The Thorn of the Rose

[Qorten]

...

Long Text answer: (quite self-indulgent, perhaps only of interest to those interested in the ttrpg, or of no interest at all):

When I was at university I did a lot of tabletop rpg, got drawn into Vampire the Masquerade through a group that had a long-running homebrew LARP system running, ran a couple of short and one rather lengthy “Dark Age” (ie mediaeval) tabletop campaign, and yes … the above pictures show the result.

My original HoI2 AAR idea, of which I have already mentioned, had two elements. One was baseball, and VtM was going to be the other. I think it was a good idea, but it never got beyond being an idea. Also I was losing the thread. Moving had stopped me gaming, and I didn’t like the concept of what is now called the Chronicles of Darkness line of games.

Then a few years ago I started to get the vampire-bug again. I’ve slowly been acquiring a mixture of second hand and digital copies (mostly from Drive Thru RPG). Nothing 5th Edition, because just like with CoD the re-envisioning of the game doesn’t work for me. Unfortunately no actual gaming, so I started to turn to AAR thoughts once again. I was thinking of a CK2 campaign, but I also had some HoI4 campaigns I wanted to do. Not from the point of view of people always directly involved in events, but as a background. Eventually - and it is ridiculous how long it took, I did the obvious and fused the two together.

Of course, these days Paradox actually owns White Wolf and this entire IP, which makes a slightly meta echo.

One of the aspects of the White Wolf line of games that I especially liked was what was frequently called The Golden Rule. Essentially it ran like this: play your game your way. They set out the “official” version, but in so many places in their sourcebooks they encouraged people to build on and alter the official products.

And so I have done. This is very much based on the World of Darkness, but it is my World of Darkness, if that makes sense. There are canon characters and circumstances (we have already encountered a few), but there are also changes. There are some choices and parts of White Wolf’s world design that I am personally not so enamoured with, and some areas I thought were lost opportunities. This AAR is a chance for me to explore, develop, and indulge some of these ideas.

However, I also wanted to try and think carefully about the perspective of this world. As a table-top player one tends to discuss things slightly mechanically, or in an overtly affected manner (I suspect I would do a better job now at 40 than I did at 20, but I am sure I would still do it). Indeed, it is unavoidable to some extent when describing actions, or relying on dice rolls to resolve certain actions. Our characters are reduced to a sequence of words and numbers (or dots for most World of Darkness games) on a character sheet.

In “real life” however there are a whole raft of structural aspects of our lives that hardly get mentioned in most conversations, because the people involved in those conversations know them. Also, both in real life and within this world, people are often operating under various states of ignorance; or where they have knowledge it is limited, partial, misleading, and very possibly false. Between these two facets it allows a writer the opportunity to slowly reveal the world.

The point is revelation of the world, not concealment after all

Going forward will happily discuss any questions about all of this as they crop up in the course of the story, though I may defer some to a more appropriate point of course. Equally, if no one is interested I won’t be offended

Does any of this really matter? Probably not, I am sure. But I decided some time ago that once someone asked the direct question I wanted to give a full answer if, I realise, a somewhat rambly one.

A very interesting and enlightening answer.

I play D&D +-once a month. Got hooked by a friend I've known since middle school, after we both became young adults. I did some Shadowrun, which I liked a lot, but as it is a lot of work for the DM, we don't do it anymore. Started in D&D 4, now D&D 5. We also did a campaign in the Deadlands setting.
I know my friend did at least one WoD-campaign during his university years, I think with the Vampires. Personally I doubt I'd like it very much, as it's apparently a very social-oriented rpg, rather than a combat-oriented one. I am just a sucker for some good combat, although that might be because I am quite socially inept and thus lack some skill, experience and interest in and for social roleplaying.

As for your negative mood, I hope you find the sunny side of life again soon. It is indeed important to talk about it, because it is the only way it might get better. I know I should do it myself. I've had quite a troubled youth which has had serious repercussions on my adult life.

 

[Specialist290]

Well, that certainly sheds quite a bit of light on things.

