Bloodied Rock
Gonna try one of those "in universe pieces of media published after the story ends" things- like how Lelouch of Britannia had those bits at the beginning of each chapter, like portions of stageplays or whatever made about the story. Idk tell me if it's cool.
"It should be noted that the Italian War of Independence was fought, in large part, using flintlock guns: Italian use of the Asplund ball meant they tended towards rifles, while the Britannians still used muskets, but all used the same fundamental firing mechanism: a flint striking steel to light the powder.
European tendencies towards the massed volley fire meant rifles did not become mainstays of the battlefield, at least not at first- note that units like Jaegers, from German regions, were primarily used in a skirmishing role- and Britannia would eventually form her own specialist rifle units, the Imperial Rifle Corps.
In time, the flintlock would come to be superseded by the percussion cap, a device which could be ignited when struck by a gun's hammer, and the march of technology would replace flintlocks in the same way that the flintlock replaced old wheel lock and matchlock pieces. The matchlock, of course, had its own weaknesses previously discussed, like requiring a lit match..."
Excerpt from Gunpowder: The Foundation of Empire
Lelouch was fairly anxious to reach the straits of Gibraltar- the sooner he could get there, the sooner they could start moving their guns into place. Rifled pieces, of course, which didn't have the range to cover the entirety of the straits, meaning that if Britannia came, they would have to battle at sea.
The ideal would probably be baiting the Britannian navy near the Rock- the fire support would be greatly appreciated, but unlikely. No one was quite that stupid: driving straight up to a fortified emplacement was so foolhardy it bordered on insanity, and Britannia wouldn't be sending anyone but their best.
At the very least, his steam ships would have the decisive advantage in maneuverability, since they weren't dependent on the wind, but coal instead. Of course, that came with problems of its own- unless they planned on using them as floating batteries they would need to practice very good husbandry with their coal. Even with ships coming in to resupply, there would be things to worry about- Lelouch had heard… unpleasant tales about the explosive nature of coal dust.
It would be an absolute pain to keep the Straits shut- the name of Britannia's game was thalassocracy- but all other options eventually involved fighting Britannia in Italy, which was completely unacceptable unless he had no other options. He would not let his country get torn apart by those rabid dogs of his father's.
About nine to ten miles of strait at the narrowest point, not to mention the fact that the 'chokepoint' didn't even touch Gibraltar… the Rock would be more of a base of operations than anything else. Spain might be capable of managing a blockade, but Lelouch didn't want to bet on it. His fleet would be spread wide, he would have to be flexible. Of course, that posed problems of its own- what if Britannia sent in a force to distract them while a main fleet went ahead…
War in Italy was a disturbing possibility, one he would like to avoid at all costs- but it was a possibility, and if Lelouch had to make the trip in reverse he would. Of course, that didn't mean he had to like the trip itself… Still, he had to display solidarity with the men, even if that meant eating salt pork stored in barrels.
Maybe he should check in with the Tunisians or Algerians soon, see if he could get something canned. Dates, lamb, anything- just not hardtack and pork.
Cornelia knew that being calm under pressure was a good thing for a military commander, and she was calm; however, that didn't mean she wasn't concerned. Portuguese ships passed within sight of the Rock every once in a while, and they might know about the Italian situation…
They had managed to keep the whole situation under wraps for now, but Cornelia didn't fully trust those Peat Gatherers and their leader, Collins- she understood why Lelouch sent them, but she certainly didn't trust them not to eventually blow the whole thing wide open.
So that meant that she might have to take the Rock by herself, somehow overcoming a garrison of five thousand with a force only two fifths of that size. On the defense, especially in a fortress like Gibraltar, those numbers were… reasonable. Not a fight she'd want to take to the field, but with the force multiplier of a fortress, very possible.
Her force modifiers- those things that made her forces more effective- were rather limited at the moment. Many of her men were well armed with rifles and Asplund balls, which were devastating- although not quite as effective in the narrow tunnels of the fort. Her own soldiers were well drilled and loyal… the rest sufficed. Above all there was the element of surprise, which was their greatest tool- and the one at greatest risk of disappearing like so much air with one slip up.
