#Treasury Men in Action

[kwebtv]

From the Golden Age of Television

Season 5 Episode 35

Federal Men - The Perfect Gentleman - NBC - June 2, 1955

AKA: Treasury Men in Action (Original Title)

Crime Drama

Running Time: 30 minutes

Written by Robert Sloane

Produced by Robert Sloane

Directed by Robert Sloane

Stars:

Walter Greaza as The Chief

Paul Langton as Scottie Barrow

Dorothy Green as Cecelia Jaroso

Betty Lou Gerson as Mona Barrow

John Stephenson as Agent Jennings

Robert Griffin as Jim Houston

Mickey Knox as Mitch Sanders

Lester Dorr  as Waiter

[whimsicalwritingsandmore]

Aurorise | ateez x reader

Pairing: prince!ateez x dancer!reader

Genre: royalty, historical fiction, poly, adventure

Word Count: 2278 words

Summary: The story of how you, a dancer, upheaved an entire monarchy all by falling in love with eight princes.

a/n: and so it begins... :)

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Chapter 2

Royal betrothals took place on the night of the Spring Equinox. Five years ago, when your cousin became engaged to Prince Chan, you left the village to pursue the dance group with your close-knit group of friends — Hoshi, Woozi, Hoseok, Moonbyul and Sakura.

As soon as daybreak arrived, the village was already stirring with frenzied movement and bustling commotion. The villagers excitedly and animatedly rushed about, chattering amongst themselves of who might become the Princes’ royal consort. And when the sun began to descend upon the horizon and night crept in, everyone hurriedly gathered in their designated spots in the palace courtyard, awaiting the verdict.

In your Kingdom, not only nobles participated in this event, but also families whose parents either worked in the royal army or the royal court. Your father was the Head of the Royal Guard alongside his brother who was his Second in Command. They bravely and fearlessly defended the Kingdom from opposing forces. However, after a failed and near disastrous peace treaty alliance, he left the position and opened a practice academy to help young men who were interested in joining the royal army when they came of age to prepare themselves. 

Your father’s dedication to the royal army even after resigning his post pleased the King and so, the royal treasury funded your father’s academy. This led to your family remaining in good graces with the royal family even if your Father and the King were no longer close as before, but it did fracture your relationships with the villagers, who were profusely calling and beseeching for financial aid to no avail.

As a result, if there was one thing the villagers delighted in more than anything, was the possibility of seeing your family embarrassed and humiliated by the royal family. All eyes were on you since your older sister had married the son of one of your father’s colleagues, and there were no princesses in the royal family for your brother to court.

The betrothal was to determine the future partners of Prince Chan and Prince Seonghwa and you were of age to participate but, in contrast your cousin, ho everyone knew had prepared her whole life for this moment and was the epitome in your family as the perfect candidate, you were a wildcard - a free-spirit who revelled in the spontaneity of life and never took a lesson on royal etiquette. 

The odds of you being selected was very low, and the idea of being rejected with all eyes watching felt like a sweet revenge for the villagers.

But you didn’t attend the betrothal. After a heated argument with your father about being a hopeless case and nothing like your cousin, you left that night with your friends. 

You never knew what happened.

-

And during a time like this, after your past history of foregoing the betrothals, being an overthinker did not help your situation. Gazing outside from your window, you were lost deep in thought, your mind preoccupied and racing back and forth. 

After registering Prince’s San actions, with a flustered expression - your mind boggled by his radiant smile and your racing heart, you arose from your spot, bowed to the King signalling your respect and then scampered out of the courtyard. Racing hurriedly through the village’s path, you dashed straight into your family’s home and into your room, locking the door. 

The news had rapidly spread like a wildfire and reached the ears of your father who was not pleased.

“You have to marry him Y/N.”

“Don’t be ridiculous Father, Prince San likes to play games. I’m not going to marry him.”

Your Father frustratingly massages his temples as he responds, “It’s just like before isn’t it? You’re going to only think about yourself and not about your family’s reputation.”

“Father,” you stress irritatedly, “The villagers already disliked us after the royal treasurer disclosed that the royal treasury will fund your school while their calls for help were ignored. They’ve been waiting for us to mess up one way or another. It doesn’t matter if I marry Prince San, they’ll find some way to twist it and make us look bad.”

“It does matter Y/N, let them know that the monarchy is on our side! That the King stands with us!”

“Are you not listening, Father? No one cares about a dysfunctional and corrupted monarchy, the only reason they don’t leave is because no Kingdom will give them an easy time for relocating in their jurisdiction.”

“Well maybe if you had attended the betrothal, we could’ve silenced them once and for all. But no, you only think about yourself. You’re not like your cousin.”

Tiredly you rub your forehead and place your face in your palms, trying to maintain your composure in front of your Father. Frustration and irritation are coiling inside you, ready to erupt like a volcano.

“Enough!” your Mother yells, “Y/N go to your room and try to relax and you, go make yourself useful for me and buy some groceries. Don’t come back until you get everything on that list!”

After the confrontation you stayed in your room, and for the last few hours, you continuously paced back and forth like a maniac, racking your brain to make sense of what occurred. The veil was still in your possession and sprawled across your bed, seemingly mocking you. You couldn’t even spare a glance, lest you started panicking again.

Any attempts at sleeping off the uneasiness failed as the moment you began to doze off, your brain decided to resurface the events and you jolted awake in anxiousness and worry. Now, you stared at the village intently, planning your next course of action. You concluded to not venture out of your room until it was time to leave with the group. If it was up to you, you all would have been on your way by tomorrow morning. 

Unfortunately, you all had decided to stay for at least a week - therefore, you wouldn’t be leaving your room until next Wednesday.

Hoshi arrived later in the evening to check in and update you on the recent gossip.

“Yeah you’re the talk of the town.” he expressed nonchalantly while munching on some warm buttered bread courtesy your Mother. 

“That makes me feel so much better Hoshi, thank you.” you responded sarcastically.

He narrowed his eyes at you before flinging the veil at you in retaliation. You caught it, and proceeded to batter him with it.

“Hey!” he cried, “You’ll make me drop my bread! Stooooop!”

“Is that what you’re worried about?” you asked out of breath, “Not your best friend being emotionally distressed right now!?”

After blocking your blows and stuffing the bread into his mouth, he captured you in a hug and began to pet your hair as an attempt to calm you down. You thrashed around a bit to continue your mayhem but gave up knowing that Hoshi is stronger than you.

“Relax,” he assured, continuing to stroke the middle of your head, “It’s only because all the girls are jealous that you’re the one who managed to single handedly and easily catch the eyes of the Prince. And their parents are even more envious, which is typical of them.”

“Yes but…”

“Remember when we first left to pursue the group? The Aunty who runs the fruit stall had so much to say about us! Now look, she was telling my mom the other day how she knew we were going to be successful and that she always had faith in us. A huge hypocrite! She’s lucky I’m afraid of my mother otherwise I’d tell her about her annoying kids and how rotten she is just like the fruit she tries to sell.”

Chuckling at Hoshi’s spiel, you remove yourself calmly from his embrace and turn to him.

“And your point is?”

“People will talk no matter what. They have nothing better to do and their opinion of you isn’t true. While I can understand their distress of being ignored by the King, for them to put the brunt of it on you is unfair and uncalled for. Just lay low until we leave.”

“Well that’s the plan but I wish it was that easy,” you dejectedly replied, “My father is disappointed again. I’m a huge disappointment to him again just like last time. He cares more about the monarchy than me.”

Hoshi squints his eyes and grabs you in another hug.

“Ack!”

“As much as I respect your Father,” he begins, “I don’t like the way he talks to you. But just know that you don’t have to be like your cousin, she’s on her own path and so are you. Hopefully your Father sees that one day and if not, we can ask our moms to rally up their groups and chase him and my Father throughout the village. I don’t know why they are so obsessed with the King.”

He frees you from his hold and holds your shoulders and smiles.

“It’s not like anything else will happen.”

“Y/N! Y/N!” your sister screams frantically, “The King is on his way here!”

You shoot up from your position, your eyes filling with fear as the anxiousness and nervousness returning and descending like a huge crashing wave. Sadly, Hoshi didn’t make you feel better.

“Hm, I stand corrected,” he commented.

Meanwhile, your Father puffs his chest proudly as he waits outside the gate. When the Royal Messenger appeared and announced the King’s arrival, your Father left all the groceries he was supposed to return with and rushed back. As the carriage pulls to a stop in front of him, he is already bowing as the King descends and saunters ahead while the villagers who are present whisper amongst themselves.

The King sits in a plush and cushioned satin chair that is your Father’s favourite and scrutinises the living room while your Father stoops in front of him.

“It’s been a while Y/L/N,” the King articulate curtly, “The last time we convened was at the betrothal.”

“It’s been long overdue to have you at my home, Your Majesty,” your Father responds, “It’s an absolute pleasure to have you grace us with your presence.”

 Hoshi judges your Father beside you while snacking on another slice of buttered bread. Behind the wall that separates the living room and the kitchen, a small group consisting of you, Hoshi, your older siblings and your mother are huddled together trying to eavesdrop on the conversation.

The King settles himself more comfortably into the chair before continuing, “Your daughter neither attending nor participating in the betrothal is very surprising. Adding on to the fact that she’s a part of the most famous dance group throughout the lands yet, they never performed here until today. Most of them are from this village too, no?”

Unsure and shyly your Father explains, “What can I say your Majesty? Y/N is a free-spirit, she doesn’t listen to me and likes to do her own thing. I wanted her to attend the betrothal but she chose to pursue dance instead. And I told her that they should have their first performance here! But kids think they know better than their elders.”

Your mother shakes her head in disapproval and you peer judgingly as you hear your Father’s remarks. 

“Liar.” you mutter.

“She’s not like her cousin.” 

You roll your eyes at your Father but you can’t ignore the pang of hurt that flashes through you. If there’s one thing currently whirring in your mind, albeit it might sound selfish, it was that you shouldn’t have returned home. You should’ve stayed where you were.

“Well,” the King begins, “I am here because my son has requested my permission to marry your daughter.”

“Excuse me!?” you exclaim

Your family gasps and the Royal Messenger sideyes the kitchen, but it goes unnoticed by the King. Your mind spins feverishly and adrenaline shoots through your body upon this revelation. In a hushed tone, Hoshi shushes you and places a hand over your mouth to stop you from blowing your cover.

While all of you are flabbergasted and in shock, your Father beams excitedly and deeply bows to the King.

“Yes your Majesty! Of course we accept your proposal for Y/N to Prince San. What happened earlier spread very quickly across the village. And as her Father I was worried for her reputation. But now knowing this—“

“Not Prince San.” The King proclaims.

Your father stammers in confusion, unsure how to respond. Meanwhile, your heart rate accelerates and you turn to your Mother with worried eyes. She’s mirroring the same expression back to you. 

“Then…to who?”

“As per his request to me,” the King announces, “Y/N will marry my son, Prince Seonghwa, who is second in line for the throne.”

-

When it was revealed that you would not be in attendance, the villagers began to gossip that you bowed out early because you knew you were never going to be selected.

“I’m not surprised,” The Fruit Lady chides, “At least she has the common sense to know she’s not fit to become a wife to a prince. Then again, she and that rag-tag group wants to become dancers, so she probably used up all the common sense she had.”

The other villagers laugh and join in ridiculing you before making guesses about who might be selected. Once it wasn’t you, they didn’t care who it might be. But to their utter shock and surprise, after Prince Chan’s proposal to your cousin, Prince Seonghwa steps forward and declares unapologetically.

