Stories of the Imperial Roman Republic

[The Rock Doctor]

November 6, 1918

On behalf of the Vilnius Union, Sigismund VIII Vasa, Queen Sophie and their family convey their congratulations to the Empress and her husband on the arrival of their daughter, and wish continued health and prosperity to the family.

[Jefgte]

November 6 1918

The Sultan of Byzantium, Constantine XII rejoices and congratulates the Imperial Roman Family for the birth of the princess. Peoples of the Byzantine Empire and I wish to the Princess Imperial a long and happy life.

[snip]

June 6th, 1921. Imperial Palace, Rome.

Septimius Rocchi tried not to make himself too comfortable in the push chair of the waiting area outside the audience room. Despite many visits since his ascension to Prime Minister at the end of 1914,  the palace had never wavered in its daunting history. It was in these halls that the machinations and scheming of hundreds of years of Imperial Power had operated, the secrets that these walls knew could occupy most historians till the end of time. The quite reflection was brought to a quick end by the opening of the door adjacent to the chair.

"Mister Prime Minister, the Empress will see you now." The Pretorian sentry announced matter-of-factly.

"Thank you, Sergeant Furlan." Septimius replied. He saw himself through the door.

On entering, Septimius observed he and the Empress were not alone. Amelia had her back almost turned to the door, bent at the waist to bring her eyes more level with the room's third occupant.

"Jeanne, it is time to go see your brother." The stern motherly tone a practiced fit for Amelia's voice without being so sharp as to inflict mental injury. "I have a meeting with the Prime Minister."

"Can you wait mommy?" The pleading question from the two and a half year old girl not quite fully formed but at slightly to great a volume for the space. Jeanne accented this request with a pouty lip.

The gentle click of the door latching behind Septimius came a fraction of a second late to keep the mechanical sound hidden under the girl's request.

Amelia turned around, the Empress scooping the Princess up in one smooth motion as she did so. Jeanne came to rest on her mother's hip, not protesting but instead smiling toothily at the sudden motion.

"Prim Mister!" Jeanne exclaimed excitedly.

Septimius smiled slightly at Amelia's expense as she failed to completely banish an exasperated expression from her face at Jeanne's outburst. He bowed deeply.

"Your Majesty, how lovely to see you on this fine day. Princess Jeanne, how are you?"

"Good." The simple reply from Jeanne rang true.

Behind Amelia, a door opened and a subtly panicked looking nanny practically dove into the room.  Covering the distance from door to Empress with impressive speed, the girl curtsied deeply.

"My apologies your Majesty." The meek statement almost inviting reprimand on its own.

"No harm done Carmina." Amelia replied. "Please take the Princess to see her brother, I will come join them once the Prime Minister and I are finished." She returned Jeanne to her feet while replying.

"Of course, your Majesty." Carmina took Jeanne's hand a bowed again.
Jeanne waved at Amelia and Septimius as she left the room, the door closing afterwards.

Amelia closed her eyes and exhaled through her nose a little too loudly before addressing Septimius.

"It's that poor girl's first day." Amelia's tone was level. "Nobody is at fault, but I do question the wisdom of letting the last nanny go have a child of her own."

Septimius smiled gently. "There are some things in this world that we cannot control. Young love among them"

Amelia nodded reflectively. "Luciana was very good with Jeanne. Did you know she had twins? Can you imagine? I will say I pulled a couple of strings to ensure her husband was able to postpone his deployment overseas for a while to help get her settled in."

"Your grace knows few boundaries." Septimius replied. "How is Prince Antony?"

"An appetite as fierce as his father's." Amelia smiled speaking of her 6 month old son. "Looks to match as well."

"Wonderful." Septimius replied.

"And I am fine as well, before you feel compelled to ask for politeness's sake." Amelia answered the next question to be asked.

Septimius declined to suppress a chuckle. "You are as sharp as ever, your Majesty."

"Thank you Septimius." Amelia signaled the formal addresses were to end. "Now I believe you wanted to discuss growing tensions in the New World."

"As much as it pains me Amelia." Septimius replied. "It seems the clouds of war are threatening to darken again."