She might be able to do something with men positioned on the higher portions of the Rock- she wasn't lacking for sharpshooters and accurate rifles- but the Britannians could just scamper back inside once they got shot at, making it a brutal melee she didn't have the numbers for if it was just an even fight.
Still, she had a few other options- the garrison were men just like any other, after all.
Few words could send a thrill of terror coursing through you quite like fire, especially when in a non-combat context. When working with gunpowder, every fire was a dreadful risk to life and limb, especially on board a ship.
Powder stores were always away from the rest of the ship or base- if so much as a spark got in a magazine you'd find yourself in… unfortunate circumstances. In the Britannian navy, powder magazines were under the waterline, for rather obvious reasons, and lanterns weren't even allowed in powder stores- too much risk. Collins had heard of the French ship, the Orient, which exploded at the Nile- killing the French admiral and leading to a Britannian victory.
And this wasn't just a naval problem- such issues could definitely occur on dry land. He had heard of the Parthenon, in Greece- a Venetian bombardment ignited powder stores held in the building, and an explosion added to the damages caused by the rigors of time. There was a similar tale regarding Brescia, in Lombardy, if memory served.
So when Collins heard someone shouting "Fire!" he shot to his feet, grogginess melting away in moments. He rather liked being alive, thank you very much. Before he could leave the room to help in the fire fighting efforts, one of the others stopped him, leaning in close…
He wasn't quite fluent in Italian yet, but he got the general impression. Fake. Pretend. Get rifle, get up. The Italian filled Collins in on the plan as he scrambled to his feet.
Even if they were outnumbered by the garrison, they had a few crucial edges: anyone stupid enough to bring powder or cartridges when fighting a fire would have had that beaten out of them- lacking powder discipline was completely unacceptable if you liked staying alive. Add to that the element of surprise, and...
So as the men of the garrison rushed in the direction of the (alleged) fire, the Italians (or those men more aligned with Italy) rushed around in a different way, heading towards those places were they could best press their advantages- higher ground and the fortifications, mostly- ideally, they could send the Britannian garrison packing to the town of Gibraltar itself without much of a fight… but he doubted it.
Unfortunately, even if their scheme distracted some of the garrison, it didn't distract everyone, and it was absolutely critical that several places fell immediately- the heavy guns, the free standing forts, etc. And that meant violence- which Collins and his companions were willing to mete out.
He took out a cartridge, his fingers tight around the waxy paper, and bit, tearing away at its top, feeling the grit of some loose grains of powder and the taste of tallow in his mouth before he shoved the cartridge into the mouth of his rifle- he didn't keep it loaded at all times, but he was certain that he would be firing it off very soon.
Collins found himself taking a leadership position among a few of his fellows, most of which were Peat Gatherers like himself. No use throwing a wrench into an already messy operation by having to overcome a language barrier.
The tunnels of Gibraltar weren't the narrowest you could find- they needed to be broad enough to move cannons and ammunition through, after all- but they definitely changed the field of battle. Hell, it couldn't even be called a field anymore. Narrow spaces didn't compliment the rifle's long range, they were loud, and they even had to deal with shrapnel, sprays of lead or soft stone adding to the chaos of battle.
Even then, the rifle was no small matter: the Asplund ball was vicious, cutting through the body at greater speed, tearing straight through bone and muscle where round shot would not have. Sometimes they would flatten on impact, widening to leave massive exit wounds. They were cruel, they were vicious, but they worked.
The Italians outranged their counterparts, and while they couldn't press that advantage inside the tunnels, they took positions to snipe at the Britannians from above, making the most of fort's many levels and outcroppings- if you could fit an artillery piece through it, you could certainly fit a rifle.
They rushed through areas referred to as galleries, although they certainly weren't filled with pieces of art- unless you were fond of artillery pieces. No one was there- were they manning the lines, then? There positions outside of the Rock as well….
Eventually, they met the foe at one of the highest batteries, and seizing that initial moment of surprise when the Britannians wondered what the hell was going on, Collins and his men fired, splattering blood upon the caissons before they charged in for a melee against the men.
Admittedly, the Britannians weren't the worst fighters- once that initial shock had worn off, they put up a fierce fight, but many were wounded already, and were more used to manning artillery than fighting up close and personal.