“I withdraw myself from this bethroment. I will not be proposing to anyone tonight.”

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Taglist: @chngbnwf

[mrzombielover]

- slow ride ch1

feat. sinner!adam x fem!hotel worker!reader

series masterlist | next chapter

warnings: NSFW, enemies to fuckbuddies, adam and reader both suck, unhealthy relationships, size kink oooops, light degradation

a/n: oh my god this is so self indulgent. something is fr wrong with me bc all my favorite men are irrevocably fucked up and toxic and emotionally damaged and would treat me like shit teehee

wc: 2.2k

“You took my shame and you took my pride / And now you gonna take me for a slowride”

When even Charlie is trepidatious about checking someone in to the hotel, you know they’ve fucked up bad.

Adam had shown up, tail between his legs, admitting something about how he’s “desperate enough to try anything,” even this “stupid delusional humiliating hotel.”

Charlie, who’s more like an angel than Adam ever was, had ultimately decided that he could stay. After a lengthy and heated discussion, she’d reminded the group that the hotel’s policy states that everyone deserves a chance at redemption, regardless of the sins they’ve committed. Considering he killed your friend, you thought that was bullshit, but it’s Charlie’s hotel at the end of the day, and you’re just along for the ride.

You like Charlie, which is why you put up with having Adam around. She’s a good person- genuinely, deep down. There’s no hidden motives in her actions. You’ve not met many good people in your life, so she’s won your respect, even if you have your doubts about the hotel’s premise.

But for as much as you love her, you briefly questioned her sanity when she asked you to keep a special eye on Adam.

“…and how exactly is that the job of treasury secretary?” You deadpan.

“Wellll…” Charlie trails off, looking away for a moment. “It isn’t really. Buuut what if I was asking as a favor, for your friend?” She clasps her hands together, giving you a smile. You have to avert your eyes from the hopeful look on her face before your resolve cracks.

“No way in hell,” You say quickly.

“Please!”

“No,”

“Pleaseee!”

You bite your lip as you think. He’s obnoxious, yes, but what’s really the worst that could happen? You close your eyes and sigh.

“…you owe me one,”

You regret accepting every day. Nobody got along with Adam. Well, nobody except for Nifty, who seemed thrilled to have a real bad boy staying in the hotel. You, however, got along with him the least of all.

For someone who’d come to the hotel in his time of need- who was in no position to ask for anything other than forgiveness- Adam sure has a smartass mouth. It seems Charlie just wants to give you a brain aneurysm, that’s why she gave you this job. Even if that wasn’t her goal, that’s certainly the stage you’re approaching, because fighting with Adam everyday is 100% going to make you pop a blood vessel.

You can’t help it. Something about him- the way he acts, the forced proximity, just gets under your skin, makes your eye twitch. He should be groveling, begging for forgiveness, putting his heart and soul into bettering himself, yet all he does is bitch and moan. Constantly complaining would be one thing, hell’s full of whiners, but he also feels the need to voice every thought he’s ever had, which often includes insults and snide remarks about those around him. You’ve never been one to take that shit- though, nobody at the hotel really does. It seems to be much worse with you two, specifically, though.

The problem comes in because, as much as you hate to admit it, you might sometimes occasionally have some things in common with him. No, you’re not quite as loud or crude or obnoxious, you don’t generally insult people for fun, but if someone deserves it?

You’ve tore into people for way less than murdering your friend, showing up on your doorstep and being a pain in your ass 24/7, especially if you’re in a particularly shitty mood. Reduced people to tears for mildly inconveniencing you, having an annoying voice, wasting food, etc etc… all of which Adam does.

Generally, you’re apathetic to what goes on around you, especially at the hotel. You’re fed, don’t have to pay rent, and can pretty much do whatever you want, so dealing with the annoying, traumatized, dramatic residents and staff is a fair trade off in your eyes. Adam should, in theory, be no different than the rest of them to you. So you cannot, for the life of you, figure out what about him makes him so much worse than the rest.

You just try not to think about him as much as possible. But when you ignore him, he just seems to get worse.

“Jesus, you don’t think it’s a bit early to start drinking?”

You mentally groan as you hear his voice, avoiding eye contact as you crack open the bottle.

“I mean, Isn’t this shithole supposed to be for rehabilitation?” You can practically hear the smirk in his voice as he opens the fridge.

“Why don’t you focus on your own rehab first, dick? Been weeks now and you’re still an asshole,” You snap, before taking a swig of your beer. He shrugs, grabbing the orange juice from the fridge and placing it on the counter. He walks past where you’re leaning on the counter to get a glass.

“I mean, damn, you didn’t even try today, huh?”He laughs.

“Why are you pickin’ a fight with me right now?” You raise your voice a little, exasperated and too hungover to deal with this.

“oh, uh, i dunno… i’m bored?” He shrugs again, looking over to you with a self satisfied smile. You groan in frustration, then sigh, forcing yourself to keep it together.

“…and you wonder why your wives left you,” you mumble with a roll your eyes, turning to quickly leave the kitchen. you don’t see his face, but judging from the sound of a crash and footsteps quickly following you into the hallway, you hit a nerve. oh, god, here we go…

“you fucking junkie bitch!” he yells after you as you stomp up the stairs.

“you’re proving my point right now!” you say over your shoulder.

“Like you have room to talk? Let’s bring up your love life, huh?!”

“oh my god shut up!” Angel yells through the door as you pass his room. “Every fuckin’ morning with you two!”

Adam ignores him, continuing to rant as he follows closely behind you, every degrading name he can think of spilling from his lips.

“…fucking whore cunt- whose not even fucking listening to me!” he says as you turn into your room. you turn, attempting to slam the door, but he sticks his foot in the gap and grabs the door, shoving it back open.

“what in the fuck is your problem today?!” you yell.

“it’s you, bitch!”

“oh my god- how do you care about anything this much? Seriously, it’s not that deep!”

you jump a little as he suddenly slaps the beer bottle out of your hands, the glass shattering loudly and the leftover beer soaking your socks. your jaw drops, outraged, and you can’t help the reflex to reach up and smack the side of his head.

“ow!” he yelps, and you raise your fists to hit him again, when-

“you- fucking bitch-!” he shouts. you cry out in surprise as he grabs your wrists and yanks you with surprising ease, shoving you roughly into the wall behind you.

theres a struggle, both grunting with the strain of pushing against each other as Adam wrestles to keep the upper hand. You go to knee him, but he moves quicker, slotting one of his legs between your own and pressing his body against yours to pin you completely against the wall.

then, something changes. he pauses, the close proximity seems to have finally registered in his brain. his eyes widen and you pause too, both panting, faces inches apart. his grip loosens, and a flicker of confusion crosses his features.

“wait, what’s-“

“shut up,” you snap suddenly. before you even realize what you’re doing, your hands are on his chest, and you’re shoving him towards your bed.

“take off your shirt,” you command as the back of his knees hit the mattress and he’s falling backwards. he quickly does as you say, looking up at you with wide eyes as you straddle him and rip your own shirt off as well. he mumbles a nice when he sees you’re not wearing a bra. you reach to tug off the sweatpants you had on, and as soon as you can kick them away Adam’s hands are on your waist and flipping you over. He hurriedly rips off the rest of his clothes before he’s back on you, leaning down to eagerly press kisses down your neck. you have to tilt your head to make room for the horns now permanently attached to his head, and you think of the irony of this situation.

the sound of fabric ripping followed immediately by two of his fingers finding your clit makes you gasp. you bite back a whimper as he begins to rub rough and sloppy circles on your clit. the pleasure doesn’t last long before he’s pulling his hand back, only to shove a finger inside your cunt quickly, and you gasp again. being so unprepared, the stretch burns a bit. fuck, has he always had such big hands? he’s gentle at first, as he works the single finger in and out of you, and once the pain subsides, he quickly adds a second one.

“Oh, fuck,” you can’t help the curse that slips past your lips, and before long you’re rocking your hips against his hand. his movements are rushed and sloppy, impatient as he stretches you out. he chuckles dryly, and you shoot him a glare.

once again, before long, he’s pulling away, and grabbing you by the shoulders to make you sit up with him. you whine involuntarily at the loss of contact, and the cocky bastard laughs again.

“So impatient, babe,” He grins.

“Shut up,” You say again, pushing him so that he’s sitting up against the bed frame. You crawl over to him, and straddle his lap. His hands find your ass, groping it roughly while you grab the base of his cock and align the tip with your entrance.

You both gasp in unison when you swiftly lower yourself to take his full length. A strangled moan escapes from your lips and you let your head fall forward to rest on his shoulder. Eyes squeezed shut, you wait so you can adjust to his size. Seriously, how had you never noticed how big he was before now? Prematurely, Adam angles his hips and suddenly thrusts up into you, making you cry out in pain and pleasure.

“Oh you like that, bitch? Huh?” He says teasingly, running his hands up and down your back before moving his hips again.

“You have seriously got to learn to be quiet,” You retort through gritted teeth, reaching up to pull his hair from the roots. He lets out a groan, followed by a more pathetic whine as you begin to move on his length.

It must be all the pent up emotion, because you’re very quickly unable to speak beyond a few curses and wanton moans. Adam however, can’t seem to stop talking. Mumbling about how good you feel- for a whore, how he didn’t think you’d be so tight, how you’re so fucking sexy he wishes he’d done this sooner.

“Ugh, Adam- shut up!” You groan as you move desperately. He whines as you pull his hair again for emphasis, biting his lip as you feel his hips snap up into yours.

“Oh, god-“ You’re squealing, back arching as you can feel your whole body tense. You’re on top, but as you grow more limp, he’s holding you upright as he roughly fucks into you. “I’m close!” You warn, and it comes out a strangled sob.

You’re so, so close. Euphoria clouds your brain, and collapse onto him as he continues to hold you up to thrust into you.

You fall backwards, and Adam follows, caging you underneath him as he chases his own release now.

“oh- fuck- don’t stop!” You’re practically screaming as your orgasm crashes over you, and you wrap your arms around and claw at Adam desperately, fingernails leaving marks on his fleshy back. You only faintly register the breathless laugh he lets out at your state as he now pounds into you.

He slams into you with an intensity that forces the air out of your lungs, and even Adam can’t form thoughts or speak anymore.

“Oh, fu-uuck, fuck, fuck, oh my god,” He can’t believe the noises that are coming from him, but he also can’t find it in himself to care when you feel this good. You’re so sensitive, and still tight from your previous climax, and he can feel your pulse in the walls of your cunt as you clench around him.

Pleasure quickly turns to overstimulation, and you moan his name again, reaching up to pull at his hair, horns, wings, anything, as tears begin to prick at your eyes. Hearing you moan his name, seeing the look on your face, knowing he’s the one doing this to you is what he needed to send him over the edge.

“o-oh my god-“ he groans, hips stuttering as he presses his body as close to yours as possible, spilling his cum deeply inside of you with an actual moan.

He stays still for a moment, both of your breathing labored, sweat making your hair stick to your foreheads and necks, but you stay holding eachother. While both your brains are still fuzzy, thoughts muddled from the aftershocks, he takes a hand up and wipes your hair away from your face, and the tears from your eyes.

Eventually, he sits up and pulls out of you, rolling over to lay next to you on the bed. Neither of you say anything, too fucked out to think of the repercussions from your actions.