I've had a weird history with RPGs myself -- I like the idea behind them, and I like collecting them for certain games and settings, but I've never really gotten into them as games as such. Part of that might be down to growing up in a rural part of the country where actual gaming groups tend to be few and far between if you don't already know someone who's into the hobby, but I think what usually draws me in are the ideas for settings and characters -- they make for wonderful aids to the imagination and the creative process (which is what they're there for, honestly). I can't count how many hours I've spent with GURPS Space open to one side while I roll up the stats for yet another solar system, and just let my mind populate the worlds that emerge from the data...

 

[Chilango2]

Ah! So my supposition was correct.

Probably my favorite tabletop campaign of all time was WoD, I love the system, and I love that its more flexible and less fiddly than D&D.

I took a break from gaming after becoming a parent for a couple of years and when I came back to it around February I couldn't find anyone who plays it where I live, sadly.

I'm currently playing D&D 5E for the first time and its enjoyable, but not quite the same.

Thanks for sharing your inspiration for this AAR, I found it genuinely interesting.

 

[stnylan]

I'm so sorry mon brave - if it helps, I too was extremely demoralised over the weekend. I think we're all suffering from COVID blues.

I found this highly illuminating.

Yes, we all certainly are suffering the Covid blues. It's not making managing my other mental health issues any easier, shall we say

A very interesting and enlightening answer.

I play D&D +-once a month. Got hooked by a friend I've known since middle school, after we both became young adults. I did some Shadowrun, which I liked a lot, but as it is a lot of work for the DM, we don't do it anymore. Started in D&D 4, now D&D 5. We also did a campaign in the Deadlands setting.
I know my friend did at least one WoD-campaign during his university years, I think with the Vampires. Personally I doubt I'd like it very much, as it's apparently a very social-oriented rpg, rather than a combat-oriented one. I am just a sucker for some good combat, although that might be because I am quite socially inept and thus lack some skill, experience and interest in and for social roleplaying.

As for your negative mood, I hope you find the sunny side of life again soon. It is indeed important to talk about it, because it is the only way it might get better. I know I should do it myself. I've had quite a troubled youth which has had serious repercussions on my adult life.

I really liked Deadlands too - I did a bit of that at uni as well. In some respects probably one of the most "fun" systems ever devised, with a partial exception for Paranoia of course.

I think I would phrase it more as the WoD setting lends itself more naturally to the social and the personal than some others, but ultimately there is plenty of scope in the various settings and across the various games to run more combat-orientated campaigns. Some might echo "real" conflicts, others might be more purely shadow affairs. I believe Werewolf was more devoted to action, or rather I should say that is the general perception I have come across. I never really liked WtA.

Well, that certainly sheds quite a bit of light on things.

I've had a weird history with RPGs myself -- I like the idea behind them, and I like collecting them for certain games and settings, but I've never really gotten into them as games as such. Part of that might be down to growing up in a rural part of the country where actual gaming groups tend to be few and far between if you don't already know someone who's into the hobby, but I think what usually draws me in are the ideas for settings and characters -- they make for wonderful aids to the imagination and the creative process (which is what they're there for, honestly). I can't count how many hours I've spent with GURPS Space open to one side while I roll up the stats for yet another solar system, and just let my mind populate the worlds that emerge from the data...

I have quite a few GURPS books too And I also spent a fair amount of time creating star systems first in GURPS Space, and then GURPS Traveller First In which had a more expanded version of that system. And yes, I think given the sheer scope of my of the well established rpg lines it is vanishingly unlikely most will ever use all those resources, but they add richness to the overall setting, fire the imagination, and can be enjoyed without ever "playing" a game.

Ah! So my supposition was correct.

Probably my favorite tabletop campaign of all time was WoD, I love the system, and I love that its more flexible and less fiddly than D&D.

I took a break from gaming after becoming a parent for a couple of years and when I came back to it around February I couldn't find anyone who plays it where I live, sadly.

I'm currently playing D&D 5E for the first time and its enjoyable, but not quite the same.

Thanks for sharing your inspiration for this AAR, I found it genuinely interesting.

Yes, that is pretty much my problem. Well that and I am very bad at reaching out. My brother expressed an interest some time ago - but he has four kids so his time right now is ... limited, shall we say

 

[stnylan]

Chapter 1.7 - Martin - A moment later

“... in the window.” Annie touched his arm.

