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"It's like the world is blind." - Georgios IIIf only everyone would acknowledge that he is right and they are wrong, we could have peace.
GEORGIOS: sigh Perhaps the greatest disappointment of my life is that the Vinlanders still don't appreciate how lucky they are to have me as their liberator. I protected them in so many ways, cared for them as if they were my own children, but to this day, is there a single...statue of me in Vinland?
AIDE: I would guess not.
GEORGIOS: And you'd be right.
Indeed. Onwards, to victory!
Heh, ya think?
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Apologies for the delay in catching up with this one. Vinland is proving to be quite difficult for Georgios to truly subjugate.
Like others I am dreading the results and wondering where Georgios' lust for control will turn next after he reconquers the north.
Like others I am dreading the results and wondering where Georgios' lust for control will turn next after he reconquers the north.
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Chapter XXIX
Pronoia, Elysium
October 16th, 1875
After Vinland fell, oh so deliciously easy – with no one supporting them and his forces swarming the lands…. He shivered in pure glee. After Vinland fell, revenge had been so sweet. “Grand Prince” Gustaf von Wittelsbach had been captured, presented before him. Had to bow down. All the way down. Plead for mercy. Plead.
It had been a good time. His children would never see their father again. So small, never would they even remember him. Georgios had them relocated to some small, rural nowhere. Placed under the care of some wretched people he had made sure were not fit to raise children.
The wife… She had to see her kids sent away, knowing she would never see them again. Then she had been sent to the forest, far away from civilization, given some meagre, rotten rations. And left behind. He wondered if she had survived.
No matter. Gustaf had been given the…tour of dis dungeon. The secret one. The one no one ever left alive. Gustaf was, of course, no longer alive.
Elsyium, meanwhile, was prospering. As ever. The American West, populated by immigrants en masse, all becoming proper Elysians in due time. A fairy tale. But a true one.
Then, in 1874: The sweet chance of war with the Anahuac at the southern border. Not much, merely a sliver of land, but as soon as they were beaten, the next time would be so much easier. Al-Andalus would be stronger, sure. But that was allright. They had their power base in the south. And in the Old World. North America was to be his. Elysian.
And it had worked. Anahuac was done for, and the peace was to be signed by his representatives later today. He wanted to go himself, to see the defeated in the eyes. But he didn’t feel well. Something that was happening more often lately. His doctors found nothing wrong with him. There better not be. He had work to do. And he had no time for illness. Zeus knew he could not delegate to his inept son. Alexandros was not fit. Never would be.
So Georgios needed to be of sound heath, each day. For a long time. Perhaps his grandchild would turn out better. Alexandros could then be moved aside.
October 16th, 1875
After Vinland fell, oh so deliciously easy – with no one supporting them and his forces swarming the lands…. He shivered in pure glee. After Vinland fell, revenge had been so sweet. “Grand Prince” Gustaf von Wittelsbach had been captured, presented before him. Had to bow down. All the way down. Plead for mercy. Plead.
It had been a good time. His children would never see their father again. So small, never would they even remember him. Georgios had them relocated to some small, rural nowhere. Placed under the care of some wretched people he had made sure were not fit to raise children.
The wife… She had to see her kids sent away, knowing she would never see them again. Then she had been sent to the forest, far away from civilization, given some meagre, rotten rations. And left behind. He wondered if she had survived.
No matter. Gustaf had been given the…tour of dis dungeon. The secret one. The one no one ever left alive. Gustaf was, of course, no longer alive.
Elsyium, meanwhile, was prospering. As ever. The American West, populated by immigrants en masse, all becoming proper Elysians in due time. A fairy tale. But a true one.
Then, in 1874: The sweet chance of war with the Anahuac at the southern border. Not much, merely a sliver of land, but as soon as they were beaten, the next time would be so much easier. Al-Andalus would be stronger, sure. But that was allright. They had their power base in the south. And in the Old World. North America was to be his. Elysian.
And it had worked. Anahuac was done for, and the peace was to be signed by his representatives later today. He wanted to go himself, to see the defeated in the eyes. But he didn’t feel well. Something that was happening more often lately. His doctors found nothing wrong with him. There better not be. He had work to do. And he had no time for illness. Zeus knew he could not delegate to his inept son. Alexandros was not fit. Never would be.
So Georgios needed to be of sound heath, each day. For a long time. Perhaps his grandchild would turn out better. Alexandros could then be moved aside.
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I just found this rare animated daguerreotype of King Georgios. What a moving insight into the character of this pivotal historical figure!
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So this is what it felt like to live on Centauri Prime under Emperor Cartagia.
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Is there a small sliver that reaches the Pacific in northern California? Who is slowly adding arsenic to the great Gregorios' beverages? Thanks
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Congrats on defeating Vinland and Anahuac.
