Dreams of Elysium - A Basileía Romaíon Mod AAR

[Nikolai]

Pronoia, Elysium

January 1st, 1736

King Aurelian Galatinus smiled. He knew he had that history book in this shelf. Just, it had been misplaced. Alphabetically was the way, his wife made sure of that. He grinned. Oh, had he been lucky with Flavia.

He sat down with the book. Where did he leave off last time? Was it Manzikert? Let’s see…. Yes. The Seljuks. And Rome. Indecisive. White peace between the combatants. It had been close, but in the end, neither could claim victory.

The Seljuks conquered the Abbadids, who only had some small areas around Mecca for decades. He scoffed. Sure, they had reconquered all of Arabia now, but they were a spent force. The Romans, meanwhile, had reconquered Southern Italy from the Normans.

Then…yes. Then Rome reclaimed Aegyptus and North Africa up to Carthage, taking the Levant on the way. The Fatimids, weak as they were, had disappeared onto the dustbin of history. Aurelian took note of that. His wife had a distant forefather that was a general in that campaign. Would surely mean he scored some brownie points if that were coaxed into the conversation. He grinned.

Well, and now he had come to the decline of the Empire. Widespread conquest, over extension, slowly less central control over the areas, who were by now, in 1736 de facto indendent. Yadda yadda. The important part was…next page. There.

The Norse up in Scandinavia had sailed west, found the lost Åsatrú colonies of Vinland and Nordhafsvedr, and gained control of them. The Frankish upstarts in the Holy Roman Empire had set sail for what they called America after the Andalucian cartographer – a Christian, if he remembered correctly, even though the Al-Andalus were Muslim. And so, his forefathers had set sail too, towards what was now Elysium.

So many settlers had come over, many of them of the persecuted Hellenic creed. Indeed, his whole kingdom, while multi-religious and with a separation between temple and state, was de jure Hellenic. A truth testament in his own, if weak, faith. And his wife’s bold faith. Another strength she had.

Then, the war. The big, long war between Rome and Al-Andalus. Afterwards, Elysium was de facto independent. A free country sandwiched between the Holy Roman colony Louisiana and the Danish Vinland. Well, he had long decided to appease them both. No war. Not if he could do anything about it. Only colonizing of the interior.

He sighed. Opposition in the Senate would surely be fierce.

 

[Nikolai]

Pronoia, Elysium

January 5th, 1736

King Aurelian Galatinus looked at the report. He knew he needed to be up to date with this. All the countries in the world, how they related. And, most importantly, how to – if possible – exploit them for the benefit of Elysium. But then he looked to the beautiful woman sitting playing with their dog, and he decidedly did not want to read boring reports.

Oh well, there were always dinner. And…other activities waiting later on. A king needed to secure the linage, after all. But not now. Not yet.

He furrowed his brow. Vinland. Nordhafsvedr. Belonging to the North Sea Empire. An empire that seemed to be slowly losing the independence war of the Anglo-Saxons in England, surprisingly enough. Weakness, yes. But Elysium was no match for them, if they came knocking. Thus, he had sent diplomats to both Vinland and Denmark.

Then there were the other part of the sandwich; Louisiana. Well protected by the Holy Roman Empire, who were decidedly winning their war in Europe. Cue diplomat to both courts. Elysium needed security more than anything.

Especially if the reports of unrest against his colonial plans were to be trusted. Half of Elysium was under the risk of rising in rebellion if the dynatoi got too angry. But he needed to do this. For Elysium.

Swallowing a yawn, he looked at the report again. Anahuac was mighty, but far away. Hardly a concern. Same with the Chinese colony of Jiazhou. Wasn’t China in a civil war between the reigning Yuan and the upstart Ming? It was somewhere in here… Yes. The Yuan Ghengisids were on the retreat.

Well, and then they became more distant, and less of a concern. One by one. New Granada was a colony of Al-Andalus, of course. Far away. The Venetians and their colony Atlantica was in a conflict with Rome. Not a concern, for now.

The Japanese colony of Shinsekai Shokuminchi was also far away. The South American continent, with the Tawantinsuyu – not a concern. Not the other, smaller, colonial nations either.

Europe. Europe was powerful. But apart from the aforementioned empires, not a concern. The Commonwealth, Hungary, the Papal States. Not a concern.

