Sic Parvis Magna: ME's Crack at Draka 2.0

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Warning: This Timeline includes narrative pieces that will contain mature content such as rampant racism, swearing, adult subjects and violence. This is necessary to capture the nature of the Draka and the world they're in.

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"Greatness from Small Things"

The beginnings of Drakan history stretch as far back as the waning years of the 16th Century, when Sir Francis Drake made his first landing on the Cape of Good Hope. After the successful 1595 expedition in the Spanish Main, where numerous cities were sacked, an adventurous Drake on the high of a bountiful expedition tried his hand in operations further away from England and the Caribbean. He attacked Iberian shipping to and from the East Indies and the Indian Subcontinent, landing on the Cape of Good Hope to establish a base of operations in late 1596, building a star fort called the Castle of Good Hope. He spent the next couple of years blockading the African passage for Iberian shipping, striking north every now and then to raid the Caribbean and Iberian colonies along the African coast or getting reinforcements from England.

Sir Francis Drake returned to England in 1600 and while there met with a group of enterprising merchants and aristocrats seeking to trade in the Indian Ocean. These men had been so far unsuccessful in obtaining a royal charter from Queen Elizabeth for their venture but, with the monetary and political support of Sir Francis Drake and his second cousin John Hawkins, they would gain their charter at the end of the year and operated under the name Governor and Company of Merchants of London trading into the East Indies. At the same time, Drake acquired permission from the Queen to establish a permanent English presence in the Cape of Good Hope, recognising its strategic value and fostering a growing interest in colonial enterprise.

The following year, the Company set out with its trading vessels, Drake's privateering squadron and a fleet of ships transporting individual volunteers and entire families bound for the Cape. The civilians, unmarried women and skilled men especially, augmented what was once a military outpost into a proper settler colony. Sailors and soldiers married settling women and stayed while Francis's wife gave birth to the first white person born on the Cape. The colony was dubbed Drakesland in honour of their commander, founder and governor. While Drake and his men stayed and continued to raid and blockade Iberian shipping, the Company maintained their easterly course to India, though their voyage was somewhat unsuccessful.

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June 27 1989
Naivasha, Rift Province
Domination of Draka


The dirk rose into the air and then fell into the waiting hand. Again it was tossed absently up and again it was caught. The motion had become repetitive and catching was now an unconscious reflex so much time had passed while Basil Assad waited for his meeting. To any observer, he looked the perfection of nonchalance. Basil was, however, burning with anger that was only fanned by the boredom of his visit to the Sanders estate.

He had arrived only yesterday and throughout he had been shown only the most minimal of hospitality by most of the Sanders family and outright ignored by the patriarch. The customary tour of the estate had been made, as well as the offer of the personal use of any desired serf (the particular woman offered to him had been an Egyptian Arab, something most certainly intended to offend). He did have the pleasure of Cassidy Sanders' company, who proved to be one of the more flexible and likeable of his brood and shared his love of Equestrianism and fast cars. But after a day and a half in the land waiting on the pleasure of Lucas Sanders, whose absence had been excused by his family as the man's ill health and business, Solomon was well past having the patience for propriety. So for the past twenty minutes he had fiddled with his knife while the Sanders who came up to check on him did their best to hide disapproving looks.

Fuck them and the sticks up their arses, if they wanted me to treat this visit with decorum then they should have treated me with respect.

Finally, the door opened and a well-dressed house serf stepped out, saying, "Master Sanders will see you now."

The serf was a wizened Negro of, to Basil's eyes, an unreasonably proud bearing and articulate command of the English tongue. He was likely of an old, loyal stock and had a lifetime of service. His father had taught him to be wary of these serfs, who were considered traitors by wrong-thinking individuals of their race. They could be invaluable assets or the worst kinds of weapons depending on whose hands they were in.

He entered the study with the serf holding the door open for him. The furnishings were old Southron, a call-back to the Sanders' ancestral home of Dixie. Two flags adorned the walls, one displaying the red serpentine dragon of the Domination and the other was the Blood-Stained Banner of the Old Confederacy. As a good Draka Citizen, Assad supposed he should beat his chest and weep at the memory of the Confederate martyrs, but in truth he felt no surge in emotion at seeing this relic of the Lost Cause.

Lucas Sanders looked himself every bit a relic of that century-old conflict as his office. He wore an immaculate white suit and a bolo tie with a pale blue sapphire, all complimenting his pale Nordic features; cropped white hair that was once blond and eyes like the jewel of his neckwear. The old colonel didn't spare the young man a glance as he entered, continuing with his paperwork as he said, "Do you have your dirk on you, by any chance? May I see it?"

Did Cassandra tell him I received a dirk? Basil wondered as he drew his weapon from his belt. No Citizen was properly dressed without a dagger and a pistol, he mused.

He presented the dagger to the man, who set down his pen and took it silently. The dirk was the emblem of Domination officers, given to a cadet upon graduation of their military academy, an echo of the sgian-dubh they received along with their high school diploma. His dirk was set in a scabbard of ebony and silver, the hilt of similar composition except for the addition of a caingorm stone set in its pommel.

Lucas paid the weapon much more respect than he did its own, reverentially holding it and carefully setting the scabbard on the desk when he unsheathed the dagger. He studied the blade and, upon reading the engraving on the blade, his lips twitched in a rueful manner.

"'Blood and Honour'," he said, finally looking up at Assad with icy eyes. "Do you have these qualities, boy?"

It rankled Basil to be called 'boy', but he ignored the remark and simply replied with a stony "Yes".