[whencyclopedia]

Whiskey Rebellion

The Whiskey Rebellion was a violent uprising that occurred in western Pennsylvania in 1794, in opposition to an excise tax on liquor. After anti-tax protestors assaulted federal tax collectors and threatened to march on Pittsburgh, President George Washington (served 1789-1797) raised a federalized militia that swiftly suppressed the insurrection. The incident strengthened the authority of the United States federal government.

Alexander Hamilton had proposed an excise on distilled spirits to fund his ambitious economic program, which was enacted by Congress in 1791. This so-called 'Whiskey Act' proved unpopular, particularly among the small farmers living on the western frontiers of the United States. Liquor was an important commodity in the West, where many farmers operated small stills and used liquor as an informal currency; the new excise tax was something that many of them could not afford. Protests broke out in 1792 and 1793, with much of the rhetoric accusing Hamilton and his nationalist Federalist Party of being aristocrats who sought to use the tax to subjugate the small western farmers and deprive them of their liberties. The Federalists, for their part, accused the protestors of fomenting anarchy and urged President Washington to take decisive action.

The anti-tax protests escalated in the summer of 1794 when protestors attacked the home of a federal tax collector before demonstrating on Braddock's Field outside Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, where they talked of attacking the federal garrison in the city. Washington finally yielded to his Federalist advisors and called up a federalized militia to suppress the rebellion. Led by Hamilton and Virginia governor 'Light-Horse' Henry Lee III, the 12,950-man militia army marched through western Pennsylvania in October 1794, with all opposition melting before it. This show of military force ended the Whiskey Rebellion and proved that under the new Constitution, the federal government was strong enough to enforce adherence to its laws. However, the government's aggressive response unnerved many Anti-Federalists, who feared the growing authority of the national government. This controversy contributed to the rise of the Democratic-Republican Party in opposition to the Federalists, ushering in the birth of political partisanship in the United States.

The Whiskey Act

In the aftermath of the American Revolution (1765-1789), the fledgling United States was saddled with a mountain of debt. The national government owed $54 million in debt, while the states collectively owed an additional $24 million – such had been the "price of liberty", as Alexander Hamilton, Secretary of the Treasury for the Washington administration, remarked in the opening pages of his Report on Public Credit (Chernow, 297). While other men may have balked in the face of such an overwhelming amount of debt, Hamilton smelled opportunity. In his report, submitted to Congress in January 1790, he recommended consolidating national and state debt into a single sum to be paid off by the federal government; this would have the dual effect of establishing public credit while increasing the legitimacy of the federal government. Although the plan sparked fierce debate and was hotly opposed by Anti-Federalists, it was nevertheless approved by Congress in the summer of 1790.

It was now left for Hamilton to figure out exactly how the federal government was supposed to start paying off such an exorbitant sum. The existing duties on foreign imports, which at the time made up the primary source of income for the federal government, were already as high as Hamilton dared raise them but were still insufficient to fund his ambitious financial program. The only feasible solution was to implement some kind of excise tax on domestically manufactured goods. Although the new United States Constitution granted Congress the power to levy excise taxes, it was abundantly clear that such a move would be unpopular; so soon after the Revolution, many Americans still associated direct taxation with tyranny. Still, Hamilton sorely needed the revenue an excise tax would bring. He believed that a tax on distilled spirits would be less objectionable to the public than a similar tax on other goods; to sway the public to his side, he framed it as a 'sin tax' that would reduce Americans' consumption of hard liquors and had physicians speak out on the harmful effects of alcohol. Despite the skepticism in Congress over Hamilton's so-called 'Whiskey Act', the bill was passed in March 1791.

Hamilton had known that the Whiskey Act would be controversial, but he had not anticipated just how outraged many Americans would be, particularly among the settlers along the country's western frontier. The land to the west of the Appalachian Mountains was still sparsely settled by white settlers; indeed, the largest western settlements still had only a few hundred permanent residents, and the few roads that existed were poorly maintained. As a result, small western farmers, who made a living growing crops like corn, rye, and grain, had difficulty bringing their produce to market. Oftentimes, their goods would spoil before they could get to a settlement large enough to find buyers. To combat this, many farmers distilled their grain into liquor, which was much easier to transport and preserve. The practice became so widespread that by the 1790s, most western farmers operated small stills, and liquor was often used as an informal currency.

Alexander Hamilton

John Trumbull (Public Domain)

The Whiskey Act, therefore, was widely viewed as an attack on the livelihoods of western farmers, many of whom could not afford to pay the tax. Critics likened the tax to the hated Stamp Act of 1765, which had been one of the catalysts for the American Revolution. One pamphleteer accused Hamilton and his Federalist followers of "wishing to imitate the corrupt principles of the court of Great Britain" by introducing such an excise tax (quoted in Chernow, 469). Many saw the Whiskey Act as an attempt by the central government to extend its tendrils of power into the West and force the frontiersmen to feel the authority of Congress. Protestors began to accuse the federal government of being run by "aristocrats" and "moneyed men" who sought to deprive them of their liberties (Wood, 136). This kind of rhetoric brewed fear, which in turn led to instances of violence; as had happened to the British stamp distributors three decades before, federal tax collectors became the targets of unruly mobs, which threatened to beat, whip, or tar and feather them. In August 1792, Colonel John Neville, the federal tax collector in Pennsylvania, was accosted by one such mob which promised to "scalp him, tar and feather him, and finally reduce his house and property to ashes" should he go ahead and collect the whiskey tax (Chernow, 469).

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[lakemojave]

This afternoon at 2:30 pm pacific: Tales From the Rambler Episode 9!!!

DM'd by Bill @gabajoofs, starring Dot @radiofreederry as Janica Halcyon, Sebastian @lakemojave as Bhuri'Hssyngig, Jordan @brucebocchi as Ced Saverem, Heather @chansaw as Val Griv'ir, and Julia @thottacelli as Caitvuna Conu!

Art by @bijillion, recap under the cut! See y'all then!

THE STORY SO FAR: It has been years since the end of the Galactic Civil War. The New Republic struggles to rebuild the galaxy after decades of Imperial rule, locked in a cold war with the remnant Pentastar Alignment. All the while, in the dark corners of the galaxy, organized crime groups compete with each other to gain power in the galactic underworld after the collapse of the Hutt Cartel. Now, the crew of the transport ship the Rambler have been thrust into this gritty, cutthroat world...

LAST TIME: As the crew of the Rambler moved through the palace of Zorba the Hutt, they cleared the palace's comms room and discovered Zorba's connections to the Iron Triad and Central Committee of Grand Moffs. Janica broadcast a message to demoralize Zorba's men, which prompted many of them to abandon the fight. The crew then brought up the rear as Pash and the rest of the rebels assaulted the front of the palace. Zorba's men defeated, the crew then prepared to attack the throne room.

The party engaged Zorba, clad in Hutt shell armor, and his minions, including an Imperial remnant officer and some stormtroopers. While the Hutt was formidable, and the battle resulted in the bartender Xurxessh's death, the party was able to defeat him, with Hank cooking him alive in his armor and Bhuri pounding his face into gore to claim the kill, and his score.

The town now free, the crew found Zorba's treasury and gave it to Pash, now Mayor of Mos Shuuta, refusing payment for their actions. Now, the party takes some time in Mos Shuuta to rest, recover, and - for some - grieve...

[yoddhasblog]

Mahabharat is and will always be my favourite tale to reflect upon and talk to people about. This book was immensely hyped up along with the author. I have now read three of her books. The Last Queen, which admittedly I adored. Then, the Forest Of Enchantments, the book I'd been looking forward to for such a long time. That one left me in a rage.

I went into this book expecting to be pissed off and disappointed. And I wasn't let down on that assumption.

The Palace Of Illusions is a retelling of the great Indian epic-Mahabharata. A tale incorporated so deeply into our hearts that everyone has their own takes and beliefs and opinions about it. I sincerely believe that you cannot write a retelling without angering a number of people. Well, I'm one them.

The writing style:

I didn't have too many issues except i did not get why there were so many rhetorical and philosophical questions? Literal, paragraphs that were nothing but questions.

Draupadi, the enigma, the fire-born, the one person I would fight for as long as there is life in me, why was acting as though she was a little more than a sullen child? In the book that was supposed to be from her point of view, the person, the author did the most injustice with was-Draupadi.

The plot assassination:

As I mentioned above, most of everything in the plot of the epic was butchered and mangled to fit into the author's narrative of women, good-men,bad. It is common knowledge that women's position in society was as downtrodden as depicted here. Don't get me wrong, horrific crimes happened against women and justice was also delivered adequately but the author pulled apart the entire social structure only to be able to say that every bad thing happened to Draupadi was because she is a woman.

~ In the very first chapter, Draupadi said it was egoistic of her father to give her a variation of his own name when her brother, Dhrishtadyumna got an original name. In Vyas Mahabharat, her birth name was Krishnaa but like many people in Hindu beliefs, she was also known as Draupadi, though that is the most commonly used name. So, no points to the author trying to convince everyone that this was sexist.

~ Draupadi was highly educated and trained in many things including economics and she was the one who was in charge of the treasury of Indraprastha. She was a finance minister of sorts. So, saying that King Droupad refused to let her train because she is a woman is stupid.

~Also, I've grown up listening to that Draupadi stepped out of the fire as a young woman. She wasn't a child. Some sources say she was around 16 some say around 25.

~ Are we still stuck about 50 years ago that we're going to be okay with authors portraying that all women in power are evil? Kunti and Draupadi viewed each other as rivals? Draupadi throwing temper tantrums over other women? wtf

~ Draupadi as a pick-me? Half the book Draupadi's internal dialogue is nothing but I don't know how to socialize with other women, they're jealous of each other, they're always giggling, I won't survive the world of women, I can't dance, people don't find me pretty because of my dark complexion(where did white supremacy even came in this conversation) but suddenly out of nowhere Draupadi just knows that every woman is envious of her. She adores the saris and jewellery that she used to find impossible to handle.

~ Maharishi Vyas giving Draupadi Divya drishti to see the battlefield of Kurukshetra came out of nowhere. It felt a forced action done only to show Draupadi's emotions about the deaths.

~ Draupadi harbouring hidden feelings for Karna and him secretly returning those feelings felt like a teenager's fever dream. A teenager who's hellbent on sexualizing everything they come across.

~Bhagvat Gita was witnessed by everyone on kurukshetra including the Virat roop? Again, it felt like a move forced that was done in order to show Draupadi's internal dialogue. How did the author even think she could fit Bhagvat Gita in half a chapter?

~The Pandavas just had no personality whatsoever outside of being obedient to their mother and scared of Draupadi's temper tantrums.

~Krishan ji was told to be this charismatic, carefree, silvertongued diplomat but he was simply shown as someone who randomly showed up and gave unsolicited advice.

~And I don't know what that ending was but you can't be serious telling me that Karna and Draupadi somehow end up together in heaven?

~WHAT WAS THE AUTHOR'S PROBLEM WITH RESEARCHING ABOUT MAHABHARATA???

There was no way the entire plot of Mahabharata could've fit into one book. She tried too but this book sucked. I understand it's a retelling and sometimes had to change but everything here felt so forced. The author broke everything in context to fit into her supposedly feminist ideal. Don't get me wrong, i dislike the Pandavas, the Kauravas and their elders with all my heart but they all had one dimensional personalities. They had caricature-ish depositions. I had no emotions attached to anyone in this book whatsoever. This was a headache.

[suseagull04]

@ouattober Roleswap AU

Regina had been planning this for months. How had it all gone so wrong?

There he stood, the Evil King, smirking at her with his arms crossed over his chest. He was supposed to be downstairs in the middle of the banquet celebrating his son's birthday. Regina had peeked in, unable to resist. The little prince was adorable, after all, especially all those cute curls! It wasn't his fault his father was so determined to ruin everything in Sherwood Forest.