After pulling a bayonet from a man, Collins looked around- they had taken casualties, certainly, but they were in a very advantageous position- loading another cartridge into his rifle, he could see Britannians manning the lines below them, sent into high alert by the sound of gunfire. Aiming as best he could, Collins grinned- too bad for them.
Fighting had broken out inside of Gibraltar as well- a brutal melee, in which Cornelia's veterans had a decisive edge over the ill-disciplined men who formed the garrison. Thankfully, they had managed to get a number of unarmed soldiers, including the commander, to surrender with that fire trick, which hemmed them all up, unarmed, in one place- not exactly her proudest moment, but wars weren't won with gallantry. Many others just broke and fled when conflict appeared, fleeing to the town of Gibraltar itself. They would have to keep a careful eye on that situation, to be sure…
The tunnels were ruled by the carbine, the pistol, and the sabre, not the rifle, but the men of the garrison frequently found themselves facing the latter when fleeing the former- Cornelia had to order her men to stay inside for the most part. Some of the Italians they brought along were a little… trigger happy, firing from the defensive Lines and Batteries.
She had to send runners up there, just to make sure that they wouldn't fire down at her own men while they were trying to cross any open spaces- their next target was going to be a nasty one, unfortunately: the Moorish Castle. The men of the garrison who decided to stay made their way to that old fortress and tried their best to hold out- while ducking away to avoid Italian rifle fire from the treeline. Fire from behind like that probably wasn't something they planned for.
So much as standing in the open could be a considerable risk- those rifles were damned accurate, and the men armed with them had taken up positions everywhere, clambering up trees or ruins where steps weren't available. If she really wanted to, she could probably have some of the guns moved around- it wasn't like they were lacking for pieces- to bombard the place, but she would prefer not to wreck fortifications she could eventually use.
She planned the assault while trying to avoid a near constant barrage of rifle fire that hopefully kept the Britannians cowering behind their fortifications- anyone fool enough to stand up didn't stay that way for long. Thankfully, that basically crippled most of the batteries- not that many of them could really fire uphill. Eventually, that was the plan that Cornelia had decided to go with- an approach from above was better than trying to attack from below, and sticking to the tree cover would hopefully lower casualties. Once they actually reached the fortifications, fighting indoors was still brutal, but sometimes they would lean on the humble grenade. Not always the fancy cast iron or ceramic types, but simple containers stuffed full of bits of metal and powder, before adding a fuse and lighting it. It was not a particularly elegant weapon- but it was certainly better than rushing into with dozens of guns pointed at you.
Still, if the day had proven anything to her, it was the utility of accurate shooters hiding away under cover- it certainly made her worry a little more about getting shot, to be certain. An army composed of individual marksmen like this, defending a well prepared position like Gibraltar- imagining those casualties was almost painful. Still, she wouldn't want to hold Gibraltar all by herself- even with those tricks and the better weapons, her men had been bloodied fiercely.
It occurred to Kallen that she probably made quite the strange- and perhaps even suspicious- sight. An exotic looking, young Britannian woman and her maidservant, standing in front of the Quirinal Palace, waiting for an audience.
Her original intention was to simply leave quietly late one night- get to the palace before her father's increasingly desperate escape plots yielded results. Still, her intended trip wasn't exactly a short one- Lombardy and Rome were some distance apart, and that mean preparation, the sort that got her discovered.
Discovered by her mother, that is. The actual one, of course, not the woman her father had married. "Kallen, are you heading out? I don't wish to overstep my boundaries, but I can't imagine hunting this late would be very safe..."
"I'm…" Kallen fell silent. She was more than willing to do something kind of foolhardy and stupid- but dragging her poor mother along? Still, was it better than just abandoning her to the whims of her father and stepmother? "Heading to Rome." She clasped her mother's hands. "I'd like you to come with me."
Her mother blinked. "To Rome? During a time like this? Shouldn't you stay with your father?"
"Staying with him means going to Britannia, if we even leave at all- and if the Imperial court is anything like Clovis', I'd rather not."
"But you can't just leave family behind-"
"Like how he abandoned you for a politically advantageous match?" Kallen shot back. After seeing her mother's expression, Kallen sighed. "If you're so worried, why don't you come along? It's not like you'd have much to look forward to in Britannia- I think the royal family even has a Japanese maid. Maybe you could meet her?"
