An Age of Miracles Continues: The Empire of Rhomania

Oh my god, what if Akihibara ITTL isn’t weeaboo central, but it becomes the campus of the biggest Orthodox university in Asia, or something similar…
And the art form we associate with anime isn’t a Japanese invention, but a German one, or something from an equally absurd nation.
Ethiopian anime, or halal Persian anime pls. Meanwhile Japan will get to be the center of death metal or something.
 

pls don't ban me

Monthly Donor
Oh my god, what if Akihibara ITTL isn’t weeaboo central, but it becomes the campus of the biggest Orthodox university in Asia, or something similar…
And the art form we associate with anime isn’t a Japanese invention, but a German one, or something from an equally absurd nation.
mongolian animes
 
Oh my god, what if Akihibara ITTL isn’t weeaboo central, but it becomes the campus of the biggest Orthodox university in Asia, or something similar…
And the art form we associate with anime isn’t a Japanese invention, but a German one, or something from an equally absurd nation.
Truly, a distopian timeline.
 
Wait, Leo Kalomeros, that's Nappy, right? And I am also curious at the state of the Rus now, it's still disjointed, right? Who's ruling who? I do remember that the previous monarch's heir is still in Khazaria..
 
The Lands of Germany, 1648 part 2
The Lands of Germany, 1648 part 2:

Eastern Baltic, September 5, 1648:

The Theseus seemed a fine ship, by her admittedly ignorant standards, but Duke Wartislaw and Bogislaw, who knew much more about marine affairs, also seemed to agree, which made Elizabeth feel a little better.

She needed that. Part of her ill feeling was seasickness, which had not been helped by her needing to nurse her seasick son. Vomiting was contagious.

She looked up at the mizzenmast head, where the Roman banner was flying. She frowned internally, but kept her face blank. The use of a Roman vessel was…troubling. First was the political angle. Even though it was just a getaway ship, not taking her to Rhomania, any association with the Greeks would hurt her cause in the eye of the princes. Hopefully it would be a manageable hurt; it was just the getaway ship after all. It was hoped that the Triunes and Scandinavians wouldn’t be willing to stop and board a Roman warship, as opposed to, say, a Lotharingian merchantman.

One had been available because the new Roman ambassador to Prussia had wanted to go by sea rather than overland, for reasons Elizabeth’s stomach could not understand. So Wartislaw’s and Elizabeth’s agents and the Prussians and the Russian ambassador to Riga had talked things out with the new Roman ambassador and arranged for a loan. And so they’d gone for it. It was a gamble, and a questionable choice, but good choices were few and far between.

But it was more than just the politics.

She had been young and foolish when she’d been in Constantinople, unable to hide her anger at her husband’s blatant disregard for their marriage vows. The double standard still rankled; if she’d engaged in such extra activities, especially so flamboyantly, all of society certainly wouldn’t have demanded and expected Andreas to smile and bear it, and condemn him if he grew angry, and especially if he’d had the audacity to express it. But she had since learned the need to dissemble.

But for her foolishness, she had not deserved the abuse she’d received. Never had she felt such roiling hatred, such steaming malice, as that which had been poured by the Constantinople mob at her. And then they had wondered why she preferred to spend her time elsewhere, and used that as a reason to despise her all the more, fueled by paranoia that saw any gesture, no matter what, as evidence of some sinister design. That was not something she could forget, or forgive. Even if going to Constantinople had not been political suicide, even if it had been a possible source of aid, she would not go there. She would not endure that again, and she certainly would not expose her son to that. Some prices were just too high.

This ship ride was necessary, probably, but it was enough. It was not just her seasick stomach that would be excited to not be standing under that banner.

* * *​

Andronikos Lukaras, the Protokarabos [1] of the Theseus, examined the Triune fregata through his dalnovzor. The wind had been uncooperative so they’d made bad time getting away from the Pomeranian coast, and then the morning had revealed this ship. Better positioned in regards to the wind, and with the wind favoring her rather than them, the Triune had been able to cut the angle and intercept them. It didn’t help that the Theseus’s hull had not been careened since she’d left Constantinople, so she was not as speedy as she could be.