Rome. A friend of course. Yet distant. And with its own problems. Persia and the Abbasids loomed, Aegyptus and the other exarchates wanted even more independence. He did not envy the Basileus.

Up north of Rome, there was the huge state of Tartaria, lead by the descendant of Ghengis Khan himself. Controlling the Russian statelets. Yet – again – not a concern of his.

And, lastly, Australia. Half controlled by Roman colonies – de facto independent, just like Elysium. Half Dutch and Chinese colonies. Not a concern.

Aurelius swallowed another yawn. Then, he felt a kiss in his neck. A whisper. His muse. Yes, it was time to let the reports lie.

 

[Nikolai]

Pronoia, Elysium

October 6th, 1736

“So, it is war then.”

Aurelian Galantinus felt sad. This was so unnecessary. The American continent lay there, untamed. Why wouldn’t – couldn’t – the dynatoi see this?

He gave his orders, talked to his generals. Pronoia was secure. So was half the country. And, more importantly, most of the army remained loyal. It was truly a folly. The rebels controlled half the country, yes. On paper, they did. But where they had a handful soldiers, he had a much bigger army to deploy. The enemy was going to be defeated with ease.

And he, and his wife, was secure, safe, in the palace.

He turned to Flavia. Took in her beauty. Smiled, weakly.

“I guess we don’t have to consider as Justinian did, to flee the city.”

She laughed. Oh, how he loved her laugh.

“No, my bold husband. We don’t.”

She stopped.

“But we should still pray. For safety for our dear ones. For our allies. Friends. For success in war. Let us pray to Ares for victory, my love!”

Aurelian nodded.

“Ares. Victory. A perfect combination.”

 

[Nikolai]

Pronoia, Elysium

February 16th, 1737

United. Elysium was, again, united. The civil war won; peace reigned.

Aurelian Galantinus grinned. It had been a momentous occasion. The beaten dynatoi leaders, bowing to him, acknowledging his victory. It felt good. Very good. They had been forced to leave the capital, some as colonists themselves – destined to populate the empty lands to the west. But never as rulers. No, these men did not deserve to rule. In time, perhaps, their offspring could advance. But not them. The words some had used against him, and his family was treasonous, not to mention hurtful.

Already eager men and women were settling the lands of the Handenosounec, the Shawnee, the Anitsalag. Soon to be civilized. And, in time, natives and Elysians would learn to live in harmony.

For Aurelian planned not only to expand his kingdom. He planned to, to his best ability, improve the living standard of his population. Their literacy too, of course. Kingdoms prospered when their populace prospered. Literacy meant new technologies, new industries, better lives. Aurelian meant to be an enlightened monarch.

He looked at the map his advisors had left him. Creek and Muscogee. He wondered why Louisiana did not expand into them. After the great war between Al-Andalus and Rome, the great powers had designated spheres of influence over the bordering tribes of their colonies, under the Treaty of Lyons. Creek and Muscogee were in Louisianian sphere.

Well, it hardly mattered, did it? He would keep to his sphere. And beyond? Beyond laid tribes not designated. Free for the picking.

He rose and went to the adjoining room. There. His flower, his muse. Sitting, reading her history books. He smiled warmly. He could see her slightly larger than normal belly. The future of Elysium, right there. He wondered if they would get a son on first try.

A pang of worry, as he was reminded not all pregnancies go as planned. He should pray more. To Pan, Hera and Afrodite – at the minimum. For Flavia and the child’s safety. He wondered how much the gods really cared.

 

[Nikolai]

Pronoia, Elysium

January 6th, 1738

Aurelian Galantinus sat in his chair, smiling. Flavia was sitting in the room next door, singing for their little baby boy. Pavlos Galntinus – future king of Elysium. Now, just a babe a couple months old.

Aurelian sat there, dreaming. Of what this little child would become, how he would be. For now, he was helpless. But Aurelian hoped this child would be anything but helpless some years on, when he inevitably would travel over the river Styx like his predecessors had.

Aurelian knew he was relatively well liked by his populace. He hoped Pavlos would be too. He hoped he could teach his child to be brave, good at navigating the political landscape, all the good traits a decent ruler needed.