An hour later, Septimius walked out to the waiting motor car which would take him back to the Imperial Senate. His mind drawing parallels between what had marked his rise to the office he held now, and the events which may now lead to another crisis while he held it. Intertwined with these thoughts were recollections of a long-ago meeting in that same office; the opinionated young woman who had been present and unafraid to speak her mind now occupying a much different position. Septimius hoped it would not need to be discovered how that same woman, now the most powerful in the nation, would react if similar circumstances arose but now she possessed the power to mold events. His trust in Amelia was unshakable, his trust in the world giving her a fair opportunity far less so.

[snip]

February 15th, 1921. Port facilities at Portus Arturus, Novus Francia.

Mario D'Antonio sweat heavily under his coveralls, a combination of hard work and nerves. His work crew had finished setting up a massive ramp leading up to the bow of an otherwise unassuming civilian freighter.  The bow however, was quite radical. Clamshell doors opened, allowing the ramp access to the interior of the ship. Now the workers stood around waiting for the ramp to be put to its intended use.

Getting large cargo off of ships was not new to Mario or his team. This load however had a few key differences. First, it was a single object which boasted so much weight not a multipart bundle. Second, somebody who would now almost certainly be done in with a pipe wrench if they ever set foot on the shipping docks again, had decided that this load needed to be driven off the ship rather than lifted. Finally, the load was going to be driving itself off the ship.

Silence overcame the assembled persons, as a rough mechanical growl began growing louder from inside the ship. Slowly, carefully, and guided by several people who made the scale of the object easy to discern, the snorting mechanical beast wiggled its way onto the end of the ramp. The ship's stern began to notably rise as so much weight was shifted so far forward. The ramp moaned as if in pain. The passage of time ceased to have meaning as the lumbering steel shape put more and more of its weight onto the ramp, which protested noisily. Finally, the equilibrium tipped and the whole the monster was on the ramp. The ship trying to return to its natural waterline made the ramp swing far to frequently and Mario felt his whole body tighten up as it looked like the connection to the ship may give way and dump the whole mess into the harbor.

Somehow, after what must have been a quarter of an hour, the massive vehicle sat firmly on dry land. A small group of Army mechanics began to fuss over the snarling steel contraption. A officer approached Mario.

"Well done. Please confer my thanks to your team for the safe delivery." The officer lit a cigarette and offered one to Mario, who accepted. "If you would be so kind as to allow the Army to buy the first round tonight as well."

"Appreciated." Mario answered "Now the smaller ones should be nowhere near as difficult."

"Yes, they are around one tenth of the size." The officer replied. "And I can safely add that my report will suggest in the strongest words we do not try this again."

"Appreciated." Mario offered the same answer. "How much does the big one weigh again?"

"Nobody told you?" The officer seemed surprised. "That's sixty nine tons."

Mario was now far more impressed by the feat and surer that the originator of this operation was short a few critical thinking functions. "And what did you say it is again?"

"Portable water tank." The officer replied a hair too quickly.

The lie hung with Mario for the rest of the day, before being forgotten in the bottom of a beer late that night.

Now, who figures out what just got RoRo'ed first...

[Desertfox]

[snip]

And we have a winner!

[snip]

November 25th, 1922. Imperial Palace, Rome.

Amelia stood next to a bench across from one of the many garden fountains dotting the grounds of the Imperial Palace.  The grand reserves of patience she had acquired since ascending to motherhood almost unnoticeably drawn as two pairs of approaching footsteps met her wait was nearly over. The owners of said feet rounded the corner, one of the Praetorian Lifeguard and her uncle Manuel. The Praetorian stopped a respectful distance away, saluted Manuel, then began his return to the palace. Manuel approached Amelia.

"Your Majesty." Manuel bowed deeply. "What a pleasure to see you again."

"Général." Amelia nodded in return. "The pleasure is mine. Now that we have dispensed with the pleasantries, how are you uncle?"

"I am well niece." Manuel chewed his next words carefully. "The news from the new world troubles me, I do hope a resolution can be found."

Amelia sighed lightly. "It seems I do not need the bridge I was preparing to get into that conversation. Please, walk with me." Without waiting for an answer, she began down the nearest path.

Manuel followed. "I do seem to have a knack for bluntness. Sometimes it serves me well, other times not."

"A distinction I wish we could all improve on." Amelia replied. "As I'm sure you are aware, what is happening with the Mayans is a complex situation. They are not backing down from the claims made, and its going to likely prove impossible to come to a satisfactory resolution. Since the Valdemosa incident I feel we are lucky to have not had any more sunken warships."

