Perhaps Mussolini killing his past self has caused a paradox, leading to all kinds of weird side effects to this timeline.
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Lest we forget, the last run wasn't all that...unusual, except for Cheesare messing around, Germany doing weird miltiary decisions (perfectly in character) after 1940, and then the mild strangeness of the UK ships for ports thing which was possibly a bug of some kind.
This time round, the AI is very into domestic disruption, civil wars, coups, violence etc. Given Switzerland was changed up in a dlc, we might even see them do something...
The world hasn't exploded into global war yet, so I agree with the British cabinet, everything is fine (unless you're a Soviet minister or a minority in Germany or Italy)
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There's not much more to say if you're in the HOI4 universe and you're the UK, a commonwealth realm or the US. Everything is great, there's basically no way any of your colonies that you start with will become even a little disloyal, there are no economic or other issues whatsoever and unless Japan or Germany get really lucky, no one can even touch you.
As much as I took the pics out of him last time round, Chamberlain was basically correct in just ignoring what rome was doing, because the British hand was that good.
I'm going to be honest, six months in and I'm beginning to wonder whether the AI understands what 'normal' and 'historical focuses' mean.
I still think they define it to mean "Still just about historically possible, if very unlikely", the other option being "Full on meme fuelled madness". There is no "Actually Historical" option.
Shame really, because CK2 (and CK3 to some extent) are very much historical (ish) simulators if you want them to be and do the settings properly.
I guess even with historical priorities on, the political factions, pp gain etc is still different each time, which means countries can and will fall quite quickly...at which point, they'll follow the set political path that makes sense for that party.
Only some paths are just...odd. Denmark having a fascist coup which then puts the monarch in charge? Sure, he might go for it given his backstory but what are they doing?
The simplified politics also means that you can't have multiple competing extremist factions jostling for power. Like...France really should be fighting communist and pretty far right nationalists, not one united monarchist faction who then all agree on a monarch out of four very different options and legitimacy tests.
What's interesting is this is not PC instigated...Italy hasn't done anything to anyone to cause any of this to happen, save for stomping Ethiopia much faster and by soon having a much better and larger army that normal.
Chapter 7: Italy Consults the Oracle
Chapter 7: Italy Consults the Oracle
4th June 1936
4th June 1936
Alan and Cheesolini enter, wearing black tie.
“We’d just like to thank the community for these two awards, regardless of how little we’ve actually done to deserve them.”
“Alan!” Cheesolini hissed. “He means that we wholeheartedly understand the recognition of our genius, brief as it has been so far, and that we deserve this. Thank you.”
The two men walk off the stage to general applause. They nod to him in recognition, and then depart to Rome.
…
They returned to the round-table discussion on what to call their round-table discussions, and the general state of Italy.
“I regret to inform you all that some countries are not fulfilling our import orders.”
“Why’s that, Beancounter?”
“Well, it appears to be because both sides are convinced that rubber supplies from the Dutch East Indies can reach the Italian Peninsula over land.”
???
Everyone sat back in silence for a moment.
“You know, Beancounter,” Cheesolini said, after a fashion, “I’ve apparently been leader of a major…ish…power for decades at this point. And I’ve grown rather appreciative of…dare I say, come to love…bureaucracy and the vast and intricate systems that keep our world running. But I can’t help but feel sometimes that you should all be shoved anally backwards into a cactus farm.”
“I understand the frustration, Mighty Cheesare. I can only offer in mine and my counterpart’s defence that this seems to be a common delusion in the trading spheres. We’re getting most of our Tungsten from the British Raj overland too. And, whilst this is technically possible, I don’t care to believe it.”
“Nor do I, but I suppose this means neither supply can be interdicted by the Royal Navy.”
“Not on paper, anyway.”
“Good. How’s our training going?”
“The Fanta brigade is coming along swimmingly, Mighty Cheesare,” General Catastrophe reported. “Kaboom is at the academy giving some morale boosting lessons or talking about the rules of engagement and how to ignore them. We can’t seem to get rid of the Black shirts or the colonial militias, so we presently have them guarding the alps in desert gear and spears whilst all the proper equipment goes to the actual army.”
“Good show. Our fuel is also being stockpiled, yes?”
Catastrophe nodded, then tilted his head. “Yes…but it’s going to take two years to bring it to capacity, and twenty-four days after that to drain it all again.”
