"Incredible." Lykeus said as he walked through the city, clearly able to see the murals on the apartment walls in the bright, gaslit night. Tiryns was a small city, not a megalopolis like Mycenae, yet now there were buildings as tall as trees, and as decorated as temples. "I still can't get used to it."

He stopped at the sight of one particular mural, it had recently been painted on the wall of a bathhouse. In the day it showed a man in soldier's garb on the left, a gleaming, silver foil sun on his red bronze shield in his left hand, a rifle held forward in his right, backed by a dawning red sun against the darkened sky and barren fields of a Wanax, golden crown on his head and purple robes flowing with the wind, his face in a rictus of anger. Thousands of men and women in worker's garb were ordered behind the soldier, their own rifles raised in rebellion, while the Wanax futilely commanded his hundreds of soldiers, armed with spears and axes and shields, against the tide of rebelling peasants.

Yet in the flickering lamp light the contrast was made even starker, the silver gleamed brighter while the Wanax glowered more, the light playing on the wall made it seem as if the paint itself was moving.

The beauty of the light interplaying with the paint made his fingers twitch, it made something well in his breast. He wanted to make something like that, something that could move with and catch the light. Something that made others feel the same awe at seeing in the dark that he felt. That communicated the same wonder at this new age.

Tomorrow he was going to speak with the bureaucrats at the palace, see if he could get some paints and art supplies, or what he had to do to get them. But for now he was going to walk the city and watch the murals, he wasn't going to sleep. He couldn't let this feeling fade until he could act on it.

The Long Journey Home

Once upon a time, in a small town nestled amidst rolling hills, there lived a diligent worker named Karolos. He was known for his unwavering commitment to his job at the local factory. He would wake up before dawn each day and return home long after the sun had set. His dedication to his work was admirable, but it often meant sacrificing precious time with his loved ones. One fateful day, as Karolos toiled away at the factory, he received an urgent wire telegraph from his wife, Emily. Panic coursed through him as she explained that she had gone into labor. Karolos's heart raced with excitement and worry. He knew he had to be by her side during this momentous occasion, but he was miles away from home.

Without a second thought, Karolos rushed to his comrade factory supervisor and explained the situation. Despite the importance of his work, his supervisor understood the significance of this moment and granted him immediate permission to leave. With a grateful nod, Karolos sprinted out of the factory, his mind solely focused on reaching his wife. As he stepped outside, a storm was brewing in the distance, casting a dark shadow over his path. Undeterred by the looming tempest, Karolos hurriedly made his way towards the wagon station. However, upon his arrival, he was dismayed to find out that the wagon's wheel had broken in half and was no longer functioning, leaving him stranded. Refusing to give up, Karolos was fortunate to see a nearby peasant riding a horse pulling a small cart. He desperately pleaded with him to take him to his wife's side. The rider, moved by Karolos's urgency, agreed to help. They sped through the rain-soaked roads, the rider's horse trampling through the puddles, as Karolos anxiously glanced at his watch. Minutes turned into hours as the road ahead became flooded with deep puddles and long stretches of mud. Each passing minute felt like an eternity, and Karolos's heart ached at the thought of missing the birth of his child. He closed his eyes and silently prayed for a miracle.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the rider arrived at the town's small hospital. Karolos sprinted through the entrance, his clothes drenched and his heart pounding. He rushed to the maternity ward, where he found his wife, Emily, surrounded by a doctor and nurse. With tears streaming down his face, Karolos held Emily's hand tightly as she gave birth to their beautiful baby boy. The room was filled with joy and relief as the couple marveled at their newborn miracle. The husband, now a father, named him Evangelos. In that moment, all the hardships and obstacles they had faced melted away, replaced by an overwhelming sense of love and gratitude. As Karolos gazed into the eyes of his wife and child, he knew that every step of his arduous journey had been worth it. The long hours of work, the frantic race against time, and the stormy obstacles along the way had all led to this precious moment of new life and boundless joy. And so, in that hospital room, surrounded by love and the promise of a new beginning, Karolos realized that the truest measure of a man's dedication lies not in his work but in his unwavering commitment to his family. From that day forward, he vowed to cherish every moment, no matter how fleeting, and to always be there for his loved ones, come what may.

The Palace of Knossos, April 14 A.E

Trevor Patterson did not know what to expect when he got a summons from the Anax, particularly one so late in the evening. The ambassador had never been summoned before, asked to speak before the Senate once or twice, but never summoned.