"So, I do understand correctly then that military intervention is still a possibility?" Manuel's question did not betray in which way his thoughts on the subject fell.

"Unfortunately, that is still an exceedingly large possibility." Amelia replied. "War with the Mayans would be yet another conflict in the New World. What do you think, Général?" The insertion of the title expressed a desire for a professional response.

Manuel's reply was delayed for a short time while he gathered his thoughts. "We are in a much better position than we were in 1914. Not only have we come to realize the flaws in some assumptions but have some measure of practical experience to draw on. Additionally, there have been many technological improvements which provide additional capabilities we did not possess in 1914."

"All true." Amelia replied. "While I am far from the military mind you are, I do suppose us sharing a land border with the Mobile territory does simplify logistics somewhat. Much different from the Caicos."

"Your Grace would be correct." Manuel chuckled internally under the stoic outward response.

"Uncle, unfortunately it is these events which have led to my invitation here today." Amelia stopped and looked out over the city of Rome sprawled out below the garden. "Before my father passed, he gave me many items of wisdom. I find myself circling back to one of those as this crisis continues. It flows right into another such token, that I should always trust my heart."

Manuel nodded, following Amelia's gaze over the city.

"This is, at least to my vantage point, the first major international crisis of my reign." Amelia spoke slowly, letting each word take time to hold in the air. "I need someone I can trust to handle this situation on the ground. That is not to imply that I don't trust my commanders, on the contrary. The New World behaves differently than the Old, and with recent retirements there is only one officer of the appropriate rank who I fully and unconditionally support being the one person who all our miliary in the New World answers to. If you were in my position, Général, whom would you choose."

Manuel mulled the question before replying. "I would ensure that said officer had experience in the 1914 war. That officer should, without question, be trustworthy to be given a degree of freedom. The situation can change faster than new orders can be debated, drafted, and issued from here in Rome. As contrary as this sounds, you need a man with something real to lose. Something which grounds him into making rational decisions. That is the kind of officer you need for this post."

Amelia did not miss a beat. "What is it that you have to lose, Général Manuel Sforza."

"The trust of my Empress." Manuel replied. "The respect of my niece. The honor of my country."

Amelia smiled. "All good answers. I'm sorry to have to do this to you. I know you and Aunt Isabella were looking forward to retirement."

"I serve at the pleasure of the Empress of the Imperial Republic." Manuel bowed deeply.

"Know you have my trust." Amelia turned to face her uncle. "I sincerely hope I have merely given you what amounts to a final professional liberty trip."

Manuel let out a single chuckle. "We can both hope that."

"One last item before I will let you go begin preparing. I believe it is unfitting for someone with such responsibility to remain a Général." Amelia produced a box, which she opened. Inside, a red baton adorned with gold eagles, each end capped with gold. "Congratulations Marescallus Reipublicae Manuel Sforza. The Republic's citizens entrust you with their protection. I, Empress Amelia Sforza, entrust you with their protection."

Manuel knelt, seemingly pushed down by the weight of responsibility. "I will serve the Republic, and my Empress, with my utmost ability and devotion."

[snip]

February 28th, 1923

Announcement delivered to all major embassies in Rome.

Due to the current situation in and around the Caribbean Sea, the Imperial Roman Republic would like to inform the other nations with territorial concerns in the region that various units of Roman military forces will be redeployed within the region to protect the neutrality of uninvolved parties, including Roman. Roman forces will be abiding by applicable neutrality laws should they be near areas of active combat. Additional information will be made available in the event that Roman forces are compelled to exercise force in self-defense.



Headquarters of the Novus Francian Miliary Command, Saint Rochelle.

Marescallus Manuel Sforza presumed the message had been delivered in Europe. It was only natural, was the consensus agreement. Roman assets bordered the hostile areas in great quantity, a now active naval warzone far too close for comfort to the tether the Old World. Nobody should think twice. Repeating the statement in his mind drew it no closer to the absolute truth Manuel sought.

"For all we know, this is merely a boarder conflict." Manuel said to the otherwise empty room. "At one point we believed the Aztecs and Japanese to be as tight as they are portrayed. Perhaps we will not know how close we came to proof, one way or another, in 1914."

