Shattered Empire: A Noble Warlord Quest (CKII)

Results: Early 2673 Shahzad

From the Ministry of State (DIPLOMACY)
Costs: -7,000 dinars
Roll: 77 (61+6+10) - 1 Critical Success!
Result: See upcoming interlude "Reborn in Flame"

From the Ministry of War (MARTIAL)
Costs: -15,000 dinars from reserves, -2000 ongoing to income for 3 more turns
Roll: 67 (49+12+6) - Success
Result: Lord Kiril's reorganization and revitalization of the officer corps has started well. While it will be some time yet before the Army and Navy's upper echelons will be back to their pre-coup standard, it is an excellent start. In addition, Lord Kiril has taken under his wing a young officer who showed a great deal of promise during the putsch and the subsequent Siege of the Winter Palace. The officer, Colonel Daria Varyanova, was recently promoted two ranks, and is rather out of her element - but she is still very willing to learn.

From the Ministry of the Exchequer (STEWARDSHIP)
Costs: -1,000 dinars from reserves
Roll: 57 (30+11+16 (Supervise a Ministry)) - Success
Result: Ivan goes to his trial screaming and protesting - not his innocence (nobody is quite that stupid), but instead that he was trying to the right thing for House Rurikovich. He came across as a ranting lunatic, and it is very safe to say that public opinion largely supports you - though a number of dissenters appear to be waiting in the wings. The interesting thing, however, is not his arguments - but what he revealed during his interrogation and trial. He revealed, in private, that Ekaterina III had been hiding… something in a vault deep beneath the Winter Palace. Checking over the Palace's schematics do not match up with this assertion, but scans have revealed a heavily armored and shielded chamber buried perhaps 250 meters below the surface. He even revealed the entrance, which was why he had fought so hard in the end - he and his followers were trying hard to break through. Now? Now it's your turn to find out what your mother was hiding. The difficulty of the "Secrets of the Tsarina" action is now LEA 50. See the decision "Thus Always to Traitors" for your reward.

From the Okhrana (INTRIGUE)
Costs: -15,000 dinars from reserves
Roll: 62 (43+13+6) - Success
Result: Lisitsyn is as good as his word. A number of Okhrana agents are investigated and subsequently disappear from the public eye, at nearly every echelon of power in the agency. The Okhrana, at least for now, is loyal to you and only you. +2 to Fear.

From the Ministry for Sciences (LEARNING)
Costs: -5,000 dinars from reserves
Roll: 100 (82+13+5) - 1 Critical Success!
Result: See interlude "Reborn in Flame."

From the Grand Bishopric of Moskva (PIETY)
Costs: -5,000 dinars from reserves
Roll: 71 (54+13+4) - Automatic Success
Result: See interlude "Reborn in Flame."

Personal Actions
Costs: None
Roll: 71 (54+13+4) - Automatic Success
Result: See "The Trial of Ivan Rurikovich."

Hero Actions
[X] Major Tatiana Chernova
Costs: None
Roll: 58 (37+21) - Success
Result: Even with the Okhrana turning itself into an ouroboros, Tatiana has been able to ensure that your own personal guards are reliable. You don't ask questions when a number of your bodyguards are quietly removed from their positions, and only feel a little bit of trepidation when you are informed by a terrified officer that one of the higher-ranking members of the Guard near the Palace suffered an unfortunate "accident." In their place, she has taken the initiative to bring in unquestionably loyal Aristarkhov troops. +1 to Fear, gain 1 free Hit Squad on Moskva.

[X] Commodore Pyotr Chekhov
Costs: None
Roll: 62 (44+18) - Success
Result: Chekhov, having taken charge of the reorganization of the Home Fleet, proves to be effective at rooting out traitors in the ranks - clearly he learned a little something during the desperate return trip from Volchansk. Gain 1 free Destroyer whose crew was confirmed to be vetted.

Decisions
[X] Give a few seats

Costs: None
Result: Egonova is a little disappointed that not all of her "friends" were appointed to Senate positions, but she is satisfied for now. Of course, Egonova being Egonova, she is unlikely to remain that way for long.

