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Completed [LP] Enlist in the Royal Dragoons! Codex plays Sabres of Infinity

JRIz

Augur
Joined
Aug 17, 2015
Messages
502
Whoa, so more like genetically engineered blond and blue-eyed super-soldiers? But why are they women then? Don't elves in these settings always have the problem of an insufficiently high birth rate?
 
Joined
Nov 29, 2016
Messages
1,832
Whoa, so more like genetically engineered blond and blue-eyed super-soldiers? But why are they women then? Don't elves in these settings always have the problem of an insufficiently high birth rate?

Nah, not Aryan uberelves, the OG Holy Roman Elves.

You know, the type that - regardless of gender - posses fuckhuge cocks with which they defend the Kaiser's honor, whose likeness is that of the GLORIOUS SUN IN THE SKY.

Futanari Reichelves.

HEIL DIR IM SIEGERKRANZ,
HERRSCHER DES VATERLANDS!
HEIL, KAISER, DIR!
 
Joined
Nov 29, 2016
Messages
1,832
Listen to the Duke of Wulfram's conversation with his senior staff.

You head for the center of the hall, where the Duke of Wulfram and his senior subordinates hold court amidst a massive knot of hangers-on, junior officers like yourself and foreign delegates looking for an insight into the mind which has led the King's Army for so many years.

Needless to say, you doubt you will be able to get any kind of word in. While you are certainly allowed to voice your own opinion, it would have to be in private, afterwards: the thought of a mere lieutenant speaking on matters of war and state with a lieutenant general and his attendant generals of brigade is a notion verging on the lunatic.

You are, thankfully, able to push your way to the front of the crowd, where you can see the genteel course of your army's command without obstruction. In fact, you are lucky enough to find the Duke of Wulfram in the midst of conversation with one of his regimental commanders — your regimental commander, in fact.

-

The Duke of Cunaris seems even broader and more muscular next to the slim figure of the Duke of Wulfram. However, his words are quiet and measured, not the basso rumble you are so used to. You have to strain to hear him speak.

"Fourth squadron is close enough to strength to take the field. The Sixth is short maybe twenty or thirty troopers: not too bad. Third squadron lost its captain not long ago, but his replacement seems an able enough sort. They have few losses besides, and currently stand as the closest to strength. First, Second and Fifth squadrons are still back in Tierra for replenishment, of course. After last winter's skirmishing, there were barely a hundred men fit for duty out of the entire lot."

Wulfram does not seem overly pleased with Cunaris's words. His thin, angular face grows more pinched in frustration.

"Damnation," he growls. "We've lost more men than I would have liked over the past few months, far more. Worse than that, the fools at Grenadier Square seem to be entirely incapable of securing me replacements. They tell me that there are not enough men to be had." The general gives a short, barking laugh. "Do you believe that, my dear Cunaris? We've a kingdom of six million, of whom we might have five or six hundred thousand fit for service, yet they cannot find me the men to maintain an army one twentieth that size?"

Another voice joins the conversation: a low tenor glazed lightly with a Kentauri accent.

"Sir, fuming about it will do little good. Grenadier Square will not bend their procedure without the King's order, and we've not the time to ask him for it, not as things are."

The Duke of Wulfram grits his teeth. "Saints damn them all. You're right, my dear Havenport, but that does not change the fact that I've barely eighteen thousand men together. They say Khorobirit is fielding twice as many. It seems that we must now rely on the clumisness of the enemy or the spirit of our common soldiers for our victory; that does not please me, not at all."

The Kentauri, a man whom you now recognize as the Duke of Havenport, Wulfram's second in command, interjects quietly. "Perhaps we should best discuss these affairs in more secure settings, sir. Besides, you've an address to prepare."

Wulfram nods, a bitter smile on his face. "I suppose I must. Very well, Let's have this crowd gone."

-

You take your leave with the others and head elsewhere, Wulfram's words weighing heavily in your mind. A climactic battle seems not only imminent, but a challenge so daunting that even the illustrious Duke of Wulfram is at his wits' end.

A rather troubling thought, to be sure. You decide to:

1) Speak with the Takaran envoys.
2) Join Hunter and Hartigan in their conversation.
3) Speak with Cazarosta.

