#the prop trading in united kingdom

[apextradefunding]

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[empirearchives]

(Portrait of a young lady c. 1800-1805. Louis-André-Gabriel Bouchet. Fondation Napoléon, Paris.)

Flimsy Female Fashion in the Age of Napoleon

From NGV:

The garments worn by fashionable young women following the Revolution were famously dominated by muslin. In imitation of the ancient Greeks and Romans whose simplicity and elegance of dress was synonymous with democracy and the Roman Republic, post-Revolutionary Fashion set itself in opposition to the opulent artificiality of the Ancien Régime with its hooped and panniered skirts and elaborate embroidery and trimmings, by strutting a pared down simplicity in both style and material. Simply gathered, high waisted dresses of fine soft fabric, especially muslin, became the rage. The French interpretation of these classical garments came to be known as Empire style, whereas in England it became known as the Regency style. While muslin was the preferred fabric it came to have political and economic ramifications that were highly problematic for Napoleon.

Muslin is most typically an unbleached or white cloth, produced from finely combed cotton yarn. It originated in Northern India and first appeared in Europe in the 17th century. Becoming increasingly available with the English occupation of India in the 18th century, it found great popularity at the end of that century in France. Popular with British women in India, its open weave allowed the movement of air, and therefore was suitable for hot, dry climates. Muslin clothes were traded by ancient Greeks from the Indian port of Maisolos (or Maisala) and perhaps the name muslin originated from that place name. Marco Polo apparently praised the muslins available from India. The word muslin is also used colloquially. In the United Kingdom, many sheer cotton fabrics are termed ‘muslin’ and their uses are many; for instance, muslin is used for making various cheeses which require the milk solids to be separated from the whey.

Because the muslin trade was essentially cornered by the British, this delicate fabric had to be imported from England. This posed a serious problem for Napoleon – not only because he has closed French ports to English trade because of the hostilities between their countries (the Continental Blockade), but also because Napoleon was anxious to re-establish the textile industries in France following the Revolution. He was famously impatient with women around him who continued to wear muslin and was known to lose his temper with both Josephine and his step-daughter, Hortense, reportedly either tearing their fashionable dresses or spoiling them by dousing them with coffee and officially banning the wearing of muslin. His reasons were serious (though his temper must have been irksome) and connected with propping up France’s textile industry. He required formal dress to be worn at all times at court, thereby reintroducing a clientele for silks and velvet largely made in Lyon.

(Source)

[partybuster]

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[luxtradingfirmuk]

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[quotesfrommyreading]

...the Church, in the decades after 1789, dogmatically opposed modernity, while making practical accommodations to the changing societies in which its members lived. Pope Pius VII signed a concordat with Napoleon (whose troops controlled Rome) and traveled to Paris for his coronation as emperor in 1804. Yet newly cut off from state power and dismayed by the Enlightenment’s stress on individualism, Catholic leaders in France, especially, responded to an urbanizing industrial age by erecting what McGreevy calls a “milieu” of schools, seminaries, hospitals, and orphanages as a rigidly ordered parallel world set against unruly civil society. Those “Reform Catholics” (McGreevy’s term) who did strive to fit their local churches into the new order of nation-states met with resistance from the “ultramontanists,” who regarded the pope as a pan-European absolute monarch and the Church as a bulwark against surging democracy.

The conflict came to a head at the First Vatican Council, in 1869. McGreevy cites a French observer’s account of the gathering’s anti-worldly spirit: “The church, through its supreme pastor, says to the lay world, to lay society, and to lay authorities: It is apart from you that I want to exist, to take action, to make decisions, and to develop, affirm, and understand myself.” The ultramontanists prevailed, and the Catholicism then exported to the Americas through mass emigration was leery of democracy—and of citizens’ efforts to expand the right to vote to women and to allow moral issues to be decided by majority rule (or vulgar haggling in the statehouse).

Over time, hostility to modern ideas became the default position of an institution that cleaved to an image of itself as premodern and unchanging. Again and again, the Church’s certainty about what it was against clouded its sense of what it should support, as it adapted to circumstances in ways that seem glaringly inconsistent today. Although the Church criticized the slave trade in Africa, Catholic leaders were slow to support the abolition of slavery in the United States—“so opposed were they to the individualist (at times anti-Catholic) rhetoric they associated with liberal Protestant or secular abolitionists,” McGreevy writes. They fiercely denounced anti-Catholic quotas and discrimination in the United Kingdom, where Anglicanism was the state religion; meanwhile, they ensured that the new republics in Latin America recognized Catholicism as the “national religion,” and often condoned exclusionary practices against Jews and Protestants. Strangely, the Church lined up against both industrial capitalism and working-class socialism—with many Catholics believing that both were controlled by Jews.

The Russian Revolution of 1917 prompted the Church to recognize democracy as a form of government more favorable to belief than atheistic communism was. But the Church’s rejection of Bolshevism led it—in enemy-of-my-enemy-is-my-friend style—to back unjust regimes: Mussolini’s Fascists in Italy, Franco’s Falangists in Spain (where the Loyalists were violently anti-Catholic), and the Nazi Party of Adolf Hitler, whom the Vatican praised for his anti-Bolshevism before adopting its notorious neutrality during World War II. “In majority Catholic states such as Brazil, Portugal, and Austria,” McGreevy observes, politicians and Church leaders together articulated “a distinct Catholic authoritarian vision,” made up of “a fierce anti-communism, an underlying drumbeat of anti-Semitism, and skepticism about democratic politics.”

After the war, the Church boosted Christian Democratic parties in Italy, France, and Germany; endorsed an independence movement led by the Catholic Léopold Senghor in Senegal; backed the Catholic Ngô Ðình Diệm’s postindependence regime in South Vietnam; and propped up antidemocratic oligarchies in Latin America—all as fire walls against communism. It kept up its opposition to postwar stirrings of inclusion—of Catholics in public schools, women in the workplace, sex in the movies.

Yet great ferment was under way in Catholic intellectual life, as theologians at still-robust seminaries in Europe merged Church traditions with continental philosophy. New approaches to liturgy (shifting from Latin to vernacular languages), biblical interpretation (undertaking fresh scrutiny of the Hebrew, Greek, and Aramaic sources), and interreligious dialogue (challenging the idea that Catholics were duty-bound to oppose other faiths) thrived. In response, John XXIII called the world’s Catholic bishops to Rome for reflection on the state of the Church in an ecumenical council—Vatican II—and appointed vanguard theologians to advise them.

As the council progressed from 1962 to 1965, the image of Catholicism as a bulwark against modernity was replaced by a vision of a “pilgrim Church” providing humble service to a world in which war, migration, the spread of state-sponsored atheism, and rapid changes in technology had left people desperately in need of a religious perspective. It was time, in McGreevy’s words, “for Catholics and the church to take on the world’s problems as their own,” living their faith (as Pope John had proposed) “in such a way as to attract others less by doctrine than ‘by good example.’ ”

  —  The Reinvention of the Catholic Church

[frostsinth]

Royal Flush - Pt. 1

The prologue to this story can be found HERE. I plan to redo/redesign the picture at some point. UPDATE: Redid the picture HERE

A new story (because fuck me, that’s why). This time between a Goblin King, and a young human Prince. Something new and fresh I hope you will all fancy. And hopefully a line up for another fic I have planned for the future.

As always, please visit my MasterList to see my other works, and feel free to BuyMeACoffee while you are there. If you have any prompts, ideas, thoughts, or insane ramblings, I love to hear from you. Please send me all the notes, tags, asks, or DMs your little hearts desire.

Enjoy!

“… Nikostratus, I… I know you are ...conflicted,” He started, and I felt my blood run hot again at his words, “But that is no reason-”

“My life is doomed to misery, regardless of what end,” I snapped at him, anger lacing every word, cutting him off, “… At least this way, Morgana will have a chance at finding happiness.”

He fell silent, his face a mask of horror, and I turned back to face the Goblin King. Stepping forward, I placed one arm over my chest, then bent at the waist. Bowing deeply to him.

“Your Majesty, I agree to your proposal.”

“I am humbled, and honored,” The Goblin King replied, and I could hear the smirk in his voice, even as I kept my eyes on the ground beneath me. “Come, we can discuss the details further in my private study… alone.”

I stiffened slightly at his request. But realized that the word he stressed was less suggestive and more… cold? As I slowly raised from my bow, I saw his scarlet eyes glaring harshly over my shoulder. I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck prickling, and tightened my jaw. Resisting the urge to look back at my guard. Knowing now exactly whom that tone had been for and not imagining I would enjoy the expression waiting behind me.

“As you wish, Your Majesty.”

The King gestured for me to follow him, leading the way across the floor to a door set into the side of the great chamber. With my will steeled, I followed after.  If Gareth attempted to follow as well, I did not know. Nor what would become of him, left alone upon my exit with the Goblin King. And with the anger at his words still hot in my blood at that moment, I didn’t care.

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” I tried not to mumble as he held the door open for me.

“Please, call me Grier. Assuming all goes well, we are to be married soon, after all.” I couldn’t help but wince at the word, and my mouth felt dry. I saw his scarlet eyes flicker to me at their corners. “And what are you comfortable with being called, Your Highness?”

I hesitated, unable to resist flinching ever so slightly as the door clunked closed behind us. “My name is Nikostratus, if it pleases you, Your Majesty.”

“Grier.” He corrected, and led the way down the smaller side hallway. I hardly took notice of my surroundings, feeling hollow and numb. “And it matters not if it pleases me. It is your name, no? Though I will admit it is a bit of a mouthful.”

I didn’t answer. I wasn’t sure how to answer. The weight of it all was suddenly dropping onto me, and I felt my palms clasped behind my back growing sweaty. I swallowed, tightening my jaw. There was still much to discuss before the arrangement could be finalized. I had to keep my head level, for the sake of my people. I could not let the goblins take more than an inch in negotiations. Couldn’t let myself be razzled by whatever life I had just signed myself up for. It was entirely possible that had been his intent! Perhaps the entire ‘marriage’ would be an endless attempt to manipulate me into breaking; to gain the upper hand. Just how far would a goblin be willing to go for one of their pranks? An arranged marriage certainly didn’t seem out of that scope. Would it lead up to the ceremony? Beyond?

“Do you have any other names you like to go by?” He pressed, opening a grand carved oak door and standing back to allow me to enter first. I stiffened, but nodded appreciatively and stepped past him as quickly as I could. “A nickname? Or perhaps you wouldn’t mind if I choose a term of endearment for you?” His voice was light and teasing, but it made a chill run down my spine. “Perhaps ‘sweetheart’ or ‘dear’. I have always liked the term ‘pet’, though I believe it would be ill suited for our… situation.”

I swallowed hard again, grinding my teeth quietly as I stopped before the grand desk in the room. I turned my head slightly to watch him saunter around to the other side after closing the large door behind himself.

“I prefer Nikostratus.” I hoped my voice didn’t sound too dry.

His crooked smirk didn’t lighten the burden of my nerves, nor allow me any relief from the notion this whole mess was simply some ploy. Some elaborate goblin mischief. But he didn’t sit in the ornate chair behind the desk as I had anticipated. Instead, he gathered up an inkwell, a handful of quills, and a roll of parchment and brought it over to the overly plush chairs set before the grand fireplace of the room.

I used that moment to take stock of the study for the first time since entering. It was large, with tall stone bookshelves filled to bursting with old tomes. The smell of their ancient parchment as well as the smoke from the fire in the large fireplace suffused the room. There were assorted knick knacks dotting every available surface, from a golden astrolabe to a pristinely painted globe and even a silver sundial propped against one wall. Aside from the huge desk and plush pair of armchairs, there was a small marble table before the fire, and a silver cart piled with various shaped decanters and glasses. The entire room was disheveled and cluttered, with heaps of parchments and quills strewn about, tomes left half opened with numerous different things from ribbons to dried flowers tucked between their pages, and the evidence of projects started but never completed.