He did worry though. The soothsayer Flavia had employed told them the child would not be like his father. That he would be “less than wished for”, yet “brave and intelligent”. He truly hoped the soothsayer were a sham. Or that fate could be changed. He knew he would do whatever it took to make sure of that.

He looked up. Flavia had stopped singing her lullaby. Now she came into the room he sat in, smiling her endearing smile. He smiled back. Her eyes glinted.

“Let’s dance, my love. Let’s celebrate life, our future and Elysium.”

 

[Nikolai]

Pronoia, Elysium

April 6th, 1742

Aurelian Galantinus looked at the map in front of him. A very temporary map, he smiled satisfactorily to himself. For the expansion of Elysium was not about to stop. Sure, a temporary setback now and then happened, like when the Monacan rose up in defense of their independence, but still – Elysium had almost doubled in the last eight years.

It was an achievement. And achievement he was proud to be the architect of. Flavia had been right; he did have a knack for getting his way through diplomacy. The Senate had followed him in his suggested changes to the law, and now all children was guaranteed a place at the public school. No longer was the school system based on wealth, but all had an equal chance of learning.

It was already paying off, the literacy growing by the year. The same was the population, the industrial output and, slowly, the living standards of his people. He sighed happily. His latest visit from the ambassador of Vinland had been pleasurable too; a trade agreement, a suggestion of a five-year long alliance and some excellent wine delivered to his cellar. He even had got some toys for little Pavlos.

Yes, the border both north and south were secure. No interference would happen as long as all he did was colonize westwards and keep out of war.

 

[Nikolai]

Pronoia, Elysium

February 26th, 1754

As the wind was blowing outside in the chilly February evening, Aurelius Galantinus sat comfortably in front of the fire inside his palace. He was now 38 years old, still a young man. But a young man who had seen a lot. Civil war. Indian wars. But, thankfully, no real danger had come to his family. Not even back when Elysium was small, vulnerable and he was recently married and had no heir.

He felt lucky. His people loved him. His family even more. Flavia was knitting beside him, while Pavlos, now a teenager with all that entailed, was at a ball held for him and his friends by the Senate. Yes, Pavlos was shaping up to become a nice lad. A good future king. The soothsayer seemed to have been wrong. Nothing could please Aurelian more.

Elysium was much, much bigger than it once had been too, now. The frontier tribes, steadily pushed back in the name of progress, was the Anilco, Osage, Sakowin and – he had no way of not mispronouncing this one – Niswa-mishkodewinpan. Elysium was also growing in population size, now she was closing in on four million inhabitants.

But his good neighbors in Vinland was in trouble. Or, had been. A civil war had raged there for a few months now, but the rebels were all but defeated. His ambassador up there had adviced him no intervention was needed, as the loyalists and their overlord in Europe were more than strong enough to deal with the rebels. The ambassador had been right. Aurelian had made sure to signal his support for the loyalists with the means at his disposal, save interference. He knew it had been appreciated.

For him, the larger problem was the Elysian economy. It was growing and growing fast. But growth was costly and the risk of going into default was always present. To balance investment into the industry and keeping the economy afloat was taking much of his time and energy. He dreamed of a day when his coffers were a little less empty.

 

[Nikolai]

Pronoia, Elysium

March 27th, 1783

Aurelian Galantinus was sitting in his office, reading reports. He was worried about New Jersey. Economical growth had happened fast, and for New Jersey too fast. The infrastructure didn’t manage to cope and as a result good, valuable wares were not shipped in – or out. A famine was happening there, so close to the capital! He had already ordered this newfangled railroad to be constructed, but he was worried it would cost the state much in upkeep.

He looked at the other report. South Dakota. The land of the gold mines. Extreme growth in the GDP from that state, which held about as many people as New Jersey now. Eleven percent of the nation's GDP, in fact. No need to do anything there. It was going to be the locomotive of the country for – hopefully – a long time coming.

A knock.

In came his son Pavlos. A strong, brave, and intelligent man, now of 35 years. Aurelian felt his chest filled with pride. He smiled to his son.

“Pavlos. How good to see you. I take it you are ready for your travels to the frontier?”

Pavlos grinned.

“Bison. I have always wanted to hunt bison.”

Aurelian nodded. Inside he was worried. Pavlos was unnecessarily violent with animals. He hoped time would mellow him. Well, this was merely a hunting trip. Young men needed to get this restlessness out of their system.