As of the Summer of the 607th year of the Old Imperial Era

Alaric d'al Ortiga
Age: 19
Rank: Lieutenant
Wealth: 550
Income: 10

Soldiering: 74%

Charisma: 40%

Intellect: 0%

Reputation: 47%

Health: 65%

Idealism: 83% Cynicism: 17%

Ruthlessness: 31% Mercy: 69%

You have no decorations as of yet.

Sixth Troop, Third Squadron, Royal Dragoons
Senior NCO: Staff- Sergeant Hernandes

Discipline: 30%

Morale: 29%

Loyalty: 32%
 
Joined
Nov 29, 2016
Messages
1,832
You come across your two more senior companions as they jovially converse over a table laden with cuts of cold beef and cheese toasted over bits of bread in the Callindrian style.

"—have been made lieutenant colonel now?" you hear Hartigan say as you join the two infantry officers. "I had thought that you had not the funds to buy a promotion?"

Hunter smiles as he picks up a parcel of toasted bread and cheese between forefinger and thumb. "By Saints and Honour, I did not last we spoke. However, I had the foresight to make a few wise investments before the war: wool mills, dyes and some infernal construction called a 'blast furnace.' Apparently, all three are quite useful for a kingdom at war. Thus, I found myself eight thousand crown richer than I had expected, so I spent half of that on a promotion."

Your head spins at the mention of the sheer weight of currency being discussed. You had known House Hunter to be a relatively wealthy one, but the Grenadier officer is casually speaking of spending an amount equal to the worth of your family's entire estate for the sake of an officer's commission. Major Hartigan, on the other hand, seems less aghast, barely sparing a raised eyebrow.

"And you, Hartigan? When are you to seek your new commission? Surely you could afford it easily enough." From the corner of your eye, you see Elson display the bitterest expression you have ever seen of him as he drains his wine glass. The fact that his relatives and acquaintances are so easily able to afford to buy promotions to high rank must grate on the impoverished captain.

The Major shakes his head. "Afford it? Certainly. Unfortunately, there is only one lieutenant colonel's billet in the 5th of Foot and all it entails is leading our second battalion somewhere a day's march south of Aetoria, scouring the countryside for replacements. I've neither the grey hair nor the quartermaster's belly for such a task, I'm afraid."

Hunter frowns as he pops the morsel of food into his mouth. "Pity. You'll still be attached to Lord Castermaine's staff then."

Hartigan nods, a pained expression on his face. "Indeed, dear Hunter. They have given you a battalion of Grenadiers, have they not? I shall watch for you on the field; six hundred burly lads in bearskin caps shall not be hard to miss."

The Grenadier nods, a bright grin on his face. "Castermaine'll put us dead centre. I shall hope he does, anyhow. Hopefully, we'll be able to fight our fill of those Church Hussars the Antari are so famous for."

Hartigan shakes his head, a look of puzzlement on his face. "The Hussars? Overdressed fops playing at war, more like," he says, with the veteran line infantryman's typical disdain for cavalry. "They'd charge straight into formed squares if they thought it made them look fine enough. Rather we face their infantry: not much man to man, but they do fight like lions when pressed, and there are a damned lot of them."

-

The Grenadier shakes his head and a genteel, if spirited debate begins. With the two of them at odds, neither make particular headway. In the end, they resort to the tried and true tradition of asking the next most junior officer.

"Elson, what's your thought on this?"

To the surprise of both senior officers, your own captain does naught save split the consensus further. "I would reckon their light cavalry more dangerous than either. They've more numbers than the Hussars and their Oberlinders are fiendish good horses: they have to be for all that dashing about they do. You could shut your eyes for a moment and open them again to find them upon both your flanks with sabres flashing."

With an impasse well and truly established, your three senior officers have no choice but to do the unthinkable and ask the opinion of the most junior person in the group: you.

"And what do you think of all this, Ortiga?" Hunter asks. "You've fought Antari foot, light horse and church hussars all: Who would you rate the best lot to face?"

Question why Hunter and Hartigan would want to face the most dangerous enemies at all.

Both officers look at you incredulously.

"Why, for the glory of it, of course." Hunter exclaims "A man is not hailed a great warrior for gutting a swarm of starving commoners!"

"Or a pack of over-dressed dandies," Hartigan is quick to reply.