At that point, his father had been there with him, both of them eating and laughing with that band of men who served as the king’s advisers. What were they called, the Happy Men? No, Merry, but it didn't matter. What mattered that instead of being with them, the king was here.

She was honestly surprised he didn't have a bow pointed at her- after all, he was famous for his archery skills. The fact that she was still standing here unharmed… he was up to something, she was sure of it.

“What do you want?” she asked. Better to get it over with instead of drawing things out.

“Me? I'm in my home, if you recall. The better question is: how much money do you want?”

She stared at him, stunned. He was actually asking her… what was he thinking?

“I'll ask again: how much do you want?”

“Are you actually going to give it to me instead of giving me counterfeit gold?” she asked, one eyebrow raised.

“I am, actually- under one condition.”

“What?” At this point, Regina wanted nothing more than for this conversation to be over with. Anything he asked (well, almost), she would give him.

“Don't use all of what I'll give for yourself. Keep only what you need, and then share the rest with those who need it.”

“Done,” Regina agreed readily. She had been planning on doing exactly that to some extent anyway- there was a boy, Henry, who had wormed his way into her heart despite her best efforts. She took care of him as much as herself on a daily basis, and thought of him as a son.

“Good,” the king smiled, walking over to a safe in a corner. Regina was sure that not all of the king's treasury was there- after all, it was too obvious a place. What she did see, though, gave her hope. If he was truly going to be as generous as he said, maybe she really would be able to help more than just herself and Henry. “How much can you carry?”

“I have my pockets and this rucksack,” Regina told him, lifting it from her shoulders.

When she had as much as she could handle, the king held out his hand. “Thank you, milady. I didn't catch your name.”

“And you haven't told me why you're doing this. How do I know I can trust you?”

He sighed. “I know everyone sees me as the Evil King, but the truth is, Roland’s mother is the one overtaxing the people. I've been trying to show her the error of her ways, but nothing has worked, so I've been doing what I can. The only reason I'm with her now is to provide stability and a good role model for my son.”

“That's horrible,” she whispered. She never thought she'd feel sympathy for the Evil King, and she wouldn't say she did now, but the seeds of it were growing in her chest despite her best efforts to keep them at bay.

“I quite agree. So I propose a partnership. We can arrange for you to visit the castle- my Merry Men can find you to arrange it, or they can bring the gold to you, whichever you prefer. Or I can bring it myself.”

“Having to deal with only one of you is more than enough. Don't you have a son to take care of, though, and a kingdom to run, Your Majesty?”

He winced. “Robin, please. Roland has lessons during the day, and I may have meetings, but not all day. We'll make it work.”

“Good. Now I have to go.”

But before she could, his hand was on her rucksack. Was he going to take it all back? “Your name, milady? Now that we're partners, I think I've earned it.”

“Not yet. Maybe next time.”

She pulled the sack out of his grasp and left, not regretting her actions in the slightest.

She'd see him again, after all. And when she did… well, after the night she'd had, the possibilities were endless.

[deadpresidents]

The End of the "Era of Good Feelings": Monroe vs. Crawford

James Monroe, 5th President of the United States, led the nation during the “Era of Good Feelings” (1817-1825) when partisan rancor was so diminished that Monroe ran unopposed for re-election in 1820 and was just one vote short of an unanimous Electoral College victory.

The “Era of Good Feelings” collapsed and fell right into regular American partisan bitterness with the 1824 Presidential election, and during that time, the popular President Monroe found some bad feelings in his own Cabinet which resulted in a bizarre confrontation in the White House that winter – the President of the United States vs. the Secretary of the Treasury, no-holds-barred.

Treasury Secretary William H. Crawford had been a front-runner to replace Monroe, but a stroke in 1823 ruined those chances.  Crawford had been serving as Secretary of the Treasury since 1816 when he was appointed by President James Madison and continued on throughout Monroe’s term.  Tired, frustrated, and ready to retire home to Georgia, Crawford called on Monroe at the White House to suggest a list of appointments he wished the President to approve for custom officers at ports in the Northeastern United States, some of the choicest political patronage positions available in the federal government.  However, Monroe objected to Crawford’s list and stated that he intended to name his own picks.  Crawford lost his temper and told the President, “Well, if you will not appoint persons well-qualified for the places, tell me whom you will appoint that I may get rid of their importunities!”.

The President – a Revolutionary War veteran of George Washington’s Army who carried a bullet in his body that had nearly killed him in 1776 – was not intimidated by Crawford’s language or temperament, coldly telling his Treasury Secretary, “Sir, that is none of your damn business."  Crawford was not easily intimidated, either.  The Treasury Secretary had killed a man in a duel years earlier and Monroe’s comment led Crawford to charge at the 67-year-old President with his cane, shaking it at Monroe while calling him a "damned infernal old scoundrel."  Monroe quickly grabbed two red hot tongs from a nearby fireplace for self-defense and threatened to personally throw Crawford – who was 15 years younger than the President – out of the White House.

Both men calmed down as President Monroe prepared to summon his servants to show the Treasury Secretary out.  Crawford apologized for his actions and stated that he did not intend to insult or threaten the President.  Before Monroe could ask him to leave, Crawford left the White House on his own.  The two men never spoke again. 

The "Era of Good Feelings” was over.

[laurelwen]

Know Your Like Minds History: Templars and Friday the 13th

At dawn on Friday, October 13, 1307, scores of French Templars were simultaneously arrested by agents of King Philip, later to be tortured into admitting heresy and other sacrilegious offenses in the Order. Then they were put to death.

On August 12, 1308, the charges would be increased and would become more outrageous, one specifically stated that the Templars worshipped idols, specifically made of a cat and a head, the latter having three faces.  The majority of these charges were identical to the charges that had been earlier issued against the inconvenient Pope Boniface VIII: accusations of denying Christ, spitting and urinating on the cross, and devil worship. Of the 138 Templars (many of them old men) questioned in Paris over the next few years, 105 of them "confessed" to denying Christ during the secret Templar initiations. 103 confessed to an "obscene kiss" being part of the ceremonies, and 123 said they spat on the cross. Throughout the trial there was never any physical evidence of wrongdoing, and no independent witnesses; the only "proof" was obtained through confessions induced by torture. The Templars reached out to the Pope for assistance, and Pope Clement wrote letters to King Philip questioning the arrests.

Despite the fact that the confessions had been produced under duress, they caused a scandal in Paris, with mobs calling for action against the blaspheming Order. In response to this public pressure, along with more bullying from King Philip, Pope Clement issued the bull Pastoralis Praeeminentiae, which instructed all Christian monarchs in Europe to arrest all Templars and seize their assets.[14] Most monarchs simply didn't believe the charges, though proceedings were started in British Isles, Iberia, Kingdom of Germany, Italian Peninsula, and Kingdom of Cyprus, with the likelihood of a confession being dependent on whether or not torture was used to extract it.

The dominant view is that Philip, who seized the treasury and broke up the monastic banking system, was jealous of the Templars' wealth and power, and frustrated by his enormous debt to them, sought to seize their financial resources for himself by bringing blatantly false charges against them at the Tours��assembly in 1308. It is almost impossible to believe, that, under the influence of his carefully chosen advisors (the same that had persecuted Boniface), he actually believed the charges to be true. It is widely accepted that Philip had clearly made up the accusations, some nearly identical to those made against Boniface, and did not believe any of the Templars to have been party to such activities. It is a fact that he had invited Jacques de Molay to be a pall-bearer at the funeral of Catherine I, Latin Empress on the very day before the arrests.

(all just yanked from Wikipedia bc your friendly obsessive fan didn't have a lot of time this morning)

[Like Minds Masterpost]

[dwellordream]

“Southern women zealously supported the southern cause of independence. A Georgia woman wrote her local newspaper, ‘I feel a new life within me, and my ambition aims at nothing higher than to become an ingenious, economical, industrious housekeeper, and an independent Southern woman.’ Throughout the South, women urged their menfolk to enlist in the Confederate military. A Selma, Alabama, woman even broke off her engagement when her fiance failed to enlist. She sent him a skirt and pantaloons with a note attached: ‘Wear these or volunteer.’

Up North, women also showed passionate support--for the Union. Shortly after the war began, Louisa May Alcott, who later wrote the novel Little Women, confided in her diary, ‘I long to be a man; but as I can’t fight, I will content myself with working for those who can.’ Harriet Beecher Stowe called the Union effort a ‘cause to die for,’ and a woman in New York declared, ‘It seems as if we never were alive till now; never had a country till now.’ As their husbands and sons drilled and marched and prepared for battle in opposing armies, women of the North and South swung into action.

…Women also took over the work of men who had gone off to fight. Across the North and South, women took charge of family farms and plantations as their men battled in Antietam or Chancellorsville or Gettysburg--or lay languishing in makeshift army hospitals or military prisons. Some women despaired at the enormous responsibilities of planting, plowing, and running a farm, but other women met the challenge head on--and discovered new strengths and abilities in the process. Sarah Morgan of Baton Rouge, Louisiana, marveled at how much she accomplished in one day--’empty a dirty hearth, dust, move heavy weights, make myself generally useful and dirty, and all this thanks to the Yankees.’

Throughout the North, scores of women worked in government offices for the first time to replace male clerks who had enlisted in the Union army. They worked as clerks and copyists, copying speeches and documents for government records. They also became postal employees and worked in the Treasury Department cutting apart long sheets of paper money and counting currency. Salaries ranged from $500 to $900 a year by 1865. Although this was more than what most female employees made at the time, women still earned half of what men earned for the same work.

…As the Union armies advanced deeper into the South, capturing Confederate territory and liberating slaves in the process, hundreds of black and white women, mostly in their 20s, followed closely behind to teach the former slaves, many of whom were illiterate. Women risked danger and hardship--and sometimes their families’ disapproval--to venture South. They went under the auspices of American Missionary Society, the Pennsylvania Freedmen’s Relief Association, and other agencies that recruited teachers and paid their monthly wages of $10 to $12.

Teachers admired their students’ eagerness to learn. ‘It is a great happiness to teach them,’ Charlotte Forten, a black woman who taught in the Sea Islands off of South Carolina, wrote a friend in November 1862. ‘I wish some of those persons at the North who say the race is hopelessly and naturally inferior, could see the readiness with which these children, so long oppressed and deprived of every privilege, learn and understand.’ Adult ex-slaves, too, were willing students. Of one of her grown-up students, Forten remarked, ‘I never saw anyone so determined to learn.’

…About 400 women disguised themselves as Union or Confederate soldiers and fought in the war. With the proper attire, some could easily pass for being a man. Women enlisted for a variety of reasons--some believed in the cause so deeply that they would not let being a woman stop them from fighting as soldiers. Others craved adventure or could not bear to be apart from husbands or other loved ones who had joined the army. No doubt some women were killed in battle and went to their graves with their true identities concealed.

Other women soldiers were forced to reveal their secret when they were wounded. A female Union soldier, wounded in the battle of Chickamauga in Tennessee, was captured by Confederate troops and returned to the Union side with a note: ‘As the Confederates do not use women in the war, this woman, wounded in battle, is returned to you.’ When a Union nurse asked her why she had joined the army, she replied, ‘I thought I’d like camp life, and I did.’

