Unity Makes Strength

Chapter title is a bit of spoiler… if you know where it comes from.

Also, sorry for the wait on this one. Calculus III feels bad man. I hope it was worth the wait and you'll enjoy it. The sheer happiness I get knowing other people enjoy my work- it's unbelievable. Anyways, on with the show.

If you got notices about editing, I realized that I confused Bernadotte and Beauharnais. The latter died at Siena, the former is King of Sweden-Norway. Woops.

Lord Ashford had made a handsome profit selling off Italian wine and glass, more than recouping his cost, thanks to a general interest in all things Italian. It reminded Ashford of when he was a young man- back before the French Revolution, when it was fashionable for young nobles to travel Europe to grow more "cultured", and how they brought back a number of strange cultural artifacts from the continent: fashion and quite notably, cuisine. In particular, there was a fascination with macaroni- Italian pasta- and while Ashford never quite understood the hype, it seemed that it was once again in fashion to be interested in Italy.

However, his merchant instincts kept him from just leaving the homeland with empty holds- it wouldn't be efficient. So of course he filled the holds of the Italia with Britannian manufactured goods. Britannia was a tremendous exporter of manufactured goods, processed in some of the first factories in the world and sent back out to foreign markets. Timber, cotton, wool, and many other goods poured in, and textiles in particular flowed out of the homeland by the boatload, quite literally. These products were sailed back to eager buyers in the colonies, and to other countries around the world.

Industrialization was very much an economic weapon, and in some cases Britannia could provide goods at lower prices than local producers, meaning that her very existence could cause all sorts of fascinating economic problems for other countries, but that wasn't to say that Britannia succeeded in every market it set foot in.

Silver poured into the Empire of China in the east, to feed Britannia's insatiable desire for tea, and even the famed silver town of Guanajuato in Mexico could not fully satisfy that endless demand. Their control over other regions of the country was questionable at best, but for rather obvious reasons the town and the overland route to it were some of the most secure territory in the empire.

Most of that silver didn't even see England's shores anymore- it went straight from the coasts of Mexico over the Pacific, following the routes of the old Spanish Manila galleons which sailed between the coasts of Mexico and Philippines. Britannia was starting to make up this trade deficit by pouring Indian opium into China, but the Chinese were understandably unhappy with Britannia getting their population addicted to drugs.

However, there would be nothing suspect at all about a continuing trade route between Italy and Britannia- the home country did a lot of trade with her overseas colonies after all- and the profits seemed good. He would definitely make a profit there, while it lasted. Perhaps Italy would in time become an integral part of the Empire, a loyal and productive colony… but Ashford doubted it.

The overseas colonies seemed to have been brought to heel and while they might stay that way (at least in more culturally Britannian portions like Canada or the Thirteen Colonies) Italy seemed like a different beast. It was a country simmering with nationalism, which had worked for Britannia when Lelouch made his conquest, but now it would only be a hindrance.

Ashford had suspicions about what Lelouch wanted, about his ambitions, and while he couldn't claim to have a perfect understanding of the prince's mind, he could make better guesses than most. If Lelouch stayed loyal to Britannia, he would be a fair-weather friend at best, and Ashford just couldn't see the boy making a bid to the throne. Italy was where Lelouch would make his stand, for better or for worse.

Of course, this meant that continued association with Lelouch might lead to some very unfortunate consequences for him in the future. Ashford certainly wouldn't be joining a loosing war, but he knew Lelouch- if Marianne's boy let a war start that he could have prevented, he would be confident that he would come out of it the victor. If it came down to it, Ashford would throw his lot behind Lelouch- he probably wouldn't be getting any land or titles out of it considering the way Italy was leaning, but he was confident in his skills as merchant.

Any number of events could give Lelouch the excuse he needed to break relations with Britannia. The most obvious would be the passing of his father, but as far as Ashford knew the Emperor had showed no signs of failing health- he wasn't getting his wives pregnant nearly as often now, but he was about as healthy as a man could be at his age.