1) Declare the Antari infantry to be most dangerous.
2) Claim the Antari light cavalry are the most dangerous.
3) State that the Antari church hussars are the most dangerous.

As of the Summer of the 607th year of the Old Imperial Era

Alaric d'al Ortiga
Age: 19
Rank: Lieutenant
Wealth: 550
Income: 10

Soldiering: 74%

Charisma: 40%

Intellect: 0%

Reputation: 49%

Health: 65%

Idealism: 83% Cynicism: 17%

Ruthlessness: 31% Mercy: 69%

You have no decorations as of yet.

Sixth Troop, Third Squadron, Royal Dragoons
Senior NCO: Staff- Sergeant Hernandes

Discipline: 30%

Morale: 29%

Loyalty: 32%
 

zaper

Yes.
Developer
Joined
Nov 7, 2015
Messages
404
3

Also, nice to see people playing ChoiceScript games here. Sabres of Infinity was the first game from Hosted Games/CoG that got close to what I wanted from the IF genre.

I also recommend Choice of Robots(it's their blockbuster title), Creatures Such As We (for its weirdness) and Paradigm City(it goes the "Watchmen" route where the other superhero text games just tend to be silly)

And, of course, "Highlands, Deep Waters", which I co-authored. It has been described as a "trippy Lovecraftian investigation set on Scotland". We tried to make it different from all the other CS games I played, and I think we succeeded to some extent. It deals with some heavy themes and there are a wide variety of different branches, unexpected consequences from previous actions and lots of descriptions(and images) that are affected by your Sanity stats.
 
Joined
Nov 29, 2016
Messages
1,832
And, of course, "Highlands, Deep Waters", which I co-authored. It has been described as a "trippy Lovecraftian investigation set on Scotland". We tried to make it different from all the other CS games I played, and I think we succeeded to some extent. It deals with some heavy themes and there are a wide variety of different branches, unexpected consequences from previous actions and lots of descriptions(and images) that are affected by your Sanity stats.

Spotted it a while ago and can't recall why I didn't pick it up. Just bought it on steam.

The person who recommended me the Infinity games also recommended Mecha Ace (also by Paul Wang) and Choice of Robots. I've played the latter and it is pretty good, though the Infinity games have set a very high bar and are probably the best CYOAs I've played.
 
Joined
Nov 29, 2016
Messages
1,832
"You see, Hartigan?" Hunter exclaims, a wide grin on his face. "A deciding vote."

Major Hartigan smiles too, but shakes his head. "Hardly so, Hunter. This isn't the Cortes."

Elson shakes his head at the two of them. "Best you find some other amusement, dear fellow. These two will be sparring for hours yet."

-

Before you can take another look around, you hear the tapping of a spoon against a glass; faint at first, but as the bubbling sound of a dozen coversations recedes, the ringing sound becomes louder and louder.

Within moments, the entire hall is silent save for the sound of a single spoon clattering against a single glass. Those in the centre of the chamber move aside, to reveal the source of the noise: the Earl of Castermaine, and beside him, the commander of all Tierran forces in Antar, the Duke of Wulfram.

"Thank you Castermaine, that will do." His imperious voice brings the table to silence. The old general sweeps his eyes over the room as a hush falls over the assembled delegates and officers.

"Guests, delegates of foreign governments, brother officers," he finally begins. "We have certainly come a long way, have we not? Not six years ago, we were barely an army: a few thousand ragged, unseasoned volunteers in a strange land, without fortification, without shelter and with only the mad hope of a young king to drive us to victory. Now we are firmly entrenched in a land which once thought it could crush us effortlessly; and our King's hopes, well, they do seem a bit more sensible now, do they not?"

A smattering of laughter, most of it nervous, comes from the crowd. Many did think the King mad when he put into train his Antari adventure. By the look of vindicated pride on the old general's face, you can tell that Wulfram was not one of them.

"Tis a long, difficult road that we have marched down all these years, but Saints be willing, we have seen the end not so far ahead of us! Soon now, we shall meet the Antari in battle, and we shall break their army in the open field. We shall bring them to the negotiating table and there shall be no more complaints of dishonourable tactics or insubstantial setbacks on their end. We will have them beaten, before the eyes of the Saints and all men; we shall, in the eyes of the world, have claimed victory!"