A gentle circular twist of Manuel's wrist sent ice nestled in a dark brown liquid moving in a glass. The clinking filling the space where words had been.

"May it all be over soon." Manuel followed the statement with a sip from the glass.

If it wasn't, Manuel's plan would be slowly put into action. Some, from comfortable villas and castles in Europe, viewed Roman involvement in this conflict as an inevitability. Reopening of old wounds with the Sultanate the better's undoubted favorite. In some circles, hushed discussions about the People's Republic could echo off stone walls, the same logic that launched the 1914 abound. Rome cannot have a loose cannon on its colonial lifeline, and the Mobile colony was a very large cannon. Men who had never set foot in the New World would debate these with no real mind for the consequences beyond their own interests.

Regardless of if the conflict receded quickly, or boiled over into continued war, Roman forces in Novus Francia were slightly overdue for a major exercise. As such, pursuant to his responsibilities, Manual had began laying plans for Exercise Tide. Scheduled for the latter half of the year, there was no need to announce anything internationally yet. Known only to a few select staffers, Exercise Tide was cover for a quartet of operation. The possible operation, adding Sapphire, Topaz, Emerald, or Ruby to the Tide codename, denoted the true plans. One of them was for the exercise, a planned full-scale wargame. The other three would trade that wargame for quite real war. The politics of Europe may decide a color, it would be Manuel's task to paint with it.

Note: Date adjustment on this story is possible for a few days due to ongoing simmed events.

[snip]

March 5th, 1923.

TO: DIVISION COMMANDERS, ATLANTIC FLEET
FROM: ATLANTIC FLEED COMMAND.
SUBJECT: TIDE TRANSIT PLAN ACTIVATED
DUE TO WAR BETWEEN PEOPLES REPUBLIC OF MAYA AND THE AZTEC SULTIANATE, FLEET TRANSIT PLAN TIDE IS ACTIVATED AS OF THIS MESSAGE. INTENDED TRANSIT COMPLETION DATE OF 20APRIL. TASK FORCE AND DIVISION GROUP TRANITS PLANNED. DETAILS TO FOLLOW.

CANCEL ALL LEAVE FOR PERSONAL EFFECTIVE 6MARCH.

March 12th, 1923. Portus Adurni Naval Base.
Jindřich Nisi, Lieutenant Commander Imperial Roman Navy, observed the bobbing line of D-Class Motor Torpedo boats that made up the 22nd Motor Torpedo Boat Division. Twelve small 40t boats dwarfed by the large merchant ship they were to be loaded onto. The cradles on the deck waiting, cranes on the ship's deck just beginning to reach trendles of cable down to the first boat. Jindřich's boat was fourth in line. He turned to scan what else of the largest Albian naval base of the Imperial Navy that he could see was up to.

Since the message a week before, activity had slowly picked up. The first ship he had noticed absent, sometime overnight on the 9th, was the minelayer IRS Crispico. Her sister, IRS Murmuro, lay at anchor off shore. The sleek hull seeming to tug impatiently at its mooring lines. Elsewhere, knifelike destroyers took on fuel. The large Rainier Marion's were a far cry from the small E-Class which had been shot out from under two of his uncles during the Battle of Grand Turk. Somewhere not visible from where Jindřich stood, Admiral Cedric Fabron's flagship from the annihilation of the Royal Aztec Navy at Ironclad Bay the IRS Invicta was making ready for yet another trip to the New World. It appeared Rome had taken at least one lesson of the 1914 conflict to heart, whether those lessons would be tested against the Aztecs, nobody at all, or someone else entirely a question Jindřich pondered as the first of 22nd's boats cleared the water.

[snip]

April 27th, 1923. Tamara, Tamara Insula (aka Havana, Cuba)

There was simply no hiding the bulk of the IRS Tullius Leofric. Taking up almost a quarter of a kilometer in length and tipping the scale at over forty eight thousand tons fully loaded, in spite of being officially designated a Large Armored Cruiser, was arguably at this point the strongest warship in the Caribbean. The comparison was made further stark by the massive warship's proximity to the IRS Argonauta. Once the largest warship in Roman service now made to seem positively petite next to the current title holder.