Speaking of the emperor's many children, one of his younger daughters had been singled out to marry the Tsar of All the Russias, Alexander II. Of course, it was to be a few years until that marriage was anything more than just a betrothal, and a lot of things could change in such a length of time, but it would definitely serve to cool tensions in Asia.

There was a low sense of unrest among the imperial court; even if the Emperor was in perfect health, he was an aging man, and all the various political players were keeping their eyes on the situation. The Emperor had prevented any of his children from marrying, and it seemed like a very deliberate move to keep nobility hoping to jockey their way into a position of influence over the Imperial Crown through marriage. Of course, all bets were off once Charles passed and the Emperor seemed content to take his sweet time contemplating which of his children deserved the crown- his endorsement could seriously sway whatever happened after his death.

There were a few obvious disqualifications- children sent to exceedingly remote Viceregal positions that weren't even prestigious (the North Western Territory in North America came to mind), and unless Charles decided to bend the laws of the land, Lelouch's decision to swim the Tiber, so to speak, meant that he couldn't take the throne, not to mention all the unrest a Catholic Emperor would cause among majority Protestant nobility.

Still, Schneizel and Lelouch had won themselves quite some renown for themselves: the former for his able dealings with the previous Tsar and arranging an advantageous marriage, the latter for his romantic seizure of Italy. Schneizel was a clear favorite, and had pushed the Emperor's firstborn son to the side rather easily (especially considering the fact that Odysseus' residence in the Portuguese court would be permanent).

However, as prestigious a station Saint Petersburg might be, it was far away from the capital, and meant he couldn't maintain the complex webs of alliances that the nobility of the court thrived on. This also meant Cornelia was out of the running- she was fierce, intelligent, and bellicose, but her disdain for court politics was the stuff of legend.

Admittedly, Ashford couldn't help but agree with her- he had always preferred the simplicity of ledgers and trade to the delicate song and dance of the Britannian court, so Ashford was sailing back to Italy. He hoped his prince hadn't left on another one of his trips while Ashford was gone- not that he didn't appreciate Lelouch's industry.

Padua was a beautiful city, with bridges, plazas, and covered paths called arcades, and like so much of Italy, it was storied, and like many other towns in Italy it had history as a commune- a sort of partially democratic system in many cities, where they ran themselves in some ways. Many cities on the Peninsula had history as city states, and they had notable independent streaks.

Lelouch hoped to encourage a rosier view of that past; keep things like the contracts of mutual defense and history of trade, maybe drop the factionalism. City states were a different beast from a massive Italian government- even if it did have federal elements- but if or when relations with Britannia soured, he could draw upon a proud Italian history of resisting imperial authority, like the Lombard league who fought to push the Holy Roman Emperors out. At its height, the league consisted of massive portions of Northern Italy, from Genoa to Venice, and while it was something of a north Italian event, it was a good example.

There were stories like this in the south, too- the War of the Vespers, which resulted in the Anjou princes being kicked off of the island of Sicily, to be replaced by the Kings of Aragon in Spain. Admittedly, that wasn't a very good example- kicking out foreign influence only to fall under the control of someone else wasn't what he wanted, even if that was basically how Britannia came to rule Sicily after the people had grown discontent with France.

Euphemia seemed enthusiastic to test out her Italian language skills, even if Lelouch had to help her a little. Lelouch guided her through some basic pleasantries with the local rulers of the city before starting to talk business. He had to admit that he and his sisters made for a strange group; however, Lelouch imagined that no one wanted to question them and potentially disrespect the Viceroy of their country or his sister- the one with the sword, of course.

Afterwards they headed to Ferrara, another famed Italian city, and Lelouch had to wonder what they were going to do with all these castles. He might need to set aside funds to keep them maintained if they could manage it; they probably wouldn't be stopping cannonballs, but they were cultural artifacts. Hopefully, they could find some sort of use for them in the future considering that Lelouch couldn't live in several palaces at once. A few of them could serve as centers of local government (if they weren't already), he supposed.