Georgios is a psychopath, though. Will sending those children to inept parents come back to bite him? What if they want revenge on him for their terrible childhoods?
Georgios is a psychopath, though. Will sending those children to inept parents come back to bite him? What if they want revenge on him for their terrible childhoods?
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If we needed any more proof that Georgios was a villain, this is it. Whenever movies are invented in this universe, the actors playing him will be a joy to watch (who doesn't love a good villain?).
Is this a Stalin situation where his doctors are too afraid to say otherwise?
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Or the also Stalin situation where Georgios had killed all the good doctors because he thought they were a threat?
These are people Georgios thinks are unfit to raise children. Given his appalling judgement on that front I can only assume these people are in fact the best foster parents in existence.
In a different game I would expect Gustaf's children to return seeking bloody vengeance, probably after teaming up with their mother who survived being abandoned in the forest and has teamed up with the survivors of one of the tribes Georgios massacred. Alas I fear that this is not that story.
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It is, although most of it is claimed by the Chinese colony state there. And who indeed...?
`Thanks! Georgios is one of those people you pray you never meet.
Yeah, movies will probably be made.
Guy is not right in the head....maybe?
...possibly?
Either that, or they are really bad.
That might not be the story, no.
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Chapter XXX
Pronoia, Elysium
May 14th, 1878
King Alexandros Galantinus, first of his name, shivered. Father, dead. Father, who never was around. Never believed in him, his oldest son.
“Father”, he whispered into the nothingness that surrounded him, here he sat alone in the temple, with his deceased parent next to him.
“Father, I know I am not worthy. I never was.”
A tear formed, running down his cheek. He knew he wasn’t ready. Never would be. Father had told him, and father always was right. Alexandros was 36 years of age, a grown man, with a wife and a child of his own. He knew he should be ready, but somehow, he wasn’t. He never should have been king. Someone else should’ve. Someone fit to bear the crown.
He turned to the dead man next to him. Even in death his father had this harsh streak to his face.
He sighed.
“Ready or not, I am king.” He muttered silently.
He had to become ready. Somehow. His father had made Elysium strong. Colonization was well underway, deep into Canada. Vinland and Nordhafsvedr was one with the rest of the country. Unified. The colonies were thriving.
What could he do, if not continue the work of Georgios II? Find a way to emulate, try to meet his standards, strive to become what he knew he was not?
Yes. He had to do that. Seize the opportunities. Be ready when they presented themselves. Be better than he dared believe.
It felt good to think like this. Yet, thinking only got you so far.
May 14th, 1878
King Alexandros Galantinus, first of his name, shivered. Father, dead. Father, who never was around. Never believed in him, his oldest son.
“Father”, he whispered into the nothingness that surrounded him, here he sat alone in the temple, with his deceased parent next to him.
“Father, I know I am not worthy. I never was.”
A tear formed, running down his cheek. He knew he wasn’t ready. Never would be. Father had told him, and father always was right. Alexandros was 36 years of age, a grown man, with a wife and a child of his own. He knew he should be ready, but somehow, he wasn’t. He never should have been king. Someone else should’ve. Someone fit to bear the crown.
He turned to the dead man next to him. Even in death his father had this harsh streak to his face.
He sighed.
“Ready or not, I am king.” He muttered silently.
He had to become ready. Somehow. His father had made Elysium strong. Colonization was well underway, deep into Canada. Vinland and Nordhafsvedr was one with the rest of the country. Unified. The colonies were thriving.
What could he do, if not continue the work of Georgios II? Find a way to emulate, try to meet his standards, strive to become what he knew he was not?
Yes. He had to do that. Seize the opportunities. Be ready when they presented themselves. Be better than he dared believe.
It felt good to think like this. Yet, thinking only got you so far.
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Ding, dong, the witch is dead--I mean, the king is dead; long live the king!
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Well that was anti-climactic, Georgios goes out not with a blood soaked bang but with a whimper.
That said his legacy will live on, in his clearly badly damaged son, poor lad.
That said his legacy will live on, in his clearly badly damaged son, poor lad.
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And the new king is pretty messed up emotionally!0Ding, dong, the witch is dead--I mean, the king is dead; long live the king!
Imagine my dismay when he just...died. No spectacle. No big send off. Just, gone. But then again, look at that sad face of his son. The disappointment. Ruined by his father.
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Emotional abuse has long-lasting consequences, poor guy. I hope Elysium doesn’t become too unwieldy for him.
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As one would expect of the son of Georgios II. Maybe he can start a YouTube channel about growing up with Elysian parents.
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That's what I like about the Galantinus line. They're either bat shit crazy or emotional wrecks.
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