It couldn't be a war, he knew enough about Crete to know a surprise attack on a strong power like the Popular Republic was against their general nature. And Trevor couldn't see the PRM attacking now, not with the defeat of New Arizona still relatively fresh and the army in the middle of modernization efforts. So if their two countries weren't at war, why would Wilson summon him?

When Trevor reached the Palace, the heart of the city, the guards were expecting him. They didn't escort him to the throne room or one of the private meeting rooms, instead they took to a corner of the palace he had never been through, the corridors where far less maze like then he expected, probably a result of recent remodeling work. Eventually they brought him to the Palace's apartments, the halls patrolled by more guards, each of the men and women watching him carefully as he entered one of the rooms.

The room they brought him was smaller than Patterson expected, not tiny but not grand by any stretch. The whole room was well lit with electric lights, pre-event ones of course. In the center there was a large round wooden table, sturdy wooden chairs surrounding it, each carved with various geometric designs that seemed unusually distinct from Crete's normal artistic styles. The walls lacked any frescos and were instead lined with shelves and bookcases, the former filled with pre-Event plates and cutlery, the latter filled with large books.

Dungeons and Dragons, Pathfinder, Warhammer 40,000, World of Darkness, Aberrant, and other names filled the shelves. Most of the titles were unfamiliar to Trevor but he knew enough about D&D to summarize he was looking at an extensive collection of game books.

The Anax herself was sitting at the far side of the table, dressed in a simple purple shirt and jeans, numerous fine glasses and bottles of wine, pre-Event Vintage, surrounding her, one of which was already open.One of her staff members was standing behind her.

"Ambassador!" Rachel Wilson greeted cheerfully, motioning for him to come forward, "Would you care to join me for a celebration?!"

"What are you celebrating?" Trevor asked, a bit bewildered by his situation.

"Why, to the liberation of Wilusa!" Rachel replied, "The city is under siege and my allies within the Merchant community are certain it will fall in a matter of months, if not weeks. The Paris regime has finally reached its end."

"Paris in Troy," she laughed to herself as she nursed her glass of wine, "so freaking dumb."

He'd heard reports of what was happening in Troy, the rebels were gaining ground on all fronts, the Police regime was all but dead, and they would not be missed. There were some warlords and states out there that were worse than the cops, but not many. There was plenty to celebrate now but Trevor was still confused and wary.

"Why do you want to celebrate with me?" He questioned.

On a personal level Trevor got along decently with the Dual Kingdom's leader, but they weren't friends by any means, and even as a moderate from the Popular Republic, this Kingdom's politics were offensive and absurd to him. So why him? Why would she want to celebrate with someone like him?

"My wife is busy with Cannon trials, my daughter would want to talk about her new boyfriend and I am not prepared for that conversation," Rachel explained, "My brother doesn't drink and his wife tells me I get mean around him when I'm drunk, Yun's pregnant again so she can't drink, most of my other friends are out of town and everyone else would just kill the mood."

Rachel stared at her glass, stirring the wine slightly as she did.

"Senators would bug me about various new projects, priestesses would beg for more funding for Sicilian temples, the military would bug me about increasing efforts against Rhodes, they all would want something from me" she explained.

Wilson's gaze shifted to the ambassador.

"You on the other hand, can't make demands of me," Rachel explained, "The worst you can do right now is give me a well deserved lecture over Sicily or point out the many flaws in the oligarchic state I've created, and I can easily handle that right now."

Part of Trevor wanted to turn her down but he didn't have anything else to do, Troy's liberation was something worth celebrating, and it had been a fair while since he got drunk.

"Very well," Trevor replied as he took a seat near Rachel, "I'd be happy to join you."

"Wonderful," Rachel clapped her hands, "Do you want anything to eat? Kubaba is on staff tonight, my brother-in-law trained him, the man can make damn near anything you want."

Trevor considered for a moment.

"I haven't had a corn dog since the Event," he remarked.

"I can arrange that," Rachel replied before turning to her servant, "Ariadnha, please tell Kubaba to prepare a few Corn Dogs for the ambassador, and get something for yourself as well, you've been waiting on me long enough tonight."

"He's gonna complain that a corn dog is a waste of his talents," Ariadnha replied in accented English as she walked away.

"Yeah yeah," Rachel said dismissively.

Rachel poured a glass of red wine and handed it to Trevor.

"So, have you ever played Tabletop?" She asked.

