It tolls for thee

[Holy Frankish Empire]

In Chagny, the church bells only rang at 7 in the morning, noon, and 7 in the evening. Only on Sundays did they ring hourly. It was a tradition which hearkened back to the 1600's. Grand Duke Maximilien sat in front of a crackling fire and listened to the clang of bells in the distance which marked it to be 7 in the evening. He shifted in the velvet armchair and sipped his port. Claude Darc, the Grand Duke's Dean of Staff and the Count of Morteau sat in an identical chair. "I just don't know Claude" the Duke said, his eyes never leaving the fire. Darc was quiet for a long moment. "I do not know either. As I see it you have only a few options" Darc said. Maximilien was also quiet and it took Darc only a moment to realize he was waiting for Darc to go on.

"You can accept their offer. The Tiburan and Twentish Churches will back you. As will most of the Burgundian populace and royalists in Serenierre. Through your mother, you have the most legitimate claim to the throne. The other option is to delay. It is presumable that Tiburan and Twentish support will remain. Though you face the prospect of the Tiburan Pope not attending if you wait. As we mentioned, certain governments will support your new position despite support of the Church. As Coeurleon has not responded we cannot guess to their actions. You also face backlash from non-Frankish nations. Again, you have the support of both Churches not to mention support of many Orthodox and Jewish leaders. Option three is to claim the title but not take it" he said, standing and walking to a nearby table where he picked up a large lighter and lit a cigarette. Maximilien was still quiet. Darc walked to the window which looked into the courtyard. "These damned communists and republicans" said the Grand Duke. Darc was quiet before saying "the Republic is dead". Maximilien merely nodded. "The people see you as a savior. The communists will never succeed here. You need not concern yourself with them. The people just want stability now" Darc said, putting out his cigarette in an ashtray. "What happens when they want more?" asked Maximilien. "You give them a democracy we both can swallow" said Darc, sitting back down. The Grand Duke slowly nodded.

 

[Holy Frankish Empire]

Dahloa, Peninsular Commonwealth

The Dahloa Central University's library was one of the best on the continent. Michel Dunglas sat and casually looked at his book which he had arbitrarily grabbed off the shelf. He had followed Malahnbo Falfais for three days. He was a suspected anarchist and it was believed he would try to disrupt elections. So far, Dunglas had seen nothing but a quiet life. Dunglas had been an agent for almost 3 years, serving in Twente before this. The library's fans had stopped working and he watched Falfais, half native and half Burgundian, sweat while gathering some books. Dunglas had to wipe away sweat from his own brow as he struggled to see what books Falfais had picked up. Almost like a quick blotch of the wind, Falfais put his stack of books down and disappeared into the maze of shelves. Dunglas waited for him to emerge for a few moments before following. He turned right then left and left again until he was looking down a long row of shelves. Slowly he moved forward before he noted that he was in the chemistry section. It would be minutes before he found Falfais again, his eyes locked on a chemistry book. Dunglas was worried and confused.

 

[Holy Frankish Empire]

The uniforms were dark blue with red piping down the leg and a red chest piece. The shako was square topped and covered in a campaign cloth. The men who wore them sat on chestnut and white colored horses and in addition to sabers carried a lance topped with a red and white banner. Their Polish was only spoken to their horses when they chomped at the bit or acted out. 8 Wendowie Lancer Guards escorted the Duke down the Rue Mesre towards the Ducal Residence. 3 rode to either side of the Grand Duke. A sergeant and lieutenant, each armed with firearms, rode to the front and rear of the formation. The Grand Duke rode early in the mornings through the city on occasion. He would always be back to the palace by 7:15. On occasion he had stopped to speak with early morning travelers. But he was beginning to tire of the winter cold with his age so he stopped this practice in winter months. He would almost always ride in uniform and almost always on his black horse, Alphonse. The sound of hooves on the pavement filled the cold Chagny air and steam came from both man and beast. The Grand Duke rode with a dark gray riding coat with two simple epaulettes and a peaked uniform cap. He carried no weapon aside from a cigar which he puffed on as he rode. The formation moved at a slow walk as it was not even 7 o’clock yet and they were only minutes from the palace. The Grand Duke called a halt as they neared the small park which sat between two bakeries and near a small radio station that only played 1920’s jazz music. The Grand Duke watched through the windows of the bakeries as bakers and their apprentices. He sat and watched for some time in silence before edging his horse forward to get back to the palace. He had decided.

 

[Holy Frankish Empire]

Council of State
Ducal Residence, Chagny


"The Senate should be consulted" Dampierre, the Foreign minister concluded. Derain and Greuze nodded in agreement. Caron shrugged then nodded less enthusiastically. Lemoine, the Justice Minister abstained from giving an opinion. The Grand Duke was silent and puffed on a pipe. The only sound was from the plainly carved grandfather clock in the corner which ticked and tocked out the seconds. "I think Frankish unity is going to be something completely foreign to the next generations" the Grand Duke said after exhaling a small amount of pipe smoke. "This topic aside, I believe even close cooperation is going to be a challenge. We must resist temptation to pander to the communist rhetoric. We must stay the course of attempting to seek at least cooperation gentlemen" the Grand Duke said as he put down his pipe and waved an attendant out of the room. The Grand Duke proceeded to stoke the fire in the large fireplace. Satisfied, he turned back. "The growing arms race troubles me" the Grand Duke said, switching topics slightly. The entire council nodded at the concern. Greuze, the Defense Minister, was almost 83 but was as sharp as any 30 year old skilled bureaucrat. "Your Grace, our naval forces are not as they should be" the Defense Minister urged. He had argued for some time for funding and new ships. Even his Republican predecessor had argued the same. "6 destroyers, a cruiser, and a battleship are not much of a fleet" he said. Greuze had said the same thing numerous times in previous sessions. "Even though the cruiser and 2 destroyers are cutting edge, we must expand" he said as a few nodded in agreement. The Grand Duke listened and took his seat again at the head of the cherrywood table. "Have we not a carrier and a cruiser being completed?" the Grand Duke asked, rhetorically. Greuze shrugged. "Your Grace, it will not be completed until next year. Even if we order new ships now they will not be completed for years. We could use more aircraft as well" he said, trailing off. The Grand Duke had listened, even writing down a note or two before responding. "My dear defense minister, we are already adding some aircraft to our inventory per the modernization plan. We have over the past years increased the number of reserves and modernized our active army and many of the reserves. Why stoke the fire as I just did? We will always look to improve and find new technologies to replace current stocks. But for now, I will not expand our naval capacity. Our carrier puts to sea next year and I believe in the last council you advised another month or two for the cruiser to take to sea. Our air forces are sufficient. Our army is experienced and sufficient. I will hear no more of this today Greuze; I am not in the mood" concluded the Grand Duke who was allowing his annoyance to show. He liked Greuze but the man got on his nerves easily.