And while this fregata was smaller than the Roman, which ran towards the larger end of that ship type, there was a squadron on the horizon bearing down on them with full sail. This Triune would soon have many friends.

They hadn’t tried to make a run for it. The Kentarchos hoped that they could argue their way out of this; the eagle banner would hopefully give the Triunes pause. If they had tried to flee though, the Triunes would certainly smell a rat and that possibility would vanish.

Andronikos looked around at the deck. All of their passengers were hidden below while the ship was cleared for action, with gunports open. The Triune ship also had her gunports open and cannons rolled out.

Kentarchos Kalomeros joined him at the stern, the Triune approaching from the port side, speaking trumpet in hand. “I expect we’ll have to fight,” he said.

“I agree.” The Triune’s continued approach even after the Roman banners were clearly visible in the early morning light suggested a polite ‘bugger off’ would not make them go away.

A shout came from the Triune and then a voice speaking French through a trumpet. “This is His Majesty’s ship Foudroyant. Heave to and prepare to be boarded.”

Leo looked at Andronikos, smiling a bit. “Since we’re probably going to have to fight, that means I don’t have to be polite, doesn’t it?”

“I believe so. Your capacity to find the good in any situation is always surprising,” he drolled, smiling a bit himself.

“Excellent.” Leo lifted the speaking trumpet to his mouth and replied in French. “This is his Imperial Majesty’s ship Theseus. By what right, sheep-copulater, do you make such demands?”

“I do not copulate with sheep!”

“You’re English. Don’t lie.”

“I am from Nantes!”

“My mistake. You are, in fact, a cow-copulator. Now by what right do you make such demands?”

“It is possible you are carrying persons of interest to his Majesty Henri II. We will inspect your vessel. Now heave to and prepare to be boarded.”

“I do not recognize your authority to investigate a ship of his Imperial Majesty Herakleios III.”

“I do not require your recognition, only your obedience.”

Leo lowered the trumpet and looked at Andronikos. “Can’t really think of a clever response to that.”

“And even if an argument keeps him off the ship, his friends are gaining on us.”

“Well, that settles it. We’ll just have to kill him instead.”

“I’ll try not to get too excited at the idea.”

Leo smiled and put the trumpet back to his mouth. “You know what, cow-copulator? Kiss my ass!” He turned to look up the deck. “Pour it on them, boys!”

The cannons roared.

* * *​

Elizabeth looked out at the sea. As long as she focused on the horizon, her stomach was mostly quiet, although the shaking of the ship as it pounded through the waves, wind filling its sails, was not helping in the least. The Theseus had made quick work of the Foudroyant, which for all its bluster hadn’t seemed to actually be expecting a fight. They’d left it partially dismasted so it couldn’t follow, hauled up as many sails as the masts could bear, and fled east, the Triune squadron pursuing.

The indistinct sound of Karl Manfred’s voice made her turn around and look at the deck. Her son was with Duke Wartislaw, who was explaining some of the arcane lore that was a ship at sea. The distraction seemed to be doing him good, although vomiting up everything in his stomach, plus being out of the stuffy below-decks, certainly helped.

Bogislaw came over to her at the railing, arriving just as the sound of a cannon reached them, a moment later a spout of water flying up just short of the ship’s stern. The Pomeranian looked and frowned. “That sloop’s a fine sailor,” he growled.

The Triune ships were flying after them, spread out a bit as each sailed to the best of their abilities. There were five of them, two of which were clearly bigger and better-armed than the Theseus, although they seemed to be slightly slower. Once the Theseus got moving after the duel with the Foudroyant, they hadn’t gained anymore and seemed to be falling behind ever so slowly.

The same could hardly be said for this…sloop, which had been steadily gaining all morning, and apparently was now just in cannon-shot.

Another boom and another water-spout, this time to the side of the Theseus.

“It’s smaller, so we could take it,” Elizabeth mused. “But if we did, we’d lose more time and the others might catch up.”