Thankfully, nobody is uncouth enough to cheer at Wulfram's words, though the expected wave of polite applause is, perhaps a bit louder than usual.

"To bring that victory, we must have each man do his utmost to secure it. Let there be no talk of retreats, of withdrawals, of stalemates or cutting our losses. His Majesty has always expected his servants do their duty. In the past few years, I have been ever prideful of the fact that we have not disappointed him. Let us not falter now: let our duty be victory, and let us see it through! Saints guard the King!"

The whole room seems to reply, every glass raised in salute, including yours. "Saints guard the King!"

-

Wulfram's words ring in your ears for the entire evening, throughout the banquet and the toasts that follow. They continue to resonate even as you return to your quarters, your mind intoxicated with the spectre of a final victory and a good deal of very fine wine.

You sleep that night, dreaming of the end of the war: Of the peace that is to come and a return to the serenity of home.

-

In the end, it is a knock on your door which shakes you free of your thoughts on the war's impending end. You dress quickly in the dim early morning light and open the door to find staff sergeant Hernandes with a new set of orders: to investigate a forward listening post to the north which had failed to report in.

You ready yourself and call out your men in a sort of fugue state. As soon as your men are in formation and riding up the old imperial highway, your thoughts return to that of an end to the conflict which has shaped so much of your life. It is as if you were only half-awake, or drugged, or in love. Whenever your mind is not pressed by some urgent matter of patrol, you think only of the peace which is soon to come.

You are still thinking it when you feel the ground begin to tremble and your mind begins pulling and straining upon itself in a way which you have never felt since your last visit to Aetoria so long ago.

There is almost no need to confirm your suspicion, but you do it anyways: you ride forward, field telescope in hand, and see with your own eyes the advancing vanguard of Prince Khorobirit's Antari army.

CHAPTER IX
Wherein the cavalry officer fights a great BATTLE as a part of the army of the DUKE OF WULFRAM.

When attempting to estimate the approximate strength of an enemy force, the King's regulations recommend that a scout first reason out the average size of a force marching behind a single banner, then count the number of banners in the entire force. From long experience, you already know that Antari battalions usually number three or four hundred men: Lords of the Congress do not usually spare more in their effort to support the war. You also know that it is not uncommon for the Antari to assemble armies of twenty or even thirty banners in their mighty attempts to throw the Tierran army into the sea. Over the last six years you have even heard news of an army of forty-five banners broken up and defeated only at great cost and effort.

You have almost counted your eightieth when one of your Dragoons taps you on the shoulder.

"Sir? Staff sergeant Hernandes's compliments sir. He's asking what's ahead of us."

It is supremely difficult to put into words: the sight of hundreds, if not thousands of Church Hussars in their massive banded armour atop great white horses, the sheer solid mass of Antari infantry in their tens of thousands, the fierce-faced hellions of the central plains; looking more like the mother of all barbarian hordes. The sight of each by themselves would be enough to drive a poet to tears of frustration. Altogether, coupled with the overpowering miasma of raw steel, gunpowder, manure and the savage tug of bane-might, you could not even begin to encapsulate the still-distant but gargantuan presence of Khorobirit's army now advancing upon you like an incoming tide of soldiery, horseflesh and steel.

There are no words to describe it. You can only hand your spyglass over. The common-born Dragoon puts the field telescope to his eye and sees for himself.

"Saint Octavia's bouncing tits." He whispers, slackjawed. "How could there be so many?"

You shake your head. Never have you seen a force of such gargantuan size. Without hesitation, you quickly scribble as much as you can onto a scrap of paper and swing yourself up to your saddle. Within minutes, your troop is riding hard back towards Noringia.

-

Thankfully, an army of forty thousand moves at the pace of a tortoise. Even with a screen of light cavalry and scouts moving through the forest on foot, Khorobirit's forces never had a chance of catching up to your men as you all but ride your horses into the ground on the hasty journey southwards.

You reach Noringia after two days at the rickety pace of a near-constant trot. Sweaty, ragged and covered in dust, you burst into the Duke of Cunaris's office just before sundown.

"Ortiga? By the Saints! What is the meaning of this?" Cunaris demands as you stagger up to his desk. Throat parched and raw from dust and the exertions of travel, you can only reply by setting your sweat-stained, soiled and hastily written report on the table.