…In 1863, women in New York City went on a rampage. In the South, women had rioted for food; in New York, they joined men, mostly Irish, who were protesting against a federal provision that allowed draftees to hire substitutes. The protest quickly erupted into a riot against the city’s blacks. The protestors, who feared competition from black workers, resented being drafted to fight a war for the slave’s freedom. Even more so, they resented upper-class Yankee Protestants who could afford to pay substitutes $300 to fight in their places.

Over four days, rioters looted stores and beat innocent blacks. Angry mobs lynched about six blacks, destroyed the dwellings where blacks lived, and burned down the Colored Orphan Asylum. They also set fire to several businesses that employed blacks and destroyed the homes of prominent Republicans and abolitionists. Women took part in the plunder, venting their rage at a government and a war that sacrificed their men and impoverished their lives.”

- Harriet Sigerman, “‘I Am Needed Here’: Women at War.” in An Unfinished Battle: American Women, 1848-1865

[joachimnapoleon]

The entrepreneurial adventures of Marshal Masséna in Naples

Napoleon to Joseph Bonaparte – 2 March 1806

Masséna has robbed whatever he could. Let him be advised to return three millions. Salisetti [sic] will do this for you. Let him see Masséna, and tell him that S______ has formally admitted that Masséna received three millions as a gift; that, if they are not returned, in the accounts which I shall publish in May of the contributions levied by the army I shall debit him with this sum, and add the proofs, and name a commission of seven officers to oblige him to restore it. It is a very serious matter.

Napoleon to Joseph – 12 March 1806

I send you a copy of a decree requiring the sums of which the Treasury has been robbed to be repaid. Masséna and S______ have stolen 6,400,000 francs. They shall repay to the last farthing*. Let Masséna be advised to return the 6,000,000. To do so quickly is his own salvation. If he does not, I shall send a Military Commission of Inquiry to Padua, for such robbery is intolerable. To suffer the soldiers to starve and to be unpaid, and to pretend that the sums destined for their use were a present to himself from the province, is too impudent. Such conduct would make it impossible to carry on a war. Let S______ be watched. The details of their plunderings are incredible.

* I haven’t seen the original French version, but I don’t believe the French used farthings, so maybe the translator opted for this in place of sou?

Napoleon to Joseph – 20 March 1806

As for Masséna, S______ was desired to go to him, and I hope that he will restore all that he has taken from the military chest of the grand army; his theft amounts to 7,000,000 or 8,000,000. Make an example of some of the officers; do not even spare the generals.

Napoleon to Joseph – 31 March 1806

Four millions taken by Masséna have been found; two more must be recovered.

Napoleon to Joseph – 3 June 1806

Jourdan and Reynier are the two men whose services you should secure. Masséna is good for nothing as a civilian, he is incapable of attachment. He is a good soldier, but entirely devoted to money; it is the sole motive of his conduct, and his only incitement to action, even when under my eye. At first he coveted only small sums; but now thousands of millions would not satisfy him.

Source: The Confidential Correspondence of Napoleon Bonaparte With His Brother Joseph

[idiotwhotalkstoomuch]

Haru's distorted persona: Adelaide of Italy (Adelaide)

Background: One of the most powerful women of 10th century medieval Europe, queen of Queen of West Francia and later the Holy Roman Empress. She was beloved by her subjects for her extravagant acts of charity that came to the detriment of the royal treasury.

So there is a lot more to this saint's story than what I put in the background but I couldn't fit it as I wanted the background to be how they'd look in game so a lot of cutting was done. Surprisingly enough,, this one was actually the hardest one for me to decide on as Haru cycled through about 5 other women before I settled on Adelaide.

Adelaide of Italy was first married to Lothair II but this marriage didn't last particularly long as Lothair was poisoned by his usurper, Berengar II who tried to force Adelaide into marrying his son, Adalbert. Adelaide refused and was imprisoned for this but she managed to escape with the help of a priest and she wrote to the most powerful man in Europe for help offering her hand in marriage to convince him. They had a successful marriage, producing 5 kids. She was a powerful influence at court during her son's regency but eventually got overthrown by her daughter-in-law. She was eventually restored to power after her son then daughter-in-law died leaving her the regent for her grandson. She eventually resigned once he was capable of ruling without her and dedicated her life to acts of charity and the church.

On a surface level, its already clear why Adelaide was chosen for Haru as Shadow Haru is assigned the Heavenly virtue of charity Adelaide is well known for her charity and is an empress so Haru's arcana comes into play as well.

Naturally there was at play in the decision to use Adelaide as much like Haru, she was put into difficult positions by the men in her life but she managed to claw her way out of these messes without compromising her beliefs.

Shadow Haru is being charitable with the people of the Phantom Thieves' utopia at the expense of the people the Phantom Thieves deem unworthy of their utopia. Much like how Adelaide's generosity to her people endangered the treasury. It's a kind act but people are being hurt by their actions as overcharging the people deemed problematic to society helps no one and while the royal treasury funds the extravagant lives of royals and the nobility, it is also used to pay for things such as the standing army, etc. so using up all the funds on charity, while a kind act, is quite reckless.

As stated before me and Krotus are not artists but for what Adelaide looks like, in her boss fight, she's a skeleton draped in the finest of cloth and jewelry with her 5 children at her feet and a gardening basket with the heads of the men who wronged her. Then when she takes the form of a persona the persona is more human and the severed heads are gone, she takes after Shadow Haru's forest witch appearance and has hands holding onto her wrist, hands and elbows in an intricate pattern to represent her as a symbol of female empowerment through female relationships (This symbol is inspired by Adelaide being the patron saint of widows and abuse victims)

[darkmaga-returns]

By Earick Ward

As I wrote in “A Left-centered, not a God-centered, nation” from October 2021, “throughout America’s existence, our elections have moved between conservative and liberal philosophical paradigms….”

While I believe that this has been the case historically, let me proffer that I believe that the 2024 election, and its subsequent governing period, will be revolutionary in nature, not business-as-usual.

Whether it mirrors our American revolution and the re-affirmation of our republican ideals, or France’s “reign of terror” will be determined through the ballot box, and/or subsequent shenanigans, which coincidentally always benefit the Democrats.

If Kamala Harris prevails (not wins, or earns the nomination, but prevails), our worst fears will be realized:

20–30 million illegal aliens will be granted amnesty;

Washington D.C. and Puerto Rico will be recognized as states, with additional senators and congressmen being installed;

Democrats will stack the Supreme Court;

Democrats will end the filibuster;

Donald Trump, his attorneys, his advisers, and family members will very likely be tried, convicted, and imprisoned;

Hate Speech codes will be instituted on public platforms, and Democrats will shut down any platforms (X, Breitbart, Fox, AT) that don’t conform to the government’s dictates on “acceptable” speech;

Censorship will be weaponized to shut down “misinformation” which is any information that doesn’t comport to leftist orthodoxy;

Americans could be imprisoned for questioning the election, and/or for “hate speech” violations;

A national abortion policy will be implemented, permitting abortions through the ninth month of pregnancy;

The “trans” agenda will accelerate, with more and more boys and men permitted into women’s sports and private spaces;

More “reparations” for blacks, Hispanics, and any other non-white demographic;

Introduction of price controls with government regulating all sales, increasing inflation exponentially, supplies will be limited as resellers become unsure of the profitability of their production, and rations will be instituted for food, water, and power;

EV mandates will be enforced, and the sale of internal combustion vehicles will be banned by 2030;

Blue state deficits will be bailed out by the federal treasury;

American troops will be deployed in Ukraine;

American support of Israel will be curtailed, with no new (or previously approved weapons being supplied to our once-close ally;

China will invade and subsequently take Taiwan;

and America’s sovereignty will be subjugated to Davos, and our Constitution will be supplanted with the globalist charter of the World Economic Forum. 

If Donald Trump is elected, and by the grace of God sworn-in as the 47th president of the United States, he must take revolutionary actions to reform the entirety of government—not the Constitution and our founding principles, but a government that has become bastardized beyond its intended form. He should:

[zep-writings]

You Feel Like Home

CHAPTER FIVE.

Warnings: Bad words, mention of war and military, fluff, a little heartbreak and Steve being sweet.

Pairings: Steve Rogers x OFC Ellie Barnes.

Notes: I do not own any of the characters present in this story, except for Ellie Barnes, an original character. This is pure fiction.

This has not been beta and English is not my first language so be nice haha.

Please give me some feedback, even just a small comment is really appreciated!

I've been working on this one for a while, so please let me know what you think!

You Feel Like Home Masterlist || Main Masterlist.

Chapter four, part two

October 1943.

For the few months following his serum injection, instead of being stuck in a lab, Steve decided to make his part and go on tour to promote the war effort. Every night he was on stage selling bullets, pushing people staying in the United States of America to give money for the war effort and promoting war bonds for the Treasury Department. He went from city to city, sleeping in hotel rooms, far from the real action in the war and missing the comfort of his home in New York City, of Ellie. Truth was, he didn’t like his job very much, it wasn’t what he had imagined when he signed up for the serum. Sure, it was better than being stuck in a lab having scientist poking him and draining his blood, but he wished he could do more, he always wanted to do more.

Now he was sitting on the side of the stage he had been standing on a few moments earlier, in front of a crowd of soldiers, five miles away from the front in Italy. They had laughed at him, booed him and after dodging a few tomatoes he had simply walked out of stages as the chorus girls walked back on it. He had always wanted to be there, on the front but that was definitely not how he had imagined doing it.

“Hello, Steve.” A voice raised from behind him. He looked up, turned around and recognised Peggy.

“Hi.” Steve replied in surprise, she was the last person he was expecting to see here.

“Hi.”

“What are you doing here?” Steve wondered, while he stopped drawing.

“Officially, I’m not here at all.” Peggy sat on a box near him. “That was quite a performance.”

“Yeah. Huh.” Steve whipped his nose, bowing down a little to look at his shoes. “I had to improvise a little bit. The crowds I’m used to are usually more…” He looked up, searching for his words. “Twelve.”

“I understand you’re ‘America’s New Hope’.”

“Bonds sales take a 10% bump in every state I visit.” Steve announced, still not looking at Peggy.

“Is that Senator Brandt I hear?”

Steve licked his lips and glanced quickly at Agent Carter. “At least he’s got me doing this. Phillips would have had me stuck in a lab.”

“And these are your only two options? A lab rat or a dancing Monkey?” Peggy asked, looking at the drawing Steve had been working on a few minutes earlier. The drawing of a Monkey wearing his Captain America’s outfit, holding a shield and an umbrella and riding a unicycle. “You were meant for more than this, you know.”

Steve looked at her before he turned back to look in front of him, his mind wondering and getting lost. He hated that he couldn’t do more.

“What?” Peggy asked him, her eyes still on him.

“You know, for the longest time, I dreamt about coming overseas and being on the front lines, serving my country. I finally got everything I wanted and I’m wearing tights.” Steve explained before the horn of an ambulance van could be heard behind him and Peggy.

Steve turned around to watch the vehicle come to a stop in front of the big medical tent while the rain kept on falling heavily. A medic opened the back doors and two others walked out of it, holding a litter with a wounded man laying on it.

“They look like they’ve been through hell.” Steve observed, sadness in his voice.

“These men more than most.” Peggy hesitated for a moment, as Steve glanced at her. “Schmidt sent out a force to Azzano. Two hundred men went up against him, and less than 50 returned. Your audience contained what was left of the 107th. The rest were killed or captured.”

Steve’s face jerked up to look at the Agent as his heart seemed to stop in his chest. “The 107th?” He asked hoping he had miss heard.

“What?”