“Yes,” Bogislaw groused. “But he can just hang back on us, trying to rake us with his bow chasers, or pepper the rigging. One good lucky shot against a mast and we’re done for. He can’t take us alone, but all he has to do is slow us down. And this fine clear weather, there’s no handy squall to hide in.”

A gun from the Theseus roared back.

“You should go back below, your highness,” he continued.

Elizabeth shuddered inwardly, her stomach protesting at the thought of being back down there. The fresh sea breeze was far nicer, and she noted the faint hint of gunpowder. “No. Perhaps if the action gets hotter. But not yet.”

“One chance shot…”

“I know. But if this is to be the end, I’d like to enjoy the sky some more while I still can.”

* * *​

Andronikos looked again at the pestiferous Triune sloop through his dalnovzor, the occasional report of bow and stern chasers sounding. The peppering had continued relentlessly, although with no serious effects, yet. A few times the sloop had gotten closer, its shots telling more. The Kentarchos had angled the Theseus’s course at those times so they could get off a broadside, at least to make the sloop back off or hopefully get in a lucky shot of their own. The maneuvers did make the sloop back off, but no lucky shots, and those course alterations had allowed the slower Triune ships to gain on them a little.

Leo joined him but before either could say anything the sloop’s bow chasers fired again. One ball whistled through the air, cracking against the mizzenmast, and cracking the mizzenmast. The Kentarchos immediately started barking orders for lowering some sails. The masts were carrying maximum canvas, and the now-damaged mast could break completely under the weight.

Leo looked grimly at Andronikos. “We’re still better sailors than the four, but we can’t afford another crack like that. We need to take this bugger off the board, time be damned.”

Andronikos nodded and the two of them started issuing the relevant orders.

* * *​

The sloop hadn’t been willing to trade many broadsides with the Theseus before cutting and running, but then the fregata probably had close to a two-to-one advantage in throw weight. But even the short duel had cost them time and maneuvering space, plus some more shots into their rigging and one small sail shot away. None were individually too much of an issue, unlike the strike against the mizzenmast, but every meter of canvas counted.

The other four had gained during the battle, and with the resumption of the chase the two battle-line ships were now very slowly gaining rather than losing ground. The smaller two, a sloop and a fregata of the Foudroyant type, were gaining more quickly. Night might give them the chance to shake their pursuers, but if the pair could start harassing as the original sloop had, night might not come soon enough. The days were still long this time of year in these northern waters.

Leo went over to the Lady Elizabeth, who was on deck at the bow, with more color in her cheeks since she’d come on board. The seasickness was apparently wearing off. He explained the tactical situation to her. Then he continued. “My orders were to convey you from Pomerania to Narva, but not at the risk of endangering my ship and crew. Fighting off a couple of smaller ships is one thing, but just one of those battle-line ships could break this ship in half. This isn’t our fight, and I won’t order my men into a suicidal last stand, not for this.”

Elizabeth nodded grimly. “I understand, Kentarchos, and I appreciate your honesty and forthrightness. You must do what you must do to protect your own people.”

“Contact! Seven sail, ten degrees starboard!” one of the lookouts in the crow’s nest cried out.

Leo stifled a curse. That was nearly dead ahead; tacking away from them would only let their pursuers gain more ground even faster. “Can you make out their colors?” he shouted back.

“Not yet, sir. They are approaching our course though.”

Andronikos strode over to him. “Any orders, sir?”

“We maintain course. Anything else and the bastards behind us will be on us before nightfall. If those in front are hostile, we might still be able to sneak away during the night. And besides, they might not be hostile at all. This far east they’re unlikely to be Triune.” Andronikos nodded and left, heading over to the helmsman.

“They could be Scandinavian,” Elizabeth observed.

“I know, and he knows, but I like to keep hope alive as long as I can.”

“Me too, Kentarchos,” she whispered. “Me too.”

Minutes passed, probably not that many, but they were long enough.

“I can make their colors, sir! They’re Saint Andrew’s crosses! They’re Russian! Two battle-line ships and five smaller.”