Cornelia was interested in the castles and forts that dotted the country, and he had to admit she would be the expert on this sort of thing. She had seen the great forts of the Indian subcontinent, and played a large part in tearing several of them down. However, it was important to remember that every mote of information she gathered here might be turned against Lelouch, and while that could be said for a lot of people (Lelouch imagined Stadtfeld would turn and flee for the homeland the moment fighting broke out) she had the military expertise needed to really make a difference.

He supposed there was something fitting about traveling through Italy, seeing so many great seats of power that had once hosted famed states. Lelouch just hoped to be remembered as a leader of one of the longer lasting ones.

Creating a lasting state was quite difficult, understandably. Even then, all it took was one bad apple (or even just a mediocre one) to ruin generations of good leadership, like the Montefeltro family. The city of Urbino, which that family ruled for centuries, wasn't far from San Marino, actually. Urbino was one of the finest courts in all of Renaissance Europe, and a Duke Frederico ruled the state well during the time. A splendid palace towered above the city- not that there were any members of the Montefeltro family left to enjoy it. Frederico was followed by his son Guidobaldo, who died without issue, ending the line.

For every great dynasty, how many others crumpled? Just surviving the world was a feat on its own, much less rising to greatness. For every Britannian dynast or Bourbon ruling in splendor, imagine all the dynasties with only one or two adequate rulers before they descended into obscurity.

Lelouch knew that his current circumstances were thanks to a happy mix of his own skill and general good fortune on his part. All his military skill would have been nothing without an army to lead and a war to fight in, after all. What was it that the Roman senate said when Emperors were inaugurated? Be more fortunate than Augustus and better than Trajan? Men could certainly rise to greatness during trying times- just look at Napoleon's rise to power. Still, even the greatest prince couldn't overcome all circumstances.

San Marino was old- it claimed descent from Saint Marinus (if the name didn't make that quite obvious), who founded a monastic community in the region- around AD 301. That was definitely a goal to shoot for when it came to a country's longevity, although perhaps the only reason they managed was because they were so tiny- the entire state could fit in the Venetian lagoon several times over.

Even then, the Republic had its rough spots: without a friendship between Napoleon and one of the city's Captain Regents, the state might have met its end, as so many did, at the hands of the French. Curiously, the little state was ruled by Captain Regents, plural: they had two heads of state, as the old Roman Republic did.

For Lelouch's purposes, that really meant two people trying to be nice to him instead of one, but it was still quite the curious state. It probably wouldn't have been a bad place to live, all things considered, but such a small state wouldn't give Lelouch the resources he needed to keep a hostile power at bay, so that wasn't an option, clearly.

A lot of his problems were ones of scale: sure, having more soldiers meant that Nunnally would be safer, it also meant a plethora of issues- some of which he could handle in the short term, some of which he couldn't. On the world stage, he was a much bigger player than little San Marino, and as such a much bigger potential threat to the other powers.

Still, the San Marinese were not a bad people, and Lelouch saw no reason to take action against them- it wouldn't be a particularly long war, but it wouldn't be a profitable one either. Why bleed for such a tiny microstate? There were certainly worse countries to share the peninsula with. The land east of the Piave (and the southern Tyrol, if you considered that land Italian) were under the Habsburgs, who were a little less friendly than San Marino was.

Independence would lead to the rather unfavorable position of being almost completely surrounded by potential enemies- except the Swiss, he supposed. Not counting any potential enemies from overseas, that meant Bourbons to the West and Hasburgs to the East- oh joy.

Defenses along the Piave and near the Alps would be his best measure to hold off the Danubians, and similar measures could taken upon the Alpine border with France. Preferably, Lelouch could finagle any potential conflicts into one front wars- he didn't envy fighting either of his major neighbors, much less both at the same time.

If Europe would let him, he would be happy to simply hide behind the Alps and tend to what he had, but considering how European politics were at the moment… he doubted things would be that easy.

Meanwhile, the Low Countries were going through their own issues- more particularly, those surrounding a disunity between the northern, Protestant portions of the country and the southern, Catholic regions, and they would eventually reach the point of no return.