She was right, a child’s face was staring at them. A boy, not quite yet out of school, and even through the glass they could see the streaks on his face and his eyes had an empty, lifeless look.

“Hang on,” said Martin, and twisted the doorknob. The door swung open.

There was nothing obvious in the hallway. Martin blocked Annie from going in and sniffed. No smell of death. “Careful,” he warned her, and let her go first. As they entered the hallway the boy appeared at the door to the front room. Annie squatted down near him.

“Hello,” said with the bright voice not so different from when she plied her former trade, “where are you parents?” He pointed up the stairs.

“Stay with him,” Martin said, and started to go up. Making sure Annie had turned the boy around he fished out his Webley. Leaning against the wall to get a better vantage of the landing he arrived at the top. The first room was clearly the master room - and on the bed he found the parents. Both were lying on their backs, each under a blanket each, pale, and … breathing.

Just.

For several minutes Martin did nothing. He watched the nearly still forms, their chests barely moving. Even when he strained his hearing - and could hear Annie murmuring to the boy - he could not be certain he heard their breathing. More practically he heard nothing else from upstairs.

Slowly he entered the room, checking the cupboard, chest, and beneath the bed. Nothing. He left the master room and searched the others for any hiding places. Also nothing. He returned again to the two figures. The man was clearly his quarry, except his skin looked too stretched. Martin put on his gloves, knelt down, and put his ear on Robert’s chest. The heart beat, but feebly. Robert did not react to being touched. Martin checked his head, neck, arm … there.

The signs of the Master’s kin could be healed, but if you knew how to look it still left a mark. Two small patches the right distance apart where the light hair of a body should have been were entirely bare. Martin repeated the search on the woman, another such sign on her. “Bloody hell,” Martin muttered under his breath. The only hope was how easy it had been to spot - the truly skilled punctured flesh where there was no hair to betray them thus.

He walked back downstairs to see Annie with the child in the front room. They both looked up at him as he entered. “They’re alive,” he said, and then pointedly looking at the child, “but ill. Tell me boy, did you lay them up there?”

The boy nodded, then blurted out, “They like that when I came home from school. What happened to them?” The last was more a challenge than a question.

“One thing at a time boy,” Martin said, urgency making him short. “Annie here is going to take you out to get something to eat. And I’m going to get them some help.”

“Come on them, you heard what Martin said. Now you just told me you haven’t eaten a proper meal all yesterday, or today, so you got to be hungry. We’ll fix that, and then we’ll work out what next to fix. Where are your shoes?”

Suddenly active the boy scampered off. Annie stood up and walked to Martin. He hooked two fingers and mimed thrusting them into his arm.

“Bugger. You want me …”

“No,” Martin interrupted. “You look after the boy. Take him back to Shadwell. When you the others send Henry and Angus here, but keep Paddy with you.” The Irishman might be the smallest of his crew, but if the boy needed protecting Martin could not imagine a better guard than the concentrated lethality from the miner’s runaway.

“Right. The boy’s called Martin too, by the way.”

“Great,” Martin said, looking at his namesake who had just appeared. “Now scoot, the both of you. Oh, boy,” he said quickly, “where’s the cellar,” hoping the answer would be there wasn’t one.

“Under the stairs,” the boy replied, pointing.

Martin grimaced. “Good. Now, go.” Less than a minute Martin later was alone. Webley out once more he lifted the latch to the stair cupboard. The trap down to the cellar was quite clear, shut, but with no dust - unlike the floor just the other side. It would probably be quite a good cellar, Martin thought, properly concreted and everything - the house was that new. He closed the door again, and had an idea.

In the kitchen he found two benches and some chairs. He dragged these out to the hallway and piled them up in front of the stair cupboard. It wouldn’t stop anything, but it would delay. Then he left, and marched into the Builder’s Arms at the top of the street. He whacked on the door until it opened.

“What on earth,” blustered the landlord, opening the door.

“You will let me use your telephone,” Martin ordered, steeling himself with his Master’s words. Then he gave the stunned man a guinea.

“Telephone - there,” the landlord stammered, pointing, his mind still catching up.

“Thank you,” said Martin. He rang the switchboard, and asked for the number he had memorised. It took three rings before it was picked up.

“What?” said the surly voice.

“An unannounced guest in Avalon,” Martin said.