Her mother smiled, and Kallen adjusted her plan- or what passed for one, anyways- to accommodate two people. She would probably have to arrange for a horse, and while she didn't have much luggage (that she cared about) her mother might need to ride behind her… They'd certainly make an odd sight, she'd probably want to stick to back roads…
There was a bit of awkwardness in the air as they traveled to Rome- they did eventually make it, of course, but Kallen worried for her mother- how would she survive in Italy, a land that she barely understood? Protecting her mother from the dangers of the world was definitely an odd reversal of roles- but Kallen didn't have any other real family.
It had taken quite some pleading before she could even be let inside the royal palace- fair enough, she supposed. An attempt on the princesses' lives would be upsetting during this point in time, not to mention what fury the king might unleash upon his guards if his sisters were hurt. Eventually, after some waiting, she was let inside, and came face to face with… Euphemia? The pink haired one.
Kallen was struck by just how… inoffensive the girls looked. Nunnally looked like she could scarcely hurt a fly, and Euphemia was practically beaming. Somehow, she had expected worse from children of the Emperor. Sure, Clovis had been physically charming, but too much of an nuisance to tolerate in spite of that. She had her suspicions about Lelouch, and she supposed that these two could be Machiavellian schemers as well… but if so they didn't feel like it.
That was probably the point of a truly masterful deception, and Kallen kept her guard up… but the two princesses were nice. Inviting. And so she talked about how she had ended up in Rome- the whole running away from her old life story just kind of spilled out, even if she… doctored the story, for the sake of presentation. If they were attempting to charm her, best to act charmed- just stay smart.
"It would certainly be striking, wouldn't it? A noble scion turned freedom fighter, turning against her own country for the sake of liberty!" Euphemia smiled.
"I don't want to be some sort of propaganda piece," Kallen said, "I refuse to just stand there and look pretty-"
Euphemia held her hands up defensively. "I never said that you would- I just think that you've got a certain… appeal, one that we could exploit on top of your service."
"Well if you're willing to do that, could you two host my mother and I? It's not like we have anywhere else to move…"
"Wait, your mother…?"
"The actual one, not my stepmother." Kallen's nose crinkled. "She's a bit out of her element, you know? You have that Japanese maid, right? Sayoko?"
"Of course, we'd be willing to introduce her- if you'd like, you could stay here more permanently. You'd be safer here than out in Italy proper, I'm sure."
"We have to take action eventually! What use is the Concert if it does not show itself capable of taking action?"
"And what, send young men off to die for the sake of Charles vi Britannia, so he could continue to expand his holdings into every corner of the world?"
"So we should just let the disease spread before we can stomp it out?" he scoffed, "What use is all this debate if we do not take any decisive action?"
"Is neutrality no longer a choice?"
"When the two options are the status quo or your head in a basket, the choice seems rather obvious. We're all about to be flooded- and you wish to stem the deluge with a sieve!"
"The Italian prince is scarcely more than a boy- we will have time to bring his rabble to heel if he even manages to extricate himself from his father's grasp."
"If they win, and I will admit that's a big if, that's proof that Lamperouge is more than just some child. You're acting as if a state that might fight Britannia to a standstill will somehow roll over-"
"All the powers of Europe eventually brought Bonaparte to heel-"
"After he died, you mean." He snorted. "Maybe if we're lucky we won't have to rack up six coalitions to bring this uppity Italian down!"
"What are we to do about the Italian situation?" Ioannis was rather obviously pro-Italy, and he wore it on his sleeve proudly, but he need to give his fellow noblemen the impression that he cared about their opinions- he couldn't do much on his own, given the current state of Ionia.
"It would be best to leave it be, at least for now- no use in putting what meager resources we have in a ship destined to sink." Men like Filippo, another one of his fellows, were the sort of people he had to sway- he supposed this was the great catch to republicanism- things were slow, and you couldn't always get the conclusion you wanted.
"If everyone thought the same as you, Italy would stand completely alone. If we came to Italy's aid, even in a small way, we stand to win the favor of a great Mediterranean power."
"And risk our relationship with a potentially triumphant Britannia? Not to mention if news reaches the Sublime Porte- we do not know the Sultan's stance on the matter. I say we wait to avoid provoking his wrath."