“And if we don’t use that really expensive but rather useless fleet?”
“101 days, Mighty Cheesare.”
Cheesolini groaned. “Alright, I suppose we’ll have to find some time and factories to build some more silos. And get our own oil producers somewhere. Eh…” he turned to Alan, “It occurs to me just now that I’ve completely forgotten what the world was like in 1936 before I conquered Europe. We should probably do a review.”
“We have no spy agency, Mighty Cheesare. Our reports would be based on guesswork.”
Cheesolini grunted and sat back in his throne. It was times like these that he missed the more intelligent and cunning of his animal friends. Wait, perhaps…?
“You guys managed to subdue Messer’s Snuggly and Snuggles, correct?”
Catastrophe winced. “In a manner of speaking. Why?”
“They ate my previous closest advisor before. It’s why I had to hire you, Alan.”
Alan frowned, thinking back. “Surely you don’t mean…the Oracle?”
“Alan…you know that’s not their real title.”
The beleaguered secretary sighed. “Yes, Mighty Cheesare. Surely you don’t mean…the Mighty Black Cock?”
“Send for the Mighty Black Cock!” Cheesolini roared.
“Send for the Mighty Black Cock!” the door guard shouted.
“Do you know, I’d never met him,” Beancounter mused, looking around and picking up a small typewriter from the corner of the room and laying it on the table. “This should be interesting…”
Very shortly, a magnificent ebony Cockerell was brought forward into the room and placed reverently before Augustus Cheesolini.
“Mighty Black Cock, welcome back,” he bowed.
The chicken bowed back and clucked.
“Of course, of course, do excuse me. The typewriter, gentlemen?”
The others looked at one another, shrugged, and placed the machine close to the large bird, and backed away quickly. He looked at them dismissively, and then set to work pecking at the keys, occasionally pausing to consider. With a ding and a clink, the paper was ready.
“Cometh the hour, cometh the Man,” Cheesolini read. “Well, you are as omniscient as ever, my old friend. I beseech thee, tell us the secrets of the powers great and small across this earth!”
The Cock cocked, looking carefully at the Great Leader, before giving a gallic shrug and commenced his work.
After several minutes, and many sheets of paper, he fluttered a wing at the growing pile, as if to say they might as well start because a review this lengthy will take some time.
After reading what amounts to the previous chapter of this AAR, the table reconvenes.
“Disturbing and confusing news, Mighty Cheesare.”
“I agree Alan. Whoever this Mr Peanuts is, he’s clearly got his finger on the pulse in Russia.”
“Um…no, Mighty Cheesare. I was referring to how the only other fascist power in Europe just gave all their power away to the King of Denmark. There are now quite a few very strong monarchies and dictatorships in Europe, but no fascist states aside from us.”
“Yes, that is a worry. Especially as we probably aren’t going to conquer Europe by ourselves this time round. Is there anyone in Europe who might turn away from decadent democracy?”
Beancounter shuffled the papers and shook his head, then paused as the Mighty Black Cock deposited another load atop the pile. “Hmm…well, Belgium is frustratingly normal, as is the Netherlands…Sweden…ah, hello! Norway appears to be well on track towards a communist uprising.”
“Ah,” Cheesolini said, wisely. “That could be interesting, considering they demanded the current monarch democratically, and he’s the brother of the new super-powered Danish king.”
“Not much help to us though,” General Catastrophe said. “But…Poland might be. They’ve got a dictatorship already, and it looks as though it might go fascist at some point.”
“Czechoslovakia is normal, Romania is normal-ish with middling monarchist and fascist tendencies…Hungary is looking for a monarch, Austria is about to go fascist, for whatever good that will do them, and Yugoslavia is a mess but being held together by King Peter.”
The table quietened.
“Who?” someone eventually asked.
“King Peter II of Yugoslavia,” Beancounter said, holding up an image showing an adult man in a suit, with 10% stability attached.
“Beancounter, Peter II is 13 years old, and the crown is held under a regency council. The man next to him in the breakdown is the literal regent. How is this 13-year-old doing anything, let alone holding his nation together?”
“Excellent questions, Mighty Cheesare. But that would require questioning the accuracy of the Mighty Black Cock.”
No one did.
“Isn’t he…the kid I mean, isn’t he the one with the monogram shaped like a thingie?”
Everyone ignored Colonel Kaboom.