[X] Toss the Apples, Save the Barrel
Costs: None
Result: With Tatiana handling your closer Guard problems, the Guard as a whole is also undergoing radical shifts. THe officer corps has essentially been gutted, and the process of recruiting new Guard officers from the regular army's ranks, while ongoing, will take some time. -5 to all military actions involving Elites until "Brain Drain" has been removed.
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Random Events:
(Every turn I will roll for a Boon, an Event, and a Disaster. If the Boon roll is above an 80, a positive event will occur. If the Event roll is between 40 and 60, a "neutral" event happens. If the Disaster roll is below 20, a serious new problem arises.)
Boon: 77
Event: 67
Disaster: 21 (Phew!)

Nothing of note occurs.
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New Hero Unit Recruited!
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Interlude to come soon.

Temple of the Paragon Ekaterina Mater
Posadka, 22 Maximilios, 2673 Shahzad

"We are all as one in the bosom of the Primus, He and She who Humankind begat and who, in turn, saved Humankind. It is from the Primus that we come, and it is to the Primus that we return."

You watch as Grand Bishop Panin stands over the familiar body, laid out in full Rurikovich regalia and clutching the (gutted) hilt of a ceremonial energy blade to her chest. The scene feels unreal to you - the vast size of the Temple of Ekaterina Mater gives you a feeling of intense vertigo, certainly not helped by the constantly-shifting colors of the floor tiles - designed to look as though one were standing in the middle of a dark, roiling ocean. Censers hang from Panin's waist, from the walls, and from the hands of the dozens of priests, bishops, and lay clergy prowling around the halls. The scent billowing from their burning cores is overpowering, a blend of cloyingly sweet and sharply sour. It stings your eyes, forcing you to screw them shut - or is that just you?

"O Primus, Mother, Father, and Child of Man, we beseech you - accept this wayward soul. Accept her for your own, and save her from her ceaseless wheel, or see her reborn in flame."

You glance up; the skylights of the Temple of Ekaterina Mater were cleverly built for this express purpose, focusing the sunlight of Mir down onto the raised dais where the pyre sits. It is lovingly carved and built, engraved with the heraldry of your house and with details of the deceased's life. Your eyes focus on one square in the center of the pyre - Ekaterina III's angular face, cut to specifically emulate the original Ekaterina Mater, cradling the legendary First Child of Rurik. The Child… she has your face.

"Sivela kuwe. Sibuyela kuwe." We came from you. We return to you.

As he slips into the ancient Xhosa tongue, the language of the First Codex, Panin's free hand grasps a gilded ladle, dipping it slowly into a concoction of sacred oils. He spreads the oil across Ekaterina's forehead, in a glistening line down her face, and pooling it just above her clasped hands.

"Hlula isondo." Break the wheel. '

Panin turns again, handing the ladle off to a lay sister and trading it for the ornate metal torch. You swallow the lump in your throat as he turns back to his grim task, raising the contraption high above his head reverently and bringing it down.

"Zalwa ngokutsha kwilangatye." Be reborn in flame.

The tip of the glowing torch touches the bottom of the ornate pyre, and in a matter of seconds, the flames have consumed the entire ensemble. A single sob tears its way from your lungs, and it's a titanic battle to prevent more from escaping. Your eyes blur as the fire begins to visibly consume the husk of Ekaterina Rurikovich, and you're thankful for it.

You feel warm fingers loop into the hand at your side. Your breath catches in your throat as you look down to see Tatiana's hand entangled in yours, squeezing hard and becoming an anchor preventing you from floating off into your own head. Together, you stand as the smoke from the flame curls upward to the open skylights, the stench of the pyre covered by the heavy smell of incense.
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It takes a surprisingly short time for the body to burn. The pyre was built for this purpose, of course, but it feels like only a few minutes before Bishop Panin lowers his head and proclaims the ceremony over. Your duty finally fulfilled, you take one last look at the conflagration that was once Ekaterina III and turn away.

Flanked by bodyguards - Norilsk Marines, rather than the more suspect Preobrazhensky troops - you lead a procession of black-clad mourners out of the temple and into the square near the center of Posadka. The summer sun is pleasantly warm, and the weather is so nice that the temperature regulation fibers in your black dress don't need to be working. Nature seems to taunt you, its joy and cheer at odds with the somber mood of the day.