Several of the crew cheered. Leo grinned, looking again at Elizabeth who for the first time since he’d seen her had a smile on her face. “I think hope might just live a little longer.”

“I agree, Kentarchos. And thank you for what you have done to get me this far.”

* * *​

The Lady Elizabeth’s escape from Pomerania and near-certain capture is a near-run thing, but a chance encounter with a Russian naval squadron forces the Triunes to break off their pursuit. Four days after leaving Stettin, she arrives at the port of Narva.

The use of a Roman warship, plus the fire exchanged by said ship with Triunes, does cause a bit of a diplomatic incident, but Henri II, while seething, does not want to push the matter lest it trigger more Roman response. Direct Roman military aid is extremely unlikely, but Roman weaponry and particularly bullion with plausible deniability as to its origins is possible, and he doesn’t want to deal with that. The Roman connection with Elizabeth is played up in an effort to turn German public opinion against her, but there is no push against the Romans directly.

Nevertheless, to avoid any awkwardness, Lady Athena decides to sell the fregata Theseus to the Russian navy rather than having it sail back through Scandinavian and Triune waters. The crew will return to Constantinople overland.

Leo Kalomeros is not the only one headed south. Elizabeth’s journey is hardly complete. After two days in Narva, she is on the move again, proceeding southward to make her appeal directly to the Zemsky Sobor of a reunited Russia.

[1] Term for First Mate or Executive Officer.
 
Nice update. So it look either way Germany will have a puppet ruler - either Philip Sigismund as an agent of the Triunes or Elizabeth as an agent of the Russians. I guess we'll wait and see.
 
Leo Kalomeros is not the only one headed south. Elizabeth’s journey is hardly complete. After two days in Narva, she is on the move again, proceeding southward to make her appeal directly to the Zemsky Sobor of a reunited Russia.
Uhhhhh...I'm just as dumbfounded as HanEmpire is right now. How the heck did the Gathering of the Rus happen already? While an opportune moment for Elisabeth, having the Russians by her side in retaking the HRE, I hope that we'll get a post about Russia soon to explain this.
 
The Lands of Germany, 1648 part 2:

Eastern Baltic, September 5, 1648:

The Theseus seemed a fine ship, by her admittedly ignorant standards, but Duke Wartislaw and Bogislaw, who knew much more about marine affairs, also seemed to agree, which made Elizabeth feel a little better.

She needed that. Part of her ill feeling was seasickness, which had not been helped by her needing to nurse her seasick son. Vomiting was contagious.

She looked up at the mizzenmast head, where the Roman banner was flying. She frowned internally, but kept her face blank. The use of a Roman vessel was…troubling. First was the political angle. Even though it was just a getaway ship, not taking her to Rhomania, any association with the Greeks would hurt her cause in the eye of the princes. Hopefully it would be a manageable hurt; it was just the getaway ship after all. It was hoped that the Triunes and Scandinavians wouldn’t be willing to stop and board a Roman warship, as opposed to, say, a Lotharingian merchantman.

One had been available because the new Roman ambassador to Prussia had wanted to go by sea rather than overland, for reasons Elizabeth’s stomach could not understand. So Wartislaw’s and Elizabeth’s agents and the Prussians and the Russian ambassador to Riga had talked things out with the new Roman ambassador and arranged for a loan. And so they’d gone for it. It was a gamble, and a questionable choice, but good choices were few and far between.

But it was more than just the politics.

She had been young and foolish when she’d been in Constantinople, unable to hide her anger at her husband’s blatant disregard for their marriage vows. The double standard still rankled; if she’d engaged in such extra activities, especially so flamboyantly, all of society certainly wouldn’t have demanded and expected Andreas to smile and bear it, and condemn him if he grew angry, and especially if he’d had the audacity to express it. But she had since learned the need to dissemble.