But he could smell the alcohol. Even if Pavlos had tried to hide it with perfume. He sighed inwardly. Hopefully the young man in front of him would stop partying so hard soon. He was still a bachelor too. Aurelian noted to himself he needed to get his oldest son introduced to more potential wives when he came back. Or he would have to force marriage on the lad, he feared. Aurelian knew he was getting older himself. He needed his heir to have an heir himself before he left the Earth.

Oh, how he missed Flavia.

 

[Nikolai]

Pronoia, Elysium

August 19th, 1786

Aurelian Galantinus walked the gardens of his palace, in deep thought. Stopping to smell the flowers of his dear Flavia’s garden, he sighed and wiped a tear. They had had a good run, he told himself. Married at 20, together for over forty-five years. It had been good years. Blessed years. Blessed by the gods, by country, by family. Five children, of which Pavlos the eldest would inherit him one day.

Soon, probably. Aurelian was seventy years old now, older than most people became. He was thankful for his life. Not everyone had a loving spouse. Not everyone had children to be proud of. Or children at all. He had lived a sheltered life compared to most, even during the civil war.

Pavlos was a good kid, he knew. Loved his father, loved his mother, loved his siblings. But Aurelian worried. The kid – he was not a kid anymore, Aurelian told himself, the man was in his forties!

He sighed.

The man he had brought up was not his mother. Nor his father. Flavia had been beloved by the populace. Aurelian too was well regarded. People disliked Pavlos. He was brave, yes. He was a good politician. But…. he was increasingly cruel in his dealings with people. And he drank too much. The man Aurelian had set his hopes to was too harsh and unyielding.

Aurelian was afraid. Afraid of his failings. He had dreams for the country. Dreams he had worked hard to achieve. Dreams for not only his family’s legacy, but for the legacy of Elysium. He remembered the soothsayer’s word all too well. “Less than wished for”.

He wished so much for his child. Was this his failing? As a father? As a king? A king needed his legacy to endure to the next generation. Pavlos still refused to settle in marriage. Albeit rumors had it he sired children, none were legally his and none were publicly known – or known to Aurelian for that matter.

And Aurelian’s time was closing on to its end. He prayed to the gods – all of them – that he had not left Elysium a poisoned future.

 

[Nikolai]

Pronoia, Elysium

February 13th, 1798

“Three years. Three years since father went to Olympus.”

King Pavlos Galantinus groaned, and then took another sip of his liquor. His body definitely had seen better days.

Another sip. Did this batch taste funny? Yes, it definitely did. He’d make sure the supplier got paid less next time. Perhaps some whipping of the boy who did the errands would make them do better next time. This could not do.

There it was again. The faint, murmuring voices. Was someone watching him? He looked around. No one. But he did hear something! Better get his guards to do another sweep of the rooms, there had to be some hidden room somewhere.

He sighed, took another, deep sip. Yep, definitely tasted funny. But it did help him relax.

Groaning, he reached for the latest reports from the front. The Arapaho was defeated. And punished. Harshly. The Anitsalagi was next. They would, too, be harshly punished for their insolence. He swore under his breath. Another report, telling him that the Cheyenne was close to revolt – possibly, it said, but he knew those bastards were surely planning something!

He closed his eyes. Rubbed them. The whispers. They were getting louder, weren’t they? Where on Zeus’ toga were they coming from? No matter. He had guards everywhere these days. If someone tried something – anything – they’d be dealt with.

If not…if not the guards were in on it too? He shivered. He better get them double checked. Again. Could never be sure. Never be safe.

He took a deep sip of the liquor. He needed to get another bottle. This one was tainted.

 

[Nikolai]

Pronoia, Elysium

March 6th, 1800

“Sire, urgent news from the front!”

The servant stood in front of Pavlos, awaiting orders.

Pavlos put down the cup of wine, sighed and waved towards the table in front of him.

“Put the papers there, I will read it in a minute…..SILENCE!”

The servant almost jumped.

“Sire? I said nothing…”

Pavlos grumbled.

“Not you…”

He snorted.

“Not you. I want to be left alone now.”

The servant backed out, cautiously. There had been no one else in there, no sound.

As he left, Pavlos smirked – then laughed.