The study was also vehemently colored, with no two fabrics matching another. There were glittering crystalline mobiles and diagrams and draped scarves dangling from the rafters. Various pillows in different shapes, colors, and sizes pooled off the armchairs onto the floor which was covered with several overlapping carpets that absolutely had no unifying color scheme. It was overwhelming, and I couldn’t help but cast an apprehensive eye about as he settled in one of the two chairs facing each other.

“Are you hungry?” He offered, simply sweeping whatever had been on the small marble table onto the floor with a clatter to make space for his parchment and quills. “Perhaps some tea? I believe I have heard humans like tea.”

It took me a breath to realize he had spoken to me. When his red eyes lifted to my face, I straightened sharply, but shook my head.

“No, Your Majesty, thank you.”

He scoffed, waving one green skinned hand. “Grier.” He corrected me again. “Now sit. We have much to discuss if we want to have a proper marriage contract drawn up tonight.”

I let out my breath slowly between tight lips. I could do this. Write up a marriage contract. A peace contract, rather. I knew how to negotiate. How to write contracts. And I needed to make sure the terms were in my kingdom’s best interest. Slowly, I walked over, glancing down at the plush chair facing his briefly before lowering myself into it. I sat at the very edge so as not to disturb the large quantity of odd shaped pillows there. This would be easier if I just was careful not to remember it was my marriage contract.

“Now then, down to business,” He drew up his quill, scribbling a long, over flourished sentence at the top of the parchment. “And I would urge you to speak your mind here, my young Prince. We must be able to forgo formalities and niceties if we are to complete a formidable and agreeable contract.” He dabbed a note. “As discussed, removal of my soldiers from your kingdom is first.”

I nodded, eyeing him as his long fingers deftly maneuvered the quill into forming short, neat little letters. “We will need to redefine the borders between the two kingdoms as well.”

One thin eyebrow raised, and he glanced up at me through pale lashes. “However do you mean?”

I placed my hands on my knees, back still ramrod straight. “The skirmishes over the last decade have allowed disputed territories to fall into your control. We would need them returned.” I cocked my head ever so slightly to the side. “As a sign of your good faith.”

He tsked, but seemed amused. “You will find I have treated your citizens quite admirably while they were beneath my occupation.” His quill scratched across the page. “Perhaps they may not wish to return.”

I paused, but decided it was just an effort on his part to get a rise out of me. “Never-the-less… They will be returned. And our borders will become defined and respected.”

A soft ‘hrumph’, and he leaned back in his chair, re-reading what he had just written. “Very well… though perhaps I was under the misinformation that our kingdoms would become united with our marriage? Forming into one?”

I resisted the urge to flinch at his words, feeling my knuckles clench slightly with the effort. “A kingdom cannot have two Kings. Royal marriages unify countries, but they do not become a single kingdom. Borders are open, allowing for trade and travel ease for citizens, as well as lower taxes for goods produced.” My voice sounded hollow and distant, even to my own ears. “There is also the expectation of allied forces, should a conflict arise for either kingdom.”

“My kingdom will.” He mused, penning a note.

I blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Have two Kings,” He glanced up at me, his crooked smirk forming again, “My Kingdom will. Unless I have your future title wrong. Would you perhaps remain a Prince by human customs?”

I felt heat rising around the edge of the collar of my shirt. “The title is not important.”

The goblin sat up taller in his seat. “It is important.” He insisted. “I want to be sure you, as well as your people, are comfortable with all terms of this contract. These are terms of peace, not surrender.”

Then why doesn’t it feel that way? I wondered quietly, but otherwise didn’t comment further. Clamping my lips shut. I reminded myself again why I was doing this; for my people. For Morgana. He waited for me to speak for a moment, his red eyes locked on my face. For my part, I made a point to focus on the fireplace. 

“Alright,” He relented finally, impatient, “You tell me. What title would you have? If this was a contract between humans, hm?” He twirled the quill nimbly between his fingers. “I want to be sure to use the proper terms, so there is no confusion.”

My hands slowly curled into fists on my knees. “The title is not important.”

He sighed impatiently. “Oh come now. If it’s not important, then it should be simple enough to answer, yes?” He twirled the quill again, and my eyes darted to it from their corners. “If this was a marriage contract between a human Prince and a human King, upon their marriage, what title-”

“There is no such thing,” I snapped, cutting him off as my temper flared, “Of a marriage between a Prince and a King. It does not matter what title you choose, the concept is abhorrent to my people, and the marriage will never-” I stopped short, closing my eyes and slowly letting my breath out through my nose. “...While it will be accepted as a valid and legally binding contract of peace… It will never be accepted as a true marriage.”

A tense silence stretched between us, and for a long moment, I feared I had ruined everything. That he would no longer feel an arranged marriage between us would hold the same weight. I felt the sinking dread that the loss of my temper had doomed my sweet little sister. Or perhaps my entire kingdom. For certainly such a slight would never have been permitted in our court. A proposed marriage contract that was not a recognized marriage? Unacceptable. I sat with my eyes closed, my lips in a tight line, trying to steady my breathing. To regain my composure.

“... If I have misjudged you,” He began slowly, his previous arrogance and teasing gone from his tone, “... Or if I have been misinformed as to your… preferences...” I may have winced at the words, but I was clenched far too tight to notice “-We do not have to go forward with this contract. I will not sign anything without the clear consent of both parties.”

I slowly opened my eyes, keeping them firmly focused on the table beside me. Not daring to lift my gaze to his, though I felt his own boring into my skull. He sat silently, perhaps expecting an answer. But I did not have the strength to give it just yet. My fists were clenched so tight they were nearly white. For all his words… he didn’t seem to understand. There were no other options for me. We had to go forward with this contract. For the sake of everything I held dear. And yet, to do so meant … I struggled to keep my growing emotions in check.

“... I will expect this to be a marriage,” He informed me after the brief pause, his tone growing harsh, almost angry, “With all things that come with that. Including its consummation.” I did wince now, and internally kicked myself for doing so. “And I will not enter into a marriage where I am required to rape my partner-”

“Enough.” I boldly cut him off again, shaking my head. My voice quivering with my own anger at his vulgar yet casual language regarding such an intimate topic.

He paused again, giving me another moment to take a few deep breaths to calm my nerves. His voice, when he did speak again, was flat, but firm. And I recognized its authoritative nature. I was reminded again why this man, short of all his other faults and no matter his species, was a King of a powerful people.

“Am I wrong, Prince Nikostratus, in my judgement of you?”

I felt as a child, being scolded by their elder, and my throat was dry for that sake alone. I would have to admit it, I realized. I would have to admit it out loud, for the first time in my life. I would have to face a reality I had consigned myself to deny and carry with me to my grave. I was a Prince, after all. And a secondborn Prince at that. I would never have the power or freedom to act as I wanted; I would always be held to the responsibility of my station. The necessities of my kingdom. And despite everything, despite the deep longing I had always held to be able to love whomever I wished… I found my lips faltering to form the words.

Part of me believed it was a trick still. Some long, drawn out plan of humiliation. Of shame. Of deceit meant to ruin my honor and reputation among my people. To expose me to my family. I felt the familiar rage bubbling up inside me, and clenched my jaw in an effort to quell it. All the while, I felt his red eyes still staring at me. Waiting for the answer I had prepared myself never to give.

“... Make no mistake, Your Majesty,” I began slowly, my voice soft but hard, “If there is one thing I am sure of in this world… it is that I love my little sister with every fiber of my being. And I would do everything in my power to protect her from the evils of this world.” Carefully, I raised my gaze to meet his. “Whatever face that may take.” He opened his mouth, but I jerked my hand sharply up to keep him from speaking, lest I lose my nerve. “I understand what I am agreeing to. I understand fully what will be... expected of me. And whatever my… “ I dropped off, struggling to find what I wanted to say. I winced at the first word that came to mind, for I hated it most of all. But spat it out bitterly none-the-less. “... conflictions may be, I enter this contract with full consent. I beg your indulgence that this is enough for you for now.”

I was proud that I never broke eye contact with him as I spoke. His startlingly red eyes watched me unblinkingly, and even as I finished, he stared. Turning my words over in his head. I felt sweat beading at the base of my neck, but maintained his gaze. Stubbornly resisting the urge to turn away or drop my eyes from his.

“If I hear what you’re saying in regards to your people,” He returned finally, and I let out a little gust of air I didn’t know I had been holding, “Then I can hardly blame you for struggling to… accept our situation, such as it is.” He drummed his fingertips on the arm of his chair. “But you are sure? Once we move forward with this contract, there will be no turning back.”

I nodded without hesitation, and I saw his smirk return to the corners of his mouth. “I am sure.”

“You will be King Consort, then,” He replied, picking up his quill again, “As is the custom for my people.” He scribbled a few lines quickly before continuing. “Your authority will be more or less equal to mine, but the difference in title allows for differentiation when referring to us.” His long nose twitched as his smirk returned to its full strength. “Pronouns can be tricky in such situations.”

“...I can imagine” I said dryly, finally letting my gaze drop.

“And since you are sure, perhaps we should move on to the more domestic qualities of the contract, yes? Now, how many children?”

I blinked stupidly, my eyes jumping back up to him in surprise. “...Eh?”

“How many children?” His voice was light and cheery, and I saw the mischievous glint in his eyes that left me quite annoyed. “I’ve always wanted a large family, but I am flexible on the matter.”

“...You’re joking.”

“Hardly.” He twirled the quill again. “As King, I am expected to provide an heir. There are several options available to us, but it is best we make these decisions now. Just to be certain we are on the same page and have the same expectations. It avoids arguments down the line.”

I struggled to keep my composure, and saw his smirk grow by a few molars at the sight. “What… what are the options?”

“Well, we could adopt, of course.” He mused, tapping one long finger against his angular chin. “Or we could hire a surrogate.”

“Surrogate?” I echoed, dumb founded. I had never heard of such a term before.

He nodded, eyes shimmering with delight. “Yes! A female to carry our offspring. Typically of good stock; the screening process is quite vigorous. We can each lay with her and let the die be cast in whatever way it may land. Or, with your consent, I will impregnate her-”

“Wh-whichever.” I blurted quickly, feeling my face growing hot. I hated how easily he managed to keep me off balanced, and each slip of my composure left me feeling guiltier than the last and more determined to maintain it.

“Ah, but then there is of course the magical route.” He continued, almost gleefully ignoring my reaction to the less savory parts of the second option which had the blush rising to my cheekbones despite my efforts.

“The… the what?”

“The magical route.” He repeated, steepling his hands together with a grin. “A simple, temporary spell that allows one of us to impregnate the other and carry our progeny to term-”

“You’re making that up!” I snapped despite myself, feeling my face flush even more.

He pretended to look much more appalled than I was certain he was. “I would never! Producing an heir is a very important matter which I take with the utmost seriousness!”

I struggled again to return to the stoic face of a stately Prince I had perfected over the course of my life. But his words had my thoughts reeling, and I couldn’t help my mouth dropping open slightly. Looking pleased with himself, he stood, walking over to the cart of drinks.

“I am parched. Would you like something? Or I can send for tea if you prefer?”

I managed to close my mouth, staring at the seat he had vacated for a long moment. I heard the clinking of glass, and cleared my suddenly dry throat.

“...Brandy. If you have it.” I rasped, my voice strained.

His laughter was almost melodic, and I heard the continued clinks as he dolled out a second glass. “Excellent choice, my young Prince.” He purred, returning with both drinks in hand. “I see we are a perfect match on that front.”

I took the glass numbly, sniffing the amber liquid instinctually. I was surprised to find it seemed of higher quality, and sipped it experimentally. Grier took his seat once more, crossing one leg over the top of the other.

“Now, which method do you prefer?” He mused, taking a sip from his own glass.

I nearly choked on my second sip, and sputtered momentarily. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye to see his crooked grin. I shook my head, swallowing the burning liquid.

“...Umm, wh-whichever.” I almost winced at the improperness of my stuttering speech, gritting my teeth.