A silence. “Where?”

Martin gave the address, and added, “two vessels still afloat, but barely.”

“Right,” the voice drawled. “We’ll send the teams over, and Martin - my Master will want to see you there, as soon after sunset as he can make it. Understand?”

“Perfectly,” Martin replied, and replaced the receiver.

He turned. “Anything wrong?” the landlord asked, trying to make sense of it all.

Martin smiled, “Nothing to concern you, good sir,” and he left, shutting the door. He would wait outside the front of the house, he decided, with the door open, until others got here. Safer all round.

 

[DensleyBlair]

“An unannounced guest in Avalon,” Martin said.

Avalon? Hmm. Seeing as we’re a good few hours out of Somerset, I do wonder what this can mean. Are our shadowy agents mixed up in Arthurian lore for good measure?

 

[Qorten]

Avalon? Hmm. Seeing as we’re a good few hours out of Somerset, I do wonder what this can mean. Are our shadowy agents mixed up in Arthurian lore for good measure?

Not being from the UK, I assumed it was merely the vampire code for London. It would be quite appropriate most days during the Industrial Revolution time period, with all the chimneys from the factories and ships creating a mist, shrouding the city, like Avalon is said to have been.

 

[Nikolai]

So, the enemy is showing themselves. Or rather, they are in the shadow, but noticable.

 

[Specialist290]

Ah, intrigues between rival vampire courts are always such fun... At least, when watched from a safe distance

Annie misunderstanding Martin's signal was a refreshing moment of levity, brief as it was -- certainly helps to "humanize" them, as it were.

 

[Bullfilter]

A veritable surfeit of Martins, I see. Quite right, too. One wonders whether it is that rogue(?) vampire mentioned earlier, who had woken up from the long sleep? Or someone (thing) else entirely. And what was this target being targeted for anyway?

 

[stnylan]

Avalon? Hmm. Seeing as we’re a good few hours out of Somerset, I do wonder what this can mean. Are our shadowy agents mixed up in Arthurian lore for good measure?

By the by of nothing in particular I will note that I currently live in the county of Somerset, even though I feel somewhat traitorous for doing so (wrong side of the Tamar).

Not being from the UK, I assumed it was merely the vampire code for London. It would be quite appropriate most days during the Industrial Revolution time period, with all the chimneys from the factories and ships creating a mist, shrouding the city, like Avalon is said to have been.

Avalon has a number of potential meanings in real life, of course. It may help to know that the Somerset Levels have only recently (ie, in the last 2-3 centuries) been effectively drained, and every now and then nature tries to re-assert itself.

So, the enemy is showing themselves. Or rather, they are in the shadow, but noticable.

Perhaps

Ah, intrigues between rival vampire courts are always such fun... At least, when watched from a safe distance

Annie misunderstanding Martin's signal was a refreshing moment of levity, brief as it was -- certainly helps to "humanize" them, as it were.

Ummm, she didn't misunderstand the symbol (certainly as I wrote it). ... though that gives me an idea

A veritable surfeit of Martins, I see. Quite right, too. One wonders whether it is that rogue(?) vampire mentioned earlier, who had woken up from the long sleep? Or someone (thing) else entirely. And what was this target being targeted for anyway?

Well you know what they say, even three Martins is not enough...

 

[El Pip]

I had assumed Avalon was the UK in general, with the exact boundaries perhaps not matching those in the daylight world.

The question of whether these interlopers are unskilled or not even trying to hide their presence is an interesting one, indeed leaving marks that they knew would be found could be a message in itself. I feel confident that absolutely none of these questions will be answered as the story progresses.

 

[TheButterflyComposer]

I had assumed Avalon was the UK in general, with the exact boundaries perhaps not matching those in the daylight world.

The question of whether these interlopers are unskilled or not even trying to hide their presence is an interesting one, indeed leaving marks that they knew would be found could be a message in itself. I feel confident that absolutely none of these questions will be answered as the story progresses.

Seems to have been a sort of mythical native Breton idea originally, which means it's location varies depending on who you ask (and like everything attributed to the 'celts', highly suspect to tampering by those dastardly Romantics and victorians that ruined everything forever).It's basically any smaller island close to where they currently were. Lots of locations along the south coast fit that description, pretty much all along all the coastlines really, especially before we drained marsh and washland away. It's also why there's lots of monastic ruins randomly spread around. There was probably a really large hill or island there at one point. Not all monasteries were herimitages of course but most of the really old ones were.