“Good one, Dionysus. I am glad it is you who visits today, not Hades. Tell Father I miss him.”

He closed his eyes. He could hardly believe that the gods spoke to him.

He opened the letter on the table. The Dakotans were rising up. Just as Hades had told him. The old rascal probably had a finger in the game. No matter, the Cheyenne was almost defeated. And he had just signed a big enlargement of the army when the wars were finished. Twentyfive infantry units, seven artillery units, five lancer units. Thirty-seven new units, adding to the twenty-three standing units of now. Surely, that would quell the resistance from those darn Indians…

He looked for his cup. Empty. He needed more. Much more. The headaches were coming again.

 

[Nikolai]

Pronoia, Elysium

August 17th, 1803

“He’s possessed. Demonic. He can’t be trusted to run the country.”

“Hush! It’s treason talk. The walls have ears.”

“I can’t be seen with you guys. He’ll torture me if he finds out.”

“Weaklings! Now is the time to be strong!”

“Easy for you to say, you have powerful connections to aid you.”

“My life is just as much in danger as yours if discovered, but we need to do something!”

The Senate fell silent. The king entered and sat on his throne.

He lifted his hand.

“Senators. Esteemed nobles! Our country is at risk. Rebellions from the Indians are rampant, although by my grace the Chahiksichahiks uprising as well as the Seminole uprising has been put down.”

He laughed manically for almost a minute.

Dried his mouth.

Spoke without words.

Looked up.

“And it is time to institute a better army. No longer should the Elysian military be based on a national militia. I propose – and demand your cooperation in instituting – the enactment of a professional army.”

He drank heavily from his cup.

“I’ll leave you to it. But I need some words with senator Dukakis and senator Gaianus. GUARDS!”

The two were part dragged, part pushed, out of the senate building.

Whispers commenced.

In the corners, secret deals for the toppling of the king were made.

 

[Nikolai]

Pronoia, Elysium

April 8th, 1805

King Pavlos Galantinus smirked. His work had paid off. Handsomely.

It had cost him some, of course. But what deal with the devil did not?

He laughed. Long.

Turning to the side, he winked at nothing and nodded. Hades was pleased. The rascal.

The revolt, hiding behind the peasants – he was appalled by the rebel dishonesty – had taken almost all his industry. Of almost 20 million pound was now only 3.7 million under his control.

And he had at the beginning of the rebellion controlled only 15 military cohords against the rebel’s 36.

It had seemed dire. But he was better than them all. He would, he knew, win.

Still sitting in his capital, with rebels all over the states around. With only the most recent colonies on his side.

And yet, he had already won.

He had given up some financial freedom for victory. Tied his regime to the Holy Roman Empire. A customs union was a small ask for over 300 cohorts – on his side!

He took a huge gulp of his wine. This tasted weirder than usual. He should order a new batch.

Thinking of it, he had felt ill recently. But he had no time for being sick. He had a country to run, a war to win.

The Holy Roman Empire had offered to take on the national debt just an hour ago. Elysium was almost bankrupt, so he had accepted, even though it meant being deeper in the pocket of the French. He didn’t care, what had to be done had to be done. Had been done.

He cursed.

Drakos. President Nikolaos Drakos, the traitor. His letter, offering to let Pavlos go in exile if he only gave up, in front of him. Darn traitor.

Pavlos hit the desk in front of him. Ouch, that hurt. Some more wine, to dull the pain.

Then, it would begin. Begin in earnest. The rise of Elysium. Under his leadership, Elysium would rise. He was sure of it. The voices had promised him.

 

[Nikolai]

Pronoia, Elysium

July 1st, 1806

“Have you seen papa?”

Crown Prince Georgios Galantinus looked up to his father’s right-hand man, Duke Alexios Doukas.

The eleven-year-old boy was a curious child, the duke thought. Always talking about how peace was the solution, at such a young age. An idealist and pacifist, for sure. But surely life would sniff such thoughts out of him eventually. The civil war was just over this very day, a momentous news he had just gone to the king to tell him.

But he had not found what he expected.

He had expected to find the king drunk. Talking to himself, or whatever he saw no one else saw. He had expected a lot of things.

But not the dead body of his liege, once a dear friend before the lunacy began to take hold of him.