Without any hesitation, Steve stood up and started running to Colonel Phillips’s tent. “Come on!” He said to Peggy as he followed him, lifting her coat on top of her head to shield herself from the rain.

Bucky. It was the only thing on Steve’s mind at the moment. He needed to know if his best friend was still alive, he needed to find out he was okay. Then, his head went to Ellie who was probably back home missing him and his heart sank even lower. Steve walked into the tent, not even taking a look around him and walked straight to Colonel Phillips who was signing condolences letters at his desk.

“Colonel Phillips.”

“Well, if it isn’t the Star-Sprangled Man with a Plan. What is your plan today?”

“I need the casualty list from Azzano.” Steve explained.

“You don’t get to give me orders, son.” Colonel Phillips shook his head, but Steve was barely listening to him.

“I just need one name, Sergeant James Barnes from the 107th.” Steve replied, looking down at the desk.

The Colonel turned to Peggy who was standing by Steve’s side and pointed the pen he was holding in his hand towards her. “You and I are gonna have a conversation later that you won’t enjoy.”

“Please tell me if he’s alive, sir. B-A-R…” Steve insisted.

“I can spell.” The colonel cut off Steve and for a second, they glanced at each other. Phillips stood from his chair and turned around, looking at the letters in his hands. “I have signed more of these condolence letters today than I would care to count. But the name does sound familiar. I’m sorry.”

Steve heart dropped in his chest. His best friend was gone, probably dead and he had never felt more alone than at that moment.

“Colonel Phillips, we need…” A feminine voice raised as a familiar silhouette appeared in the tent. “Steve…”

Ellie was there, standing there, her hair pulled into a bun on top of her head, wearing a nurse uniform and her hands covered with dried blood.

“Ellie, what are you doing here?” Steve inquired, frowning and wondering what she was doing here.

“My job.” Ellie simply stated, offering him a shy smile.

Her eyes were red and a little puffy and it didn’t take more for Steve to realize that she knew Bucky was gone. He wanted to do was walk up to her and pull her into a hug, but this was neither the place nor the time. Instead, a plan started to form in his head, he wasn’t going to give up.

“What about the others? Are you planning a rescue mission?”

“Yes, it’s called winning the war.”

Steve tear his eyes off Ellie and turned back to the Colonel. “But if you know where they are, why not at least…”

“They’re 30 miles behind the lines through some of the most heavily fortified territory in Europe.” Colonel Phillips cut off Steve, walking to the map and showing an area on it. “We’d lose more men than we’d save. But I don’t except you to understand that because you’re a chorus girl.”

Steve jaw and shoulders clenched. “I think I understand it just fine.”

“Well, then understand it somewhere else. If I read the posters correctly, you got someplace to be in 30 minutes.”

Ellie looked at Steve, his eyes still staring at the map of the area. She knew him well enough to know what he was thinking, he was a stubborn man, and he wasn’t going to go give up that easily. But a part of her felt very uneasy about what he was about to do.

“Yes, sir. I do.” Steve simply replied as he started to walk out of the tent.

Ellie looked at the map, shook her head slightly and exchanged a glance with Peggy before she started following him to another tent containing the stage uniforms.

“Steve. Steve stop.” Ellie said loudly over the sound of the rain falling on the tent.

“Look Ellie, I’ve got to do something. And you. You shouldn’t be here. You should be home in New York, safe.” Steve said softly turning towards her. “You’re not even supposed to have graduated yet. Why are you here?” He asked, a point of worry in his voice.

“I graduated early. And I have every right to be here, just like you do.” Ellie replied, a little bit on the defensive. “I can help.”

“That’s not…” Steve sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “That’s not what I meant, Ellie. You know that.” He took her hand in his. “But I got to do something. I got to try at least.”

Ellie looked up at him, eyes filling up with tears as she spoke, her voice shaking slightly. “I can’t lose you. Not you too, Steve.”

“You won’t lose me.” The soldier said, stroking her cheek gently before he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

Steve pulled her into a hug and for a moment, they stayed like this simply appreciating being with each other. Ellie was scared, terrified to lose Steve just as she had lost Bucky. She wasn’t ready to lose the only person she had left in her life, but she also knew he wouldn’t change his mind. Steve finally pulled away from her, grabbed a bag and a helmet as Peggy walked into the tent.

“What do you plan to do, walk to Austria?” The Agent asked him, taking of her coat and putting it down on a chair.

“If that’s what it takes.”

“You heard the Colonel. Your friend is most likely dead.” Peggy said calmly.

“You don’t know that.” Steve kept on packing his bag as Peggy exchanged a glance with Ellie who shook her head. She had tried to change his mind.

“Even so, he’s devising a strategy. If he detects…” Peggy tried to explain.

“By the time he’s done that, it could be too late.” Steve interrupted her loudly, anger coming through his voice. He put his leather brown jacket on, grabbed his bag and his shield and started to walk away.

“Steve!” Peggy exclaimed, following him outside of the tent as he headed toward the jeep parked in front of it.

Ellie followed them, feeling completely useless as she watched Steve throw his stuff in the back of a jeep. He stopped for a moment, looked at Ellie before he turned to Peggy.

“You told me you thought I was meant for more than this. Did you mean that?”

“Every word.” Peggy assured him.

“Then you got to let me go.” Steve admitted, stepping into the driver seat of the jeep and for a second Ellie contemplated the idea of going with him, maybe she could help somehow.

Peggy looked at her for a second, and both knew he would never change his mind, she stepped out near him. “I can do more than that.”

Steve looked at Peggy and turned to Ellie who unwillingly nodded. If he wasn’t going to change his mind, at least they could try to help him, make things easier for him. Steve was trained, he had the serum running through his vein, but none of them really knew what if fully did.

“Move.” Peggy told Steve, making him slid to the passenger seat as Ellie climbed into the back of the jeep. There was no chance she would leave them now, not until she knew exactly what Steve was going to do.

Peggy drove in silence. She took a road out of the camp and after about five minutes she turned left, taking a road Ellie hadn’t been on before. After a good twenty minutes, she came to a stop on a small airport tarmac and immediately recognized the silhouette standing a few meters away from them. Howard Stark. Ellie stepped out of jeep as Steve grabbed his stuff in the back and followed Peggy.

“Stark, we need your help.” Peggy announced, glancing back at Steve and Ellie.

“Well, hello there. I don’t believe we have met.” Howard pushed his sunglasses on top of his head, looking at Ellie. “Howard Stark.”

Howard offered Ellie his hand but before she could shake it Steve spoke loudly. “Stark. Now is not the time!”

“Right, right.” Howard winked at Ellie who blushed and Steve rolled his eyes, feeling slightly jealous. “What do you need?” The scientist asked, not even questioning Peggy or Steve’s intention.

Howard Stark was a genius, sure he was stubborn, hot headed and a womanizer but when it came to Peggy or Steve, he would do anything to help them and for that, they were both grateful. Peggy explained her plan to Stark, asking him to be their pilot and without even a second thought, he agreed. Peggy and Howard stepped away to prepare the plane as Ellie stayed back a little, sat on a large box in the air-shed, anxiety and fear running through her brain.

The soldier quickly glanced at the Agent and the Scientist who were both too busy to pay them attention and he stepped closer to her squatting down in front of her. He gently grabbed her hands to stop her from twisting nervously her fingers as she always did.

“Hey… Ellie, look at me.” Steve knew what was going through her brain, he could read her like an open book, always had. She looked up at him, her blue eyes meeting his. “I’ll be fine.”

“You don’t know that.” Ellie whispered, squeezing Steve’s hands as the man stayed silent. “Promise me…” She sniffled. “Promise me, you’ll be careful.”

“I promise you.” Steve gently whipped a tear from her cheek. “And I promise if I find Bucky, I’ll bring him back.”

Ellie nodded slightly and she pushed a piece of hair away from his forehead. She was so terrified to lose him too, and for a second, she wanted to tell him what he meant to her, she wanted to tell him how much she loved him, but she couldn’t find the words. Truth was, Steve was scared too. He didn’t know if he would make it out alive, he didn’t even know exactly what he was walking into, but he had to try to save those men, he would never forgive himself if he didn’t. He looked at Ellie, memorising her face, every single part of those features he loved so much.

“Please come back to me…” Ellie whispered.

Without realising, he brought his face closer to hers, but she was the one who made the first move. She shyly pressed her lips to his, closing her eyes. The kiss was tender, so full of emotions and fears on both ends.

“Hey Cap, we need to go.” Stark’s voice raised from behind, interrupting them and Steve pulled away.

The soldier stood up and gave a last look to Ellie before he walked to the plane. Ellie wrapped her arms around herself as she watched the plane take off, an unease feeling twisting her guts. She didn’t like this; she didn’t like this at all and yet there was absolutely nothing she could do. She wasn’t a soldier; she couldn’t go help Steve even when it was all she wanted to do. Instead, she had to stay back, she had to stay at the base, and she already knew she would be losing herself in her job. There were so many people injured, so many soldiers she had to help that maybe she would be to busy to think about Steve behind enemy lines, alone.

It was almost an hour later, when Peggy’s voice raised from the radio she had in her hand. “Steve’s been dropped behind the line. We’re making our way back.”

“I’m waiting for you at the hangar.” Ellie stated on the radio.

They landed back an hour later; it was completely dark out by then and Ellie couldn’t help but notice the graze of bullets on the Stark’s industries plane. She looked at Stark and Carter walking out of the engine and made their way towards her.

“I guess I’ll see you ladies later.” Stark shot a wink to Agent Carter and walked away.

Ellie followed Peggy back to the jeep. She knew they would both be in trouble as soon as they would be back to the camp, but honestly, they didn’t really care. It was Steve’s decision, and if he managed to save soldiers, then it was a risk he was willing to take and both women were ready to do anything to help him.

“So, you and Steve.” Peggy said quietly, starting the jeep’s engine and driving away.

“What about it?”

“How long have been in love with him?” Peggy kept her eyes on the road.

“I’m no…” Ellie sighed and closed her eyes for a second, there was no point of denying it. “A long time.”

“But you never told him.”

“No. He’s my brother’s best friend. If Bucky knew how I felt about Steve…” Ellie shook her head.

Steve probably didn’t even feel the same way, he had never seen her that way and he never will. Even when he was still a little guy, Steve had never had eyes for her, she had always only been Bucky’s little sister. Sure they had kissed, twice now, but they never talked about it and she knew it wouldn’t change anything.

“Wait. Barnes. Your last name is Barnes.” Peggy said, glancing at Ellie. “Sergeant James Barnes is your brother.” She had never made the connexion before.

“Yes. And it doesn’t matter how I feel about Steve because he will never feel the same way, especially not now, not with the serum.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. I see the way Steve looks at you.” Peggy parked the car and turned the ignition off. “And I think it’s been a while for him too. He already talked about you all the time, way before the serum.”

Ellie shrugged. “It doesn’t matter Peggy. We…” She hesitated for a second, stepping out of the car before she looked at the Agent. “We’re in a middle of a war. It doesn’t matter how I feel about him.”

“It does. Love in the time of war is something beautiful, Ellie. Don’t wait too long to let it come into your life, because I think it’s actually the best time to do it.”

With those words Peggy offered her a smile and walked away, leaving Ellie with her thoughts. Was she right? Was Steve really looking at her differently? She didn’t want to think about it, not now, not when she wasn’t even sure he would make it back alive.

****

Chapter six

[four-loose-screws]

FE6 Novelization Translation - Chapter 14 Section 1

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Chapter 14 - Breath of Fate (Section 1)

*Note: The 1st 13 chapters are FE7's novelization.