The Belgians as a people were tied by Catholic religion more than anything- the Walloons of the south spoke a language that was much closer to French than the more Dutch dialects of the Flemings. Still, nations had been borne from less than a shared religious identity. Of course, states were not built in a day, neither Roman nor Belgian. After several years of grating interregnum, a few Belgian rabble-rousers had decided that enough was enough.

The first riots began during a play. It was not a particularly inflammatory play or even a patriotic one, but it did happen to be happen to be happening at a very specific time. The actors probably would have been very disappointed to see that a majority of their audience left during the intermission, but it also meant they weren't in the middle of a blooming riot.

Economic downturn, differences of religion, a dissatisfaction with foreign rule, even unrest from the effects of cholera… it all combined into a potent mix that exploded into violence. In other circumstances it could have even stayed that way; a single riot didn't mean the end of a state, of course, but even the smallest sparks could start a roaring revolutionary fire.

Manufactories were attacked and storefronts looted, and that was just the beginning; general discontent let revolutionary fervor spread like a plague into the countryside. Of course, the logical government response was a military crackdown; but there was a bit of a catch: who was doing the cracking down? While many of the officers may have been northern, especially in the southern Netherlands Dutch officers led majority Belgian soldiers. The results were predictable.

Of course, this outbreak of violence also led to quite a few problems in the States General to the north. Other than quite a bit of awkwardness with the Fleming and Walloon representatives, a decision was rapidly reached: one William of the House-Orange Nassau would take up his ancestor's position as ruler of the Netherlands- of course, he wasn't just sitting around in the country waiting for his coronation.

William had, to put it indelicately, fled for Britannia once the French had started to get too upset with him. You couldn't just summon a (now) King in exile from England on short notice, so that meant that until he arrived the States General would running the show- and trying to clamp down on the growing Belgian revolt.

However, as armies were slowly moved into position, the Belgians were preparing themselves for a fight even as they pushed out what garrisons remained in Brussels. Within a few days, the Dutch flag was replaced by a rather impromptu new one, a tricolore of black, yellow, and red.

In all honesty, there was not a tremendous difference in the livelihoods of most Italian farmers: they worked the land and let the rest of modern society function. An army without food was not a winning army, in the same way the starving artisan wouldn't stay producing for very long- all society was dependent upon the farmer, like it or not.

Of course, that meant that supporting the farmers was one of Lelouch's great obligations- it was more than just a matter of national security, it was a matter of national functioning. The farmers could certainly survive without Lelouch (even if they needed an army to protect them) but Lelouch couldn't do anything without farmers.

The fields were mostly filled with winter wheat- it was that time of year after all, even if the spring of 1828 was coming soon- and in time that wheat would be filling stomachs. As charming as those rolling hills might have been, Lelouch wanted Italy to become more than just a backwards, agricultural state- he wanted to export textiles and other manufactured goods.

In fact, he had already begun sending steam engines to the Barbary coast, along with experts to man them and help construct factories. As disturbing as the idea of pirates with steamships might have been, having economic partners in Africa, ones that exported economic goods instead of pirates would be better for everyone. It strengthened his position without giving off an imperialist look, and would hopefully keep the Beys from picking a fight with another power that would crush them flat.

Canning would definitely be nice for the army, but it would still be expensive- plus, Lelouch was a little uncomfortable with the solder. The Romans may have made their aqueduct pipes from the stuff, but it was dangerous- it was linked to the colic, sudden, abrupt pain in the body. He certainly didn't want to drink the stuff, or have it used to close off cans holding food, but it was some of the best solder they had.

Textiles and iron production were another obvious choice- you really couldn't get enough of either. The former in particular was closely tied to industrialization- and Lelouch was happy to see the technology spread far and wide. Other than the economic benefits, it meant would hopefully lead to Britannia loosing some of that incredible industrial lead.

