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gridloreThis happened to me in game today. In the midst of besieging Peter's last city I got a message that I had fullfied a diplomatic request. I had to write down how that happened.
A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Winter Palace - or - It's never too late to be polite
A series of muffled booms announced that another volley of Roman cannonballs was on their way to the battered walls of St. Petersburg. Wrapped in a greatcoat of Imperial Purple, and a far less noble local fur hat, Trajan XI Invictus shifted his view between the burning city to the battery of bombards setting up on the lower slope. He had nearly bankrupted the state building this army, but now the moment had come. Word had arrived that morning that Moscow, that thorn in the Roman flank, had fallen.
Russia would fall, as France had before, and as the sly Persians would someday. Trajan was musing about the place the weak Brazilian empire held in his plans when he was interrupted by a messenger.
"Imperator!" the man cried breathlessly as he half-fell from his saddle. "I bring you a message from Justus, Princeps of the third cohort of the Legionem Sclopetariis! He reports that a small party exited the city through a sortie gate under a shield of truce. They asked that this be delivered to you." The man knelt on the icy ground as he presented Trajan with a rolled-up scroll, sealed with the gaudy double eagle.
Trajan sighed as he took it. "Acel," he said to his aide, hovering as usual just behind him. "We have another message from Peter. I'm wondering how many of his cities I give back this time."
"All of them, if he's learned about Moscow." The Parisian officer's accent made Trajan smile. 300 years as part of the Empire and they still sounded like Trajan III marched through the gates yesterday. Trajan broke the seal and began reading. Within seconds he was giggling, which quickly turned to gales of laughter that had the Imperator doubled over double.
"Here," he gasped to Acel, extending the scroll out from where he was sitting on the ground. "Read it. I can't . . . I can't . . ." He dissolved into laughter again.
Acel took the page with great curiosity. Holding the paper at a good reading distance, he began scanning it. "Why, this isn't from the Tsar at all! It's from his Foreign Minister!" Acel began reading out loud, stopping to swallow the laughter that was threatening to leave him on the ground next to his lord and master.
"'His Magnificence Peter, Tsar of all the Russias take great pleasure in recognizing the goodwill and forbearance of Russia's great friend, Trajan of Rome, in not placing new settlements that encroach on Russia's rightful territory after our rightful protest of the establishment of Mediolanum . . .' Mediolanum? That was a hundred years ago!" Acel was staring at the beautifully written scroll, redolent with official stamps and flourishes, like he couldn't believe it was there.
"I know!" the Imperator cried, his face turning an alarming shade of red as he tried to get his breath back. "Somewhere in there," a vague hand waved towards the city palace complex, "sits a team of clerks who may not realize that there's a war going on, but they have their schedules and plans, and by Allah today was the day to thank my great-grandfather for making a promise. Devil take his soldiers, it's his clerks I'm afraid of!"
"I wonder what happened to the messengers who brought it out of the city. If the morons who sent it are as stupid as you say, they might have given them gold for the journey to Rome. I'll bet you 50 solidi they bribed the troops they delivered the message to to let them run."
"Never make bets with a Parisian, I learned that from your father." Trajan smiled. "If they were smart, yes." Trajan was standing up and shaking mud off his jacket. Servants hurried forward to help, but he waved them off. "But now, brave Acel, we must reply! It would be rude not to! Follow me!" Trajan began bounding down the hill to where the bombard battery was just finishing their preparations, skidding to a halt just before plowing into the nearest gun crew, who seemed terrified to suddenly find their emperor in front of them.
"You men! This is the battery under Paullus Suedius Otho? Assigned to fire on the palace district?" Acel marveled. 20,000 Roman troops and auxiliaries besieging the city, and he knew every commander and their assignment. The gun captain, a man of long experience judging by how he carried himself, spoke up. "Yes, Imperator, we were just about to pour powder."
"Excellent, excellent!" Trajan pulled his dagger and went to work on the cannonball sitting on top of the nearest ordnance pile. He stepped back and admired his work before turning to the gun captain. "Please fire that ball first," he said, pressing the now-ruined blade into the captain's hands, "and when you see Paullus Suedius I beg you to tell him that his battery is now known as 'The Emperor's Answer.' Now bring those walls down for Rome!" Cheering, the gun crews got to work, loading the Emperor's ball first.
Trajan and Acel began trudging back up the hill, pausing only to watch the battery fire their first volley. Even at this range, the two men could see it was a good strike. Dust and shattered stones flew up in the air before raining down.
As they resumed climbing, Acel ventured a question. "Out of curiosity, Imperator, what did you carve on that ball?"
"Why the only thing I could write after getting such a nice message from the Tsar and his ministers. I simply wrote 'You're Welcome'." For the second time today, Trajan broke out in laughter as behind him, St. Petersburg burned.
A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Winter Palace - or - It's never too late to be polite
A series of muffled booms announced that another volley of Roman cannonballs was on their way to the battered walls of St. Petersburg. Wrapped in a greatcoat of Imperial Purple, and a far less noble local fur hat, Trajan XI Invictus shifted his view between the burning city to the battery of bombards setting up on the lower slope. He had nearly bankrupted the state building this army, but now the moment had come. Word had arrived that morning that Moscow, that thorn in the Roman flank, had fallen.
Russia would fall, as France had before, and as the sly Persians would someday. Trajan was musing about the place the weak Brazilian empire held in his plans when he was interrupted by a messenger.