This is only the latest of many, many pyres you've had to attend. Watching your mother be consigned to flame was of course by far the worst yet, but you remember that Captain Nagumo's funeral was gutwrenching as well. You'll never get the image of your uncle Kiril weeping openly as he picked a piece of jawbone from a pile of ashes out of your mind.

Tatiana has long since let go of your hand, but you feel her hand on your shoulder as she seems to steer you in a specific direction.

"Nastya," she whispers. "Look."

You turn and your heart skips a beat. Two men, from among the throng of mourners, are shouldering their way through the crowd, a slightly manic-looking Duke Yusopov and a whole squadron of foreign guards trailing them. You've only seen pictures and holos of them before, but it's impossible not to recognize them.

The one on the left is squat, broad, and potbellied, an impressive black beard hiding what you assume to be many chins. He wears a long, gilded kaftan, engraved with beautiful swirling golden patterns that stand out against the jet-black garment. A checkered cloth drapes across his head and down his back, held in place as he bounces towards you by a thin circlet of rope.

The other is an exercise in contrast. He stands well over six feet tall, and his chiseled jaw and long, flowing locks of blond hair make him stand out even among the sea of people. He wears a plain robe of dark and unadorned cloth, but despite its simplicity, it shimmers and glides in such a way that implies expensive make. With a start, you recognize some of the features of his face - the prominent cheekbones, the almond-shaped eyes, and the heavier eyebrows - from your own visage, and that of your moth… of others.

Yusopov finally catches up, breathing a little irregularly, and looks at you apologetically. "Your Grace, may I present their Graces - the Sultan Mehmed of House Al-Mufti, and the Prince Louis of House Massarde."

You stop, fighting back your surprise, as the two heads of your biggest rival houses approach you almost in unison. Sultan Mehmed XIV Al-Mufti is the first to speak, bowing deeply and greeting you with enthusiasm that belies the somber occasion. "My lady, what a singular pleasure!" He reaches out a fleshy hand, which you take as coolly as you can, and he begins to pump it up and down. "I just wish our first meeting could have been under happier circumstances!"

"My Lord," you say, by way of greeting, hiding your surprise. "I had heard that representatives from Damascus would be in attendance, but I must say, I was not expecting you." You turn to the other man. "Nor you, my Lord."

You glance over at Yusopov, who looks rather uncharacteristically nonplussed, but he seems to steel himself and clears his throat. "I was not informed myself until well after they touched down at the spaceport. I was told that it must have been a clerical error."

You grimace; both of them showing up at the same time is no coincidence. The implications of your two rivals showing up at the same time and the same place, at a time when you would likely be at your most emotionally vulnerable is… troubling.

Prince Louis III Massarde, thankfully, is more appropriately subdued as he clasps your hand in his own. "I was terribly saddened by the news when I heard, my Lady." He inclines his head. "I had the deepest respect for your mother - she was my cousin after all, and I considered her a personal friend."

For some reason, you doubt the veracity of that claim, but you return the gestures. "Thank you for your kind words, my Lords. I apologize for what must have been a somewhat lackluster reception."

Mehmed waves a hand. "Oh, think nothing of it! I would not have missed the chance to pay my respects to such an eminent woman, and to greet her daughter." He smiles, though it very clearly doesn't reach his eyes. "I was gladdened to hear that you had prevailed - one can only shudder to think what nightmares that treasonous whelp would have wrought."

"Indeed," Louis adds smoothly. "Your speech during the aftermath of the battle… I was very moved to tears." The compliment is very clearly insincere, but you nod your head anyway.

An idea strikes you. "My Lords, if I may make up for our lack of a proper welcome - there is a restaurant here in central Posadka that I believe you would both enjoy. Would you be so kind as to dine with my family tonight? We would be honored if you would join us."

A wide grin splits Mehmed's face, likely the first sincerely excited one you have seen so far. "Why, I would be delighted!" He nods, the checkered cloth bouncing hypnotically. "I have heard much of Posadka's cuisine, and I must say, I am intrigued to sample what the Tsarina herself considers the best!"

Louis nods, one corner of his lips turning upward in a thin smile. "I would be happy to join you as well. I have not seen your father in some time, and it would be pleasant to do so again."