Of course, Lelouch knew that Italy and the Barbary Coast weren't exactly as ready for industrialization as the home islands were, and it may have been completely impossible to catch up on an economic level to Britannia. He also didn't have a colonial empire to mercilessly exploit and provide tremendous amounts of raw materials to fuel his industry- hopefully, Italy and the lands of the Maghreb would provide enough resources.

Perhaps it was a bit strong to say they were his allies- if war broke out with Britannia, they honestly wouldn't be that much help. They had some warships that weren't pirate craft, but Lelouch didn't like the odds if they put Barbary corsairs up against Britannia's seasoned naval veterans.

His main potential ally in Europe was not a particularly strong one- you just couldn't raise too much of an army on Corsica. It made sense to build closer ties with that little island off Sardinia- they shared the Tyrrhenian Sea after all, and the native Corsican language was very similar to his own Italian. Even better, the Principality's independence would hopefully mean that Corsica wouldn't get too cozy with the French, even if they were ruled by the son of a French emperor.

Perhaps he should consider reaching an agreement with Bonaparte similar to the ones he had drawn up with the Barbary princes? Fostering closer ties with the princedom would be good, and it was a shame that Bonaparte was stuck wasting his time on the island- he was talented. Bringing the island under Italian sovereignty would be nice, and would give him the appearance of being not just a ruler of Italy, but ruler of the Italians.

The difference may have seemed small, but it gave a slightly different impression, a sort of accord with the people. Well, Louis XVI was forced to call himself King of the French by the revolution until he could no longer wear the crown (for rather obvious reasons). Styling himself as King of the Italians after independence might be read as challenge to other countries with Italian minorities- not that he expected wonderful relations with the Empire of the Danube, but still.

Admittedly, Lelouch was counting his chickens before they hatched, but taking Corsica under his wing would be an obvious choice. Before the French, Corsica had been ruled by the Genoese- perhaps it was time for a triumphant reunion, to see Sardinia and Corsica brought together under one rule.

Eventually, Lelouch and his sisters reached the city of Bari, which he had occupied once before during his conquest of Italy. It was still something of an economic center, and Lelouch couldn't help but feel a little pity for Murat, who worked hard for this city only to see it fall into Britannian hands (for now, at least).

Once again Lelouch was struck by the number of old castles and churches he had conquered- castles he certainly didn't plan on filling with nobility- but now he had the time to focus on the countryside and its people instead of just rushing to Venice like he was trying to smuggle St. Mark's corpse from Alexandria.

Cornelia didn't share his enthusiasm for the specifics of Italian history, but she seemed to think of this whole trip as something of a… sideshow.

Just talking with the average Italian proved itself valuable- it was very good for his reputation, after all. Showing the Italian people that he cared about them, cared about their opinions and wellbeing, was important- and just talking with them was one way of doing that; it also happened to be free, more importantly.

"Are the harvests good? Rather evidently, I'm not much of a farmer."

He was talking to a local farmer, who had adapted surprisingly well to talking with his Viceroy- he was still shooting glances at Jeremiah though, who stood imposingly behind Lelouch.

"Fair enough, your highness." The farmer shrugged, the rifle on a strap over his shoulder bobbing with his movements. "I've been doing some hunting, but we probably won't need it to make it through the winter."

Lelouch smiled. "Say, could you tell me where you get your powder? The army needs so much of it, after all."

"Mix it myself. The saltpeter comes from Molfetta, I think?" The farmer stroked his chin, apparently lost in thought, and Lelouch tried his best not to choke. Was there a saltpeter mine in Italy that he didn't know about?

True enough, a bit of questioning led him to a little town to the north of Bari called Molfetta, which had a massive sinkhole- it seemed nearly a hundred feet deep, its cavernous sides pockmarked with caverns. If Lelouch had to guess, some caves had collapsed, leading to the discovery of what could only be called a natural nitrary.

Apparently, it had been discovered quite some time ago, before the French had stormed in, back when the Bourbons still ruled in the region. Molfetta was such a massive source of saltpeter that the Kingdom could devote its resources to more useful things- why use manure to make saltpeter when it could be used as fertilizer?