"I will provide aid for the Italians, even if I must do so myself!" Damn it all, he wasn't going to let Ionia lose a chance to get in on the ground level of Italy. He let out a long sigh.
"I'm sure the Italian war effort will be greatly aided by a barrel of your finest currants, Ioannis."
"It's better than nothing."
"And if it gets us all killed?"
Ioannis grinned. "Sell me out, then- if I do it alone, I will be punished for it alone. If you dislike what I do with the produce of my fields- you can have them."
"You have a lot of faith in the Italian king."
"Am I not allowed to think he has admirable goals? Better to have a neighbor who likes us than one that doesn't- Italy impacts us, and not just because we're speaking Venetian right now."
Gibraltar was just as much as a sight the second time around- that towering edifice of limestone and its surroundings were going to be critical in the coming months- before Lelouch passed it off to Spain, hopefully. As tempting as keeping it might have been, he had made a promise to the King of the Spain- and goodwill with just about anyone in Europe was worth that tiny slice of land.
The men were prepared for just about anything, even a fight- they had no idea what the situation would be like once they arrived. If Cornelia had failed… well, they could attempt to conduct a siege, but it would be nasty. Not to mention what might have happened to Cornelia… Lelouch shook his head. No use fretting over things that he couldn't control.
He was given a warm welcome when he docked, which was a good sign, but not necessarily proof that Cornelia had handled things… At least, he worried until he saw that some of the men who were waiting at the docks were Italian, cheering and whooping for him in their native tongue.
Cornelia wasn't waiting for him there, which was fair; she probably had a lot of business to handle, bringing Gibraltar to heel. There seemed to be a certain unease in the town itself, probably the result of the recent coup in the fort- seeing chaos among your supposed defenders probably wasn't reassuring, on top of the whole treason against the crown thing. Lelouch did his best to rush past the town as quickly as possible while retaining a shred of royal dignity- he didn't need to get shot, thank you very much.
Still, it was probably best to get used to the area (or at least the fort), more generally, as it would be his base of operations for the near future.
Several days after his arrival, Lelouch looked over the thin gap of the strait of Gibraltar. "I wonder how our… acquaintances in Barbary are doing. We've delivered them the engines and sent experts- it will take time, but hopefully they should be capable of weaning themselves off piracy…"
"And tell me Lelouch, what would you do if they started it again?" Cornelia asked. "What, would you take the hit to your reputation and annex them wholesale? Destroy harbors and wharves?"
Lelouch inhaled, but Cornelia was on a roll. "I'm not saying you'd have to- you've got them dancing on your strings, as far as I can tell. You may have replaced bullets with bullion, but you're still influencing them like a colonial power might do." Cornelia laughed. "Do you think ruling through native powers is a novel idea? Britannia does it all the time."
"Fair point- but if I didn't get them to change, someone else would have just swept in and taken the place over."
"Lelouch, if you want someone that will tell you that your lightweight colonialism is a bad thing, you're barking up the wrong tree." Cornelia said. "It's better than having pirates ravaging the sea- if you've managed to handle the problem without wasting lives? Even better."
They looked out at the small strip of sea separating them from Morocco (and Spanish Ceuta), the occasional ship passing by through the gap between the two landmasses. "I've seen Portuguese ships off of Gibraltar- no invasion force, certainly, but..."
"The Treaty of Windsor strikes back- Britannian ships will be able of resupplying at the Algarve in southern Portugal, won't they? Still, we wouldn't have to face armies on land unless father is bold enough to attempt marching men through Spain."
"Perhaps he would- perhaps not. King Carlos has a number of reasons to impede Britannia's war; hopefully Gibraltar will be enough of a temptation that he tolerates your politics, Lelouch."
Lelouch peered over the dark sea… "Ships!"
Cornelia snapped to attention at that as Lelouch continued talking. "From the east, at least, so they're probably not Britannian. Let me see if someone on this godforsaken rock left behind a telescope…"
Lelouch came back with a fine telescope, which he held carefully in his hands- loosing out on such a tool (and the expensive glasswork needed to make it) would be unfortunate. "It's not quite Herschel's Forty Foot- but it'll do."
He held the telescope up to his eye, looked through… and grinned. "I recognize that flag… Corsica! It's Bonaparte!"