Alessandro Valli, the promotion to Rear Admiral sometimes still stubbornly refusing to overtake Commodore yet in his head, stood on the bridge wing of the Tullius. Ascension to command of the formation containing the Tullius as well as his former command the IRS Jeanne d'Arc had been a mild surprise. The promotion had come shortly before news of the Mayan aggression broke, and Alessandro had little peacetime to acclimate to the role. Two months ago, the orders to move the rapid deployment sections of the Atlantic Fleet to their deployment assignments in the Caribbean had chewed at his mind that something else was underway. Sending the Ironclad Bay veterans over made sense if one's goals were clearly defensive. Invicta and her sister were slow, something which could not be said about Tullius or Jeanne. Sending his ships spoke to offensive intent.

The meeting today had confirmed that intent was real and that it now had a timeline. In what was best described as weeks, Rome would again be at war in the New World. This time, it would not be the Navy alone on the offensive. Free, to an extent, to fight a more fluid campaign it would soon be time to show the lessons of 1914 had not been forgotten, but had forged a stronger force.

Alessandro's contemplation was interrupted by the familiar voice of his adjunct.

"Admiral Valli." The adjunct formally stated. "Commander 6th Destroyers has arrived. We expect Commander 4th Destroyers within the next quarter of an hour."

Alessandro pinched the bridge of his nose as he replied. "That's Aafjes and Eikenboom respectively?"
"Yes sir." The adjunct's tone was level.

"Have Aafjes shown to the chart room." Alessandro stood up and turned to face the adjunct. "Send Eikenboom when he arrives. Please have coffee and other beverages sent."

The adjunct nodded, then turned and walked back inside the bridge.

Alessandro took another breath of fresh air before himself heading inside to brief his escort commanders.

[snip]

April 14th, 1923. Novus Matisco (aka, Vicksburg, Mississippi)

Novus Matisco had come to exist almost by accident. Due to various oddities of the river banks and the desired destination of the railway lines which had belted Novus Francia after the territory was settled by Rome, what had been a nearly nonexistent village had increased in size by orders of magnitude over only a few years. Now a proper bustling small city, its location ensured that it had a detachment of the Roman Army permanently based there. While initially the facilities were intended to be the major supply depo close to the norther boarder, expansion up the river had seen those plans dashed. Recently, the largely understaffed base had slowly seen more blue-grey uniforms rotating though. The bodies within the uniforms almost constantly changing, the true number was hard to discern.

Private Giacomo Lamberti stepped of the train far after it came to a stop. The last hour of fitful sleep not near restful enough, but ensuring he was at the back of the column of blue-grey jackets. His bag heavy on his shoulder, Giacomo walked in the direction indicated by some carefully placed signage. One of the other soldiers at the back of the line noticed him.

"Nice of you to join us Lamberti." Private De Rege called out. "I see your beauty sleep only made you uglier!"

De Rege and several other men laughed at the blunt joke. Giacomo rolled his eyes.

"Did it take you five minutes to come up with that one?" Giacomo lobed the question as if delivering it to a toddler.

De Rege accepted the laughter turning against him with a rude gesture.

The line continued moving forward towards the officers providing direction.

"Stow your belongings in your assigned barracks, then report for special training exercise."

Giacomo wondered what sort of special training was apparently so short as to be conducted in an afternoon.



Giacomo found himself second in line near a large metal door. This was not a typical barn door or rolling workshop door, but more like a large watertight hatch on a ship. This was the only door on this side of the building, and Giacomo had not seen any of the previous soldiers which had entered the door exit again, so there must have been another door elsewhere.

All the soldiers standing in line had been issued a new piece of equipment that Giacomo had not seen before. Looking down at his right hand which held the equipment, what could almost be described as a face looked back at him. Two metal rings held pieces of circular glass inlayed into what felt like a rubberized burlap. These soulless sockets stared back at Giacomo, elastic straps dangling beath like two incredibly thick stands of hair.

With the sound of metal on metal, the door began to open. An officer stepped out; what Giacomo held in his hand covering the man's face like some sort of mask which would be used to scare a child. It was then that Giacomo noticed an uneasy quiet had come over the building, something mechanical inside had stopped moving.

"The next twenty, follow me." The officer stated before proceeding back thought the door he had came though.

Giacomo gulped, hopefully inaudibly, and followed the man in front of him though the door. After eighteen more men had passed though, the door was closed as a bank of electric lights was turned on. Giacomo saw the officer from before, along with three more, standing at the front of the room. The first officer stepped forward.