"Imperator!" the man cried breathlessly as he half-fell from his saddle. "I bring you a message from Justus, Princeps of the third cohort of the Legionem Sclopetariis! He reports that a small party exited the city through a sortie gate under a shield of truce. They asked that this be delivered to you." The man knelt on the icy ground as he presented Trajan with a rolled-up scroll, sealed with the gaudy double eagle.
Trajan sighed as he took it. "Acel," he said to his aide, hovering as usual just behind him. "We have another message from Peter. I'm wondering how many of his cities I give back this time."
"All of them, if he's learned about Moscow." The Parisian officer's accent made Trajan smile. 300 years as part of the Empire and they still sounded like Trajan III marched through the gates yesterday. Trajan broke the seal and began reading. Within seconds he was giggling, which quickly turned to gales of laughter that had the Imperator doubled over double.
"Here," he gasped to Acel, extending the scroll out from where he was sitting on the ground. "Read it. I can't . . . I can't . . ." He dissolved into laughter again.
Acel took the page with great curiosity. Holding the paper at a good reading distance, he began scanning it. "Why, this isn't from the Tsar at all! It's from his Foreign Minister!" Acel began reading out loud, stopping to swallow the laughter that was threatening to leave him on the ground next to his lord and master.
"'His Magnificence Peter, Tsar of all the Russias take great pleasure in recognizing the goodwill and forbearance of Russia's great friend, Trajan of Rome, in not placing new settlements that encroach on Russia's rightful territory after our rightful protest of the establishment of Mediolanum . . .' Mediolanum? That was a hundred years ago!" Acel was staring at the beautifully written scroll, redolent with official stamps and flourishes, like he couldn't believe it was there.
"I know!" the Imperator cried, his face turning an alarming shade of red as he tried to get his breath back. "Somewhere in there," a vague hand waved towards the city palace complex, "sits a team of clerks who may not realize that there's a war going on, but they have their schedules and plans, and by Allah today was the day to thank my great-grandfather for making a promise. Devil take his soldiers, it's his clerks I'm afraid of!"
"I wonder what happened to the messengers who brought it out of the city. If the morons who sent it are as stupid as you say, they might have given them gold for the journey to Rome. I'll bet you 50 solidi they bribed the troops they delivered the message to to let them run."
"Never make bets with a Parisian, I learned that from your father." Trajan smiled. "If they were smart, yes." Trajan was standing up and shaking mud off his jacket. Servants hurried forward to help, but he waved them off. "But now, brave Acel, we must reply! It would be rude not to! Follow me!" Trajan began bounding down the hill to where the bombard battery was just finishing their preparations, skidding to a halt just before plowing into the nearest gun crew, who seemed terrified to suddenly find their emperor in front of them.
"You men! This is the battery under Paullus Suedius Otho? Assigned to fire on the palace district?" Acel marveled. 20,000 Roman troops and auxiliaries besieging the city, and he knew every commander and their assignment. The gun captain, a man of long experience judging by how he carried himself, spoke up. "Yes, Imperator, we were just about to pour powder."
"Excellent, excellent!" Trajan pulled his dagger and went to work on the cannonball sitting on top of the nearest ordnance pile. He stepped back and admired his work before turning to the gun captain. "Please fire that ball first," he said, pressing the now-ruined blade into the captain's hands, "and when you see Paullus Suedius I beg you to tell him that his battery is now known as 'The Emperor's Answer.' Now bring those walls down for Rome!" Cheering, the gun crews got to work, loading the Emperor's ball first.
Trajan and Acel began trudging back up the hill, pausing only to watch the battery fire their first volley. Even at this range, the two men could see it was a good strike. Dust and shattered stones flew up in the air before raining down.
As they resumed climbing, Acel ventured a question. "Out of curiosity, Imperator, what did you carve on that ball?"
"Why the only thing I could write after getting such a nice message from the Tsar and his ministers. I simply wrote 'You're Welcome'." For the second time today, Trajan broke out in laughter as behind him, St. Petersburg burned.
no subject
Date: 18 Dec 2017 03:29 (UTC)Hopefully it will *at least* get into the battery's history.
But it's *just* the sort of thing that some historian writing a textbook might put in to break up the monotony. :-)
Trajan is so polite!
Date: 18 Dec 2017 18:20 (UTC)My latest Civ 6 weirdness: I was playing as Alexander, Emperor-level difficulty, standard map. Things weren't going well at the beginning of the Industrial Era. I'd expanded, but not enough, and my neighbors were powerful and slightly ahead on tech. As is usually the case, I hadn't even tried for a religion, since they are nearly impossible to get on Emperor or above. My only faith points were coming from conquered cities and some policy bonuses and so forth. Around the early Medieval period, I finally gained a belief system. It was that slow.
But the whole game was weirdly quiet on the religion front. No waves of missionaries flooding across my borders, only a few apostle battles nearby. Kongo was my biggest neighbor, which accounts for some of that. But still, imagine my shock when out of nowhere I get the "claim your Great Person" prompt...and it's a Great Prophet. I founded Judaism in 1700 CE or so! And with so little resistance, I actually spread the faith easily throughout my empire, halfway into Kongo, and to the nearby city-states.
I lost, badly -- Persia won a science victory on the other major continent while I was gearing up to invade Kongo. But still, what a great, weird game that was!