"As much as I support your efforts at making friends, I have to ask how exactly he knew we were here?"
"We can ask him. What is he going to do, besiege Gibraltar?"
Bonaparte had heard that the Rock of Gibraltar was one of the two Pillars of Hercules- that was what the ancients called them, anyways. There was a certain mystique to the whole place- this was a boundary, between the Mediterranean and the Atlantic, between home and the outside world. He liked it very much.
Still, on some level he didn't like how close Spain was- he was certain he would never be popular over there, considering how King Carlos was sitting in a throne that had once belonged to Bonaparte's Uncle Joseph. The original Napoleon- dad- had many strengths, refraining from nepotism was not one of them. But weren't feudal regimes their own kind of nepotism?
Bonaparte shook his head. Not important right now. He needed to talk to Lelouch- and wow, was that a vibrant head of hair. She was also rather tall. Was this… "Lelouch! It's a pleasure to see you again- and you must be Cornelia? I've heard so much about you.'
"Awfully informal, this one." Cornelia muttered. "Yes, I am Cornelia- Cornelia Lamperouge, I suppose. And you heard about me… where?"
"From your sisters." Bonaparte replied instinctively, and almost immediately he realized that he made a mistake, given the way Cornelia's expression soured.
Lelouch jumped in before Cornelia could retroactively leap to Euphemia's defense. "I assume you visited Rome, then? Are things going well? Are Euphemia and Nunnally alright?"
"Yes- in fact, they both wrote letters." He pulled them out and practically had them snatched from his hands. "I heard there were plans for a foreign legion- we'd all like to join."
Lelouch smiled. "Welcome aboard then- we might just need to commandeer those boats though."
Bonaparte was happy to share his fleet, once he realized how dire the situation was. Gibraltar was their best shot at decisively bringing the war to a close. They might be able to win a land war in Italy- but it would be preferable to hold out here, using whatever tricks and schemes necessary. And that meant taking inventory- they needed to know exactly what they were working with.
"How are things ammunition and powder wise?"
"Fairly good- we can resupply from Italy and we've got sources of all three components of gunpowder, on top of what the good men of the garrison left behind."
"And what of our wooden ships? Do we have sufficient naval stores to maintain them?"
"We do, but why would we re-caulk our ships at a time like this?
Lelouch fell silent for a moment, a downright chilling grin growing on his face. "I have an idea- we're going to need gunpowder and tar, of course- and some of those empty barrels which held our supplies."
Cornelia's head quirked in confusion for a moment before her eyes widened and she gave an equally devilish grin. Bonaparte considered what those three items could be used for, in tandem… and smiled as well.
With Gibraltar under Italian control, it was time for the Peat Gatherers to fulfill the next part of their mission, so they got on board a few of the ships in the harbor (after making sure to let a proper Britannian flag fly), and set sail to the northwest, hugging the Spanish coast like they were afraid there were going to loose it which was very real possibility, pre-compass or for a wildly inexperienced crew.
Still, that just added to the illusion they were attempting to create. So they sailed to Portugal, hugging the Algarve- the southern coast- before turning north and heading in the direction of Lisbon; they might stop there for provender and to… curate what news reached Portugal from Gibraltar.
At its height, their collective naval knowledge wasn't great, but even then they could tell that something was… off about the Britannian ships in the harbor. Even when they had caught glimpses of ships in harbor in the big cities they had set sail from to get to Italy… the ships didn't look quite like these three.
The best way to describe them would probably be 'heavy frigate'- very well armed, but built for speed on top of that. People on shore were gawking at the strange, black ships as well, as Britannian and Portuguese sailors and stevedores rushed around, preparing the ships for something. The Peat Gatherers decided not to stop, to avoid any potentially awkward questions from all those actual, loyal Britannians.
It seemed quite obvious where the three ships were supposed to go, but it wasn't like the men could do anything about it- they had a mission to fulfill, so they couldn't just turn around and warn the Italians, even if they could somehow manage to outrun the frigates on the sea. The men did their best to shake off the nerves and continue sailing- Lelouch had gotten himself out of bad situations before, surely he could handle three boats.
As they sailed for Britannia, Collins pulled a crumpled, well read letter out of his pocket and sat down with his cipher- he had decoded it what felt like a dozen times, enough to have hammered it into his memory, but an excess of caution about these sorts of things never hurt.