Unsurprisingly, this particular natural feature was of interest to the French, but when Lelouch swept in he was too busy rushing around to investigate rumors about saltpeter caves. After that, he just never learned about it until he gone down and investigated in person- who would go rushing to their viceroy with news of a cave?

It was a very pleasant surprise to be sure, but Lelouch started wondering. What sort of other things were hidden away in his country that he didn't know about? Not just caves or other natural features, but the people. Lelouch was positive there was at least one Italian who probably wanted him dead- there was definitely a case to be made that he was just as much of a foreign oppressor as the French.

That certainly wasn't the impression that Lelouch wanted to give, and he hoped that the average man thought highly of him- this trip was intended to show the Italian people that he cared. He could never know everything about his state in the same way he could never truly know what was in the ground underneath his feet- but he could tend the land well, couldn't he?

Lelouch could faintly see processing facilities at the bottom of the open cavern, where men would have worked to process the saltpeter, which was so plentiful you could scrape it off the craggy rock walls. He could feel a smile on his face. "This is a pleasant surprise, isn't it?"

Cornelia's expression was stoic. "With this, you'll never have to worry about a blockade cutting Italy off from ammunition."

"Do you think we'll have need of it, big brother?" Nunnally was balanced on her horse, which Lelouch was carefully guiding far from the sinkhole's edge.

"Maybe, maybe not. Britannia is a strong country, one that the other powers would be hesitant to attack, but at the same time we can't have Italy looking weak, looking like a target."

Euphemia sighed. "So it's all just a bunch of saber rattling and posturing?"

Lelouch chuckled. "I suppose so. There's a certain value to the appearance of strength- or the illusion of it."

"The illusion of strength?"

"The enemy acts based on what they know, and if they think that we're in a position of strength, they're less likely to attack. Perfect information would be ideal- but impossible."

"That doesn't seem very honorable."

"Well, I'd rather win than be honorable in defeat. Subterfuge and deceit are just as much a part of war as bleeding and fighting- an ideal world would have neither, but this is not the best possible world, now is it?"

Euphemia frowned. "I suppose it makes sense- there's no reason not to use underhanded tactics, especially if the other person isn't. Stopping that sort of thing would only hurt you without necessarily stopping your enemy. It just seems so unfortunate."

Pietro had to admit that there was something very impressive about the towering peaks of the Alps, and their stationing nearby gave them all the time they needed to observe those peaks. They were just south of the Danubian Tyrol, a bit north of the city of Verona.

Prince Lelouch had ordered them to keep a careful eye on the Alps to the north- the passes through those great heights would be key in any future war. They had practiced with rifles and the strange, lightweight mortars the Prince had acquired for them, and admittedly they were much easier to move around than the heavier pieces.

Now the Prince himself… he was curious. Pietro had joined up with him at Milan- he had fought alongside the Sicilians there and couldn't help but follow along. He had heard rumors about the prince of Sicily… and while he was fairly charming and a good speaker, the man- no, the boy was a little young. And kind of dainty looking. Hell, Pietro had nearly thought he was an aide or squire for that man with the teal hair, Gottwald, at least at first. Still, the prince certainly seemed to have a leader's mind.

Now Pietro was no expert, but Lelouch seemed a fair commander, decisively defeating Beauharnais in Tuscany. That was definitely something- Lelouch had led them on something of a tour of the countryside, even if it wasn't very leisurely. It was strange to think of (most of) the peninsula as Italy- not a bunch of French puppet states, not a smattering of feuding princedoms, but Italy. Well, Britannian Italy, but still.

In a way, he felt Italian. Not Lombard, not Milanese… Italian. His unit was a diverse one- well, by Italian standards- boosted by recruits from all over the peninsula. The dialects were definitely a little off at first, but it wasn't much harder than understanding the occasional strange turn of phrase from the Prince when he addressed them. Plus, some of these men had fought off the French with him- nothing like defeating their foreign oppressors to bring everyone together, he supposed.