"You are here for a training session on the use of anti-chemical hoods." The officer's voice was muffled slightly by his mask. "These hoods are designed to protect you from the adverse effects of chemical irritants. Please see the direction signs on the wall for instructions on donning your hood. Myself or one of the other officers will be around to check on the proper application of the hood."

Giacomo had already been reading the instructions and set about donning the hood. As instructed, he ensured that the glass portholes were over his eyes, as close as the standard sizing allowed. He was suddenly very aware of how hot and moist his breath was. The air from his lungs reflected off the clearly partially non-permeable material back onto his face.

One of the officers stepped into his limited field of vision.

"How well can you draw breath Private?" The voice was further muffled.

"With difficulty sir." Giacomo replied.

"Good." The officer noted and moved down the line.

The sound of his own breaths now much more present in his ears, Giacomo did not need to wait long for further instruction.

"Now that all of your masks are fixed appropriately, it will now be demonstrated how effective they are."
The first officer spoke again. "A chemical irritant will be introduced into the air in this room. Please notice how it does not affect you."

The words were accompanied by a hissing sound, a whiteish mist began leaking from some pipes on the ceiling. Giacomo felt panic begin rising in his chest.

"See how you are still capable." The officer's voice carried though the room. "Now, it is time for you to experience what will happen to you if you do not use the hood when necessary."

Giacomo doubted he was the only one who gulped.

"Remove the hood." The order came with no deflection or tone, just calm words.

Giacomo complied. Almost immediately his eyes began to burn and tear up. The back of his mouth down to his lungs prickled sharper and sharper. Unable to stop a wracking cough from destroying his posture, he placed his hands on his knees as his body attempted to expel the gas from his lungs. All this succeeded at doing was drawing more gas in, repeating the cycle. His vision was completely blured by tears. Suddenly, a blob of light shown from off to his left as a mechanical wirring kicked in over the coughing and reaching of the other nineteen men in the room.

"Head towards the light." The officer's calm voice pushed the order over the cacophony of the room.
Giacomo staggered to comply, and shortly found himself outside. Gulping fresh air like there would be no more, he collapsed on the ground. The clouds spun above him as tears continued to stream out of his eyes.

It was clear to all the men who passed though that chamber how important the call of "Gas!" would be, if it were ever ordered on the battlefield. None of them wished to repeat the experience.

[snip]

May 26th, 1923. Rome

"I speak into this?"

The curious nature behind the question suppressed by the need for decorum damped Amelia's tone.

"Yes, your Highness." The technician answered. "There is no need to lean in, you can be heard from your current seat."

"Thank you." Amelia replied, eyes falling again to the metallic ring suspending a grid-cut ball at just about mouth level a short distance from her.

"Fifteen seconds." The voice's originator not immediately apparent but belonging to the producer of this endeavor.

Amelia took a precious third of that time for a deep breath, the next third to ensure her notes remained on the stand within eyeshot. She drew her shoulders back as the producer reappeared.

"Five, four, three..." The producer counted down, dropping corresponding fingers. The two and one were silent, only the fingers fell. His pointer finger following his eyes to Amelia's face.

"Good evening. Yesterday, under the approval of the elected government of the Imperial Roman Republic and myself, a declaration of war was issued against the Peoples Republic of Maya. Since the conflict initiated by the Mayans began in February, we have continued to monitor events and position sections of our military forces to intervene if deemed necessary. Due to events beyond our ability to influence by peaceful means, the Peoples Republic represents an unpredictable element in our desire to safeguard the freedom of trade over the areas where said freedom allows for the safety and prosperity of all. As such, it is with the same resolve that the men of our armed forces process that I must ask of them to prosecute the protection of those freedoms with force of arms. To prevail in this conflict is to ensure that lasting peace can be restored to the region and Roman citizens there are free from threat of violence. My prayers are with the men of our armed forces, may God bless them and return them safely to their families."

A red light that Amelia had not noticed blinked off a second after she finished speaking.

"We are clear." The producer said, voice cutting over the soft buzz of various electronics "A wonderful job your Majesty. I do believe you are the first monarch to address their people via radio."

If only the cause for such a milestone was a positive. Amelia thought to herself while nodding in reply.