He raised one slender eyebrow, smirking. “Even the third? I hear it is quite the experience.”

I took another hurried sip of the brandy. “...Maybe not that one.”

He laughed again, and I felt my ears burning. I turned, focusing on the fire, watching the flames lick and pop. Trying to ignore the feeling of his eyes on me. Trying to distance myself from the idea of raising children of all things with this creature sat across from me. He’s just trying to get a rise from you, I told myself. Always, constantly. Poking and prodding. Trying to gain the upper hand in negotiations. Amused by my discomfort.

“We’ll write a ‘to be determined’ for now.” He declared, picking up the quill once more. “But we’ll discuss it again later.”

I snuck a peek at him while he wrote, studying him out the corner of my eye. His wild hair fell about his sharp features, and the way the light hit his green-grey skin it seemed almost warm to the eye. I found myself wondering at the thought of spending a life with him. Wondered what it would be like beyond this room. Beyond this evening. I took another steadying sip of brandy, pretending my hand wouldn’t be shaking if it hadn’t held the glass.

“How many then?” He pressed, glancing up at me. “I believe six is a good number. Even, but manageable. Yes?”

I looked down at the amber liquid in my hands. “I-I…” I dropped off, shaking my head, steadying my voice, “I had never thought about it.”

“Why ever not?” He quipped, dipping the tip to scribble another note.

I didn’t answer him, but felt my brow furrow. Of course, the real reason was because I had never expected to be able to choose. Had never expected to be married, and if I was, I would be grateful to be able to conceive at all. My marriage prospects had always been slim; the likelihood was of me being paired with a widowed partner whose late husband’s lands were in dispute, or an elderly monarch whose wealth would be our greatest asset. Whatever would best benefit the Kingdom. It didn’t matter the partner, not like my older brother’s, just what she would bring to the table. Therefore, planning children had simply never really been a thought of mine. And now that it was? I wasn’t sure what to think of it. Had no basis for what I wanted. Had no basis for what would be expected of me as a parent, nor how I would feel being so fully responsible for another life. My lips tightened, and I found myself at a loss for words again.

“Hmmm. Six it is then. But we’ll see where the tides take us when the time comes.” I almost sighed with relief that he let the matter go. A few more soft scratches. “Alright, lovers is next on my list.”

Again, I sputtered, nearly choking on the brandy halfway down my throat. “Lovers??”

He nodded, looking up at me with a coy twist on his thin lips. “Yes. Traditionally, human Kings take lovers I believe. But goblins tend to be monogamous in marriage, unless previously agreed before the ceremony. Do you wish to be allowed to take lovers?”

Again, it was simply not something I had ever considered. Nor had the foggiest notion of how to approach. Certainly it was not a concept boldly discussed in any capacity, regardless of the fact that it was common knowledge. High society dictated such things be carefully and politely ignored. Not discussed over a marriage contract. He waited, tapping his finger against the quill. Watching my face. I swore he was enjoying himself.

I shook my head. “I… I have no desire to…” I cleared my throat, then shook my head again.

He leaned forward, propping his chin on his slender fingers. Coy smirk playing about his lips. “You would remain completely faithful to me?” He purred, looking at me through his pale lashes. “I have no qualms allowing you to take lovers if it would make you more comfortable.”

I snorted faintly, burying it in my glass as I took another sip. As if anything about this conversation was likely to end with me being comfortable. The drink was already almost gone, and I could feel its effects curling tenderly about my insides. Warming my stomach, tickling the edges of my mind. I pretended it was the brandy making my cheekbones and neck flush, rather than the conversation. It was hard to separate the contract from myself when the bastard kept asking such personal questions.

“Monogamous.” I muttered finally, keeping my gaze fixed on my lap, even though it made no sense. My point was clear. After all, if I was going to do this marriage thing, I was going to do it right. Consign myself to my misery. And certainly not give this man any further ammunition against me in the future. Better to go it alone, as I always had.

His faint chuckle had me stiffening, but I pushed aside my discomfort. Reminding myself what this was all for. His quill scratched audibly across the page.

“Alright then, living quarters. Combined or separate?”

I nearly groaned. Another personal question? I ran my thumb over the lip of my glass. “Why is it necessary for that to be in the contract?” I grumbled, barely managing to conceal my irritation with his prying.

He tsked me, taking a deep sip of his own drink before flicking the feather of the quill at me pointedly. “We are embarking on a cross-cultural experiment, my young Prince. It is important all things be discussed. To avoid undue arguments and discontent down the line. No matter how trivial it may seem now.”

I almost snorted again but shook my head instead. “Kings and Queens traditionally have separate quarters.” I mumbled distantly. Would that notion matter in this instance?

“Really?” Breathed Grier, returning the quill to the inkwell and picking up his glass again. “I had heard such, but believed it more a formality than a common practice. How are conjugal visits managed?”

I glanced up at him, trying to discern if he was prying again. Trying to raise my ire. But he seemed genuinely curious, his red eyes sparkling in the firelight. I sighed deeply, raising one hand and rubbing at my brow.

“The Queen usually visits the King’s chambers regularly, until she becomes pregnant.”

“And after?”

I shrugged, raking my brain to remember how it had been between my own parents. “... Once an heir is produced, the visits are… less regular…” Likely because they were merely duty and obligation before. And once the coupling had produced a child? The King could return to his whores and the Queen to whatever her fancies.

He ran his finger over his lip, leaning back in his chair. “How absolutely odd. No wonder your people are so sexually repressed. You never see one another.”

Perhaps it was the now empty glass in my hand. Perhaps it was the fatigue from the long journey, or the emotional stress from the last few hours. But his words made me snort loudly, my facade of stoic calm dropping long enough to let a few short, soft laughs peter from my mouth.

When I looked over at him, he looked surprised. His eyes were wide, his slender brows high. My laughter faded, and I cleared my throat quickly, straightening.

“My apologies, Your Majesty, that was-”

“Please,” He stopped me again, reaching out one hand, “Just Grier. No ’Your Majesty’. And do not apologize.” He grinned, and for the first time, it seemed actually genuine rather than teasing or coy. “I am glad to see you are at least capable of laughter… Though I have yet to see you smile.” His smirk returned, and his eyes became playful. “I am not certain you know how.”

I rolled my eyes slightly, and a small scowl came over my lips. But I found myself not as annoyed as I had been at his teasing. I heard him stand, and his hand gently reached out and took my glass. I felt my heart skip a beat, though I berated myself for the foolishness as he returned to the cart with both.

He held my gaze for a moment too long as he passed me back my refilled glass, and I felt heat creeping up my neck. But I was careful to keep my face a careful mask of stoic indifference. It had been foolish of me to allow him to gain the upper hand thus far in negotiations. To let him put me constantly on edge with trivial questions that had nothing to do with the long term prosperity for my people. I was determined not to allow it to happen again.

Grier took his seat once more, swirling the brandy in his glass and taking a slow sip. Still, he watched me with those startling scarlet eyes. I felt my lips curving into a slight frown, but waited. As King, he should always be the one to speak first. It was not my place to address him unless I was first addressed. Perhaps he knew this, which is why he declined to speak. Instead fixing me with his unnerving gaze. Or, another part of me reasoned, perhaps he did not. Perhaps goblins did not have this custom, and he was waiting for me to speak first. As the guest. In which case, it was disrespectful for me not to speak.

I was still torn, debating which line of etiquette we were following, when he leaned forward in his chair and rested his elbows on his knees. My eyes flicked back to him at the movement, the only hint to my surprise.

“I find I am curious about you, Prince Nikostratus,” He said, sly smirk still dancing about his lips, “In truth, I did not expect you to agree to such an arrangement as this. And when you did, I was certain I would be able to call your bluff quickly.” My grip on my glass tightened, but I remained otherwise unmoved outwardly. “And if we are being completely honest, which I believe we should be, I originally proposed it to force you to trade your little sister for the sake of your own comfort and pride.”

I felt a chill run down my spine at his words, and my eyes narrowed sharply. “My sister?”

His expression faltered at the iciness of my tone, and even his smile shrank a few inches. The goblin quickly raised one hand. “Not for any untoward reason, I can assure you. More to gauge who you are as a person.”

I considered him, my gaze still chilled. A sinking feeling had grabbed hold of my nerves and dragged down the sensation from my fingertips with it. Leaving a tingling numbness slowly spreading through my body.

“Then you do not intend to keep this contract, Your Majesty?”

He chuckled nervously, finally dropping those scarlet eyes in the face of my cold, growing rage. “I feel we have regressed-”

“On the contrary,” I interrupted, eager to exploit his sudden off balanceness as he had so readily exploited mine, “I feel we have finally come to the end.” I started to stand, reaching out to place my glass on the table. “If you are quite done wasting my time, Your Majesty, I will return when you are ready to discuss a real contract for peace, rather than whatever sham you have attempted to ply onto me thus far.”

“This was not any kind of deception-” He jumped to his feet as I stood, quickly skirting over as if to block my path. “Your Highness, please-” I moved to step around him “-Prince Nikostratus!”

I froze, then looked down at him, his hand firmly clamped on my arm. His pronounced brow was knotted, his scarlet eyes narrowed. I found his grip surprisingly strong, despite his diminutive stature. The goblin was about a foot shorter than me, but it was a fact easily forgettable considering the square of his shoulders and the determined way he set his angular jaw.

We stayed like that for a breath, staring at each other. I fixed the King with as cold a glare as I could manage, and I saw him searching my face for a long, quiet moment. I wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but I was careful to keep up my stoney visage to be sure he would never find it.

“I have spoken too brashly,” He interjected finally, his voice soft, “And have thus insulted you… Which was far from my intent.” He gestured with his other hand, back to the arm chairs. “Please, Your Highness, allow me a moment to explain myself.”

I glanced back over my shoulder at the chairs, and my lips pinched tighter together in displeasure at the idea of returning. Disgust rolled in my gut, and I felt bile rising in my throat. But I worked hard to cool my anger. Reminding myself that whatever monster I was dealing with, I had to best him at his game. For everything I had left behind, and for everything that may yet lay before me. And perhaps, for the first time since we had met, I had him on the defense. It might be best to keep him there.

So I gave him a curt nod. “As you wish, Your Majesty.” I agreed stiffly.

He dropped his hand, relief flooding his features. I considered that for a moment as he magnanimously extended his arm. Leading the way back to the armchairs. I stood before mine, but did not sit, instead choosing to cross my arms over my chest. I had been told, due to the athletic tone of my body, that this was a rather imposing gesture on my part. Morgana had once told me it made my arms, chest, and shoulders look twice as big. My advisors had dryly followed up by telling me to never do so, as it hardly left the impression of a stately Prince. More, they said, a warmongering savage. But at that moment, I didn’t care. I wanted to make the goblin King feel small. I wanted him to be fearful and on edge.

I saw his eyes running me up and down, saw his narrow eyebrows twitch. He declined to sit as well, instead choosing to stand and face me with his three fingered hands lightly on his hips. 

“When talk of peace between our two Kingdoms first arose,” he began, “I was the one who proposed a union through marriage. I had thought it a sign. My advisors have long been pressing the idea of my marriage, but I had always been hesitant. After all,” He smirked slightly here, “You only get married once.” He straightened, his smirk becoming a frown, “But I was told that your sister would be my prospective partner, as the King’s only daughter. The prospect of marrying a child, for any reason, left me ill at the thought.” He shifted, tucking his hands against the small of his back. “So when I learned of your lack of interest in the fairer sex,” He continued, and I stiffened slightly at the implications, “I was relieved. You are an adult, after all, only a few years my junior, able to consent to the marriage of your own free will. You would understand what the arrangement would entail, and my conscience would rest easy knowing it was a consensual contract.” The shadow of his smirk returned to the corners of his mouth. “Imagine my surprise when I learned that your people would take a direct proposal of this nature as an outright insult! That they would rather I marry a child than a Prince.”

“And yet, Your Majesty, you chose to lay the insult upon me nevertheless.” I mused, my voice still cold. My anger still pounding in my breast.