Collins,
I will admit to not being completely up to date with the situation back in the homeland, and I do not intend to give orders which are ill-fitting for the actual circumstances. Instead, I leave the specifics of your operation in Britannia up to your own personal discretion, with a reminder to practice frugality with men and material- I do not believe that I could render you any form of assistance.
Be cautious, be cunning, but fulfill this mission: cause terror in Britain and Ireland. Chip away at their ability to conduct war and harry them as best you can, to give the impression of unrest or dissidents among them. Other than a general reminder to mind the potential consequences of a crackdown, I leave the matter entirely up to you.
Use your discretion and husband your resources carefully- if we all play our roles as best we can, I hope to see you again.
It was unsigned, quite obviously- this letter wouldn't help build a sterling reputation, and in all honesty Collins should probably burn it at some point, but it was proof of the trust Lelouch had laid in him- and Collins would do his best not to let him down.
It was a strange thing, the color of bronze with four odd, curving blades sprouting from a central axis. Lloyd handled it like it was his own child, which was made slightly strange by the fact that it was nearly his size- Lloyd had driven the metallurgists crazy with such a request, especially one in bronze, but you couldn't exactly have your main source of propulsion rusting away, now could you?
Lloyd had money to spend, for once- complements of those funds that would have gone to paying Britannia's taxes, and his ideal ship was taking shape in an isolated dockyard. If the propeller was Lloyd's baby, then the actual ship was his eldest child- he was endlessly proud about it, the beautiful lines of the hull, the metal composing the sides, the guns (two turrets, which Lloyd would not shut up about).
The men working on the ship couldn't help but share in a bit of that pride. Hopefully, if things turned out well, the craft would be more than just Lloyd's pride and joy- it would be another bold innovation from the Kingdom of Italy, proof that they had the finest engineers and shipwrights as well as the greatest ideas.
Of course, that was quite some time away- more than a year, possibly. The ship's demand for resources was extraordinary, sucking up iron by the ton from Elba, not to mention all the coal it would eventually need, but once it took to the seas… Lloyd was confident that there would be no greater craft afloat, and people believed him.
Schneizel was… ambivalent about news from Britannia. It could be good, it could be bad- it just depended on what was happening in Europe, which could vary wildly. Still, recent times had conditioned him to expect bad news- plan for the worst and all that.
Lelouch's betrayal came as something of a surprise- not completely out of nowhere, but rather spontaneous. He supposed that the worst time to start a revolution is when the enemy expected it- the question was what to do about this whole mess.
At the moment, all he really had was the ear of the Tsar's Regent, which certainly nothing to complain about even if the regent's position was a lot less stable than that of sovereign- he didn't have divine right on his side, after all. Still, that fragile position meant he would be slow to come to Britannia's aid, and that aid might just be material and financial.
Sure, they could throw in with Britannia and basically circumnavigate Europe to ship men into Italy the long way around… assuming that they could organize such an expedition. Technically, the trip would be shorter if a force was levied and sent south, to sail the Black Sea, go through the Bosporus, and strike Italy from the east, but there were issues there too.
That plan was dependent on the whims of the Ottoman Sultan- he could basically close off the Black Sea if he really wanted to, locking a Russian force in. If Russo-Turkish relations soured (always a possibility) that would only make their chances of getting through worse.
Perhaps if the Sublime Porte decided to declare war on Italy, the Russians would be allowed free access to the straits- but that was a big if. Yes, there was good reason for the Sultan to be worried about eventual Italian encroachment in the Balkans- but he was handling his own unruly subject in Egypt without having to worry about diverting men and material.
That was an… iffy maybe for the straits, and a very likely no for trying to sail the long way around (and that was assuming Lelouch didn't try to pull something with the Britannian fleet). He could probably guilt the regent into giving material support, at least, but Britannia certainly wasn't lacking the sort of things Russia could supply her.
It was disconcerting, knowing that he would just have to wait and see what would happen next, the various reactions the European powers, and the eventual military movements. The powers most likely to strike at Italy in a moment of weakness would be the Empire of the Danube or France- but Britannia had efficiently isolated herself from them. If they had territorial interests in Italy, they had every reason to just wait.