"Oh, I have no doubt you've got some honour, I've read the reports and articles and my beloved Cassandra has nothing but praise for you, but blood?" He shook his head. "You've not a single drop of quality blood in you. I'd say Sebastian here" he indicated the proud Negro serf standing to the side with a flick of his finger "has better quality blood than you, and it'd be true. His family has been with mine for centuries and loyal all the way through."

Basil had no idea what to say. He had heard of the old colonel's views but hadn't expected to have them voiced to him by the man himself in this manner. So instead of anything articulate, he sputtered, "How fucking dare—"

Sanders was up in a flash, setting the dirk down on the table. "No, how dare you! How dare your father and your family and your whole pretentious race shame my country! 'Blood and Honour' is what this country was founded on, by the white man, and now we're swamped with Jews and you Arabs who all swagger around as Citizens. It's nothing but a damned insult to our forefathers."

All of the rage incurred by insults spoken and unspoken since his arrival now boiled out of Basil. He took a step forward, barely noticing Sebastian stiffen out of the corner of his eye. "You seem to be forgetting that I am white, Semite or no. It's in the constitution now, accepted by the Archon, the Consuls and the Assembly! I was raised and schooled in Archona. I am Draka!"

"You may be a Draka according to the cowards and traitors controlling the Assembly, but you'll never be a Draka by blood. My ancestors are pure Nordic stock; German and English and nothing besides. Proud heritage, and properly white."

Basil scoffed. "My blood is older and nobler than yours. I am a son of the Bani Assad, and we have been prestigious and great long before your pure Nordic ancestors stepped off of the boat."

The old man waved a dismissive hand. "A defunct clan of Muslim bandits and Bedouin raiders, what of it? My clan has its own tartan, its own crest and the writ of the Landholder's League behind it, and that's what you've come here for, isn't it? Because you sand niggers don't have an in with the League and no official status as a proper clan."

"I've come to ask your permission to marry your daughter, though it's not needed," Assad pointed out.

"And if you married my daughter, you'd get to be included in Clan Sanders, is that it? Well, boy, I am The Sanders, chief of the clan. I can say who is and isn't a Sanders and though it'd break my heart I'd drop Cassandra from this family before ever letting you, a Mohammedan Arab, become even a sept of my clan."

"I'm no Muslim, my family hasn't been since my father, and you said it yourself: I have honour. I proved both these things in the Najd Campaign and countless other anti-insurgent operations. Archon Von Shrakenburg himself presented me a mameluke sword for my accomplishments."

The old man wheezed out a throaty laugh. "Hah! A hero of a few pacification conflicts? I said you have honour but you don't have enough to forgive your bad blood. I'm a veteran of the Eurasian War — served alongside Von Shrakenburg too — and the man's just shy of a feral-loving traitor himself. He's let your kind be Citizens after all. Makes a man wonder where his true loyalties lie."

"And what about your true loyalties?" Basil growled, snatching up his dagger suddenly, coming close enough to Lucas's face to briefly startle him. "I guess the rumours are true... perhaps you are nothing but a German-loving traitor with all this bullshit Nordicist talk."

The Sanders chief narrowed his eyes. "I'm no traitor, boy."

"Then wake up and come into the 20th Century along with the rest of the Domination. Times have changed; this isn't and never was your beloved Confederacy. I am marrying Cassandra and there's not a damn thing you can do about it." The dirk made a solid clap as he sheathed it.

The colonel's glare was almost enough to kill. "Then she'll be no Sanders and I'll throw my whole clan against you when you petition the League for recognition."

"Go ahead, Clan Sanders isn't the power you like to think it is in the League, and you're not the only potential ally I can have. Times are changing, Colonel Sanders, and you'd be better off when you accept it." He turned around in a sharp, military fashion and headed for the door, pausing only to glower at the frowning Sebastian. "And tell your nigger to pay proper respect to a Citizen of the Domination before I cut his throat."

He didn't give them the dignity of slamming the door on the way out.
 
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An awesome beginning.

I assume that in the Eurasian war (which probably resembled little of canon draka's Eurasian war), ITTL Draka conquered the Middle East from someone? Also, is Basil Assad an ATL cousin of Bassel al-Assad?
 
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An awesome beginning.

I assume that in the Eurasian war (which probably resembled little of canon draka's Eurasian war), ITTL Draka conquered the Middle East from someone? Also, is Basil Assad an ATL cousin of Bassel al-Assad?

The Middle East was conquered after the Ottoman Empire dissolved in an orgy of ideological violence and ethnic conflicts about a decade after the Eurasian War. Basil Assad is indeed TTL's counterpart to the Golden Knight of Syria, though his name has been partly Westernised along with his mannerisms because while being Arab is okay in the modern Domination, being too Arab is not.
 
And may those racist bastards kill themselves before troubling the rest of the world.

Sadly they made it to 1989 :(
 
Yay, it returns! My only sorrow is that the Domination still exists in this 1989. Great start!
 
Yay, it returns! My only sorrow is that the Domination still exists in this 1989. Great start!
You read my mind. How dare they make it to 1989! Maybe they are smaller than they are in the books though, so we have some hope.

Anywho, great Start ME. Keep it up.
 
Warning: This Timeline includes narrative pieces that will contain mature content such as rampant racism, swearing, adult subjects and violence. This is necessary to capture the nature of the Draka and the world they're in.
If it didn't have this stuff, it wouldn't be a Draka timeline now, would it?

A great start! Looking forward to more! Subscribed!
 
I also have a feeling that the Final War won't go so well for the Draka...

Waiting for more, of course.
 
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