Yusopov nods at you approvingly, clapping his hands for attention. "Indeed! If your Graces would follow me, we can have transport prepared. You said you have a spot in mind, your Grace?"

You nod. The Emerald Crown is a venue that caters mostly to the upper crust of Posadka's society, from nobles to senators to wealthy commoners - and by your own experience the food should be enough to sate even the lofty tastes of a pair of Great Lords.

...You hope.
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Dinner is, if you could describe it, pleasantly awkward. The Sultan orders enough food for three people, and more than once sprays food across the table as he devours his roast goose and a full plate of varenniki. Prince Louis is far more reserved; though he also orders a lot of food, he requests that the portions be made small, and simply spends most of the dinner carefully sampling each dish in turn. His faces are difficult to decipher, but you would guess that he finds about half the available food appropriate for his consumption. The guards - both your own and the foreigners - stand silently, very likely dying inside.

Your family, on the other hand, lets you do most of the talking. Like you, they merely pick at their food; having just watched a funeral pyre has clearly put all of you off of cooked meat for obvious reasons. Your father Alexei has, for the most part, checked out, for which you don't blame him. His own son killed his beloved wife, his home was reduced to a warzone, his family was torn apart, and he had no clue whether you had survived. The funeral, after so many long months with the body of Ekaterina III in stasis, will hopefully be something of a release for him, but at least for now, his responses to Prince Louis's probing questions are monosyllabic and void of emotion.

Ekaterina the Younger has made attempts to be social. An attempt to engage the Sultan in a polite exchange of literary opinion, however, ends with him bored and her increasingly frustrated. All her experience in the courtly arts are for naught against the large man and his desire to consume enough food to feed an army. At least Olga, much more at home with conserving food on the march, has been able to match him bite for bite - and while they don't have much in the way of conversation as a result, there is some kind of gluttonous camaraderie between them.

Poor, poor Pavel - the youngest Rurikovich hasn't had the same social and political training as you, your sister, or your father, so he's horribly out of his element. He mostly alternates between picking at his nightroot stew, stammering awkward answers to the few questions from your guests, and trying to surreptitiously read a book on his tablet under the table. (A cuff around the ear from Ekaterina puts paid to that quickly.)

At least they listen to you - and to your surprise, they seem to listen well. Apparently, Duke Yusopov's grand Ivan-related diplomatic campaign attracted their interest, and has gotten you a great deal of goodwill in the courts of many Houses. You knew there was some success - an official condolences message had even been passed along from the Imperial Palace itself - but you certainly weren't expecting it to bring two Great Lords of the Empire directly to your doorstep.

You manage to have a relatively amiable conversation with the two of them; nothing regarding politics, business, or war, but about strikingly mundane things. There wouldn't normally be anything intimidating about discussing food, wine, and entertainment, but Louis's even, unblinking stare and Mehmed's dissonant cheer makes it difficult for you to do this - especially with the very recent memory of the pyre in your mind.

Dinner eventually ends, and the two lords say their goodbyes and are escorted back to their hotels by a thoroughly exhausted Duke Yusopov. Later that evening, though, your office receives two messages - one from each of them - thanking you for your wonderful hospitality and for the food. Both make rather lucrative offers for the expansion of trade deals, something that Yusopov will very likely be pleased with.

Resolving to deal with it in the morning, you retire to your bedroom, collapse onto the bed, and fall asleep in moments. That night, you dream of flame.

"Leverage Ivan's Villainy" and "State Funeral" Rewards: +3 to Love, +2 to Fame, +5,000 to Income per Turn; relations established with Prince Louis III of House Massarde and Sultan Mehmed XIV of House Al-Mufti, meaning that the actions "Shaking Hands - House Al-Mufti" and "Shaking Hands - House Massarde" no longer cost anything, and their difficulty has been reduced to 15. +3 to PR for both lords.
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Khrabrost III, Khrabrost System, Deep Periphery
25 Maximilos, 2673 Shahzad

Flame. All Captain Evgeny Lavrov can see is flame. Great gouts of red and orange fire, licking so high they didn't seem to end, consume his vision. Oddly enough, he doesn't feel any heat, or the primeval fear that flames that large and that close should be stirring in the recesses of his brain. All he can register is that the flame is… calling to him somehow.