Then there was Lelouch himself. Schneizel sat down and groaned. What had compelled his half brother to treason, what reason would lead him to… who was he kidding? It was probably something to do with Marianne- it could have planted a seed of anger that would have had plenty of space to grow in far flung Sicily… There was a chance that Lelouch was genuinely caught off guard by the whole thing, but he doubted it- unless Lelouch had basically been taken captive, he was doing this of his own free will.
Lelouch had never struck Schneizel as a liberal, but it wasn't like you could really understand the breadth of a man's politics from what you remember of him when he was ten. Maybe Lelouch was just hitching a ride on the popular trend of republicanism in a power play- or maybe not. Whatever motive had compelled Lelouch to action did not change the consequences of his actions, the thousands of deaths and tremendous damages inevitably caused by his decision.
Well, there wasn't much Schneizel could do while in Saint Petersburg to aid the war effort- of course, he would try to sway the regent to Britannia's side, but there was action he thought would have more fruitful results: writing a letter for London, containing his advice about the situation, and a request to return. Of course, he recognized the importance of his role as a diplomat- but surely, Father would want him at home and not freezing in Saint Petersburg.
The Boer settlers in the Cape were in an uproar about Clovis' ban on slavery, for rather obvious reasons; even so, there was support for the policy from the native Khoisan people. There had already been a few minors skirmishes and riots, and Clovis was certain it would only get worse if things were unchanged.
Sure, some of the Boers seemed like they planned on marching to the frontiers and settling there, but they wouldn't if the whole Cape administration fell to their rule. Clovis would be in quite a lot of trouble with father if the Cape became a Boer state- he could probably manage to flee to somewhere else, one of the many Britannian factories dotting the African coast… but at that point going to London would ruin him.
In time, he would probably receive reinforcements from the Crown (which he had eventually asked for, just in case), but if it was at all possible, Clovis wanted to handle this alone. He wasn't completely oblivious to his reputation as a bit of a dandy, and efficiently stopping the Boers would do something to help fix that image.
So the obvious question was where he would manage to get the extra soldiery he needed to handle this situation, and how he could provide for them without straining his coffers too much. Ideally, at the end of the whole process he would have shooed the Boers away, without having caused too many casualties, and he would get a lot of unowned land out of it….
There. It would probably be a bad idea to just have a bunch of emancipated slaves running around with nothing to their names, anyways- why not promise land for service? Fight for the government for a time, and they would be compensated with confiscated Boer land- simple, easy, and with a good chance of getting rid of a decent number of Boers and Khoisan in the process.
Still, he couldn't just slaughter the Boers wholesale, but beating them back (even with significant casualties) would be a possible scenario. He would have to do some work to get the whole thing organized, but it might even be a good thing overall- promising land for service could eventually allow for further expansion, perhaps into the Natal?
An intriguing idea for the future, perhaps- but the armies wouldn't organize themselves. The question was what to call them. The Cape Freedmen, perhaps?
Clovis had to wonder if the running of the other viceroyalties was any easier than this- if he was in Lelouch's shoes he could have probably unloaded a lot of work onto a parliament… if they were even trustworthy. He didn't need a majority Boer parliament adding onto his troubles right now.
I'm imagining Clovis' actions having massive ripples affects which would last beyond the scope of this story- it would cause unrest in other parts of the empire, like the American South, and their literal slave holding aristocracy. Add to this a successful revolt on Lelouch's part… and things aren't looking too bright for the empire, you get me?
I've been working on a few 'omakes' on the side- or rather, bits of historical worldbuilding which take place outside of this story's scope. I plan on dropping most of them in a bundle with the last chapter. They might be fun. These will be things like little scraps of hypothetical future media or the like, nothing definitive, but some ideas with which a possible feature could be built if that makes sense.
Speaking of, there was a bit I cut from this chapter- it's only about 400 words, fairly short, but I was worried it was a bit too philosophical- if any of y'all are interested I could post it next chapter, help make it a little longer.
The next chapter might be a little short, if it just turns out to be a naval battle chapter- maybe, maybe not. I'm four thousand words in, and hopefully it should be out in a few days- I suppose I could double post but I've noticed that there are fewer views on the first chapter when they're posted as pairs, and I don't want anyone missing my 'brilliant' story.