He raised his hands defensively. “I did not plan to pursue that course of action. Not until I learned it was you yourself who would be coming to the peace negotiations did I see the opportunity to even do so.” He considered me slyly. “I had heard tales of your family, of your pride and snobbery,” He raised his hands again as my eyes flashed, but his voice remained light and teasing, “Though I much preferred an arranged marriage with you, I had assumed I would not find you an appealing match in the least.”

“Your Majesty, if you intend to continue this line of-”

“I put you to a test,” He interrupted, returning his hands to the small of his back, eyes dancing, “It was childish, perhaps, and I will honestly say, I did fully expect you to fail. I proposed the marriage to your sister, to see if you would agree to such an outrageous pairing. Then I offered you an alternative.”

I considered him quietly, mulling over his words. I thought about speaking then, in the silence he let settle about us. But I decided to wait to see if he had more to say. Though it seemed less a defense of his behavior thus far and more of a confession. So I waited, eyes slightly narrowed, arms still crossed over my chest.

“... So you see, I expected you to offer your sister to me, rather than risk your own image and honor. As I said before.” He paused briefly, and his head cocked ever so slightly to the side. “... But you surprised me.”

I gritted my teeth, scowling at him. “I am afraid, Your Majesty, that your so-called honesty has only confirmed my understanding that you were simply stringing me along. Intending to dishonor and embarrass me without any intent of-”

“I have every intent-” He interrupted me again “-Of marrying you. I always have.”

That made my breath catch in my throat, and my composure slipped ever so slightly around my eyes as they widened. I quickly reset my features, swallowing the lump forming in my throat.

He watched quietly, then gestured again to the chair. “Please, let us return to our negotiations. If we can move past this strife… For the good of our people, if nothing else.”

I hesitated, watching him sit as if the matter had been settled. There was still a question burning on my lips, but I was not certain I could continue on with any semblance of a level head if I knew the answer. For that reason, I chose not to ask it; not yet at least. I gritted my teeth again, studying him as he waited patiently, gazing up at me with those scarlet eyes.

“Your Majesty, If I find this is some long winded prank-”

“It is not.” He promised, then smiled his coy, teasing smile. “And please call me Grier, I beg of you. I cannot suffer the titles and formalities much longer than I absolutely must.”

I glanced back at the waiting armchair, at the abandoned glass of brandy. “What assurance do I have that it is not?”

Grier lifted one long, slender finger, tapping his lips thoughtfully. “We shall put it in the document, if it would set your mind at ease.” He declared, reaching out and picking up the quill once more. “Should it be discovered that either party entered this marriage contract under false pretenses, it shall immediately become null and void, and the offending party shall secede to the ruling authority of the other.” He ended the sentence on the page with a fancy flourish of the quill tip, and raised one brow at me. “Is that satisfactory?”

I resisted the urge to give him an un-princely grumble, and settled for a scowl instead. But I did return to my seat, slowly, stiffly, and after a moment reached for my glass.

“I believe we should discuss the ceremony itself.” He proposed tentatively, watching me through his pale lashes as he took another sip of his own brandy. “To be certain it is official and legally binding for both species.”

I swallowed my sigh, and gave a small nod. “As you wish.”

The goblin did not continue right away, cocking his head to the side again and studying me as he took a deep, slow sip of his drink. I waited, rolling my own glass distractedly against my palms. It was smooth, and cool to the touch. Almost as soothing as the liquid it held.

“But perhaps we can leave that for a later date.” I glanced over at him, and he flashed me a charming smile of pointed teeth. “I would like to hear what additions to the contract you would like to discuss first.”

I took a sip of the brandy, nodding much more resolutely. “Very well. The taxes levied on the people-”

He waved his hand, cutting me off. “No, no.” He sat forward in his chair. “Let the understudies and scribes deal with such tedious ticks. We will review them before the formal signing, but need not discuss the specifics ourselves.”

I frowned. “I beg your pardon, I thought you wished to discuss my additions…. What other addendum would you mean to discuss?”

Grier sighed deeply, and his lips twitched with amusement. “Those of a more personal nature, of course.” He swirled his brandy with a deft wrist. “We discussed those issues I felt might arise through the course of our marriage; children, lovers, living arrangements. You must have your own expectations for this union as well. Something to put in ink.”

I stiffened, and my gaze snapped down to the drink in my hands. “... I do not.”

He scoffed, waving his hand again. “Come now, there must be something. Summer castles, hunting trips, gifts, anniversaries, retirement plans. Perhaps religious beliefs? Dietary requirements?” I shook my head, and he rolled his eyes teasingly. “You must have some thoughts or plans for the remainder of your life.”

I took another sip of the brandy, letting it sit in my mouth for a moment before slowly swallowing it. “... I have no expectations.”

That set a deafening silence upon the cluttered room, and we sat in it for an extended period. Grier watched me, and I watched the flames flickering in the fireplace. Keeping my stoney expression flat and void. I forced all other thoughts from my mind to keep them from my face. As I had been taught and perfected through a lifetime of necessity.

“... It is late.” The goblin replied finally, clearing his throat and shuffling the parchment on his lap. “Undoubtedly it has been a long day. If you are agreeable, I will take you to our guest quarters for the evening so you may rest.”

I looked at the papers he placed upon the marble table. “The contract-”

“Will be there in the morning, when we are both more rested and fresh.” He finished, tossing his head back to drain the last of his glass and standing.

I followed suit, brushing my hands down my abdomen to smooth the starchy fabric there. He gestured to me as he moved towards the door, and the weariness of the day dragged at my shoulders. I found I had not the strength to argue further, and simply fell in step behind him as he pulled open the grand door and stepped back out into the hall.

I had never had a head for floorplans or layouts, and the twists and turns he led me down quickly became jumbled in my tired mind. Give me a war field with troops and battalions and I could coordinate and execute the most stunning and creative of maneuvers. Place me in a castle hall and give me directions to the kitchen and I would get lost. So I stayed at his mercy, allowing him to lead me deeper into his underground castle until we came before a set of old wooden doors.

“Here we are.” He exclaimed, halting and turning to face me. I stopped short to avoid running into his smaller frame. Sharp teeth grinned up at me. “You should find everything you need here. And I shall have an attendant at the door, should you find you require anything additional.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty-” I noticed his brow twitch slightly at the title, and I quickly clamped my mouth shut over the last syllable.

I saw him hesitate, glancing at the door, then back to me. I sensed there was more, and waited patiently. Even though my palms itched to open the door and have the peace of my own company. Even though my spine ached from holding so straight and perfect for so many long hours. I was well versed in patience; in serving the will of another at the expense of my own. So I waited.

“I would request your presence for breakfast.” He said, cupping his hands behind his back. “... Socially. For the pleasure of your company and to get to know you better, if you are willing.” Now it was my turn to hesitate, my breath catching in my throat. “You may decline, if you wish.” He added quickly. “I do not mind sending your meal to your rooms, then we may speak later to complete the final details of the marriage contract.”

My besotted mind could not quite fathom the full extent of the offer, and I belittled a sigh that managed to sneak out with a soft gust from my nose. My lips pursed, I nodded to the Goblin King, feeling the hairs on the back of my neck prickle even as I did.

“Of course, Your-.... Ehm…” I cleared my throat, then looked down at the floor. “Of course… Grier.”

His name tasted strange on my tongue, and felt wrong to say. But the way he beamed up at me with delight made heat scratch at the edge of my collar. I shifted my weight slightly, glancing back at the stone floor.

“Excellent! I will see you in the morning then, Prince Nikostratus.”

...

UPDATE: Part two HERE

[warsofasoiaf]

Hello, your recent answers on Poland and Cold War politics in general got me into a lot of readings on wikipedia, among others the falling out between the Soviet Union and China. And while I get that they were really, really on bad terms (even apparently being on the brink of nuclear war in 69), there is one thing that puzzles me. Mao saw himself as the true leader of the Eastern Block and heir to Leninism and Stalinism. So how did he came to support Pinochet in Chile? That´s... Weird.

It’s weird at first glance, but this is common when it comes to foreign policy and the Cold War. Mao supported Pinochet because he opposed the Soviet Union. In the greater context of the Cold War, that very much falls in line with the pattern. Mao perceived the Soviet Union as an imperial entity (which was true), and so opposed Soviet conducting covert support to prop up left-wing regimes across the world through their communist parties or armed revolutionary groups. This isn’t unique to the Cold War either. The French supported the Americans in the Revolutionary War not because of ideological sympathy with American revolutionaries, but because of their foreign policy struggle with England. England and France supported the Ottomans not only because Sultan Abdulmecid established strong trade relationships but also to prevent Russian expansion into the Black Sea and, if Constantinople fell, to the Mediterranean. Heck, the Soviet Union and the United Kingdom were on the same side in the Nigerian-Biafra War, supporting the Federal Government of Nigeria against Biafra, who was supported by France and China. This wasn’t due to support or opposition to Biafran separatism, but rather for mundane concerns of nationhood: The Federal Government of Nigeria sold cheap oil to the British and bought Soviet MIG’s, China supported Biafra out of opposition to the Soviet Union, while France supported them out of competition in West Africa with England (and in exchange for Biafran oil).

Thanks for the question, Rig.

SomethingLikeALawyer, Hand of the King

[herald-divine-hell]

The Failure Toward Islam in Dragon Age

This is a response to @shimmrgloom. He asked to go into detail about why I consider the Qunari a poor representation of historical Islam.

Warning: this will be a long post.

-

Let us start off the bat with most likely the most superficial reasoning why the Qunari and the Qun are meant to represent Islam. First and foremost, the world: “Qunari” is merely a switch around of the world “Qu’ran”, the holy book of Islam, just with an added “i” at the end. But you may be wondering: Herald, surely that was so coincidence? Not particularly, I say, no. BioWare does not accidentally name things - Templar is not coincidentally a term that they used to describe violent oppressors who serve the Thedas’ most religious and centralized body. Something so similar, describing a people who come from a land that is foreign to the rest of Thedas, a foreign way of life, and who are - to the minds of the Thedosians - quintessentially different that it leads to contempt and distrust almost automatically in their first meetings.

Background:

Now, some history over Islam. Islam, as most people know, was founded in the 7th century by the Prophet Muhammad, who revolutionized the societal framework of the Arabian Peninsula. Once a sandy land filled with bickering tribes that fought each other more and less than the outside the great powers of their heyday, the Eastern Roman Empire and the Sassanid Persian Empire. What Muhammad did, and not only did he start the world’s second largest religion, was unthinkable at the time. Instead of unifying the tribes in a manner of merely just conquest, though Muhammad was indeed a fearsome warrior and tactian, Muhammad utilized religion, and bounded everyone under the idea of the Ummah - the community of Islam - which thoroughly demolished any idea that kinship was greater than religion (though the idea would continue on to the modern age, with the rise of nationalism, to muddy the waters even further.) Now, it was near impossible for any one tribe to claim superiority over the other. All were equal in the eyes of God, and so the community should see each other as equals. (Again, the idea was there, but slavery was, and still is, prevalent, though Muhammad was known to have freed many of slaves throughout his life, with one of the first converts in Islam to have been an African slave.)

During the time of the Prophet, and the later successors to him after his death, known as the Caliphs, raids were conducted against the warring Romans and Persians at their Arabian border. It was only after a while did the Arabs commit a full offensive attack, utterly demolishing and annexing the Persians, and conquering large swaths of North Africa, including one of the Eastern Romans’ most prized provinces, Egypt. In only a few short decades, the Rashidun Caliphs - those who were companions and close friends and were, actually, elected by a council to be the successors, akin to a weaker sense of democracy - crafted an administrated dominion that was larger than Rome during its height. Most commonly, a lot of Westerners believe that the Arabs actively sought to convert their newly conquered subjects to Islam, and while there is a law that says a non-Muslim may not take a high ruling position in the government, (which would later change, as many religions and ethnics became the second highest positions in some islamic states) and that they must pay a higher tax, known as the jizyah, most of Islam’s converts came from the people’s own free will (if they lived under the Caliphate, most likely paying less in taxes was a large incentive) or from trade, as the Mali Empire and others showed, or it came from other governing powers, like the Turks or the Mongolians, adopting the religion of their subjects. Though, it primarily came from trade.