He takes a single step forward, exosuited hand reaching out to touch it, as if on its own volition. He takes another step, and his fingers are just millimeters away, close enough to brush it -

"Captain?" There's a crackle in his earpiece as the nervous voice of Ensign Pavel Salkalin breaks Lavrov out of his trance. "Are… are you okay?"

Lavrov swivels to regard the rest of his team - six men and women, archaeologists, botanists, geologists, and a number of other -ists, all suited up in full exo-gear after the incidents that claimed three already. They're all variably staring at their leader or at the space behind him as he realizes what he was doing.

"There was… a flame," he says, a bit weakly. "I saw it, like Popova saw before she-" He turns back around, to gesture at the gouts of silent fire, but when he looks, hios words die in his throat - instead of flame there is merely the yawning maw of a dark chasm that would have swallowed him up had he taken another step further.

"P-primus save us," he whispers, stepping back from the edge. Lieutenant Shulgin had toppled into a pit like this just two cycles ago, without warning and with almost no sound - and now he knows why.

"Keep moving," he says, trying to hide the quaver in his voice. "The scans said the main chamber was this way." He points, checking the holographic map hovering over his wrist. The team keeps moving, carefully picking their way through a ruined tunnel too uniform and neat to be natural. Khrabrost III is a barren world on the surface, but whoever or whatever created this deep structure made sure the air was breathable - and that life could flourish here, in a certain way.

The walls, despite being uniformly slick black stone, have slots in them at regular intervals, through which sprout curious blue mushroom caps. They glow with gentle light, adding just a little bit to the harsher beams from their lamps.

Their probes have already retrieved samples for dissection and analysis, but they already know that pulling them up actually kills the bioluminescence very quickly, and in a few that weren't immediately stored, they've already begun to wither and decay. Their mycelia reach deep into the stone, and they've yet to find any end to them.

"Come on," Lavrov says, trying to encourage them just a little bit more. "The main chamber's just over here."

The party comes to a pair of heavy stone doors, covered with the remnants of ornate carvings ground down by the ages. Just outside, a small spherical probe hovers, waiting for them to arrive. It floats down to "greet" the technician, Varina, and begins uploading its data to her tablet. She looks up.

"Captain, Misha's saying the doors are shielded and heavy, but not locked. We could literally push it open if we wanted."

Lavrov chews his lip. He's already lost three people and almost died himself. Whatever this place is, it is undoubtedly hostile. But his curiosity is a far more potent mativator than his fear.

He steps up to the door and lays a hand on the cool stone, tracing the ancient inscriptions in a language no one knows anymore. "We'll open it. Varina, Pavlov, keep a lookout. The rest of you, help me with this thing."

Together, the scientists heave against the heavy stone door. It's difficult, but even after so many years, the hinges swing inward nearly silently, and the great slab gives way to a massive open chamber.


The chamber is lit by a soft blue light, the same as the bioluminescent mushrooms sprouting from the slick walls. Each one of the walls are inlaid with shelves carrying large crystals, each one twice as tall as the average human and thrumming gently with some kind of energy. In a patch of open dirt in the center, larger versions of the wall mushrooms sprout from the soil, giving off the same kind of tooth-rattling energy as the crystals.Between them sprouts the branches of an immense tree, gnarled and leafless but with unnaturally smooth bark - almost like skin.

Lavrov reaches out a hand, touching the tree, and then jerks it back when blue bioluminescence spreads out in a spiderweb pattern from his fingers before disappearing back into the smooth bark of the tree. The thrumming, for just a moment, grows louder around him, and the note changes. Experimentally, he tries again, and the tree responds in the same way - touch becomes light becomes sound. Different spots on the tree yield different results, and it soon becomes clear that this tree - and the mushrooms - are all part of some kind of vast system, some kind of interface.

"Primus above," murmurs Lavrov reverently. "What have we found?"

"Ancient Ruins - Khrabrost System" Rewards: An ancient labyrinth has been discovered on Khrabrost in the Deep Periphery, untouched by human hands in at least several thousand years. Some kind of terminal with an unrecognizable organic interface is also there. Unfortunately, studying it will have to wait until after the dig site is properly established by the end of the year. (1 more turn)
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Apologies foor the delay; the holiday season is really coming down hard on me. Turn 2 coming soon!