“So…who actually is in charge of Yugoslavia?” Cheesolini asked, after an awkward silence.
“That’s a complicated question, but put simply, Prince Regent Paul heads the Regency Council, is more in favour of pan-Yugoslavia than just being a Serbian empire, is moderately democratic, and basically determined to do as little as possible to change anything until the King takes over in 1941.”
“Even though everyone seems to think he’s already an adult and running the country?”
“In essence, yes? I’ll be honest, it was confusing without the implications regarding His Majesty…now I don’t really know what’s going on.”
“My goodness…it does look like a thingie!” Alan ejaculated, looking at Kaboom’s quick doodle.
Everyone looked at him, including the Mighty Black Cock, who appeared quite unimpressed.
“Moving swiftly on,” Beancounter took some more paper, “Greece is democratic and fairly stable, but the government is awkwardly split between the popular Prime Minister Venizelos and George II, who have an awkward history.”
“How so?”
“Venizelos forced his dad to abdicate, then he came back because of monkeys, then Geroge took the throne, then he lost it, then he came back after Venizelos also came back and changed his mind about the monarchy.”
“Is that all true?”
“…basically.”
“So…avoid Greece then?”
“Yes, Mighty Cheesare. It’s too complicated, and requires going through Yugoslavia anyway, also too complicated.”
“To think we effortlessly conquered both last time. Oh well…what about Albania.”
“Still ruled by King Zog Zogu, under our firm control. We’ll probably annex the lot soon enough, there’s not much reason to keep him around. We aren’t done with crazy Balkan monarchs though.”
“Good grief…”
“Boris the Third, Tsar of all Bulgaria, is a bit weird. He overthrew the government last year and now rules as an absolute monarch…based off current news reports, he’s going after Macedon at some point soonish, and probably wants all the land lost in 1918 too.”
“So…good or bad for us?”
“Not sure. He seems to be genuinely quite good at ruling, better than prior governments anyway. Bulgaria is getting a lot richer, stronger and better ran.”
“So what’s all this about him knowing his dictatorial rule is coming to an end?”
“No idea. Maybe communists? Given he’s popular with the establishment and the people, the country is wealthy and not under threat of attack, I’m not sure who ‘they’ are that aren’t being listened to and are dissatisfied. Perhaps the Mighty Black Cock-”
The bird clucked dangerously.
“Never mind,” Beancounter shuffled his papers anxiously. “Turkey is stable under Ataturk and is otherwise unremarkable…save for somehow managing to convince Stalin to let them remilitarise the Bosphorus Straits.”
“Ah, yes. Stalin. Now I was surprised to see a 10% democratic faction – what can you tell me about the Trudoviks?”
“Ah, yes. Stalin. Now I was surprised to see a 10% democratic faction – what can you tell me about the Trudoviks?”
“They don’t exist, Mighty Cheesare. Not since 1917 when they took an anti-Bolshevik stance and were ‘disintegrated’ shortly afterwards.”
“So Stalin is either haunted by ghosts or demented?”
“It appears so.”
“Right…Spain? Portugal?”
“Portugal is a dictatorship under Salazar, Spain is about to have a civil war when the socialists win the democratic elections, and the army attempts a coup.”
“Surely France won’t tolerate that? Britain even…”
“France wont. The Mighty Black Cock predicts they will send covert support to the actual government but won’t invade to help them. Meanwhile the UK will do very little, but we most certainly could help a fascist regime take over.”
“And no one will stop us?”
“Apparently not.”
“How…odd. Okay, let me know when that kicks off and I’ll send in the tanks.”
“One last thing, Mighty Cheesare. Apparently we have done really well at turning Switzerland fascist. Theres a growing movement and we might be able to swing some elections if we work at it.”
“Any reason to?”
“Not particularly, but it might be fun.”
“Not particularly, but it might be fun.”
Sure, then. Right, on to other business! Now we’ve decided to exploit the colonies for all they are worth, including manpower, we need to start doing that. We must learn how to dig holes, so that we might mine precious minerals and stones, and maybe strike oil.”
“If you say so, sir.”
“I’ve also decided we really do need an intelligence department, as wonderful as the Mighty Black Cock is.” He bowed, and the Cock bowed back. “So, we shall be restarting SIM as it was back in the old days. General Catstrophe, what is the state of our manpower?”