After the fall of the Rashidun Caliphate under Caliph Ali (and I’m not even going to get into the First Fitna, or the First Islamic Civil War, nor am I going to get into the Sunni-Shia split that occurred during the rule of the first Caliph, Abu Bakr.) the Umayyad family rose to power and claimed the Caliphate for themselves. Now, the Umayyads were different then the Rashidun - all five Caliphs were elected - but the new Caliphs were hereditary, adopted with even more practices from the more sophisticated Byzantines and Persians. During their rule, the first contacts between Islam and the West properly. (Prior to this, the only real meetings were between the Eastern Romans and the Caliphates, with a few incursions into Sicily.) The Umayyds swept up into the Iberian Peninsula, where Spain and Porturgal, and a little bit of the United Kingdom through Gibraltar, now resides, and moved into a little of southern France - though it was merely a tiny raid, Western History would compare it to a major victory for Christendom. (It did stop Islamic movement into Western Europe, but the Ottomans would show that Islam did not leave Europe entirely. The Umayyads would not continue heading into France for numerous reasons. Number one being that there was a massive rebellion occurring in the central part of the Caliphate, and two, their power would be extremely diminished.)

Now, after the Umayyads, come the Abbassids, the new Islamic Caliphate - and though not the largest, it was considered to be the greatest in terms of cultural and scientific importance for Islam. For under the Abbassids, Islam would begin its golden age. In this time, men like Ibn Sina, the Father of early medicine, or ibn Musa al-Khwarizmi, the Father of algebra, or ibn Hayyan, the father of modern pharmacy, would live in thrive. The Islamic Marco Polo, ibn Battuta, who traveled across Asia and Africa more times that one would consider necessary, would be born. The House of Wisdom, created by Caliph Harun al-Rashid, where Muslims, Jews, and Christians would work side by side, peacefully. (And even in Islamic Iberia, under the rule of the overthrown Umayyads, intellect bloomed, especially for the Jewish people.) And one of the first modern university in Islam, and the known world at the time, the University of al-Qarawiyyin, by Fatima al-Fihri, was also established during its time, and is still open to this day. 

Why am I harking on and on about the glories of men and women long dead? What does this have to do with the Qunari? Well, everything.

The Qunari:

As I mentioned before, the Qunari are meant to be the historical counterparts of the Islamic caliphates during its time. Why, you may ask? Well, for starters, their entire relationship with Thedas (Europe) is identical to Islam...from a European perspective.

The Qunari are invaders, fanatics about spreading their philosophy/religion/way of life to all the world who does not follow it. Now, out of everything I just explain, surely it has no connection to Islam? But it does. To Europe, their safety was in constant threat by Islam, especially the Byzantiums. Which was not unwarranted to be believed - the Arabs had tried to siege down Constantinople twice, and the Seljuk Turks, whom overwhelmed the Caliphate to establish their own nation over the Middle East, while allowing the Caliph to remain nominally head of Islam, had pushed deep into Anatolia, nearly to Constantinople, which sparked the Crusades.

What we got from the Qunari wasn’t not Islam as we noted, not totally at least. (which is fair. You typically don’t want to take everything from real life in your fantasy world) But it is the way Europe has viewed Islam for over one thousand and four hundred years. But unlike Europe being wrong, from what we get of the Qunari, from actual interactions, especially from the Iron Bull, of the Qun, we can assume that the Thedosian xenophobia is seemingly justified. Islam is foreign, and the West has always perceived the Near East as foreign, mystical, animistic. (This goes way back to Ancient Greece and Rome) And unlike our world, the Qunari is all of that, and more.

Instead of getting intellectual growth and cultural prosperity, we get what the modern West considers the Islamic fanatics, but as the entirety of the group. The Qunari wants to subsequent Thedosian and Andrastian doctrine to the philosophy of the Qun (Sha’ria) Instead of wearing armor, they wear tight ropes that show off skin that is alien in color, and have horns that are exotic. (Just like how Europe saw Muslim women as seductresses, with near-translucent cloths for clothing) Instead of being tolerant to other peoples religions - which the early Muslims were very much were, especially during their times - the Qun would take no one else, but Qunari. All will have to convert, or risk death, imprisonment in a mine, or worse. They are “reeducated” by the Qun, to follow orders and to die for their philosophy. Where do we see that? ISIL, Al-Qaeda, the Taliban - contemporary fanatics, but they are the near closet to Islam as the Qunari get.  What we see is a mockery to beliefs that Islam had stood for over a thousand years.

We do not get the Qunari preserving ancient Tevinter documents. We do not get ibn Sina, and other Islamic philosophers and investors that changed the world - for better, or for worse. We get nothing that shows Islam during the time period that Thedas is meant to take place, but the rest of the Thedas easily can pass for their historical time period, except with fantastical creatures. Even with the Ottomans, sure they took boys to make them guards and an elite infantry, and thats the fairest you can say that looks like the Qunari during that time period, but thats it. 

All in all, the Qunari is meant to take the place of Islam, while demolishing everything Islam was and is, instead propping forth centuries old propaganda and stereotypes and fears.

I do acknowledge that the Qunari are not entirely Islamic in society - they have large aspects from Communism and Confucianism - but their historical and geopolitical placement in Thedas, alongside their foreign policy toward Thedas is merely Islamophobia in its entirety. And that hurts to say, because the Qunari could had been something more, but BioWare did not even try to recon it. Sure, they are technologically advance, but at what cost? Slavery? Conquest? Everything that I have learned since I was a child about the terror of Islam? It’s true for the Qunari, and its hurt. Don’t get me wrong, I find the Qunari fascinating, and I can’t (hopefully) wait to learn more about them in DA4, but it still hurts to see my history so tarnished by BioWare’s lack of even proper research.

[96thdayofrage]

On June 16, 1933, President Franklin Delano Roosevelt made a statement in celebration of the passage of the National Industrial Recovery Act (NIRA). The historic legislation sanctioned many of Roosevelt's most ambitious proposals to tackle the Great Depression, including the creation of the Public Works Administration (PWA). NIRA, which would be rendered defunct by judicial mandate just two years later, is perhaps best noted for being the first federal minimum wage scheme.

Through the legislation, the newly-created National Recovery Administration (NRA) was given the mandate to establish minimum wage rates through cooperation with private firms. Five years later, Roosevelt would sign the Fair Labor Standards Act of 1938, thereby creating the first standardized federal minimum wage. Roosevelt did not mince words when speaking about why he supported minimum wage laws. In Roosevelt's own words, "[i]t seems to me to be equally plain that no business which depends for existence on paying less than living wages to its workers has any right to continue in this country." Roosevelt additionally clarified that "...by living wages[,] I mean more than a bare subsistence level– I mean the wages of decent living."

Roosevelt's reason for supporting and presiding over the creation of a federal minimum wage was clear: The minimum wage was intended to allow all workers to achieve a decent standard of living. Roosevelt added, in equally explicit terms, the goal of the federal minimum wage as created by NIRA was to transform workers' "starvation wages and starvation employment [in]to living wages and sustained employment". The demand for minimum wage laws to improve workers' livelihoods had become common throughout much of the international labor movement decades prior to the passage of NIRA. These campaigns shared a common goal: Rectifying the fact that far too many workers were being paid too little to lead a decent livelihood.

The first modern minimum wage law was enacted in New Zealand as part of the Industrial Conciliation and Arbitration Act of 1894, passed primarily to curb further labor agitation in response to the 1890 maritime strike. The legislation created an arbitration court to set minimum wages in various industries to guarantee decent standards of living for workers in said sectors. As economist M.B. Hammond noted in The Regulation of Wages in New Zealand (1917), through the legislation, "it would be the duty of the Court to see that the minimum wage established by the Court was high enough to enable the worker to maintain a decent standard of living."

The passage of the legislation was followed across the Ditch two years later in Australia, with the colony of Victoria implementing the Victorian Factories and Shops Act in 1896. The legislation created wages boards especially to tackle rampant poverty among "sweated workers", whose measly wages prevented them from leading decent standards of living. This monumental victory had reverberations across the world, inspiring similar efforts in the United States and Europe. In 1909, the Parliament of the United Kingdom passed the Trade Boards Act, intended to guarantee workers in industries notorious for low wages a living wage. Speaking in favor of the act, Winston Churchill MP, then a young Liberal, stated that "[i]t is a serious national evil that any class of His Majesty's subjects should receive less than a living wage in return for their utmost exertions."

In the United States, groups like the National Consumers League (NCL) led the push for state-level minimum wage legislation during the 1910s. Early minimum wage campaigns were intrinsically linked with the women's rights movement, with feminist leaders identifying minimum wage laws as a means to curb poverty among working women, who invariably received lower wages than their male counterparts. Notable advocates of minimum wage laws in this period include future Social Security Board member Molly Dewson and iconic social reformer Florence Kelley, the latter of whom played a major role in Massachusetts's early adoption of the minimum wage.

Speaking on the need for minimum wage laws, the NCL stated that "the interests of the community demand that all workers shall receive fair living wages, and that goods shall be produced under sanitary conditions". By 1923, Massachusetts had been joined by fourteen other states as well as the District of Columbia in passing minimum wage laws. These state-level laws, along with other progressive labor legislation, would find itself a target of the judicial activism of the Lochner-era Supreme Court.

There is no ambiguity surrounding the reasoning behind the Roosevelt Administration and earlier advocates' support for minimum wage laws. The purpose of minimum wage legislation was to guarantee that workers, be it from select industries or across-the-board, would be paid well enough to afford a decent livelihood. Given that the federal minimum wage was created to be a living wage, one would expect that any suggestion to the contrary would be met with universal derision. Unfortunately, the false claim that the minimum wage was never intended to be a living wage remains a popular conservative talking point.

The prevalence of this talking point is especially bizarre given that it does not even make sense at face value. What, exactly would be the purpose of laws mandating a minimum if not to prevent employers from paying their workers too little to live on? Despite the absurdity of this claim, PragerU, a hard-right propaganda front originally propped up by petroleum tycoons, had the gall to say say that a "minimum wage, by definition, is not supposed to be a living wage". In a thinly-veiled dig at food service workers, "[h]uman beings are designed to learn, to grow, and to become capable adults. Entry-level jobs help provide that initial opportunity."

It's tempting to respond to this claim by noting that minimum wage jobs are anything but the exclusive domain of teenagers. International conglomerates like McDonalds do not hire cashiers and kitchen workers as some kind of charity measure to allow young people to gain experience to "become capable adults". Fast food giants hire these workers because their businesses would necessarily not be able to survive without their labor, an extremely basic concept that conservatives who claim economic expertise have somehow not been able to figure out.

But doing so, even if necessary, feels wrong, because PragerU and similar mouthpieces are not arguing in good faith. This is not an instance of misunderstanding the history of minimum wage campaigns, but a deliberate lie to antagonize and devalue food workers. Providing proof that minimum wage jobs are not the exclusive domain of high school students is futile because conservatives do not care about the welfare of older workers, either.

When conservatives dismiss the necessity of providing food service workers with a living wage, they are not doing so because they feel the jobs they perform are obsolete. After all, anyone who regularly purchases prepared food is aware of the need for workers to cook and serve meals. On the contrary, they fully understand the necessity of these jobs, they're just more than willing to let those who perform them suffer in poverty.

Despite Americans' famous disregard for the welfare of "burger flippers"—this hateful moniker persists, even after the "essential worker" label became ubiquitous during the COVID-19 pandemic—it's clear that President Joe Biden's $15 federal minimum wage initiative has a popular mandate. When Seattle instituted a $15 minimum wage in 2014, the policy was denounced as radical, a self-inflicted wound that would surely sabotage the city's rapid growth. The tireless effort of organized labor, progressive politicians, and the clear success of the policy where it has been implemented has led to the policy being embraced by both the Democratic Party and the public at-large.