There was once a man named Damas.

In the center of the continent, sandwiched between the largest and most powerful countries of Etruria and Bern, was the Lycian League. Within one of its various territories, House Pherae, was Bolm Mountain, which Damas had claimed as the stronghold for his bandits. The scope of their operations was small. They were a scruffy group who, at best, could normally only target defenseless travelers and lightly guarded merchant caravans. When they were lucky, they could attack a small village.

They had no interest in hard labor. It was good enough for them to steal money and food from others.

That was why Damas' activity as a bandit never became greater than small attacks. He was small fry who had never even once thought about attacking a noble's estate or a castle’s treasury. 

But when Bern's army suddenly started to invade other countries, he was forced to take actions that were much more bold and daring.

Bern first annexed its neighboring country of Sacae, then Ilia, before finally turning its focus towards Lycia.

All of the knights of Lycia were currently gathering within Marquess Araphen’s territory to prepare for the threat of Bern’s arrival.

To answer their call, because Marquess Eliwood of Pherae was bedridden with an illness, it was decided that his son Roy, next-in-line for his title, would represent Pherae in his place. As part of that decision, the knights of Pherae traveled to retrieve him from Ostia, where he was currently studying.

The only people left in the castle were a small number of troops and the deeply ill marquess.

That was enough information to spur Damas’ timid heart that betrayed his tough face to action.

He took his men with him and made it to Pherae Castle without any roadblocks, but the raised drawbridge, deep moat, and arrows shot over the castle wall prevented them from entry.

Damas' bandits had never attacked a castle before. The remaining knights put up a greater fight than they anticipated, and as they hesitated, Roy returned with the rest of Pherae's army.

“You idiots! While you were all lollygagging about, now these guys have showed up!!”

To hide the fact that this was all a result of Damas’ reckless lack of planning, he started shouting at his men, but it was already far too late. Before the brave and renowned knights of Pherae, they were like leaves being swatted away into the wind.

Within the blink of an eye, all of his bandits were defeated, and a single young soldier was closing in on him, sword in hand.

But he was no ordinary young soldier.

He was a boy about to come of age, with a head of hair as red as a blazing fire - he was none other than Roy himself, next-in-line of Pherae.

“Curse you! Like hell I’m going to die here!!” Damas, now in a state of utter desperation, screamed at Roy and raised his steel axe.

However, the sharp, thin point of Roy’s sword - a rapier - was already aimed at his heart, moving as quickly as a bolt of lightning.

There was no need for Damas to die here. If only his greed had not lured him into choosing a target he could not handle at his mediocre strength, this would not have been the end of his story.

-

The knights of Pherae routed the bandits without taking any major losses nor even sustaining any injuries, and passed through the castle gate.

As they did so, the cheers of the soldiers still stationed at the castle welcomed them back.

As Roy looked around, everyone showed him expressions of joy upon seeing the son of their beloved lord return home safely. It filled them with the confidence that they could guard their castle even in their currently compromised numbers.

Roy responded by waving at them. “Thank goodness… It looks like almost no one got hurt.”

“That does indeed seem to be the case. It appears that this group of bandits attempted to storm the castle without even preparing a single battering ram.” Marcus, standing beside Roy, said with a pained laugh.

Marcas was an older, veteran soldier who had fought through countless battles as the general of the knights of Pherae. Both his hair and chinstrap beard were entirely gray, and deep wrinkles were carved into his face, but he had become an indispensable leader within Pherae’s army.

“I’m happy to say you’re right, General Marcus! When Lance appeared to report the news of the attack to us with his face as white as a sheet, I thought for sure that it was Bern’s army attacking the castle!”

“Alen, I thought that even the worst might happen, and decided that I should tell Lord Roy straight away. Underestimating any enemy could put us in a life-threatening situation.”

Two cavaliers came up from behind them and started bickering with each other.

Alen was from a noble house that had served House Pherae for generations. He was a bit impulsive and hot-headed.

Lance, on the other hand, had only been serving Marquess Eliwood for a few years, and was still an inexperienced new recruit compared to the other members of the knights. However, he was fiercely loyal, and a calm, collected man who always fought with his focus on the battle before him.

They each acknowledged the other’s strength, and thought of them as a worthy rival. Their relationship could be described as that of friends. And because of that relationship, they could express to each other their honest feelings. But they would often say too much, so it was not rare for them to start arguing like they were now.

‘They’re at it again,’ Roy thought, overhearing their exchange, as an archer walked up to him.

“Still, Lord Roy. I was surprised when I saw you face the enemy leader all on your own! Please refrain from putting yourself in danger by going out on the front line!” Said Wolt, a member of the army’s archer unit.

Wolt was Roy’s milk brother, and as such, they were the same age, raised the same as brothers throughout their entire childhood. Because of their connection, Wolt was always worried for Roy’s safety.

His mother Rebecca had been Roy’s wet nurse, and she was stern whenever she told Wolt to protect him. But it was more so his deeply serious nature than his mother’s words that made him scold Roy for his reckless actions.

“I understand. But for me to be alone in the back while everyone else is fighting…” Roy frowned.

“What are you saying?! If anything ever happened to you, then it would make everyone living in Pherae suffer!”

“I know what you’re saying, Wolt, but still…”

“Don’t be like that! Of course Sir Wolt is worried about you!” Interjected Bors, commander of Ostia’s armor knights.

He wore a full suit of armor over his muscular body, which was already like a suit of armor on its own, and had a calm smile on his face that made him likable to everyone. “While I’ve been out fighting, I’ve been worried about Lady Lilina’s well-being this entire time.”

Bors was a retainer of Lilina, Marquess Ostia’s daughter, who had traveled to Pherae to pay a visit to the bedridden Eliwood. He was assigned to serve as her guard on her way home, so he had joined up with the Knights of Pherae while they were in Ostia to retrieve Roy.

However, just as they were nearing the castle, Lance arrived with the report that it was being attacked by bandits.

Upon hearing the news, Bors became so worried for Lilina that it made him jump.

Bors’ words made Roy want to see his father and his childhood friend safe as soon as he possibly could, and so he started moving through the castle even faster.

-

“Roy, you've returned!” When his son arrived in the throne room, Eliwood pushed his body to get up out of bed and greet him.

Marquess Pherae, deeply respected by all the knights of Lycia, was so ill that his cheeks were deeply sunken in, and his muscles had already weakened significantly. Both were symptoms characteristic of a transmittable disease that had ravaged the continent several years prior. Yet the light in his blue eyes that looked at his son was still filled with his knowledge and strong will.

Someone else also rushed over upon seeing Roy - Lady Lilina of Ostia herself.

“Roy!” The moment she saw him, a smile like a flower in bloom spread across her face.

Her father, Hector, marquess of Ostia, the leading house of the Lycian League, shared a deep bond of friendship with Eliwood. They had been friends since childhood, when they met while in Ostia, working hard at their studies together.

Her long hair was as beautiful and lustrous as silk, and her eyes that looked at Roy invoked the same feeling as a calm sea. Just by looking at him, anyone could tell that her father Hector was a big, strong lord his people could rely on; but she was much more like her mother Florina, giving off the sense that she was gentle and ladylike.

“Father! Lilina! …I’m happy to see you both safe.” Upon seeing the two people he had worried about safe and sound, Roy placed a hand on his chest.

“Roy, you must be exhausted after coming all this way.” Eliwood said.

“Not at all, Father! How are you doing?”

“I’m fine. I still have plenty of life left in me. I’m sorry to get straight to the point, Roy, but… you know the reason why I personally summoned you back to Pherae… right?”

The son nodded at his father’s question. “To lead Pherae’s army and join the Lycian League’s army in your place.”

“That is correct. As you know, Bern to the east has started to invade Lycian territory. To honor the age-old treaty signed by all members of the League, we must send an army to help protect this land.”

“I understand.” He’d heard the words of the Lycian League treaty so many times throughout his childhood that he knew it by heart.

If another country were to ever invade Lycia, all of its territories would band together and fight their foreign invaders. It was an agreement made several hundred years ago to guarantee their safety.

“It was difficult to ask you to return while you are in the middle of your studies, but in my current condition… I would not want to bring everyone else down…”

“Father…” The pained look on his father’s face also hurt Roy as well.

What Eliwood really wanted was to lead the army himself. For both his beloved homeland, and his dearest friend Marquess Ostia… However, he was frustrated that he could not do anything on his own, and regretted that he must entrust this responsibility to his young son instead. Those feelings were written all over his face.

Immediately picking up on Eliwood’s feelings, Lilina said as cheerfully as she could, “Lord Eliwood, I will go with Roy! Father should be with the League’s main army, and if I can be of even a little help to Roy with my magic, then…”

“No, Lilina. You should return home to Ostia.”

“Huh…? But why?”

“Ostia is without its lord at the moment. The people are probably living in fear every day. As the person next-in-line to become their marquess, there are other duties that you must fulfill. You understand that, don’t you?”

“...I do.” Lilina was Hector’s only child. Eliwood was right. She needed to take his place while he was away.

Her only possible response to Eliwood’s argument was to nod.

Eliwood shifted his posture to stand at attention, then turned back towards his son and said, “Roy, you will first meet up with a group of mercenaries I have signed a contract with at the Lycian-Bern border. Merlinus will go with you. He may be easily scared, but he is knowledgeable, and will be of great help to you.”

“Thank you for everything, Father.”

“You'll be fine. If anyone can do this, it's you! Fight honorably as the heir to House Pherae!”

“Yes sir!” Roy said in response to his father, who was wrapping his weakened arms around his shoulders as tightly as he could.

-

At dawn, the knights of Pherae all gathered at the castle gate, having rested their tired bodies after their fight against the bandits. Their overall number of cavalier units was especially high. This was because the knights of Pherae’s greatest skill was their maneuver warfare tactics that expertly utilized cavaliers’ mobility.

“All units, move out!” 

At Roy's orders, the knights were to go with him to meet up with the mercenaries Eliwood hired, and so they all traveled into northern Pherae, near the border with Bern.

They marched with Roy as the vanguard, while Marcus, Alen, Lance, and Wolt all followed him closely.

Behind them was Bors of the Ostian armor knights, who was originally supposed to retrieve Lilina. Roy was worried about Lilina, but since she couldn't go with him, she wanted Bors to take her place.

Finally, in the very rear was Merlinus, one of House Pherae's government officials, and the supply convoy he commanded. The group managed a fleet of horse drawn carriages filled with provisions and supplies essential for battle. They followed magnificently behind the soldiers.

The current season was early summer. The vegetation that grew along either side of the road was all a beautiful bright green.

Roy glanced back past his army and at Pherae Castle getting smaller and smaller. It was the place where he was born, that he knew inside and out.

He vowed that he would return home alive, then turned back around to look straight ahead.

☆

[duxbelisarius]

The Dance of the Dragons: A Military Analysis (Pt. 7)

Thank you once again to all those who have been following the series thus far (here’s the Master Post if this is your first time). Part 7 and 8 will focus on the war in the Riverlands prior to the First Battle of Tumbleton, and the strategic decision making of the Greens, with Part 7 covering the actions of Aemond and Criston Cole while Part 8 will deal with the Lannister forces.