But for her foolishness, she had not deserved the abuse she’d received. Never had she felt such roiling hatred, such steaming malice, as that which had been poured by the Constantinople mob at her. And then they had wondered why she preferred to spend her time elsewhere, and used that as a reason to despise her all the more, fueled by paranoia that saw any gesture, no matter what, as evidence of some sinister design. That was not something she could forget, or forgive. Even if going to Constantinople had not been political suicide, even if it had been a possible source of aid, she would not go there. She would not endure that again, and she certainly would not expose her son to that. Some prices were just too high.

This ship ride was necessary, probably, but it was enough. It was not just her seasick stomach that would be excited to not be standing under that banner.

* * *​

Andronikos Lukaras, the Protokarabos [1] of the Theseus, examined the Triune fregata through his dalnovzor. The wind had been uncooperative so they’d made bad time getting away from the Pomeranian coast, and then the morning had revealed this ship. Better positioned in regards to the wind, and with the wind favoring her rather than them, the Triune had been able to cut the angle and intercept them. It didn’t help that the Theseus’s hull had not been careened since she’d left Constantinople, so she was not as speedy as she could be.

And while this fregata was smaller than the Roman, which ran towards the larger end of that ship type, there was a squadron on the horizon bearing down on them with full sail. This Triune would soon have many friends.

They hadn’t tried to make a run for it. The Kentarchos hoped that they could argue their way out of this; the eagle banner would hopefully give the Triunes pause. If they had tried to flee though, the Triunes would certainly smell a rat and that possibility would vanish.

Andronikos looked around at the deck. All of their passengers were hidden below while the ship was cleared for action, with gunports open. The Triune ship also had her gunports open and cannons rolled out.

Kentarchos Kalomeros joined him at the stern, the Triune approaching from the port side, speaking trumpet in hand. “I expect we’ll have to fight,” he said.

“I agree.” The Triune’s continued approach even after the Roman banners were clearly visible in the early morning light suggested a polite ‘bugger off’ would not make them go away.

A shout came from the Triune and then a voice speaking French through a trumpet. “This is His Majesty’s ship Foudroyant. Heave to and prepare to be boarded.”

Leo looked at Andronikos, smiling a bit. “Since we’re probably going to have to fight, that means I don’t have to be polite, doesn’t it?”

“I believe so. Your capacity to find the good in any situation is always surprising,” he drolled, smiling a bit himself.

“Excellent.” Leo lifted the speaking trumpet to his mouth and replied in French. “This is his Imperial Majesty’s ship Theseus. By what right, sheep-copulater, do you make such demands?”

“I do not copulate with sheep!”

“You’re English. Don’t lie.”

“I am from Nantes!”

“My mistake. You are, in fact, a cow-copulator. Now by what right do you make such demands?”

“It is possible you are carrying persons of interest to his Majesty Henri II. We will inspect your vessel. Now heave to and prepare to be boarded.”

“I do not recognize your authority to investigate a ship of his Imperial Majesty Herakleios III.”

“I do not require your recognition, only your obedience.”

Leo lowered the trumpet and looked at Andronikos. “Can’t really think of a clever response to that.”

“And even if an argument keeps him off the ship, his friends are gaining on us.”

“Well, that settles it. We’ll just have to kill him instead.”

“I’ll try not to get too excited at the idea.”

Leo smiled and put the trumpet back to his mouth. “You know what, cow-copulator? Kiss my ass!” He turned to look up the deck. “Pour it on them, boys!”

The cannons roared.

* * *​

Elizabeth looked out at the sea. As long as she focused on the horizon, her stomach was mostly quiet, although the shaking of the ship as it pounded through the waves, wind filling its sails, was not helping in the least. The Theseus had made quick work of the Foudroyant, which for all its bluster hadn’t seemed to actually be expecting a fight. They’d left it partially dismasted so it couldn’t follow, hauled up as many sails as the masts could bear, and fled east, the Triune squadron pursuing.

The indistinct sound of Karl Manfred’s voice made her turn around and look at the deck. Her son was with Duke Wartislaw, who was explaining some of the arcane lore that was a ship at sea. The distraction seemed to be doing him good, although vomiting up everything in his stomach, plus being out of the stuffy below-decks, certainly helped.