Though the leftist critique that a $15 minimum wage was insufficient as a means to eradicate poverty among workers in 2014 and is even less effective seven years later has merit, perspective is needed here. More than doubling the federal minimum wage will surely transform countless lives for the better, and it's entirely consistent to recognize this while also supporting campaigns for future increases to the minimum wage. Raising the federal minimum wage to $15 an hour will not single-handedly fulfill the initial goal of minimum wage laws—ensuring that all workers will be paid enough money to live on—but if implemented will be a huge step towards it.

[apextradefunding]

Best Prop Trading Firms in the UK for Aspiring Traders

The UK is a leading global hub for finance and trading, offering abundant opportunities for those aspiring to make their mark in proprietary trading (prop trading). The prop trading in United Kingdom is thriving, with numerous firms providing capital to skilled traders, allowing them to trade the markets and share profits while minimizing personal risk. Here’s an overview of some of the best prop trading companies in United Kingdom that cater to ambitious traders.

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This firm emphasizes discipline and performance consistency, offering traders tools and insights to optimize their strategies and achieve success in volatile markets.

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Its streamlined approach and commitment to developing consistent performers make The5ers a popular choice for forex-focused traders.

City Traders Imperium (CTI)

City Traders Imperium is a London-based firm that combines funding with education and mentorship. CTI’s mission is to develop disciplined, long-term traders through tailored training programs and psychological support.

This firm’s flexibility allows traders to explore futures trading in united kingdom and various markets, making it a versatile option for those looking to expand their skill set. Its focus on trader development ensures a strong foundation for future growth.

Audacity Capital

Audacity Capital is another prominent name among prop trading companies in united kingdom, specializing in forex trading. It provides traders with funded accounts and does not require lengthy evaluation processes for experienced traders.

This firm’s transparent funding model and supportive trading environment attract both new and seasoned traders. Audacity Capital emphasizes growth and profitability, offering resources to help traders succeed in competitive markets.

BluFX

BluFX takes a unique approach to the prop trading in united kingdom with its subscription-based funding model. This system eliminates the need for profit-sharing, allowing traders to retain their full earnings. BluFX is especially appealing to forex traders seeking straightforward access to capital without extensive evaluations.

The firm’s flexible and transparent structure makes it a great option for those who value simplicity and control over their trading outcomes.

Tips for Choosing the Best Prop Trading Firm

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Conclusion

The UK is home to some of the world’s leading trading prop firms in United Kingdom, each offering unique opportunities for aspiring traders. Firms like FTMO, The5ers, City Traders Imperium, Audacity Capital, and BluFX provide access to capital, resources, and platforms for traders to excel in futures trading in United Kingdom.

By carefully evaluating your goals and preferences, you can choose a firm that aligns with your ambitions and supports your growth as a trader. With options such as funded trader program in united kingdom, apex trader funding in united kingdom, and even atf trader in united kingdom, you’ll find ample opportunities to thrive. With the right firm and perhaps even atf funded in united kingdom, you’ll be well-equipped to navigate the fast-paced and rewarding world of proprietary trading.

[georgiawish-blog]

Budget planning: How much does a flight to New Zealand cost?

So to give the cinema audience the same feeling as the reader of the novel had, the scenes have to be changed. Nevertheless, New Line Cinema understandably wanted to prevent oversaturation in advance, as marketing examples from the past showed that too much media hype in advance can also harm a film. At the latest, when the topic is running up and down in all TV shows, a premature surfeit effect occurs. Moreover, expectations are driven to unattainable heights, so that at some point it becomes impossible for filmmakers to satisfy them at all. The fantasy genre hasn't had an easy time in the past.

Safety in trafficThe Deadly: "Tree Tutu" and "Ongaonga" alias Baumnessel

|} They had long discussions about what constituted the spirit of Middle-earth and spent whole nights in selection. Peter Jackson distinguished himself during the discussions by the fact that he knew not only the LORD OF THE RINGS and the SILMARILLION, but also the entire HISTORY OF MIDDLE-EARTH (that is 12 volumes of 1000 pages each) almost by heart. But Bakshi showed the film bosses at United Artists and producer Saul Zaentz (A FLOG ABOUT THE KUCKUCKSNEST). He began to shoot the film using the rotoscopic method. In this procedure, real scenes are first shot with real actors, which are then later overdrawn.

In which continent is New Zealand?

New Zealand belongs geopolitically to the so-called continent of Oceania together with Australia and the islands in the Northwest and South Pacific. on which the largest glacier of the same name in Europe is located, is in the southeast of Iceland. Here, several outdoor scenes were shot north of the wall. But there is no exact point that can be named. Scenes at the river were shot at the Aratiatia Rapids at the Waikato River as also at the Pelorus River in the district Marlborough. A highland farm in the Paradise area near Queenstown was converted into Beorn's house. The same location is also the setting for numerous fight scenes in the film series.

By far the most important trading partner was the United Kingdom, to which about half of the mostly agricultural goods produced in New Zealand were exported.

Pick up a mobile phone, but don't expect to receive outside populated areas.

{

Westhaven Marina near the Auckland Harbour Bridge is not only the largest marina in the city, but in the whole southern hemisphere with about 1400 boat places.five years of work a two-hour film called LORD OF THE RINGS was released in 1977 with the title LORD OF THE RINGS. Again and again he put in props and took countless photos. The first meeting of Deanerys and Khal Drogo was shot here.

Landscapes [Edit

Read more about campervan hire New Zealand here. Negotiations on a free trade zone with the People's Republic of China have been underway since 2005. Tourism is also of particular importance for the New Zealand economy.

[theperidotshade]

@distressedherbalist, here’s the start of the Blind!Ardyn fic, as promised.  This is the very rough beginning, the scene will be completed when I’m finished with Thanksgiving-related stress.

Kindness Is the Language

Regis could feel his life starting to slip away as Glauca drew back his sword to stab him once more.  He braced himself for the final moment of pain.

It never came.

Regis fell to the floor as a heavy thud echoed behind him, followed by cautious, hurried footsteps and a skittering, clicking noise of some sort.

Darkness settled over Regis as gentle hands framed the wound in his back.

Regis woke to the heavy stench of smoke in the air.  He was lying on a cushioned surface of some sort, wind roaring overhead.  He groaned, his whole body throbbing.

"Rest, Your Majesty," a voice he thought he should recognize said, "We're almost to safety."

Regis let out a long breath, relaxing into the softness beneath him.  He drifted off once more.

Regis woke again. Warmth was spreading through him, easing pain he'd been aware of even in unconsciousness.  He stirred, sighing.  The hands lifting themselves off his back paused.

"Your Majesty?" a particularly distinctive voice asked.  He recognized those tones—but their presence was concerning.  He opened his eyes.

Regis was resting face down on what seemed to be a cheap hotel bed—the pillowcase under his cheek scratched as he shifted his head further to the side to look around, and the smell of hotel laundry detergent was hard to forget.

Sitting in a chair pulled up to his bedside was exactly the person he expected—the Imperial Chancellor, golden eyes unfocused and a furrow etched between red-violet brows.

What Regis had not expected was the man hovering behind him.

Clarus sent him a grin.  "What, old friend, did you think you'd be rid of me so easily?"

Regis gave a helpless laugh, reaching out a hand.  Clarus took it firmly between his own as Izunia rolled his eyes, the motion stretching the scar tissue that covered over half the official's face.

"Do recall that you very nearly were removed to the Beyond permanently by the time I arrived," the Niflheimr said, standing carefully and trailing a hand along the arms and back of the chair to guide himself to the small desk set against the bland eggshell-white wall.  He picked up a glass of water and two pills, which were handed over to Clarus.

Clarus, in turn, set them on the nightstand and leaned forward to help Regis turn over and sit propped against the headboard with a bunch of pillows shoved behind his back.  He offered Regis the glass and pills.

At Regis' questioning look, Clarus explained.  "They're just painkillers.  When he healed me, I was sore for a few hours afterwards, and he was just treating me for the impact with the wall.  You were run through, Regis, and required a phoenix down and two rounds of healing.  It's going to hurt when the effects of his magic wear off."

Regis took the pills, swallowing them down with a few sips of water.  The liquid soothed a dryness in his throat that he hadn't known was bothering him.  He drank some more.

Then the realization hit him as he processed the full extent of Clarus' statements.

Nearly choking on the water, Regis swallowed cautiously, then tried his best to keep the incredulity out of his voice.  "Healing?"

Izunia, moving slowly about the room as he prepared and heated some instant chickatrice broth in the microwave, snorted.  "Yes, healing.  How else would you foolish creatures have survived what Glauca inflicted on you?  I assure you it would have been very unlikely if I'd relied solely on scientific means."

"He calls us foolish," Clarus stage-whispered, "But I saw him warp-strike a magitek armor using his cane.  By hearing alone."

Izunia sniffed.  "When you've lived without sight for two thousand years, then you can tell me what's foolish or not foolish."

Regis blinked, looking between them.  "I…am more confused now than I was when you started speaking."

Izunia sighed, returning to the chair with a mug of broth, which he handed to Regis before sitting.  "It's not the most straightforward of tales, though I would have thought this—" he gestured at his scarred face, "Would have clued you in to my…history with magic."

"Well…yes," Regis said, "But I assumed Niflheim had attempted to recreate the Ring."

"Not an unreasonable assumption," Izunia said, running his fingers lightly over the spiderweb of old burns splayed across his face, "But inaccurate.  These scars were actually inflicted by the Ring."

Regis' eyes widened.  "How?" he asked, stunned.

Izunia smiled sympathetically, patting Regis' knee.  "It's quite simple, really.  I am…well, to put it frankly, older than the kingdom of Lucis.  I held the Ring at its nascence."

Regis blinked, looking to Clarus for confirmation—receiving it in the form of a slow nod.  Huh.  Izunia…might be telling the truth.

"I think perhaps I ought to hear this tale of yours from the beginning," Regis said about two seconds after the silence stretched out into awkwardness.

Izunia settled back in his chair.  "Ah, yes, the beginning.  First, you should know that the Lucis Caelum line dates back to Solheim, a noble family very distantly related to the Imperial bloodline that made its fortune manufacturing airships—hence the name, the House of Heavenly Light.  When Solheim fell, the second son of that House was the only survivor of all his relations.  He salvaged what he could, migrated east to what is now Leide with a group of other survivors, and adopted a lot of the local customs, even translating his family name into the language.  He married a Galahdan woman from one of the nomadic trading clans, and they had a daughter, Mira.  She later changed her name to Regula, and that is where this tale truly begins, with her."

Izunia turned his face away, rubbing the palm of one hand slowly.  "Regula was a political genius, a true prodigy in the art of statecraft.  At the age of nineteen, she began to unite the Solheimr that remained, integrating them into the society of the Lucian natives.  Within ten years, she led the bare beginnings of the nation that became Lucis—within twenty, she was undisputed Queen of the Kingdom of Lucis.  Though we didn't call it that, not until later."

The Chancellor sighed, longing for something indefinable crossing his face.  "Regula had two children with a Lucian noble, the first of whom was born in the very early years of her endeavor, nearly a decade before her younger child.  The second, her son, you are familiar with: Somnus Lucis Caelum, called the Mystic and the Founder King, despite not actually being the founder."

Izunia half-chuckled, shaking his head.  "The first…well, he never cared much for anyone's ideas of what his gender ought to be, so let's just refer to him as her eldest child.  He was naturally gifted with magic, a healer of some renown, whose gifts only ever failed him thrice: first, when he could not save his mother from the accident that took her life; second, when the Starscourge made its way out of Solheim proper to decimate the survivors; and third…we'll get to that later."

Regis, listening closely, felt as though he was on the brink of some astounding realization, if only he could piece it together.  He watched Izunia's fingers pick at a loose thread on the cuff of one of the official's voluminous coat-sleeves.