“Nearly one million potential recruits, Mighty Cheesare. War support is riding high too following our easy victory in Ethiopia. Our general stability is also better than it was, and I’m looking into training some mountain climbers as soldiers.”
“All good news. Who have you put in charge of the army command?”
“Ugo Cavallero.”
“Hmm. Not the best choice?”
“Indeed not, which is why I also assigned him to lead all the awful colonial and black shirt troops we for whatever reason cannot disband or otherwise get rid of. I’ve stuck them all in the Italian alps where they can’t get up to mischief. Everyone else is on the Yuguslav border, ready to invade.”
“I see. Why are we doing that?”
“It’s in the plans for Greater Italy your former self made up. It’s a terrible plan, but since we aren’t going with the better Neo Roman one…”
“Alright then. I suppose we are doing this…I do hope France and the UK go the way of Germany, otherwise this is going to be a tricky one.”
“The Portuguese also wish to buy our navy.”
“Sold!”
“Of course, Mighty Cheesare.”
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The Axis doesn't seem very scary when it is going to be comprised of Italy, Spain, Switzerland and Austria.
It would be something to see, wouldn't it? A coalition of minor powers going up against the greats, but all the greats aside from the UK have massive issues like multiple civil wars or being led by insane people...
Bringing back an old topic from the first AAR - minor fascist puppets all being called empire - I just found out there is a Welsh empire of sorts. Only it's not in Wales. It's in South America.
We may have found where Imperial Cheese 3 will be set (the other contender is currently fascist/monarchist Denmark, depending on what they do now).
New chapter above. And I've figured out what this vaguely tied together series will be going from now on:
Trying to play and remake every single roman empire in HOI4. And there's a lot of them.
Trying to play and remake every single roman empire in HOI4. And there's a lot of them.
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I'd forgotten so much of this. How many other characters might return?
Other than Greece/Byzantium and the Italian path where you play as the Pope, I'm not sure what other nations have Rome as the goal. A Tsarist path as Russia maybe? The HRE path as Germany?
The Ottomans could count (seeing as they claimed to be successors of the Roman Empire). Maybe a MacArthur path in America (seeing as he has the American Caesar trait)?
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Oh yeah, forgot about the Ottomans. The USA probably has something as well.
TMC is a new one. He got eaten offscreen by the lions in the first aar.
If there's a good reason or a joke in it, characters will come back. And what the game gives me obviously. If Halifax becomes PM for example.
Got the New Roman obviously. We might end with that one again given that Italy has been updated somewhat, and probably will be again by the time I go through all of them. Other then them, we have, in no particular order:
- Byzantine Empire
- Holy Roman Empire (I suppose we could also count the Austro-Hungarian version as well)
- Ottoman Empire
- Third Rome
- The 'entire' Roman Empire (1st AAR never did get 'everything' we could core)
- (Arguable) the papal states
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Chapter 8: The Grand Council of Fascism
Chapter 8: The Grand Council of Fascism
2nd September 1936
“And that’s the situation, as it stands,” King Christian X of Denmark, absolute monarch…apparently, surmised.
“How interesting,” Sveinn Björnsson, Grandmaster of the Icelandic Order of Freemasons, and Minister to Denmark, replied down the phone. “So…what are you going to do?”
“Say yes, I suppose. It’s ironically the only matter on which I do not have absolute authority. Which reminds me, how are things in Iceland?”
“Oh, absolutely lovely,” Björnsson said quickly. “No need to check up on anything. I am as ever your most loyal servant and subject.”
“Of course you are,” the king responded. “Well, I’ll be keeping the personal union but legal separation of the realms for now, no fear. Something tells me I have far bigger problems closer to home.”
“You are probably right,” Björnsson agreed, absently tucking away his latest scheme to become president. “Best to stay the course. Actually, perhaps you should call upon some advisors who have experience dealing with insane ultra-nationalists obsessed with made up history and monarchies?”
“Not many of those yet,” the king replied glumly. “The German ones have all be shot, the French are of course too insane, which just leaves the Italians. And they’re just weird.”
“Don’t have any designs on Denmark though, unlike the other two options.”
“That’s true. Alright, I’ll send some feelers out. Have you heard anything more about the communists in Norway?”
“No, but then again, I don’t quite understand where they’ve all come from, or why they have it in for your brother, considering they voted him in.”