Trevor shook his head, "Nah, not my thing."

The Anax shrugged, "Shame, some of the others were thinking of bringing you into one of our gaming sessions."

Trevor could see the advantages of having that sort of access to high ranking members of the Anax's court but if he forced himself to be there, they would probably be able to tell, and if they realized he was only there for political reasons, he wouldn't get anything done.

"So, are we celebrating Troy's coming liberation or your former rival's defeat?" Trevor asked as he took a sip of wine.

"Both seem good to me," Rachel replied as she lifted her glass.

Trevor mimicked the gesture.

"It's funny, from what some of my friends are telling me, Captain Paris seems to think you funded the whole rebellion, probably organized the thing as well," Trevor remarked.

News out of Troy was often limited but it was clear from even a small amount of info that the de-facto ruler of Troy carried a massive grudge against the Anax.

Rachel chuckled a bit.

"I heard," she nodded, "Nearly 15 years now and she still can't get over the fact I pulled one over on her."

"Cops are like gangs," Trevor remarked, "Face is very important to them and your actions humiliated her."

"She deserved it," An edge of bitterness crept into Rachel's voice "she deserved everything I did to her and worse for what she did to me."

Trevor raised an eyebrow, "Did one of her thugs attack you or kill one of her friends?"

Details of what went down in Troy's first year were sparse, most of the people in Crete didn't like to talk about it and all Troy would do is paint Wilson and her allies in the worst possible light.

Rachel shook her head.

"No, though I have no doubt she intended to kill me in time," she replied, "It was what she did when we met. The King of Wilusa, he was decent, for a man with a crown on his head, he gave my people shelter and food at a desperate time, he wanted stuff in return of course but still, kept my friends and family alive when most of Tucson was starving to death. And then Victoria and that damn nutjob rolled up in that convoy."

Rachel leaned back, eyes focused on the ceiling.

"I was given a choice,turn my guns on the King or die with him. I was outnumbered and outgunned by a considerable margin, so I agreed to Paris's terms," she went on, "I ordered my friends to gun down the people who had helped us survive."

"We all had to make horrific choices in those days." Trevor said sympathetically.

When there was simply not enough food to keep everyone alive, even good people had to make awful decisions in the first years.

"But that's the thing, none of that was necessary!" Rachel argued angrily, "We had enough food in the granaries and there were plenty of fish nearby. It would have been tight, some would have died, but we could have fed almost everyone without killing the King and so many people. But Paris refused to consider even talking with the King and instead forced me to bath my hands in blood."

"I…I can understand why you hate her so much," Trevor remarked, not sure what else he could say.

His reply seemed to snap Wilson out of her melancholy.

"Sorry, sorry," she said sheepishly, "probably sounded like I was fishing for sympathy."

"It's fine," Trevor replied.

It was frustrating to see the Anax so guilt ridden over what happened in Troy over a decade ago while also doing her best to shed responsibility for Sicily. It was the Priestesses fault for giving those orders, it was the Senate's fault for refusing to provide aid, it was beyond her control due to the weather, the Anax would admit guilt to some extent but always pushed the majority of the blame elsewhere.

It was near maddening at times, but there was nothing he could do about it, he job was to ensure a peaceful diplomatic relationship with Crete, if he pushed too hard he'd likely be out of a job.

So Trevor kept his silence.

"This is supposed to be a celebration," Rachel said, more to herself than her guest, "And we have plenty to celebrate, a tyrant is dead, and the people of Wilusa are free."

"Indeed, hopefully the American rebels will make peace with the local downtimers, there's been enough suffering in the region as it is." Trevor remarked.

So many years of brutal warfare had dominated Anatolia, people of all stripes and origins were suffering there.

"I would say that's unlikely but ever since the younger brother of Jesus flew his banner over the Pueblo, I've come to realize that we live in a time where almost anything is possible," Rachel remarked.

"Christ's Kingdom has been one of the stranger things I've seen in recent years," Trevor agreed.

When he first heard rumors he thought it was just another cult, he'd heard rumors of ART having similar problems and assumed that this was a minor thing that would be crushed in months. Years later and now it seemed there was a very good chance most of Anatolia would be dominated by Christ's Kingdom, led by its prophet, Abiel Wyse.

"What the boy king accomplished is impressive," Rachel admitted, "The kid has brought low states I spent years all but hiding from. But, the whole thing is an absurd farce."

Trevor stared at the Anax in disbelief.