 

[roverS3]

What a fascinating tale. Secret societies, extra-natural phenomena, mysterious characters, intrigue. All loosely connected to a grand strategy game about the second world war. I'm on board. Can't wait for the next instalment!

 

[Fiftypence]

Intriguing, so there's something out there and it's apparently targetting Martin's people. Looking forward to the next update

 

[stnylan]

I had assumed Avalon was the UK in general, with the exact boundaries perhaps not matching those in the daylight world.

The question of whether these interlopers are unskilled or not even trying to hide their presence is an interesting one, indeed leaving marks that they knew would be found could be a message in itself. I feel confident that absolutely none of these questions will be answered as the story progresses.

Hehe. Well, perhaps not none

Seems to have been a sort of mythical native Breton idea originally, which means it's location varies depending on who you ask (and like everything attributed to the 'celts', highly suspect to tampering by those dastardly Romantics and victorians that ruined everything forever).It's basically any smaller island close to where they currently were. Lots of locations along the south coast fit that description, pretty much all along all the coastlines really, especially before we drained marsh and washland away. It's also why there's lots of monastic ruins randomly spread around. There was probably a really large hill or island there at one point. Not all monasteries were herimitages of course but most of the really old ones were.

Old ideas always have a tendency to be repurposed for modern times, and I have a good deal more tolerance for Romantic/Victorian etc. distortions given what intellectual knots 20th and 21st century history departments get into applying political mores of of each present to the past.

Humans will be humans etc.

What a fascinating tale. Secret societies, extra-natural phenomena, mysterious characters, intrigue. All loosely connected to a grand strategy game about the second world war. I'm on board. Can't wait for the next instalment!

Welcome aboard!

Intriguing, so there's something out there and it's apparently targetting Martin's people. Looking forward to the next update

Perhaps

 

[stnylan]

Chapter 1.8 - Albert V

The restaurant of The King’s Water is quite a different place from the public house which it backs onto. Here one goes to dine - the name giving a delightful frisson of the profane to those who do not wish to truly blaspheme against their mores. The other part of the scandal, of course, being that the kitchen that produces the fine dishes here also outputs the simpler fare in its lower-brow namesake. Since I began this venture this has generated exactly the sort of clientele I had hoped for - but not just that. As we mention in our interviews you will never get famous as a chef of the Water - but if you work hard you might, in certain select circles get something altogether more precious: a reputation that will take you out of my kitchen to other places that seek fresh talent.

It is an enticing prospect to the right sort of recruit. And given the peculiar demands of the Water’s kitchen it is said that if you can make it here there is no kitchen in London or the Home Counties that will faze you.

There are also certain private rooms for my patrons should they wish a more personal experience, or indeed just more private. I sit in one of them now, awaiting my guests. I do prefer my familiar booth in the pub, but tonight this is the more suitable venue. I hear the bells strike seven.

The door opens, “Monsieur Dupon and Mr Warrenson,” the waiter announces, and steps aside. I stand.

Henri is, as ever, dressed in precise fashion with cloth from the finest of tailors. Mr Warrenson, in comparison, seems slovenly with that casual disdain that shouts his American heritage.

“Ah, Albert, mon ami,” says Henri expansively in his native French, “it has been too long since I last had the pleasure of your company.” We grasp hands, but in deference to our natures do not kiss. He switches to English. “Please may I present Mr Silas Warrenson, of Boston originally and but lately arrived from New York.”

“Good evening sir,” he says, holding out a hand which I shake.

“Please, sit,” I say, indicating the two places at my table. “Mr Warrenson, would you care to dine?”

He glances at Henri, and I notice the Frenchman’s hand wiggles slightly. “Ah, I will be quite fine, thank you,” he replies, following instruction.

Henri switches to Latin. “This man is under my protection,” he states, but simply with no aggression.

“Of course,” I say, and then add, “it is a genuine offer.”

“I imagine so,” Henri replies, “but let us keep to business.” He speaks again in French. “I have explained to Silas here that you are going to be travelling to his homeland, and wish to be acquainted with current events.”