The Chancellor continued.  "This healer inherited his mother's position of leadership at twenty-five, assuming guardianship of his fifteen-year-old brother at the same time.  It quickly became clear that despite the effectiveness of his quarantine protocols, the Starscourge would, if left unchecked, kill off every human in the entire region.  So the healer took a risk—he bargained with the Astrals for the ability to save his patients from the Scourge."

The loose thread snapped in Izunia's hand.  "Bahamut meddled with the healer's magic, creating three very significant changes—first, he tied the healer to two powerful magical artifacts, granting Regula's eldest child and the entirety of his line the use of other types of magic; second, the King of the Astrals rendered the healer functionally immortal, preventing him from dying of the Scourge he'd be exposed to in the course of healing his patients; and third, and most importantly, Bahamut altered the healer's gift so that he could take the Scourge from his patients—and into himself."

Regis sucked in a breath.  Izunia sent him a strained smile in response.  "I'm certain you can discern the problem with that."

Regis swallowed, throat dry.  Clarus appeared unsurprised by any of this, instead watching Izunia closely…and was that concern in the Shield's eyes?  Oh, oh, Izunia was—

"What happened, then, to the healer?" Regis asked, suspecting he knew what the answer would be.

"I was wearing the Ring when the amount of Scourge-parasites I'd taken in became too much for the Crystal to handle," Izunia said.  He gestured at his face.  "You see the results."

Regis let out a shaky breath, closing his eyes.  That—was about what he'd expected, yes, but it was still unsettling to have one's worldview turned upside down in the span of a few minutes.

"So, your name isn't actually Izunia," Regis said.

"It was my father's surname, but as my mother's heir, I always bore the name of her House."

"Ardyn Lucis Caelum."

"Exactly."

There was a moment of strained silence in which Regis tried to process everything he just heard.  The mug of broth in his hands grew steadily colder.

"I am so glad you told me this beforehand," Clarus addressed the Chancellor.  "I can enjoy the look on his face without dealing with my own shock."

Regis scowled at his friend, who just grinned in response.

The Chancellor laughed, but the subtle signs of strain still remained in his voice and the set of his shoulders.

"Well," the ancient immortal said, "I suppose I'll have to live with the disappointment of not seeing either of your expressions for myself, especially since the rest of my tale will have to wait.  I need to check in with my secretary before they think they need to start searching for alternate employment.  Excuse me, Your Majesty, Lord Amicitia."  He stood, retrieving his cane from its leaning position against the nightstand, and pulling his phone out of his coat pocket.  He approached the door, cane tucked under his arm and reaching out to feel his way down the door to first the deadbolt and then the knob.

Regis cleared his throat.

The Chancellor's head cocked, the official pausing with his hand trailing down to rest on the doorknob.

"What do I call you?" Regis asked.

The Chancellor turned his head in Regis' direction with a faint smile.  "Call me 'Ardyn,'" he said, "And don't think your lack of sipping that broth has escaped my notice.  You'll need to stick to liquids until your insides re-accustom themselves to being whole.  Do try to consume some of it before I return, yes?"

Ardyn opened the door, slipping out into the hallway.  The door shut firmly behind him, and a moment later the scrape and click of a cane dragging along carpet was heard.

Regis turned to Clarus, taking the healer's advice and sipping the lukewarm broth.  It didn't have the most pleasant of flavors, but it was comforting and eased the empty feeling in his stomach a little.

Clarus, noticing Regis' questioning look, came to sit in the chair Ardyn had vacated.

"So," he said, "I guess we have a lot to discuss."

Regis sipped the broth again, savoring the way it slid down his throat.  "Do you trust him?"

Clarus hummed, settling back into the chair.  "With our lives?  Yes, he seems to need us alive, for now.  With our best interests?  I don't yet have enough observations to hazard a guess.  With Lucis?  I couldn't even begin to tell you."

Regis nodded.  "So we remain on our guard, and hope for the best."

They exchanged grim smiles.

"What happened, exactly?" Regis asked.  "I sent the Ring with Lady Lunafreya and Glaive Ulric, but I do not know what happened after Glauca stabbed me."

"Ran you through, you mean," Clarus said with a reproving glare.  "I don't know all of it, but after Glauca missed me with the sword, I blacked out for a moment and came to around the time Ravus Nox Fleuret started screaming.  Right after you fled into the elevator with the Oracle and Ulric, the Chancellor came in.  Glauca was caught off-guard, I think, because he started arguing with Ardyn.  I don't think he was supposed to even be in the city, let alone in the thick of things.  They only stopped when Ravus pointed out you were getting away."

Clarus ran a hand over his head.  "Glauca took off after you, and Ardyn came right over to me.  He was wearing these magitek goggles with a matching earpiece that were narrating his surroundings, I think, because he got over the corpses everywhere with no trouble.  He knelt next to me and only paused to ask my permission to treat my wounds.  I didn't think he could do much for me, but the next thing I knew, his hands were glowing and I started to feel a whole lot less like I'd just been flung into a wall."

Regis hummed thoughtfully, sipping more broth.  "Was it at all similar to an Oracle's method of healing?"  That could have interesting implications for the application of Regis' ancestral magic…

Clarus shot him a look of fond exasperation.  'You utter nerd,' the expression seemed to imply.

"Do you want to hear the rest or not?" Clarus asked.

Regis sighed.  "Fine.  Go on."

Clarus shook his head, but continued.  "Ardyn told me to stay put while the magic settled, that he was going to see whether you'd managed to escape.  Around the time I was able to stand, he came back in a hurry, his hands streaked with blood.  He told me you'd been injured, and asked me to carry you to his car so we could all get out of the city.  Naturally, I followed him down to where you were lying next to Glauca's corpse, and we got out of there as fast as we could.  I'm about ninety percent certain he killed Glauca himself, though I'm not sure how and he's been his usual level of eloquent-while-saying-absolutely-nothing-of-substance about it."

Regis thought over those last few minutes before he blacked out and nodded.  "Oh, he did, I'm certain of it.  Glauca was about to stab me again, and then I fell to the ground because Glauca had fallen too.  The last thing I heard before I lost consciousness was that cane of his."  He paused.  "Wait, did you say he had a car?"

"That's what you latched onto?" Clarus asked, amused.  "Yes, Ardyn has a car.  He doesn't drive it himself, apparently—has his secretary do it, mostly, or badgers the Nox Fleuret boy into chauffeuring him around.  I drove us out of the city while he kept a watch on your vitals.  He's got a ton of medical degrees, he said, in addition to the magical healing powers.  Those he told me about while we put some distance between us and anyone who might have followed.  As long as I kept my face covered, the Nifs would let us right through the blockades—they know his car, it's pretty distinctive."

Regis laughed.  "Is it anything like his clothes?"

"Worse," Clarus said, "The clothes were what he wore back when he could see, according to him, and he just had them recreated in a bunch of different colors and materials every time he needed new ones.  The car, he had someone come with him to rate how much each option stood out in a crowd, and chose the one they said was most eye-catching.  That was the point, supposedly, because he needs to describe the car to whoever is going to be driving him around."

"Sensible," Regis said, smirking.

Clarus grinned back.  "I'm certain that's not the whole reason, though I couldn't get him to admit it.  I think he just likes people's reactions to his being outrageous."

"Seems likely," Regis replied, "Did you happen—"

A tap at the door interrupted him.  Clarus stood and walked over to the door to look out the peephole.

He gasped, reaching for the doorknob with what Regis thought might be…eagerness?

The door swung open.

There, standing in the entryway looking tired and like he was going to have a nervous breakdown any minute, stood Cor.

Regis stared, mouth opening and closing helplessly for a moment.  How in the name of the Six had Cor managed to find them?

"Well," Cor said, "Aren't you going to let me in?"

Clarus crossed his arms.  "Not until I know for sure it's you."

"Fair enough," Cor replied, pulling out his phone to show Clarus something on its screen.

Clarus raised an eyebrow, but nodded, and stepped aside to let their friend pass.  He shut the door firmly behind him.

Cor strode straight to Regis' side and knelt by the bed.  He said nothing, but took one of Regis' hands in both of his own, pressing his forehead to it.

Regis gently rested his other hand atop Cor's head.  "I am glad to see you again, my friend."

Cor raised his head, causing Regis' hand to slide off awkwardly.

"Your Majesty," he said, "I mean this with the highest degree of respect, but what the hell were you thinking?!?"

Clarus snorted, covering his mouth with his hand.

Regis glared at his Shield, then turned his irked gaze on Cor.  "I was hardly in a position to act otherwise.  The treaty—"

Cor rolled his eyes.  "Not that.  What's this I hear from Ulric about you taking on Glauca alone?"

Regis snapped his mouth shut.  Ulric?  Ulric made it out…Lunafreya and the Ring were safe.  Thank the Six.

Cor sighed.  "Look, I know why you did it, but if what I hear from Ardyn is true, you would have bought them very little time at all.  The reports I've been getting seem to confirm that most of the Glaives who survived the initial attack were traitors, Ulric the most obvious exception.  He says Ostium's on the up-and-up, but pretty much everyone else who was loyal?  Dead.  The rest would have been in pursuit of Ulric and the Oracle, with all the resources of the Glaive to aid them."

Regis shook his head.  "I suspected.  But I could not have kept up, not in the state I was in, and it seemed the only way to give them a chance."  He paused, reviewing Cor's words.  Had he said…?

"Cor," Regis began, slowly drawing out his friend's name, "Why exactly are you on given-name terms with the Chancellor of Niflheim?"

Clarus stiffened, eyeing them warily, ready to spring into action.

Cor smirked.  "He's not just the Chancellor.  But that wasn't what you were asking.  Remember the anonymous source that's been passing intel on to us for years, the one that will only contact me?"

Regis blinked.  "Are you saying…"  From the corner of his eye, he could see Clarus relax slightly as the implications hit him.

Cor nodded.  "I've known him for—decades, really.  Ardyn was the one to patch me up after I dragged myself out of Taelpar.  His situation's complicated, but he's not in Niflheim entirely voluntarily."  He shook his head.  "It's not my story to tell.  But after he delivered the treaty terms, he confirmed that Niflheim was up to something, and that he intended to act as soon as he could to do damage control.  We were going to meet here no matter what happened to touch-base, and I knew by the absence of his usual drivers that he'd succeeded in getting someone out."

[mizkit]

Brexit in a Nutshell, from an Irish POV

I posted this cartoon (with sincere apologies to cartoonist Sidney Harris) over on Facebook, and an American friend said they’d been trying to follow some of the Brexit news, but frankly it was all a bit confusing (and as if there’s not enough confusion to sort through in the States), so I wrote a very brief primer and answered some follow-up questions, all of which got a nod of approval from some British friends. Then the autopost from my blog got a bit of Tumblr traction, so I’m going to post the full thing here, too, for easier reading for those who are baffled but would like to try to understand a little better. :)

The Brexit Vote & Article 50 In June 1016, the United Kingdom held an advisory referendum vote on whether they as a unit should leave the EU. It narrowly passed, to the shock of absolutely everybody, especially those who voted to leave under the assumption the referendum would fail but wanted to lodge a protest against the government in general. This departure immediately got nicknamed “Brexit”.

In order to actually leave the EU, Britain had to trigger an article in the Lisbon Treaty, an EU-wide initiative, that allows a member state to leave the union. This article is known as Article 50. British Prime Minister Teresa May invoked it on 29 March 2017; the United Kingdom leaves the EU two years from that date, like it or lump it. There are, at the time of typing this, eight weeks until Brexit happens.

The UK believes that there are currently negotiations going on about how gracefully Brexit will happen. (They’re wrong. The negotiations are over, and have been for some time.) They currently have three options: the deal, which means “it will go extremely badly”; No Deal, which means “it will go mind-blowingly, incredibly, unbelieveably, staggeringly badly”; and revoke Article 50, which means “never mind, this is a terrible idea and we’re not going to do it.” No one appears to be seriously considering the final option, which means staying in the EU, although the EU has indicated repeatedly that they will pretend this All Never Happened as long as Article 50 is revoked before midnight, 29 March 2019. However, Article 50 has to be actively revoked; they cannot just let the clock run out and say “whoops, we didn’t mean it, we’re gonna stay in!”, although it appears that many British people wrongly believe that’s what will happen in case of a “no deal” Brexit.