Your colonel's face turns ashen as he reads your missive.

"Saints have mercy," you hear him whisper, his voice full of terrible awe.

Cunaris shoves the message into the fold of his tunic as he springs up from his seat.

"Come with me, Lieutenant," he commands, heading for the door. You have little choice but to obey.

You do not find it easy to keep up with the Duke of Cunaris's long, hurried strides, with your legs and hindquarters as weary as they are from your mad ride south. Thankfully, you do not have to maintain pace for long. Your colonel's destination is no more than a few hundred paces away from your regimental office: the headquarters of the Duke of Wulfram.

-

If anything, the Duke of Wulfram's reaction to your news is the exact opposite of Cunaris's: it is the first time you have ever seen the old general truly smile.

"What fine news, gentlemen!" Wulfram exclaims, as he pours himself a celebratory glass of a Kentauri whisky likely older and worth more than you are. "So young Khorobirit has proven himself the fool after all! I had feared that the Antari would split their forces in an attempt to take advantage of their numbers. Now we might face all of them on ground of our own choosing. Better yet, once we break them, we shall have the entire summer and autumn to advance into Central Antar and the Congress shall have no armies to stop us!"

Cunaris does not seem particularly convinced. "Sir, the Antari still outnumber us two to one. Does that not worry you in the slightest?"

The Duke of Wulfram shakes his head as he fills two more glasses, offering one to Cunaris and another to you. "Damnation, Cunaris! Do you trust me so little as to think that I've not a plan for this eventuality? We may discuss it later. For now, let us toast this welcome news and the bravery of the young man who has brought it to us!"

The glass shimmers red in the dying sunlight as you raise it up. The whisky is smoky and rich as it burns its way down your throat.

"Now then, Lieutenant," Wulfram says, as he places his empty glass on the table. "What are your opinions on this? Surely, you can see the great opportunity for victory we have before us?"

You swallow nervously: it is not every day that a mere lieutenant is asked a question by his army's commander. You think carefully and reply:

1) "Absolutely sir, I am confident in our chances of victory."
2) "I've my doubts, but I believe that if anyone could deliver us victory, it is you, sir."
3) "I cannot say I have confidence that we shall come out of this victorious."

As of the Summer of the 607th year of the Old Imperial Era

Alaric d'al Ortiga
Age: 19
Rank: Lieutenant
Wealth: 550
Income: 10

Soldiering: 74%

Charisma: 40%

Intellect: 0%

Reputation: 49%

Health: 65%

Idealism: 83% Cynicism: 17%

Ruthlessness: 31% Mercy: 69%

You have no decorations as of yet.

Sixth Troop, Third Squadron, Royal Dragoons
Senior NCO: Staff- Sergeant Hernandes

Discipline: 30%

Morale: 29%

Loyalty: 32%

MICHAEL BRIGGINS
(Born 578 OIE) Lieutenant in the Royal Tierran Navy, Third Lieutenant, HMS Victorious, Baneless.

LORD LOUIS D'AL ENGLESSEY, EARL OF CASTERMAINE
(Born 558 OIE) General-of-Brigade in the Tierran Army. Commands an infantry brigade under in the army of Duke of Wulfram. Baneblood.

CAIUS D'AL CAZAROSTA
(Born 585 OIE) Lieutenant of the Royal Dragoon Regiment. Illegitimate son of the Countess of Leoniscourt. Deathborn.

SIR JOHANNES D'AL FINDLAY, DUKE OF CUNARIS
(Born 556 OIE) Lord colonel of the Royal Dragoon Regiment. Knight-Grandmaster of the order of Saint Jerome. A sitting member of the Cortes and head of the noble house of Findlay. Married with three children. Banecaster of the 8th Calibre.

LORD DAVIS D'AL ELSON
(Born 584 OIE) Captain of the Royal Dragoon Regiment, eldest son of the Baron of Hawthorne , a poor, but politically influential Cortes noble. In possession of aspirations to knighthood.Banecaster of the 3rd Calibre.

WILLIAM FENTON
(Born 578 OIE) Corporal of the Royal Dragoon Regiment, formerly in service to the Ortiga family. Baneless.