As we speak Mr Warrenson sits patiently. His eyes focus on the French, but not so the Latin.

“So Mr Warrenson, my friend Henri has explained my predicament to you?” I ask.

“Well sir, my employer has said you’ve not kept abreast of much news from across the sea of late and have a trip to make in haste.”

I smile, “That, Mr Warrenson, is an accurate summation. I hope to not be a complete ignoramus. I get the impression these recent economic difficulties remain quite pronounced over there?”

“That’s sure correct,” Mr Warrenson replies. “It’s been nearly two years since the Banking Crash of Christmas ‘32, but until the Supreme Court rules on the Emergency Bank Recovery Act everything remains up in the air.”

Henri leans back in his chair, observing. I glance at him and smile. “I must confess, Mr Warrenson, to not quite understanding.”

“See Sir, the Supreme Court tends to be a big defender of liberty. Whole bunch of cases from the last twenty or so years about it. Now, when President Roosevelt took office back in March ‘33 he knew he needed to get the banking sector working again. So with his supermajority in Congress he passed the Banking Act - but it’s a damned blunt club. I mean it’s worked, sort of. But only to a point, and it caused more than a little controversy. The cases are making their way through the court system, and will probably be decided upon before the ‘36 race. If the Court throws out the Act - well there’s already talk of campaigning to pack the court. He’s done other stuff, of course, but everything’s stuck.”

“And how is it on the ground, Mr Warrenson? Those activities so entrancing the politicians and lawyers seem rather ephemeral if one can’t eat.”

“That’s true sir. It’s pretty damned grim. People are starving. Never thought I would see the day. In any big city, if you are out early enough, you’ll probably see a few that didn’t make it through the night. Some of the other scroungers take them to the gravepits for the price of a meal. With winter coming on - I heard it was bad last year, it’ll be worse this year.

There is not enough snow to properly cover the corpses, just enough to adorn their withered, frozen forms. The promise of a meal is enough to get them cleared by those unlucky enough to still be alive. The people who go to church have long since learned not to look.

“There’s the soup kitchens and the like, of course, but they don’t always have enough food. In places the army’s been deployed. Hell, just before I left New York more than two dozen were killed over a soup riot when the troops opened fire.”

Mr Warrenson pauses. I can see in his haunted eyes a glimpse of his horror as he details just how far his country has sunk.

“And, from what I hear, in the South, it's worse.” He adds, but goes no further.

I let the silence linger a moment. Glancing at Henri who remains apparently impassive. Then I ask, “And this Prohibition business is at an end?”

His eyes refocus as he brings himself together to answer the question. “Thank God yes. Montana was the final state needed for ratification a couple of months ago, and President Roosevelt didn’t wait to get it all written up. Been a boon to jobs - but not enough. Not yet.”

“Well Mr Warrenson, I must thank you for agreeing to come and speak to me.” I pick up the small bell beside my place, and ring it. Through a door Rupert and Ariadne enter the room. “These are my servants, who will be accompanying me. If you would do me the honour of briefing them separately, I believe they will have questions of a more mundane and practical nature.” I turn to Henri and say in French, “there is an office just through that door, he will not be far.”

Henri thinks a moment, and nods. Permission granted Mr Warrenson gets up and does my bidding. My two greet him warmly, or so it seems. It is not always easy to tell.

After they withdraw into the office - though I signal to Ariadne to keep the door open - I turn to Henri and say in his truly native French. “Under your protection, but not yours I trust.”

Henri laughs. “Of course not.” He grins in silence a moment, and adds, “Though I am told if you are a devotee of the rhetorician’s art he cuts quite the figure in debate - but recently returned from across the ocean and so suitable to this purpose.” He pauses, and then asks with a twinkling eye, “I suppose I could ask him to dance for your amusement.” I snort in return, and smile. I can imagine it. Then the humour departs as Henri places an arm on the table and leans a little towards me. “Perhaps, Albert, you might indulge me with a question of my own?”

“A question, yes.”

Henri’s lips twitch. “Very well. What is the point of this charade? You will have researched the current goings on in America, and if anything know them better than a stuffy waffly servitor.”