Once the clock ticks over to March 30th, if Britain wishes to change their mind, they’ll have to reapply to join the EU, which will almost certainly and with good reason lose them every bit of the special, favored status that they’ve maintained over the past forty years (like keeping the British pound as its currency, among many, many, many other things).

There are obviously huge massive amounts more to it, economic devastation to Britain, huge economic knock-on effects across Europe, surreal levels of difficulty with customs and trade agreements and food and medical supplies and anything else you can imagine, but at the most basic level, that’s what we’re looking at.

So Why In God’s Name Is It Happening? On one level Brexit is almost identical to what’s going on in the States. The Tory political party (re: GOP) has laid all their bets on the percentage of their supporters who are actual Leavers (Wall supporters) because without that percentage, they lose power.

So they can’t back down without losing political power and they have huge amounts of personal profit retained or made by either maintaining the status quo (see: GOP Senate) or by actually leaving (tax havens, etc; again, think GOP Senate). It’s exactly the same situation. The details are different, but the situation is the same. And not sound like a paranoid conspiracy theorist, but both scenarios are literally exactly what Russia paid for.

The Irish Border The thrust of the thing with the Irish border is that the DUP, who are the tiny, hard-right-wing, pro-United-Kingdom, Northern Irish political party currently propping up the Tory government, refuse to accept any kind of border agreement that lies outside of the physical island of Ireland, like, in the Irish Sea, for fear it will help movement toward a united Ireland.

In the meantime, the Good Friday Agreement, negotiated and supported with the help of the EU and which ended the ongoing sectarian war between Irish Protestants and Irish Catholics (“the Troubles”) here in Ireland, means that there *cannot* be a hard border (with check points, customs checks, passport control, etc) between the North of Ireland and the Republic. The backstop basically means there’s no internal border until post-Brexit trade agreements (which could take years, even decades) have been settled on.

The thing that really horrified me about the backstop was that when it was announced, it really almost literally read “So we’ll put in this backstop, and then a miracle will happen, and then it’ll all be fine.” I mean, I read the agreement several times when it was published in December 2017 and it’s really astonishing magical thinking. But the DUP hates the backstop, half of the British MPs (congresspeople) think Ireland should stop making such a fuss and just exit the EU along with them so THEY HAVE no more problems and don’t understand why Ireland is being so obstreperous because it’s not like England has ever done anything mean to Ireland(!), and the Brits keep saying “We can get a better deal on our exit” despite the EU saying in no uncertain terms that they’re really quite done negotiating.

Follow-up Questions From The Audience Is [Teresa] May [Britain’s current Prime Minister] a Leaver or a Stayer? Has she been handed a raw deal and is making the best of it?

Ironically enough, May was a Stayer, but has ended up in charge of Leaving.

I think suggesting May’s making the best of a bad deal is unnecessarily generous. She could have refused to invoke Article 50 or pointed out that the Brexit referendum was advisory, not binding, and that she was not going to lead the country into this shit show, or, indeed, simply not entered into a coalition with a bunch of Catholic-loathing misogynistic racists in the form of the DUP and therefore not become PM or had to deal with this whole question at all. But holding power was too tempting to pass up, and here we are.

What about Scotland? Do they want to stay in the EU? Both Scotland and Northern Ireland voted to stay in, as units. Wales and England voted to leave, as units. Everyone assumes that if Brexit actually happens (and there’s no evidence it won’t), there will be an almost-immediate referendum held in Scotland regarding declaring their independence from the UK. There are some loopholes (they need a central bank, which they don’t currently have because they’re part of the UK, for example), but given that the LAST referendum, a handful of years ago, came very near to passing, and that the EU has made positive noises about the potential of Scotland’s application, it’s to be assumed that they will succeed in their referendum and apply for EU member state status.

I mean, this also opens the question of what happens if they declare their independence, because I can’t really imagine England sending an army up to Hadrian’s Wall, but at this point, God Alone Knows. And don’t get me started on Gibraltar.

Nobody has a clue what’ll happen in the North of Ireland, although poll last year indicated that for the first time in history there’s close to a majority willing to consider unification as an option. The romantic in me has great hopes for that result, but there are enormous numbers of emotional, historical, religious and political hurdles to clear before it happens. In the meantime, the Republic considers Northerners to be citizens of the Republic already, and over the past two years so many people from the North (and from the island containing England, Scotland and Wales) have applied for their Republic-of-Ireland passports (because having them means they’ll still be able to travel freely around the EU) that the passport people have repeatedly run out of applications.

It’s a total shitshow. It’s very exciting to be an American in Ireland who has as much emotional investment in the mess over here as the mess over there, and by “very exciting” I mean “the absolute worst”. :/

[luxtradingfirmuk]

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[bitcofun]

The listed below is an excerpt from a current edition of Bitcoin Magazine Pro, Bitcoin Magazine's premium markets newsletter. To be amongst the very first to get these insights and other on-chain bitcoin market analysis directly to your inbox, subscribe now European Energy Crisis Progressing In last Thursday's dispatch, we covered the dynamic of this inflationary bearishness, where the conditions of the international macro landscape are quickly repricing international rates of interest greater. In our "Energy, Currency & & Deglobalization "series," Energy, Currency & & Deglobalization, Part 1"" Energy, Currency & & Deglobalization, Part 2" Since our most current release, the reaction from European federal governments to "fight" rising energy expenses have actually been remarkable. In the United Kingdom, freshly designated Prime Minister Liz Truss has actually currently let loose a draft strategy as an action to increasing customer energy expenses. The policy strategy might cost ₤130 billion over the next 18 months The strategy information the federal government actioning in to set brand-new costs while likewise ensuring funding to cover the rate distinctions to economic sector energy providers. Utilizing 2021 yearly numbers, the strategy would be approximately 5.9% of Gross Domestic Product. The U.K.'s stimulus at 5% of GDP would approximately be the equivalent of a $1 trillion stimulus plan in the United States. There's likewise a seperate strategy costing ₤40 billion for U.K. organizations Counting both, they represent approximately 7.7% of GDP for what's most likely to be a conservative very first pass of stimulus and costs to balance out a longer, continual duration of much greater energy costs throughout all of Europe the next 18-24 months. The preliminary policy scope does not appear to have a cap on its costs so it's basically an open brief position on energy rates. Ursula von der Leyen, president of the European Commision, tweeted the following: The expected cost cap of Russian oil is necessary for a variety of factors: The very first is that with Europe's option for the incumbent energy crisis appearing to be stimulative financial plans and energy rationing, what this does to the euro and pound, both currencies of energy importing sovereignties, just substances its issues. Stimulating financial plans and energy rationing as services to the incumbent energy crisis has actually affected the euro and pound. Stimulating financial bundles and energy rationing as services to the incumbent energy crisis has actually affected the euro and pound. Even with the European Central Bank (ECB) and Bank of England allegedly rolling back pandemic-era alleviating programs, the service that the western citizens most likely need is "energy bailouts." Some are calling this Europe's Lehman Moment, in reports the other day from Bloomberg, " Energy Trading Stressed By Margin Calls Of $1.5 Trillion"" Liquidity assistance is going to be required," Helge Haugane, Equinor's senior vice president for gas and power, stated in an interview. The problem is concentrated on derivatives trading, while the physical market is working, he stated, including that the energy business's quote for $1.5 trillion to prop up so-called paper trading is "conservative."-- Bloomberg Similarly, Goldman alerted of a depressing outlook for markets." The market continues to ignore the depth, the breadth, and the structural consequences of the crisis," the Goldman Sachs experts composed. "We think these will be even much deeper than the 1970 s oil crisis." The energy crisis is presently forecasted to cost the continent of Europe roughly EUR2 trillion, or 15% of GDP. The energy crisis will have significant expenses for Europe." At present forward costs, we approximate that energy expenses will peak early next year at c.EUR500/ month for a common European household, indicating c.200% boost vs.2021 For Europe as an entire, this indicates a c.EUR2 TRILLION rise in energy expenses, or c.

15% of GDP." While this number is most likely lowered by the financial subsidized costs, the currencies are meaningfully falling versus the dollar (still the incumbent system of trade for worldwide energy), while the dollar itself has actually been repriced lower in regards to energy. However, business sector is among the losers, as energy rationing and skyrocketing expenses hammer the European commercial manufacturers. " Metal Plants Feeding Europe's Factories Face An Existential Crisis"" Europe's Top Aluminum Plant Will Cut Output 22% On Energy Costs"" German Factory Orders Fall For Sixth Month Amid Energy Squeeze" The above chart is German factory orders by month heading into the fall. " Europe Aluminum Cuts Get Deeper By The Day As Power Crisis Bites"" The curtailments contribute to the severe toll that the energy crisis is having on Europe's metals market, which is among the greatest commercial customers of power and gas. A group representing the area's most significant manufacturers composed to European Union political leaders alerting that the energy crisis might trigger 'long-term deindustrialization' in the bloc, unless a bundle of assistance procedures are executed." Aluminum, which takes roughly 40 times more energy than copper to produce, is rather energy extensive." This is a real existential crisis," stated Paul Voss, director-general of European Aluminum, which represents the area's greatest manufacturers and processors. "We actually require to arrange something rather rapidly, otherwise there will be absolutely nothing delegated repair"-- Bloomberg What is being required due to the structural energy deficit in Europe is the populated and business sector requiring the general public balance sheet presume the danger. Aids for energy costs or cost caps not does anything to alter the outright quantity of particles of high-energy density nonrenewable fuel source on earth. The cost caps and subsequent reaction from Russian President Vladimir Putin is what makes all the distinction, and it has the possible to develop possibly terrible results in monetary markets. No federal government is going to permit their people to starve or freeze; it's the exact same story throughout history with sovereign countries filling up on future financial obligation responsibilities to resolve today's issues. This simply occurs to come at a time when a handful of European nations have huge public debt-to-GDP ratios well over 100%. A handful of European nations have huge public debt-to-GDP ratios well over 100% A sovereign financial obligation crisis is brewing in Europe, and the extremely most likely result is that the European Central Bank actions in to include credit threat, perpetuating the devolution of the euro. We've talked at length about the extreme increase and rate of modification in 10- year yields in the United States, however it takes place to be the exact same image throughout every significant European nation in spite of slower actions from different reserve banks to trek rates. European financial obligation yields, likewise representing future inflation expectations, are still disappointing indications of decreasing. The Bank of England is predicting 9.5% Consumer Price Index inflation through 2023 (check out " Bitcoin's Seven Daily Candles" where we cover their most current August financial report) and the European Central Bank anticipat es a 75 basis point rate trek in their statement tomorrow, after simply recently raising from unfavorable rates. For what it's worth, the likelihood for a Federal Reserve rate trek to 75 basis points for the Federal Open Market Committee satisfying 2 weeks away is presently at 80% (intraday prices versus 73% for September 6). With political pressures installing, the high inflation prints, even revealing little indications of some deceleration just recently, continue to leave reserve banks no other feasible alternative. They should "do something" in an effort to keep 2% inflation targets even if it just partly triggers sufficient need damage.

This is mostly where financiers who have a thesis around peak rates and "Fed can't trek rates" have actually gotten crushed. Increasing federal government yields are not sustainable to service financial obligation interest payment problems in the long term, we're still waiting for that breaking point that requires a directional modification. The second-order inflationary results of discharging more financial stimulus policies and/or a seizure in U.S. Treasury security markets are what to expect. Watch for the second-order inflationary impacts of dumping more financial stimulus policies and/or a seizure in U.S. Treasury security markets. Watch for the second-order inflationary impacts of discharging more financial stimulus policies and/or a seizure in U.S. Treasury security markets. Read More