"You are aware of how absurd that sounds, right?" He dared, "After all most times I speak to you, you are wearing a crown."

"That was adapting to what the people of Crete expected of its rulers," Rachel said defensively, "Wyse is a child who is copying Hong Xiuquan's playbook and somehow thousands of Americans and Luwians are just…going along with it. Besides, I've seen that kind of fanatical faith before, it doesn't end in love and unity."

There was pain in her voice again, deeper, older pain.

"I'm not a particularly religious man myself," Trevor admitted, "But I know plenty of devout people who are good folk, kind people who would never shun someone for being what they are."

Rachel leaned back in her chair, "I know, I've been hearing stuff like that since I first started dating Jessica," She admitted, "But painful experience has taught me fanatical faith often goes hand in hand with hatred and bigotry, sooner or later the American fanatics are gonna declare themselves better than their downtimer brethren and the whole thing will come apart."

"Maybe," Trevor replied, "But like you said, anything is possible these days."

"True enough I suppose," Rachel nodded, "And fate does seem to be against those who hold to America or its old systems. Troy will fall, perhaps New Washington will be next."

The Zeroth Reich

"In our past, two great warrior peoples left their marks on this land. The blood of both Sparta and Rome, of Leonidas and Caesar, was destined to flow through it. Starting today, this shall be the land of a new Reich, one to last a thousand years!"
-Iker Burks, Reichskommissar Italia, Zeroth Reich

"If you ask me, that colony's existence is the second-greatest failure of our kingdom. And every day it keeps existing, it gets closer and closer to beating the Sicilian Famine for first place."
-General Jessica Myers-Wilson, Dual Kingdom of Crete and Sicily

"You think these 'Nazis', this 'Zeroth Reich' is some special sort of wickedness? Do you think starving, dying under your banners is some blessing compared to doing so under theirs? Let me tell you, American, there is one difference alone between your people and these 'Nazis' that makes them so evil in your eyes. What you do to us, they also do to you."
-Munia, Sicilian

The pride of the Nazis of Rhodes, a constant thorn in the side of Crete, the terror of Corfu, and a frustrating check on Mycenaean ambitions, the first colony of the Zeroth Reich (known to Rhodes as "Reichskommissariat Italia") occupies the southern half of Apulia, the "heel" of Italy. Its presence had upended society across the Adriatic coastline, transformed the perception of Rhodes from a nuisance to a rising power and genuine threat, and sent the ambitions of every power with designs on the Western Mediterranean spiraling into chaos. All the while, the far-right colony continues to grow in territory, population, and strength with every passing month.

The Rhodian Reich
As the second post-event decade dawned, Rhodes had already established itself as a target of hatred for most other powers in the Eastern Mediterranean. Occupied by various far-right aligned biker and ex-prison gangs, along with a smattering of other outcasts and outlaws, the island soon became the pirate, smuggling, and slave trade hub of the world. Its pirate fleets were the menace of Mediterranean trade ships and coastal settlements.

And yet…this was all they were, and to many on the island, that wasn't enough. Rhodes itself was fertile and good for agriculture, but it was lacking in many other natural resources needed for a proper industrialization. Its shipwrights were skilled, but only so long as they could import materials. Rhodes itself produced agricultural produce and methamphetamine, rapidly becoming the drug center of the world, but to the nations of the world at large it was more of a nuisance than a threat. A large gang of pirates that would be cleaned out once its stockpile of Uptime weapons was exhausted.

Many among both the rank and file and leadership of Rhodes were determined to avert this, but one man in particular had intensely lofty ambitions. Iker Burks was a member of the inner circle of Rhodes leadership, all of whom were acquaintances and in some cases even friends with each other before the Event. Between them, they had concluded that the Event was a chance to build a new nation, one based on their strange combination of Neo-Pagan, Neo-Nazi, and far-right American values.

Burkes had a particular location in mind for this nation. Rhodes was too resource-poor to create a true Reich, while Anatolia and Greece were too heavily contested. Instead, he saw the future of the Brotherhood to be in Italy, the homeland of the Roman Empire. With the exception of Sicily and independent traders, Italy was untouched, and would have an unspoiled supply of local Downtimers and natural resources.

There was just one problem: The Dual Kingdom of Crete and Mycenae had made it a standing policy to prevent other American nations from gaining a foothold in the Western Mediterranean, and their navy, supported by a much larger island population and half of the Peloponesse, far outstripped Rhodes' own. Getting a colony past the watchful eyes of Crete, and then keeping logistical connections between it and Rhodes, would be a herculean task.