“That was in 1905. They’ve probably split into seven different parties by now. Just keep an ear out. Worst comes to worst, I suppose I do have an army at my beck and call now.”
“Surely it won’t come to that, you Majesty…”
…
Meanwhile, in Italy
…
Meanwhile, in Italy
…
The Triumph was going well. The fires were mostly back under control, the dancing never ceased, and the wine flowed freely from the fountains.
“Ah, this takes me back, Alan,” Cheesolini raved, resplendent in flower crown. “We haven’t had a good knees up since we finally won World War 3.”
“Was there a World War 2, sire?” Alan queried.
“We agreed to count everything from when the Nazis declared war on everybody to the victory in China as WW2, and what came after WW3.”
“In that case, you are quite right. Though there were a lot more bear fights and murder attempts last time.”
“One can’t have everything in life, Alan.”
“Mighty Cheesare!” Beancounter limboed his way towards them. “Can I just have your signature and finger waggle for this Industrial Integration?”
“But of course,” Cheesolini demurred. “Have we recruited our first spy?”
“But indeed, sire,” Beancounter lowered his voice, “Francesco de Martini.”
“With a name like that, no one will suspect him of being an Italian spy,” Alan approved.
The best part is...he's real. That's really his name and he really did work for SIM. They even got his specialisms correct.
“It’s so overt, it’s covert.”
“Mighty Cheesare! Mighty Cheesare!” A nondescript messenger ran through the throng, bearing a message.
“A bit redundant, but go on,” Cheesolini said, before taking the dispatch. “Ah! Interesting…Hungary has a new monarch, gentlemen.”
“Really? Who’d they pick?” Beancounter asked, swiping some prosecco from a passing waiter, realised it was champagne, and threw it to the ground in horror.
“Wilhelm, Duke of Södermanland. Some Swedish prince or other. Know anything about him, Alan?”
“Not much, Mighty Cheesare. He’s a Swedish and Norwegian prince, former husband of a grand duchess of Russia – she divorced him when no one got upset that the royal doctor raped her – now has an unofficial but obvious French girlfriend, amateur photographer, published author of dozens of books including poetry, travelogues and naturalism, and the director of several short films.”
“Is that it?”
“His pen-name is the imaginative Prins Wilhelm.”
“How sneaky. Any clue as to why the Hungarians picked him?”
“He’s completely disinterested in politics and cannot speak Hungarian.”
“Ah, that explains it.”
The trio continued to work their way through the crowd, walking straight past an English gentleman, who coughed apologetically.
“I say…sorry to be a bother old chap, but I’m afraid you seem to have bypassed me.”
“Oh…I am sorry. Do excuse us.”
“With pleasure,” the man said graciously, before taking out a gun and shooting himself.
“I suspect this means the world has become slightly less fraught,” Beancounter said, after a moment’s pause. “Perhaps we should look into figuring out what we actually want to do with this vast African territory we’ve recently acquired?”
“Oh yes…we were supposed to do that last chapter, weren’t we?” Chessolini mused. “Never mind…erm…let’s foist it on the king for a laugh.”
“A laugh, Mighty Cheesare?”
“Yeah…let’s make him Emperor this time. It’ll be hilarious.”
“STOP! STOP THE MUSIC!”
The party abruptly halted as several serious men very seriously assembled in front of the trio.
“Who are you?”
“We are the Grand Council of Fascism,” said the lead fellow, seriously. “And there has been far too uch silliness of late. This is all been far too silly, indeed! It is time for some serious talk upon serious business.”
“I see…who are these people, Alan?”
“They were the power behind the throne until recently, Mighty Cheesare-”
“And that’s another thing,” one of the councillors piped up, “Where’s this cheese business come from? I don’t recall us agreeing to anything to do with cheese.” The other men made agreeing noises with each other. “Stop that at once!”
“Alan?”
“As I was saying, before I was rudely interrupted, these people are the leaders of the fascist party you head. Essentially, they are the government.”
“I thought we were the government?”
“That, I suspect, is the font of their current complaints.”
“Enough banter!” the lead councillor snapped. “To the serious room!”
Everyone convened in a nondescript grey room full of chairs and tables.
“How did we get here?”
“Quiet you,” the lead councillor said. “Now, to business.” He took out a large grey file and began on the first page. “I note that the dictator has completed our war in Ethiopia without our support and the requisite filings for army command, reconstitution and approval.”