Pavlos had laid there, half of his body twisted, the other half…peaceful? It was hard to describe. His empty cup next to him, spilled wine all over the carpet. Spittle and…foam around his lips. Now, the king often had that when he was in a rage. The foam. But he wondered…

No matter. He needed to take the reins of government, as was his duty in case of a situation like this. To guide poor Georgios.

He looked down at the boy.

“My liege.”

He saw the face of Georgios twitch a little. Smart boy. He knew what that meant, instinctively.

“Georgios, you are now king. I am afraid…”

The boy cut him off.

“He’s dead.”

Silence.

“Did he suffer?”

“I…”

“I know he was…troubled. But he’s a peace now, with the gods.”

King Georgios looked up at his regent.

“Is the war over? Are we safe?”

The duke regent nodded.

“The war is over, my liege.”

The boy king smiled weakly.

“Then it is time we repaired this country. It’s what my father would have wanted.”

 

[Nikolai]

Pronoia, Elysium

February 6th, 1818

Twelve years of peace.

King Georgios Galantinus smiled.

If nothing else, his reign had given his part of his world twelve years of peace. His trusted advisor and prime minister, once also his regent, duke Alexios Doukas sat in the corner reading the newspaper, while Georgios was drinking a cup of coffee.

Peace, even in the palace.

It was a treasure, he knew it. Not often achieved.

He smiled.

Georgios was a young man of 23 years now. During his reign, the economy had doubled. The population kept growing, much due to the huge amounts of immigrants the country got each year. He knew the greatness of his nation was built on immigration. This is why the campaigning of certain groups within the Senate for closed borders felt like such a folly to him. He would never agree to it. Never.

But the numbers demanding it was few. Weak. Still, they were getting noisy.

He sighed, and left the thought behind for now. Looked at the reports of the world economy. The economic blocks were getting bigger and more powerful. His, the Holy Roman Market, was powerful. The HRE, of course, its satelites and parts of the Nordics and Russia. Elysium, the biggest power within the market outside Elysium. Louisiana. And Antarctique. And Aegyptus. The Roman Emperor had to be furious about that, he thought to himself.

He knew Elysium would never be regarded as a Great Power as long as she was in the shadow of the HRE. But he didn’t care. His country prospered. That was all that counted. That, and peace.

He was worried about the encroachment of Ming, though. Her colony in the west was one thing, but the Aztecs? And now even the once great North Sea Empire was under Sino influences. That, he had not expected. And then it happened. He figured many had not seen Elysium move into the HRE sphere of influence some years ago either.

No matter. Elysium was prospering. Expanding into the Great Plains. And he had other plans for peaceful expansion too. It was a good time to live.

 

[Nikolai]

Pronoia, Elysium

March 11th, 1819

The order was given. Elysium would no longer be confined to North America only.

King Georgios Galantinus smiled satisfied.

The American frontier still expanded, but slower now than before. Quickly, the lands were getting filled with immigrants, of which all soon became proper Elysian in culture – if not in religion.

Over half of Elysium’s more than 19 million inhabitants were Elysian now. Almost half of them were peasants.

He nodded to himself.

So much potential for industrialization. But food were needed too.

The number of cultures in the country were staggering to say the least, but Elysium was a huge melting pot and all would ultimately become Elysian. What was Elysian was perhaps changing though. Of 19.3 million people, only 2.31 million were Hellenic believers and most of those were living in the east, where Elysium had begun.

He had been urged by some of his advisors to convert himself and the state to Orthodox Christianity, the religions his forefathers in Basileia Romaion, as a majority of his subjects now were Christians of differing denominations.

But no. That was not the way of Galantinus. He might not be the zealot of his father and grandfather, but he was faithful to the gods.

Now, education and expansion – peaceful expansion. That was the Galantinus way. A major enlargement of the education system and the universities were ordered by him only a week ago.

And Africa was ripe for the picking. Malaria was a problem, true. But Elysium had the resources and the time to expand slowly. The first colonies were already established.

It was a good time to be Elysian.

 

[Nikolai]

Pronoia, Elysium

October 7th, 1822

Created with Copilot.

King Georgios Galantinus looked at the child at his wife’s feet.

His child. His heir. His Georgios, one day the second of his name.

Created with Copilot. I fought for ages to get a child prince of one year's age, and this is the best I got.