Technically, it could be argued that Britannia was oppressing them, but it certainly didn't feel like it- he had heard all sorts of horror stories about the Britannian royalty, their flagrant cruelty in the colonies… and maybe that was true, maybe it was French propaganda. The only Britannians Pietro had sat down to talk with were those volunteers from the Britannian islands- the Peat Gatherers, and they seemed like good folks. Of course, they were only here because they decided that fighting for Lelouch was better than staying home, so...

There were also the Viceroy's sisters, he supposed. Well, the oldest of them- Cornelia, was it? If that was what Britannian women looked like…damn.There were also the younger ones, but the Viceroy and Cornelia were very protective of their younger siblings- understandable, considering that one of them was blind and crippled. Not to mention the fact that the poor girl had to adapt to all that without her mother- it was tragic.

The Viceroy felt concrete in a way his father did not- their sovereign may have been Emperor Charles of the Holy Britannian Empire, but the average Italian knew more of the Viceroy. Pietro only knew the Emperor through French propaganda- printings depicting the Emperor as insatiable in every meaning of the word, with an endless desire for land, for wealth, for women… The man had 108 wives, which just seemed difficult on a logistical level to Pietro.

Pietro had been born and raised in an Italy under the French boot- the Britannian capture of Sicily had happened when he was a small child, but he remembered the news, if faintly. The Ravaging of Sicily- he had heard tales of rapine and slaughter, a Britannian army just over the strait of Messina… The French press made a rather on the nose comparison between Britannia ravaging Sicily and the Emperor's relation with his consort, Marianne.

The prince seemed exceedingly popular among his Sicilian soldiery, so it seemed like the Sicilian union with the Britannian crown was a little more voluntary than the French wanted them to think.

Some part of him wondered if he would be fighting for the prince in the future, and who he would be facing if he did. Peace for the rest of his days would be nice, but even if the French revolution had been brought to a halt, he couldn't help but feel that Europe was changed by it too deeply for things to ever be the same.

In time, news of revolution spread to the halls of power in Europe- Vienna, Paris, and Berlin, to name the most interested- and the question was quite simple: what to do? The immediate reaction to a violent revolution was to strangle it in the cradle before the ideological poison could spread.

Of course, other political concerns played a role: France was interested in promoting the independence of a Catholic state with cultural ties to themselves, and even if the Bourbons had been restored to power, the Empire of the Danube and the German states were uncomfortable with the French advancing their interests in the Low Countries- what if they integrated the fledgling Belgian state, or at least the Walloon portion?

At the same time Belgium could serve as a buffer state- and as long as it was a proper, monarchical state, was there really much reason to start another large war? Opinions across Europe were mixed, and it was clear that a proper decision should be made, and quickly.

Even as the Dutch fought to preserve the unity of their no longer United Provinces and the Belgians fought for independence and self determination, plans for a conference were under way. Of course, they couldn't predict how the Belgian situation would pan out when an appropriate meeting of diplomats could be established, it was the principle of the thing.

If the French had made anything clear, it was that the chaos and unrest caused by war was a terrible risk to the balance of power- wouldn't it be better if all the powers of Europe acted in concert, to guard their peace?

A peace built on bloody foundations perhaps, the gore and viscera staining the streets of Brussels, but it was clear that steps needed to be taken to protect the order of Europe.

Clovis vi Britannia had grown fairly fond of the Cape of Good Hope- it may have been far away from his family, and he missed his siblings greatly, but the great plateaus of southern Africa were splendid to see and a joy to paint. He liked to think that his palace complex was a great bastion of high culture in Africa, even if a fair amount of the colony's funds had to go to the military.

The Cape was a key spot on the trip to India, and as such it needed to be well maintained and secure, to resupply all the great trade ships that sailed by. The natives certainly weren't rivals for the great indigenous powers of India or Asia, but the Emperor had been very clear that keeping the natives at bay was their utmost priority- especially considering all the chaos going on around Natal.