Bogislaw came over to her at the railing, arriving just as the sound of a cannon reached them, a moment later a spout of water flying up just short of the ship’s stern. The Pomeranian looked and frowned. “That sloop’s a fine sailor,” he growled.

The Triune ships were flying after them, spread out a bit as each sailed to the best of their abilities. There were five of them, two of which were clearly bigger and better-armed than the Theseus, although they seemed to be slightly slower. Once the Theseus got moving after the duel with the Foudroyant, they hadn’t gained anymore and seemed to be falling behind ever so slowly.

The same could hardly be said for this…sloop, which had been steadily gaining all morning, and apparently was now just in cannon-shot.

Another boom and another water-spout, this time to the side of the Theseus.

“It’s smaller, so we could take it,” Elizabeth mused. “But if we did, we’d lose more time and the others might catch up.”

“Yes,” Bogislaw groused. “But he can just hang back on us, trying to rake us with his bow chasers, or pepper the rigging. One good lucky shot against a mast and we’re done for. He can’t take us alone, but all he has to do is slow us down. And this fine clear weather, there’s no handy squall to hide in.”

A gun from the Theseus roared back.

“You should go back below, your highness,” he continued.

Elizabeth shuddered inwardly, her stomach protesting at the thought of being back down there. The fresh sea breeze was far nicer, and she noted the faint hint of gunpowder. “No. Perhaps if the action gets hotter. But not yet.”

“One chance shot…”

“I know. But if this is to be the end, I’d like to enjoy the sky some more while I still can.”

* * *​

Andronikos looked again at the pestiferous Triune sloop through his dalnovzor, the occasional report of bow and stern chasers sounding. The peppering had continued relentlessly, although with no serious effects, yet. A few times the sloop had gotten closer, its shots telling more. The Kentarchos had angled the Theseus’s course at those times so they could get off a broadside, at least to make the sloop back off or hopefully get in a lucky shot of their own. The maneuvers did make the sloop back off, but no lucky shots, and those course alterations had allowed the slower Triune ships to gain on them a little.

Leo joined him but before either could say anything the sloop’s bow chasers fired again. One ball whistled through the air, cracking against the mizzenmast, and cracking the mizzenmast. The Kentarchos immediately started barking orders for lowering some sails. The masts were carrying maximum canvas, and the now-damaged mast could break completely under the weight.

Leo looked grimly at Andronikos. “We’re still better sailors than the four, but we can’t afford another crack like that. We need to take this bugger off the board, time be damned.”

Andronikos nodded and the two of them started issuing the relevant orders.

* * *​

The sloop hadn’t been willing to trade many broadsides with the Theseus before cutting and running, but then the fregata probably had close to a two-to-one advantage in throw weight. But even the short duel had cost them time and maneuvering space, plus some more shots into their rigging and one small sail shot away. None were individually too much of an issue, unlike the strike against the mizzenmast, but every meter of canvas counted.

The other four had gained during the battle, and with the resumption of the chase the two battle-line ships were now very slowly gaining rather than losing ground. The smaller two, a sloop and a fregata of the Foudroyant type, were gaining more quickly. Night might give them the chance to shake their pursuers, but if the pair could start harassing as the original sloop had, night might not come soon enough. The days were still long this time of year in these northern waters.

Leo went over to the Lady Elizabeth, who was on deck at the bow, with more color in her cheeks since she’d come on board. The seasickness was apparently wearing off. He explained the tactical situation to her. Then he continued. “My orders were to convey you from Pomerania to Narva, but not at the risk of endangering my ship and crew. Fighting off a couple of smaller ships is one thing, but just one of those battle-line ships could break this ship in half. This isn’t our fight, and I won’t order my men into a suicidal last stand, not for this.”

Elizabeth nodded grimly. “I understand, Kentarchos, and I appreciate your honesty and forthrightness. You must do what you must do to protect your own people.”

“Contact! Seven sail, ten degrees starboard!” one of the lookouts in the crow’s nest cried out.

Leo stifled a curse. That was nearly dead ahead; tacking away from them would only let their pursuers gain more ground even faster. “Can you make out their colors?” he shouted back.