He felt his chest filled with pride.

“This legislation is for you and all children of the next generation” he calmly whispered.

The legislation, of course, being the restriction of child labor that had just passed in the Senate.

He grinned and sipped his glass of ice cold water. Never would he ever repeat the mistakes of his father when it came to alcohol. He abstained and felt better for it.

He looked at the map in front of him. The agreement with the Venetians for the exchange of lands in southern Africa, agreed upon in March, was a boon to his country. Venice got complete control over the east, while Elysium got the same on the west coast. But Elysium got more lands, and bar waging war there would not have been any chance of expansion for the eastern enclave.

And war he would never wage. Never.

But reform, that he would. He had already made the first preparations for his next project: The institution of a bar minimum of social security for the worse off people in his realm. Sometime next year, he planned to get the ball rolling, instituting poor laws. His feelers in the Senate proved he would have the support of the Viomíxanoi – important. And of the Syndikalistaí – less important, but good. The Dynatói was against it, but they hardly mattered these days.

Some advisors said his plans for law changes were too fast, too radical. He dismissed the notion. He had made sure his law changes were supported by most parties. Surely any pushback could be dealt with. Of course, the movement for migrations control – or worse – closed borders, were popping up now and then. But they were weak, and of no consequence.

 

[Nikolai]

Pronoia, Elysium

April 29th, 1829

King Georgios Galantinos cursed under his breath, condemning a select few to Hades and worse.

It had gone so well, for so long. Poor laws got in without a hitch. Laissez-Faire too. Then, the voices advocating less immigration, grew. No longer they demanded controls on the borders. No, now they demanded closed borders.

He cursed again. Immigration was the foundation of Elysium’s growth and greatness. This could not do.

He suspected the huge volcanic eruption on Krakatoa two years ago affected it. It had changed the mood, somehow. Like him ordering government founds to help people was wrong, just because they were far away? Or that it somehow made the immigrants worse people? These immigrants were building the future of Elysium!

He sighed.

It certainly didn’t help when crops began failing all over the country. Colder weather, less food. It was a nightmare.

A nightmare he had alleviated by ordering government founds to buy food for the starving. But still. Still these..people had begun working for a revolution. His spies told him they were preaching Communist revolution. A pretty new train of thought, and a repulsive one at that.

He cursed again.

Anthimos Vlachos. The ring leader for these people. He knew he had to exile him, fast. Perhaps the loss of their leader would stop the budding rebels dead in their tracks.

 

[Nikolai]

Pronoia, Elysium

April 1st, 1831

“He was a friend! A friend! And they murdered him!”

Angry tears ran down king Georgios Galantinos’ cheeks.

“He was the son of my bloody regent, for Hades’ sake!”

Georgios was pacing back and forth now.

“I want them found. Dead. Or alive. I don’t care, as long as they’re apprehended.”

He paused.

“A trial would be best, I guess. But this is getting out of hand. We need to set an example.”

The aide scribbled down his liege’s orders, saying nothing.

Georgios looked up.

“We need to declare a state of mourning. And I need to speak to poor Alexios. Send him to my private living room. Dismissed.”

The aide hurried away.

Georgios sat there, sipping to his glass of lemonade. It was getting warm.

 

[Nikolai]

Pronoia, Elysium

Julu 11th, 1832

“It has gone too far, your majesty.”

The leader of the Viomíxanoi, a mighty interest group inside the Elyisian government consisting of industrialists and bankers, bowed his head slightly in deference to his king.

Looking up, he added:

“A civil war will cost millions – both lives and raw money. We feel it is in the country’s best interest to make a deal – a compromise – with the opposition. Right now transport, food and fuel supply and most government services in large parts of the country is paralyzed. With respect, your majesty, it cannot go on.”

He coughed nervously, as the king sat silently in front of him, saying nothing.

“As such, we suggest certain…changes are made in the terms of our country’s open borders. Closing them to certain…elements, restricting access, but not totally closing them…it would probably sate them.”

Silence.

“I have written down the Viomíxanoi’s suggestions, in detail. I am certain, your grace, that this will be of utmost importance for the realm.”

Silence.

As the Viomíxanoi’s leader was about to open his mouth again, the king looked up and started directly into his eyes.

It sent a shiver down his spine.

“No.”