ATHELSTAN HARLECH
(Born 572 OIE) Corporal of the Royal Dragoon Regiment, popular with the men. Baneless.

LORD ARTHUR D'AL HAVENPORT, DUKE OF HAVENPORT
(Born 573 OIE) General-of-Brigade of the Tierran Army. Infantry brigade commander in the army of the Duke of Wulfram. Baneblood.

LEONARD HERNANDES
(Born 578 OIE) Staff Sergeant Sergeant of the Royal Dragoon Regiment, disciplinarian. Baneless.

SOLHAMMOND LANZEREL
(Born 574 OIE) Sergeant of the Royal Dragoon Regiment, formerly of the 4th Regiment of Foot.Baneless.

DANIEL D'AL LEFEBVRE
(Born 575 OIE) A staff officer of the Grenadier Guards Regiment with the rank of captain. Baneblood.

SIR ALFRED D'AL MONTEZ
(Born 565 OIE) The Commanding officer of the Third Squadron of the Royal Dragoon Regiment. holds the rank of captain. Baneblood.

HIS TIERRAN MAJESTY, KING MIGUEL I OF HOUSE RENDOWER
(Born 586 OIE) Reigning monarch of the Unified Kingdom of Tierra as well as Duke of Aetoria. Young and impetuous, but capable. Baneblood.

LORD TOMAS D'AL ELDRIDGE, BARON TOURBRIDGE
(Born 552 OIE) General-of-Brigade in the Tierran Army. Infantry Brigade commander in the army of the Duke of Wulfram. Banecaster of the 4th calibre.

RICHARD WALKEN, RN
(Born 565 OIE) Captain of the List in the Royal Tierran Navy. Commanding officer, HMSVictorious. Baneless

SIR ENRIQUE D'AL HUNTER, VISCOUNT OF WOLFSWOOD
(Born 577 OIE) An officer of the Grenadier Guards Regiment. Knight-Captain of the Order of Saint Jerome. Commanding officer of Second Battalion, Grenadier Guards. Banecaster of the 9th Calibre.

HECTOR CANDLESS, DUKE OF WULFRAM
(Born 542 OIE) Lieutenant General in command of Tierran forces in Antar. Duke of the northern duchy of Wulfram. An experienced, but conservative career soldier. Banecaster of the 6th Calibre.

antar_map.jpg

antar_map.jpg

SPRING, 602:

With the thawing of the winter snows, the Tierran Army has begun expanding its beachhead around the town of Noringia.

The King has demanded that at least three Regiments of Foot and one Regiment of Horse must be deployed reinforce the forces in Antar by the end of summer.

The Earl of Crittenden, Port-Admiral at Northern Pillars, reports the Calligian Sea to be free of Antari warships.

SUMMER, 602:

Elements of the King's Army have reached the River Kharan. Construction has begun on numerous outposts along the river.

Royal Tierran Intelligence reports that a large Antari army is being mustered to repel the Tierran Army. His Grace the Duke of Wulfram is dispatched to take overall command of the Tierran Army in Antar.

The Northern Fleet attempts to launch an amphibious raid against the Antari port of Kharangia. Shore batteries repel the attack. The Northern Fleet loses two frigates, and a third-rate of the line.

The Royal Dragoon Regiment lands in Antar, along with the 6th of Foot, the 8th of Foot and the Kentauri Highlanders.

AUTUMN, 602:

A 14 000-strong Antari army advances south from Octobirit, with the intent of retaking Noringia.

The Duke of Wulfram assembles a force of nine regiments, numbering 6 000 men, to face the Antari, with the intention of isolating individual columns and destroying the enemy by detail.

WINTER, 602:

After a twelve-day running battle, the last 4 500 survivors of the Antari army surrender to the Duke of Wulfram's troops, 70 km northeast of Noringia. Thousands of men die on both sides from the bitter winter weather.

The Duke of Wulfram makes the decision to bypass the heavily fortified city of Kharangia. As a result, the River Kharan is designated the main line of defence on the western front. Elements of the Grenadier Guards, the 9th of Foot and the White Rose Lancers are dispatched to reinforce the picket forces already present.

SPRING, 603:

Increased Tierran presence along the River Kharan has led to an increase in partisan activity.

Royal Tierran Intelligence reports evidence of a second Antari army being assembled in northwestern Antar.