Some native prince- Shaka of the Zulu, was it?- had revolutionized warfare in the region (well, it was revolutionary for the natives, nothing compared to proper Britannian arms and tactics) and this new style of fighting had spread rapidly as Shaka marched on the warpath. Any native lucky enough to escape that terrible prince's wrath would turn around and inflict the same violence on others who hadn't come into contact yet.

He was obligated to keep a careful eye on the situation, even if they had a tremendous advantage in technology. From what reports he heard… there was something off with Shaka recently. His mother had died recently, and he gone mad with grief- the reports got unreliable here, but it seemed like the prince of the Zulu was ordering executions and putting draconian restrictions in place out of sheer grief. Hopefully, someone more stable (and hopefully more pacifistic) would take the throne soon- someone would probably kill him off eventually.

Worrying about Shaka wouldn't get anything done, and he had generals to handle that if things ever got bad. Surely, no backwards natives could defeat even a fragment of the Britannian Empire's might. Clovis had more… interesting things to focus on, like his cupbearer.

She was a pretty thing with long black hair and brilliant blue eyes, a Britannian born and raised; while Clovis may have had a fondness for the Boer women trusting them with serving wine that could be potentially poisoned… that was a bit too far, and he had to agree with advisors on that. Nominally, cupbearers were supposed to serve wine and sometimes even taste it to check for poison, but their close proximity to the ruler meant that the role gathered… different implications in Clovis' court.

Clovis got to share wine with very pretty women, and they got the pleasure of his company and fair pay. What was there to complain about? He couldn't help but grin as his cupbearer took a long, deep swig, her face flushing red and her breathing getting heavier…

God, this was the life! He leaned in to start whispering sweet nothings- he had this down to a science by now- when he noticed that she had started to get woozy. She was such a slender little thing, seemed like she was a bit of a lightweight- it might have been a problem if he was actually paying her to test his wine.

He reached for a swig when the girl slumped over into his arms, her dark locks of hair spilling wildly. Clovis froze for a moment before carefully taking the cup and giving it a tenative sniff- it reeked of almonds. Clovis was no expert on poisoning, but even he understood that strange smells from your wine was not a good sign.

The girl in his arms wasn't breathing heavily because of passion or drink- she was dying of poison, and she had probably saved his life by serving as cupbearer. Clovis' voice broke through the din of the hall- "Physician! Get my physician!"

After a couple of moments of silence, someone rushed off to grab the physician, although Clovis knew with some dread certainty that the woman in his arms was going to be dead by the time help arrived. The jovial mood of the court had died down, replaced with silent shock. Someone had tried to murder the prince in his palace- and they had nearly succeeded.

Wikipedia Page of the day: List of shortest reigning monarchs. 15 minute any% speedrun lmao

Is Code Geass (the original) just the Last Samurai with mechs and magic eyeball powers?

This fic is slowly going to turn into Rick Steves' Europe while my back is turned I swear.

For anyone who's curious: to the swim the Tiber means to convert to Roman Catholicism. Macaroni is another interesting phrase- if you've ever listened to Yankee Doodle and wondered how the hell anyone confused feathers and pasta, basically it's a roundabout way of saying Americans are so low class they think a feather is high fashion.

The Belgian revolution seemed to have started during a play- a play first shown in February 1828. Was it shown in Brussels at that time? Idk. Still, I thought it was interesting. I'm trying to rhyme with history, if that makes sense.

I wasn't joking about the St. Mark thing either- a couple of Venetian merchants honestly tried to smuggle the (alleged) corpse of St. Mark to Venice. He was their patron saint, after all. They supposedly snuck it past Muslim officials by hiding it in a barrel with pork. Yeah.

History is weird, that's why I love it. Also, I swear I didn't know about the Anglo-Corsican Kingdom before writing this. A relatively liberal Italian island made puppet state of Britain ruled in personal union- the similarities are stunning.

Pietro serves to show what the military is doing, basically. I was considering naming him Giuseppe, but considering the story's theming… might cause some confusion with ol' Garibaldi, you know?