I think a moment, and then decide it may yet serve a purpose. “I will indulge,” I say first, and draw a deep, un-necessary breath. I exhale as I lean back, breathe in again, and speak. “Two reasons. First, I am the invited guest. That invite imposes obligations on your sect, Henri. Obligations that I expect it to honour. Consider this briefing request a gentle … reminder.”

A grim chuckle sounds from Henri’s mouth. “Of course. A message.”

“You cannot be surprised, envoy as you are.”

“No,” Henri says, shaking his head a litte. “And the second?”

“The second is a gift of thanks to you: a lesson, if you will.” I see something bridle in Henri’s eyes but he quells it. I hope he actually listens, rather than just seeming to, but that is his choice. “Think of how Mr Warrenson sounded when he spoke of the dead in the streets, of his incomprehension of how this could happen in his country.”

“Really Albert? People have always starved when times are bad.”

I consider not bothering further, but I continue. “Henri, can you recall the last time you heard an American be downcast about their country? Like Mr Warrenson was just now?” I see him ponder the question. I wait a few minutes. “This crisis is doing something to America - something deep. It has happened before, if you recall, in other places at other times.” I emphasise the accent I am speaking, exaggerating its anachronistic sound.

Henri stares at me, perplexed. Then clarity breaks across his face. “Well played,” he says, his accent fully modern, as ever. “I take the point.” He pauses. “I don’t know why they want you over there,” he says, “you would not be my first choice.”

“It is a mystery,” I say.

We sit in silence then until our lessers are done.

 

[TheButterflyComposer]

Old ideas always have a tendency to be repurposed for modern times, and I have a good deal more tolerance for Romantic/Victorian etc. distortions given what intellectual knots 20th and 21st century history departments get into applying political mores of of each present to the past.

I and fellow histroians of the here and now have discussed the romantics a lot (the victorians are a lost cause). Personally I alternate between admiration for the fervour of belief in the human spirit they espouse and also fundamentally decry the rather vicious attacks some romantics have shot against the enlightenment and the concept of science. William Blake (the man who didn't quite write a national anthem...yet) once wrote that science bastardised the rainbow in explaining it.

This is so absurd I struggle to identify with his point, though I do see it. Yes the rainbow is no longer a source of infinite imagination of bridges to other worlds but instead marks infinite wonder at a universe so beautiful and strange that light might naturally be split by mere water to create art in the sky.

The chapter was good too

 

[El Pip]

Henri’s lips twitch. “Very well. What is the point of this charade? You will have researched the current goings on in America, and if anything know them better than a stuffy waffly servitor.”

I'm sure someone actually interested in US history could chime in better, but either things have changed radically or Warrenson is a stuffy, waffly, incorrect servitor. The '33 Banking Act was a classic bit of locking the door after the horse had bolted. Maybe a necessary bit of work to fix the system before the next crisis but it would be bugger all help with the recovery and it was certainly not part of the New Deal. Didn't get a legal challenge and honestly hard to see how it would, or at least hard to see a challenge having enough merit to get to the Supreme Court.

I am doubtless over thinking this and this is just some dodgy HOI4 focus tree decisions on which Paradox have lavished their famed care and (complete lack of) attention to detail.

I continue to quite like Albert as a character, certainly I would wish to avoid meeting him as I get the impression that unless you are in the clan/sect your life expectancy would not be good. A bit more of him and Henri verbally sparring would be fun, but I can understand why such things must not be overplayed.

 

[Specialist290]

“That’s sure correct,” Mr Warrenson replies. “It’s been nearly two years since the Banking Crash of Christmas ‘32, but until the Supreme Court rules on the Emergency Bank Recovery Act everything remains up in the air.”

His eyes refocus as he brings himself together to answer the question. “Thank God yes. Montana was the final state needed for ratification a couple of months ago, and President Roosevelt didn’t wait to get it all written up. Been a boon to jobs - but not enough. Not yet.”

Well, now we have the timeframe narrowed down a bit -- Montana ratified Amendment XXI on August 6, 1934. (That said, Warrenson misspoke as to Montana being the last state needed for ratification -- the ones that brought it up to the two-thirds requirement were actually Ohio, Pennsylvania, and Utah on December 5, 1933. At that point, Montana's ratification was just a formality, really.)