“Not yet, sir. They are approaching our course though.”

Andronikos strode over to him. “Any orders, sir?”

“We maintain course. Anything else and the bastards behind us will be on us before nightfall. If those in front are hostile, we might still be able to sneak away during the night. And besides, they might not be hostile at all. This far east they’re unlikely to be Triune.” Andronikos nodded and left, heading over to the helmsman.

“They could be Scandinavian,” Elizabeth observed.

“I know, and he knows, but I like to keep hope alive as long as I can.”

“Me too, Kentarchos,” she whispered. “Me too.”

Minutes passed, probably not that many, but they were long enough.

“I can make their colors, sir! They’re Saint Andrew’s crosses! They’re Russian! Two battle-line ships and five smaller.”

Several of the crew cheered. Leo grinned, looking again at Elizabeth who for the first time since he’d seen her had a smile on her face. “I think hope might just live a little longer.”

“I agree, Kentarchos. And thank you for what you have done to get me this far.”

* * *​

The Lady Elizabeth’s escape from Pomerania and near-certain capture is a near-run thing, but a chance encounter with a Russian naval squadron forces the Triunes to break off their pursuit. Four days after leaving Stettin, she arrives at the port of Narva.

The use of a Roman warship, plus the fire exchanged by said ship with Triunes, does cause a bit of a diplomatic incident, but Henri II, while seething, does not want to push the matter lest it trigger more Roman response. Direct Roman military aid is extremely unlikely, but Roman weaponry and particularly bullion with plausible deniability as to its origins is possible, and he doesn’t want to deal with that. The Roman connection with Elizabeth is played up in an effort to turn German public opinion against her, but there is no push against the Romans directly.

Nevertheless, to avoid any awkwardness, Lady Athena decides to sell the fregata Theseus to the Russian navy rather than having it sail back through Scandinavian and Triune waters. The crew will return to Constantinople overland.

Leo Kalomeros is not the only one headed south. Elizabeth’s journey is hardly complete. After two days in Narva, she is on the move again, proceeding southward to make her appeal directly to the Zemsky Sobor of a reunited Russia.

[1] Term for First Mate or Executive Officer.
Well that’s suprise but a very welcome suprise
 
the Zemsky Sobor of a reunited Russia
Ahh, a new Great Power.

With its improved links to Europe and the Byzantine intellectual tradition compared to OTL, Russia ITTL is going to be an absolute bear, no pun intended.

Absent another fracturing, or a nuclear exchange, they’re virtually guaranteed to be a genuine superpower by modern times.
 
I do like how Russia seems to have united out of left field narratively - I wonder if that's intentional to sort of have us feel how Europe might feel? Just "Oh Damn, Russia, we were so busy with the Triunes and Romans that we forgot about Russia!"
 
I do like how Russia seems to have united out of left field narratively - I wonder if that's intentional to sort of have us feel how Europe might feel? Just "Oh Damn, Russia, we were so busy with the Triunes and Romans that we forgot about Russia!"
It'd be nice if the Romans and the Russians remain at least cordial. The even the threat of the two allied against the Triunes would give all Western Europe heart palpitations.
 
It'd be nice if the Romans and the Russians remain at least cordial. The even the threat of the two allied against the Triunes would give all Western Europe heart palpitations.
I expect they do, they do have a long history, plus if I remember correctly the Russians and Romans have DEEP economic ties - pretty sure the Romans buy most of the Ukrainian grain surplus.

Also, if they don't get along, why would an ambassadors ship be chilling out there expecting the Russians to get the Triunes to back off?

I'm looking forward to seeing what this Russia is like, especially after the posts about Novgorod and the distinction they made between individuals and Novgorod itself.
 
Free-er and economically advanced Russia will be a wonderful sight. Unless Roman and Russian interest diverge and set them on a competing paths. Rooting against that.

I'd say Rome should treat Russia as UK treated US - a giant on the rise, confrontation with which would be extremely perilous but cordial relations might be extremely valuable.
 
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