In analyzing the strategic decisions and position of the Greens after Rook’s Rest, our first problem is that of Aemond Targaryen. Aemond becomes Protector of the Realm and Prince Regent due to Aegon’s severe injuries preventing him from exercising leadership, but we’re given no reasoning for this choice. Criston Cole tells Aemond that he must rule in his brother’s stead, which makes little sense based on Aemond’s track-record thus far: while he gained the support of House Baratheon, the death of Lucerys Velaryon resulted in the murder of Prince Jaehaerys by Blood & Cheese and Queen Helaena’s spiral into depression; he then took part in the Rook’s Rest campaign, but credit for the successes there goes to Criston Cole, while Aegon and Sunfyre’s injuries left the Greens with only two dragons. Queen Dowager Alicent would be aware of Aemond’s flaws and temperament and how these could affect his abilities as a leader, but she is not involved in this decision despite her closeness with Criston Cole. A better arrangement could have been to reinstate Otto Hightower as Hand, with Cole serving as Protector of the Realm in charge of military matters; although Aegon replaced Otto with Cole following Blood & Cheese, we have no indication of any serious quarrels or differences between the two. Aemond’s power and the relative ease with which he attains them are significant, as they are a major means through which George advances the plot, regardless of whether or not it makes sense.

Following the Battle of the Gullet, Aemond uses his authority to pursue a new strategy for defeating Daemon and the Riverlords; the Prince is supported Criston Cole and Tyland Lannister, but Dowager Queen Alicent, Grand Maester Orwyle and Master of Laws Jasper Wylde all express reservations. Otto Hightower, Aemond’s grandfather and three-time Hand of the King, and Master of Whispers Larys Strong, are apparently absent from these discussions; an omission that is inexcusable in Larys case, given his intelligence sources and his status as Lord of Harrenhal. Of greater significance is the strategy which Aemond proposes, and why Cole and Lannister would support it to begin with.

The plan called for a two-pronged attack on the Riverlands, converging on Harrenhal, with Jason Lannister and the Westerlands army crossing the Red Fork to the west, while Aemond and Cole’s forces marched up the Kingsroad from the south-east. Orwyle, Wylde and Alicent urge the Prince to seek the aid of the Baratheons, Ormund Hightower and to wait for Aegon to heal respectively, but neither Cole nor Lannister are given reasons as to why they support an objectively flawed plan. Cole is shown to be aggressive, both by his alleged murder of Lord Beesbury and his urging of Aegon to force the Black lords to submit before the Rook’s Rest campaign; he also keeps a cool-head under fire, as demonstrated literally at Rook’s Rest itself where he remained on his horse, directing the fire of his missile troops while Meleys set fire to everything around him (his conduct at the ‘Butcher’s Ball’ further demonstrates his level-headedness, but more on that later). Tyland Lannister is shown to be highly competent and sharp-witted, being responsible for removing three-quarters of the Royal Treasury from King’s Landing and denying Rhaenyra access to it for the entire war, and later serves as Aegon III’s first Hand with great distinction. 

Based on what we know of the two men, it makes zero sense that they would support Aemond’s strategy, with it’s many obvious flaws. For starters, the plan relies on the fighting being confined to an east-west axis, culminating at Harrenhal with the Riverlords trapped between two armies. Daemon and his allies can easily slip this noose by withdrawing northwards, behind the Trident and the Blue and Green Forks, placing a natural barrier between them and their foes and raising the possibility of aid from the North and the Vale. Nor would Daemon and the Riverlords have to fight on two fronts necessarily; while Aemond claims it would be a 16 day march to Harrenhal, we know that inclement weather lead to Cole arriving after 19 days, followed by Aemond the day after. If rainstorms and mud affected travel on the Kingsroad to this degree, it should have been worse for the Lannister forces who crossed the Red Fork around Pinkmaiden, and were using local roads. Based on a distance map of Westeros, the distance from Pinkmaiden to Harrenhal would appear to be equal to that from King’s Landing, if not greater. With 1000 knights and 7000 men-at-arms and archers, the Lannister host would be twice the size of Aemond’s, and would be marching on roads which were likely narrower and less developed than the royal roads. Along with potential delays due to combat, one would expect the Lannister forces to be far slower than Aemond’s, presenting Daemon and the Riverlords an opportunity to face each Green army separately and defeat them in turn. 

If Daemon chose to confront Aemond, the two would face off whilst Cole was confronted with a Riverlord army more than twice the size of his (based on our estimates from Part 4); however pleased Aemond would be to fight his uncle, the prospect of fighting most of the Riverland’s forces should have given Cole pause. If Daemon chose to confront the Lannister host, the Riverlords would confront a foe roughly their equal in number but with Caraxes tipping the scales in their favour, being half the size of Vhagar and also at an age and size where missile weapons could do little harm. Both scenarios would be plausible based on information available to both Criston and Tyland, save for exact numbers of Daemon’s forces; it’s doubtful Cole would have risked fighting a losing battle (as he demonstrates later at the ‘Butcher’s Ball’), or that Tyland would so willingly risk the life of his brother and those of fellow Westermen. We also have to assume that despite Blood & Cheese, Tyland and Cole would be completely unconcerned with the possibility of even parts of Aemond’s plan leaking out to the Blacks (as it eventually did), giving Daemon and the Riverlords even more time to concentrate against either host. 

It is fitting that George offers no justification for their support of Aemond’s plan, as it is unjustifiable, nor is there any improvement in the quality of the writing once Aemond and Cole begin their advance. Cole commands the vanguard, defeating Ser Oswald Wode and Lords Darry and Roote at the Lakeshore before arriving at an abandoned Harrenhal after a 19 day march. Although one might expect Aemond to be flying with the vanguard, out of an eagerness to force an engagement with Daemon, he instead arrives a day after Cole alongside the main host. Gyldan claims that this was because he expected Daemon to attack the main host, but in light of the serious flaws with Aemond’s strategy, it makes little sense for him to act so cautiously when using his dragon. An exposed and vulnerable army would offer a more inviting target to Daemon, while also allowing Aemond to range ahead to seek him out; he could also disperse any opposition in the army’s path (see Daeron’s use of Tessarion in Part 3), likely reducing the time required to reach Harrenhal by ensuring a steady marching pace even with the poor conditions. This is a trend with how George writes Aemond, as his hot-headedness and obsession with defeating Daemon and the potential to further the Green cause or at least damage that of the Blacks, are always mutually exclusive and only ever results in negative outcomes.

There are some notable omissions that also affect Aemond and Cole’s advance; in The Dying of the Dragons - The Red Dragon and the Gold, we’re told that Lord Butterwell was among those lords who renounced their oaths to Rhaenyra and swore allegiance to Aegon II. The Butterwells are a prominent noble family in the Riverlands, with Alton Butterwell serving as Hand of the King to Maegor the Cruel; they were given control of Lord Harroway’s Town when Maegor annihilated that family (although the Rootes control it during the Dance), and by the time of the Dunk and Egg novels, the family owns a villa at Whitewalls on the eastern shore of the God’s eye. We don’t know exactly where there house seat and lands are located in the books, but it’s likely near Harrenhal to the northeast of the God’s Eye. Assuming Lord Butterwell was able to mobilize his house’s support for Aegon, we should expect that their forces would have aided Aemond; their location should also have given them some idea of what was going on at Harrenhal prior to Aemond’s arrival, allowing them to tip-off Aemond and Cole to the movements of Daemon and the Riverlords. Unfortunately, the first and last time the Butterwells are mentioned in the Dance is when Lord Butterwell swears his allegiance, after which George simply forgets that they exist.  

George also continues his trend of acting like the rivers of Westeros do not exist, in this case with the Blackwater Rush. Having stated the importance of Aemond and Cole’s forces maintaining pace with the Lannister’s, and the difficulties they should have expected given the weather, it makes no sense to ignore the Blackwater Rush. The tributaries of the Blackwater run from the God’s Eye and the area between it and the Red Fork; if Cole were to travel up river with his troops, he could combine his forces with Jason Lannister’s much sooner. From Aemond’s perspective, Cole and Lannister’s forces pressing from the west would force Daemon and the Riverlords to escape eastward, and Vhagar would be more than capable of guarding the Kingsroad to prevent this. This plan is certainly unconventional compared to Aemond’s, but it shows the options open to the Greens had George actually acknowledged the Blackwater Rush in his narrative.

Aemond and Cole’s position deteriorates rapidly after taking control of Harrenhal, with King’s Landing falling to a surprise attack by Rhaenyra and her dragonriders, and the Lannister army being wiped out in the Battle by the Lakeshore sometime afterwards. The Green army loses some 400 men along with untold numbers of horses to disease, hunger and enemy ambushes, though we have no indication as to how much time passes. As stated previously and in Part 3, Aemond and Vhagar fail to inflict any real damage to the Riverlords with their attacks; this is inexcusable when we consider the speed with which Vhagar is apparently able to attack, as later accounts given to Daemon and Nettles describe Vhagar as appearing suddenly and disappearing without a trace. The only real explanation for this lies in George’s rigid adherence to his pre-conceived plot; as the Riverlands continues to play an important role in the Dance, nothing can be allowed to prevent this, even if it means sacrificing consistency and writing quality. 

Aemond’s intransigence and the fall of King’s Landing, confronts Ser Criston Cole with an impossible dilemma; the lands surrounding Harrenhal have been laid to waste by the Riverlords, any foraging parties that are sent out do not return, meaning the Green army cannot remain. Cole resolves to take his army south to link up with Daeron and Ormund Hightower, but this choice makes little sense; while any course he adopts would likely end in disaster, Cole’s decision requires his army to march through hundreds of miles of enemy territory in the Riverlands and northern Reach. The Hightower army is besieging Longtable, the seat of House Merryweather, which is almost 500 miles or a 20 day journey from King’s Landing; to get there from Harrenhal would take far longer, probably more than a month. A westward march towards the Red Fork and the western hills would probably take no longer than it did to reach Harrenhal in the first place, and would allow Cole to enter the Westerlands and seek the aid of Johanna Lannister, or at least to enter the Reach from the north via friendly territory. 

In any case, Cole’s army leaves Harrenhal and marches along the western shore of the God’s Eye, encountering the corpses of the Lannister army and enduring harassment from the Riverlords. Cole eventually encounters the Riverlords army at a ridge north of the Blackwater Rush; casualties and desertion have reduced his army to below the 3600 that left Harrenhal under his command. Against this were 300 mounted knights, 300 longbowmen and another 3000 archers, 3000 infantry of the Riverlords, and the remaining c.600 of the Winterwolves; commanded by Garibald Grey, Pate of Longleaf and Roderick Dustin, the Black army was more than double the size of Cole’s. As alluded to before, Cole chose not to fight a pointless, losing battle, but chose to spare the lives of his men by approaching the Black commanders under a peace banner, to offer his surrender. Surrender would have been a boon for the Riverlords, as most of the crownlanders in Cole’s army would likely have sided with Rhaenyra, while the delivery of Criston Cole to King’s Landing in chains would have been a massive coup for Rhaenyra. The surrender is refused, and Pate of Longleaf signals to Red Robb Rivers and has Ser Criston Cole killed by arrow fire; the Green army is then slaughtered it what becomes known as the ‘Butcher’s Ball.’ This decision on the part of the Black commanders makes no sense whatsoever; holding captives for ransom was a common practice in Medieval warfare, making the taking of prisoners an essential task. When Edward the Black Prince triumphed over the French at the Battle of Poitiers in 1356, he captured 2000 to 3000 French men-at-arms in addition to the King of France himself, John II. Rather than reap potential benefits and spare the lives of their men, the Black commanders fight a pointless battle that ends in the slaughter of Cole’s men, but only after killing an opposing commander under a peace banner.

This concludes part 7 of my analysis; Part 8 will cover the actions of the Westerlands army at this time, so stay tuned for that soon!