now that the terrible noises were gone, seeking to get closer to this new smell, that of human death. Adolf, returning to his senses at last, sharply pulled back on the leash and turned for home, knowing in his heart that this would not be the last such death he witnessed before all was said and done.
[edit] 1920, June
Directed by Okie
Viceroy Winston Churchill looked out of his study window over the bustling city of Cairo, to where the Nile flowed on, from the Ethiopian highlands where it began to the Mediterranean Sea where it ended. All was now British land, Churchill had directed the absorption of the Foreign Legion’s little empire south of Egypt, it had been a welcome relief from the usual run of bad news afflicting the Empire. Churchill had told Prime Minister Law that granting the Indians Dominion status wouldn’t appease them, and he had been proven right. The bloody revolt incited by Gandhi and his Mukti Party had almost overthrown British rule. India had been restored only after 100,000 British and loyal Indian casualties, thanks to that idiot Haig, who was applauded as a hero, and the country was still devastated. It had gone from being the jewel in Britain’s crown, to the rock in its shoe. Churchill sighed and leaned back in his chair. Even Egypt wasn’t free from such movements, Mustafa Kamil and his nationalists grew more powerful by the day, they called for both the overthrow of the monarchy and the expulsion of the British. He knew what the Liberals said, that the Empire was dying, that we should pull out and let it fall, but Churchill for one, had sworn he would die before he let that happen. Prime Minister Asquith was a lame duck, someone more decisive was needed if the Empire was to be saved. Friends had told Churchill that he should run, he could win, he had never really thought about it seriously, but the more the thought passed through his head, the more it began to stick. He quickly banished such notions from his head, he had a lot of work to do, and now was not the time for engaging in such fantasies. With another sigh, Churchill went back to his work.
[edit] 1921, October
Directed by Saint
The Battle of the Danube Oct. 13th, 1921 Central Command: Belgrade, Serbia. "Sir, I don't know how much longer we can hold out," the two-way radio was scratchy and barely audible, "Where the hell or the Croatian reinforcements?" The voice was barely heard over the gun and artillery fire. Screams and shouts drowned out most everything else the young radio operator was saying. "Tell your commander to hold that line damn it! If you fall back now the whole Danube River will belong to those Vlachs and we would be in a hell of a load of trouble all the way back here." Said Colonel Draza Mihailovic, safely in the confines of a military building dozens of miles from the front on which the radio operator was fighting for his life. The radio operator continued to yell into the receiver, but it was becoming to hard to understand him. "Turn the damn thing down, I can't think." the colonel said as he rubbed his forehead. "I know 2nd Lt. Broz... every man in his regiment will have to die before a single Vlach gets by him." The commander center was bustling with dozens of commanders and aide-de-camps. It made Col. Mihailovic dizzy. "Colonel, I have reports from the commander of the Bosnian Expeditionary force enroute to aide us." An aide said to Mihailovic, breaking him from his train of thought. "What are they then Private?" Mihailovic asked agitated. "He says they will arrive within the hour and be able to deploy on the front by nightfall sir," the messenger replied. "Tell them they don't have until nightfall." the colonel said, standing up to join his fellow commanders at a table on which a large map had been folded out upon. The was one line of defense between Belgrade and the Romanians and they were throwing everything they had at it. "Our lines are being pushed back, but at heavy cost to the Vlachs," a high ranking officer said, drawing out new lines on the map to represent divisions and battalions. "They have plenty of lives to pay for it though," Col. Mihailovic said bluntly, "It's easy to fight a war when all you have to do is just throw more and more men into the mess." Draza glanced at the lines representing the Croatian reinforcements almost 30 miles from the front. They aren't going to make it in time... he thought to himself.
A year later... "Good day Colonel," an exuberant Draza Mihailovic said to his young friend. "A very good day it is, General," Josip Broz replied in turn. "Shall we take our seats?" General Draza Mihailovic and Colonel Josip Broz walked down the rows and rows of seats set up in the large auditorium. They were here to commemorate the one-year anniversary of the Serbian victory at the Battle of the Danube, and to receive the Medal of the Order of the National Hero. Several other men were to receive the same honor, but Josip Broz and Mihailovic were the only "real heros" there. "Where is President Huila?" Broz asked as they took their seats near the front of the chairs. "I'll tell you where I'd like to see him, behind the barrel of my gun." Mihailovic said. They both laughed at the comment. No one liked the newly "elected" President of the Republic of Serbia. Actually, no one liked the idea of the Republic of Serbia. Those that served in the Great War especially hated their new found "democracy". "I tell you, he's just a Austrian lackey. He'll never bring to Serbia the glory she deserves." "Her day will come, Draza... her day will come." Josip assured his compatriot.