SUMMER, 603:

An army of 18 000 Antari advances south from Octobirit. Their intention is to retake Noringia.

The Earl of Weathern, Deputy Privy Councilor for War, proposes that His Tierran Majesty offer the Antari favourable peace terms coupled with the payment of a face-saving level of war reparations. The proposal is dismissed out of hand.

AUTUMN, 603:

The Duke of Wulfram successfully forces the Antari to divide their army into three parts, all of which are destroyed by Tierran forces over a period of two weeks.

SUMMER, 604:

The King requests that the Cortes add an additional 2 000 000 crowns per annum to the military budget, for the purpose of maintaining the Tierran forces in Antar. The proposal passes, barely.

AUTUMN, 604:

The Duke of Wulfram leads a reconnaissance-in-force into the central plains of Antar, burning sixteen villages and disrupting the harvest in that region.

Antari envoys to the Convocation of the Orders-Militant put forward a motion to excommunicate the Unified Kingdom of Tierra and declare them Pariah-Among-Nations.

Royal Tierran Intelligence reports that Prince Mikhail of Khorobirit demanded that the League Congress supply him with the authority to recruit fighting men from the holdings of all Antari lords, for the purpose of creating an army to throw the Tierrans into the sea. He receives overwhelming support, but is vetoed by a personal rival.

WINTER, 604:

Central Antar is hit by a severe famine, thanks to the raiding of Tierran forces. The death toll reaches 75 000 by the beginning of spring.

SPRING, 605:

The Cortes votes to raise a tax on pewter bowls and plates to maintain the war in Antar. The state coffers, having once possessed reserves in excess of 30 000 000 crowns, is now empty.

AUTUMN, 605:

Antari envoys appeal to both the Court of the Sun and Heavens of Kian'Zi and the Richsenaat of Takara for aid against the Tierrans.

SPRING, 606:

The Antari begin mounting major raids into Tierran-held Antar, comprising rapidly-moving forces of one to two hundred men.

The Convocation of the Orders-Militant vote against declaring Tierra Pariah-Among-Nations by a narrow margin.

SUMMER, 605:

Royal Tierran Intelligence reports that a series of "accidental deaths" have befallen several known personal and political enemies of Prince Mikhail of Khorobirit.

SUMMER, 606:

The Ministry of the Exchequer announces that the Tierran government will be more than 2 500 000 crowns in debt by the end of 608.

AUTUMN, 606:

The King presents the Duke of Wulfram with an ultimatum: end the war in Tierra's favour within a year, or face dismissal from service.

The King requests an additional 3 000 000 crowns per annum from the Cortes to expand the Royal Army. His proposal is voted down by a margin of three to one. The Throne's political position is growing dangerously precarious.

Royal Tierran Intelligence reports that Prince Mikhail of Khorobirit has successfully enlisted the aid and resources of nearly two hundred Lords of the Congress for the purpose of building his army.

Riots break out in Tannersburg over the rising cost of bread. Without Antari imports, the price of grain has risen three-fold.

The Duke of Wulfram attempts another reconnaissance-in-force into the central plains, but is intercepted by a force of Antari cavalry. A six day running battle proves inconclusive, with heavy losses on both sides.

WINTER, 606:

The Earl of Weathern once again proposes opening peace talks with the Antari, this time, to an open session of the Cortes. His motion passes by a margin of seven votes. For the first time in three decades, a King of Tierra uses his royal prerogative to veto the motion.

Royal Tierran Intelligence reports that the League Congress has given Mikhail of Khorobirit the authority to recruit an army to defeat the Tierrans within the next year.

Richsgraav Maximillian vam Holt of the Takaran Richsenaat proposes sending observers to both Antari and Tierran armies to gain a better understanding of the Tierran-Antari war.

The Cortes votes to raise taxes on coffee and postage stamps for the purposes of financing the war in Antar and raising three additional Regiments of Foot to reinforce the Tierran Army. The average Tierran now pays twice as much in taxes as he did a decade ago.

SPRING, 607:

Antari raids increase in intensity and power, to the consternation of Grenadier Square.

Royal Tierran Intelligence reports that Mikhail of Khorobirit has assembled an army of 40 000 men and is advancing south.

Intendants representing the Takaran government arrive in Antar.
 

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