Cheesolini sat back in the uncomfortable chair and thought for a moment. “Beancounter, you speak bullshit. What’s the idiot saying?”
“He’s complaining that we won the war without them, Mighty C-” the councillors collectively hissed, “…sir.”
“So…?”
“So you shouldn’t have done that!” snapped the councillors.
“Right but…forgive me for the foolish question perhaps but…why should I care what you people think?”
The councillors paused, and then began quietly whispering to each other in soft undertones, umming and ah-ing for several minutes. Then they all turned as one back to the trio, as the leader said, “Because we say so.”
Cheesolini scratched his ear in thought. “So…despite me having the loyalty of the army, the love of the population due to the war victory, a king who does whatever I tell him to and have been successfully running this country without issue for nine months…I have to get everything approved by you first?”
“Indeed.”
“Or what?”
“Or you’ll be fired,” the lead councillor said chillingly.
“Right…ok then,” Cheesolini said brightly, leaping to his feet. “I’ll be taking over the Ministry of Foreign Affairs personally then, okay?”
“No.”
Cheesolini tilted his head slightly. “I mean, I’ll be taking over the Ministry of Foreign Affairs personally then, okay?” he said, wiggling his fingers.
“But of course, Mighty Chees-how did you do that?”
“Because I’m Augustus Motherfucking Cheesolini, bitches,” he said gleefully. “Alan?”
“Yes, Mighty Cheesare?”
“Release the lions.”
…
Meanwhile…a month later…in Germany
…
Meanwhile…a month later…in Germany
…
14th October 1936
“We have the final surrender and security of the nation, Herr Von Mackensen.”
“What? Good lord man, the war ended months ago!”
“Yes, it did, sir, but the papers weren’t paying attention. They are now.”
“Oh…good show, then…I suppose. How many war casualties, in the end?”
“1.2 million, sir. It’s going to be a bitch recreating the OTL Nazi conquests now.”
“What?”
“What?”
“I…never mind. Any word from Hungary?”
“No sir, not since they crowned that Swede instead of a slightly more German German.”
“Stupid Swedes.”
“I concur.”
“Now Hungary is going to go all democratic and boring. Who else is available for the new Grand German Alliance?”
“Well…there is Denmark, sir. Absolute monarch, German of course-”
“Of course.”
“-and totally out of his depth. Could be useful. Then there’s Poland, another ‘republic’ that is now essentially a dictatorship. Aside from owning some of our rightful lands and the fact that they exist at all, they are natural allies against…the Red Menace.”
“The Red Menace!” Von Mackensen agreed.
“France is as dysfunctional as ever, the British are insisting they are fine being out of Europe…and Spain has disintegrated into civil war.”
“What, again?”
“…we probably shouldn’t throw stones, sir.”
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With their choice of monarch, the Hungarians have decided that they will be going to sleep during the inevitable war.
It's still October, meaning there's time for Alf Landon to become POTUS.
It's still October, meaning there's time for Alf Landon to become POTUS.
Oh yeah...forgot about America. They were pretty quite and competent in the last game. Even one upped the British with the destroyers for bases thing...though they rode it a bit too hard and sold their entire fleet, admittedly for most of the carribbean plus newfoundland.
Had Super Churchill not come in and saved their bacon, the UK might have suffered cos of that.
Here? Who knows? Did the US get any updates since last time?
...
Hungary picked a relatively safe but boring option, and I guess I understand it in universe...the obvious German options were all tainted by the mega civil war which weakens germany a lot and, from their pov, might lead to monarchist revantisim...or more nazis.
That being said, I wish they'd gone with the Hapsburg just so Austria Hungary and Italy could do an unholy alliance of their own, or do one last war like the old days.
...
Looking back on the chapter, it tickles me that the Italian spy list is more historcially accurate than the party names for many countries. How bizarre is that?
As you say a real spy and the most decorated solider in the Italian Army in WW2. As I suspected that was an incredibly low bar to clear, best I can tell he managed to blow up one (1) arms dump in Eritrea in late 1941. And then get captured, escape, get captured again and spend 4 years in a POW camp.
Releasing lions on the Grand Council is the very least they deserve, indeed my main concern is the poor lions have to digest fascist bureaucrat. Though the Grand Council were so spineless at least there are no large bones to choke on.