[edit] 1922, May
Directed by Morgoth
A Great Wedding in The East. Hong Kong, China. May 20th, 1922.
Mitsuko Hitashi was in a great hurry as she was preparing tables for the Great Wedding. The Crown Prince of Japan is marry the Princess of China on this Day and Bring the Two Peoples of Asia closer together. Mitsuko was busy preparing tables for the Honored Guests from a Far. The Honourable Representives from the Japanese Commonwealth, Newly elected PM Kim Dong-gun of Korea and PMs of the Philippines and Madagascar, whose names has just slipped her mind. Also She could not remember the names of the Representives of Burma, Vietnam, Cambodia, Laos, Thailand, who all were now part of the Chinese Commonwealth. She was rushing around so much that she could even remember the names of the PM of Japan and she voted for him.
Mitsuko stop for a second to catch her breathe and arrange some Flowers, she had only a few more minutes before the Guests would arrive. Her Sister Aki showed up to help her. Aki had mentioned that she was doing the tables for the Foreign Representives from Europe. Aki had mentioned her Fondness for a Certain Russian Captain with Flaming Red Hair. Mitsuko reminded her that Today was a day for the Two Empires and not for her to have affairs with Russian men. Aki was a little upset with Mitsuko as Mitsuko has had affairs with many men of the Military who professed things like China's Army is one of the Most Advanced in the World or Japan's navy is an unstopable force. Both of which could be true, since Aki knew that the Two empire have Steadly built up since the last war. Mitsuko still had no time for this as some Guests just walked in the Door. Mitsuko saw the Bride and Groom as she slowly Drifted into the background, she saw the Look of Happiness on their Face, today was a great Day for a wedding.
[edit] 1922, September
Directed by Comrade Conrad
New York City. Saturday, September 9th, 1922, 7:30 PM
Mark Chewed His dinner in his apartment in the Bronx, He wasn't much of a Cook, but 3 years out of collage and he could Still stand his own Cooking. It was That odd hour between Going out to a Club, and getting home from work. "ah, a Little knowlage of world affairs is never bad.." he said to his cat, a Fluffy Persian named Matilda as he turned on his Radio, he switched it from an Upbeat Louis Armstrong number, to a Cheesy radio soap, to The NWN New York World News.
"The ongoing fight between CSA and Yuccatanian Rebels Move outside the borders. The Mexican Border guards in the area have reported seeing CSA troops in Mexican territory, of course The Confederate Staes has Denied leaving the Protectorate and entering Any Mexican land, CS President Mitchells has stated 'We have not, and will not enter Mexican lands under any circumstances..."
The Voice trailed off into a Comercial break, Pity, thought Mark. But, the time had been passed, Maybe he would go see the new Charlie Chaplain film, but first a drink, they solve so many Problems.
[edit] 1922, December
Directed by Texan4Ever
Chapultapec Castle, Federal District of Mexico City December 1, 1922
The halls and many of the rooms of this great castle were once again decorated in their finest Christmas decorations. Prince Maximillian didn't really liked much of the pomp and ceremony that came along with being the Mexican royal family. Although he himself has had a good life ever since the end of the horrible World War, or 4th American War as many Gringo history books call it. Just as soon as his father relinquished command of the war effort, Congress went and declared a cease fire. Next thing he knew he wasn't a field marshal anymore and Orrozco forever lost his ability to retain any sort of field command.
Prince Maximillian is now 31 years old, and happily married since 1915, as he married a daughter of a prominent Don from Sherdenya whom he had met during the final weeks of the war. Either way, he now had 2 young boys. He spent his free time practicing on his Janatzy Type-R II, as the now the Mexican based Janatzy company had been bringing much glory to Mexico in the every even year Great Auto Run. Prince Maximillian himself drove the race car twice, in 1918 and 1920.
As for his family, Agustin II and his wife Anne are still Emperor's of Mexico, which also brings along as defender of the Empire. Although not as ceremonial as the British monarchy, Agustin still is active in Mexican politics and his wife in aid to the rural poor, along with aiding poor and sick children. The monarch's of Mexico also hold the tittle of King and Queen of Jerusalem, which they've had ever since the Austrian Hapsburgs all but fell out of power. Although this is completely ceremonial too. As of last year, Agustin II's mother, Charlotte of Mexico and Belgium died, so Agustin has lost all influence he ever had on Belgium.
Well, it's not that bad, Prince Maximillian thought to himself. At least our economy is fine and the Mexican Socialists are few and not very radical at all. Christmas this year would be one of the best yet for all of Mexico, that is the parts that still fly under the imperial banner.