As such, many in Rhodes preferred less ambitious goals, such as expanding piracy operations into the northern Aegean, with new targets such as Lesbos, Troy, and even the Air Force factions. There was even talk of how pushing north could eventually see them through the Bosporus and be able to settle in the relatively untouched Black Sea coast.

Eventually however, Burkes was able to gain enough support to push his agenda through, and Rhodes, under the guise of widening its range of pirate and smuggling networks, began searching for an opportunity to slip past Crete's net, though the plan's detractors grumbled at this being a waste of time and resources.

Fortunately for Burkes however, an opportunity would soon arise in late 11 A.E.

Apulia Calling
The Drought of 11 A.E. was catastrophic for many nations, but few moreso than the Dual Kingdom. While Crete itself weathered the storm without much difficulty, its colony of Sicily was wracked first by famine, then shortly afterwards widespread rebellion against Cretan rule. Suddenly the Dual Kingdom had far more pressing matters to attend to than keeping tabs on any attempt of westwards American settlement. Even regular naval patrols died down, as the ships were needed to transport troops and supplies to the rebellious island.

And in this vacuum, Burkes saw the opportunity he'd been waiting for. Crete was distracted, and he had the perfect target in mind for his colony site. Apulia, situated on the heel of Italy. It was far enough away from Sicily to avoid Cretan attention, but close enough that subsequent waves of colonists and supplies could still be sent. Furthermore, control of Apulia would give Rhodes a foothold in the Adriatic.

At the time of the Nazi colonization attempt, the Indo-European migrations had not yet touched the entire Italian peninsula, leaving the majority of the inhabitants of Apulia consisting of peoples related to those who would eventually have become the Etruscans. However, a series of Mycenaean colonies and trading posts had been established across the heel of Italy. Independent from the palaces of the Greek mainland, these enterprises had remained largely untouched by the occupation of their homelands by various American powers, the only change being the inclusion of new goods into their trade networks.

In the months before the Burkes Expedition was launched, Rhodes has established contact with what in the world of pre-Event archeology would be known as Scoglio del Tonno, a Mycenaean very-developed settlement that occupied the land that would have become the Italiote city-state of Taras, then the Roman city of Tarentum, and after that the Italian city of Taranto. Taras, as Burkes insisted on calling the city, was an ideal place to begin the conquest of Italy. The pirates of Rhodes, contrary to the stereotype of viewing every Downtimer in the world as a slave in the making, had good relations with the port for well over a year, using it as a trading partner to tap into the Italian peninsula, and the Mycenaeans were considered an ideal "Aryan" people, Indo-Europeans with a fierce military culture, unmarred by what they saw as the more "effeminate" principles of the classical Greeks.

This city would be important for Burkes' plans. If word got to Crete too quickly about their operations, they would simply detach a portion of their navy and level the would-be colony into rubble. Taras would serve well as a base of operations that could still present a front to the rest of the world as remaining an independent trading post, untouched by Americans. Burkes himself meanwhile, was able to win over the city's Wanax with tales of the classical city of Taras, founded by the Spartans, the last mighty warriors of the Mycenaeans' descendents, and the potential of his city to embrace that legacy, yoking the local barbarians and establishing a mighty empire of Americans and Mycenaeans.

Minor details such as the fact that Taras had been formed by those exiled from Sparta for their bloodlines being "tainted" with that of their Helot slaves, or that the Nazis' overall plan held the (correct kind of) Americans on top and the Mycenaeans a tier below (though still above the slaves) were carefully omitted.

Starting in the final couple months of 11 A.E., the steady buildup of Nazi presence in Taras would begin, with the Burkes Expedition of almost a hundred Americans and a handful of Rhodes shipwrights being the first to arrive in mid-November. Steady expansion would also begin, taking over other smaller settlements of both native Apennine and Mycenaean cultures. A hierarchy was quickly established, with the Mycenaeans being fellow "Aryans" and the Apennine as "untermenschen" slaves to be used for backbreaking agricultural and industrial labor. Taras itself would undergo a period of development, with various industries founded with American technical expertise setting up, as well as shipbuilding and fortifications in preparation for their inevitable discovery.

A few months into the secret alliance between Taras and Rhodes though, a far more dangerous enemy than even Crete would arrive.

Disease.

Reichskommissariat Italia
Smallpox had emerged into the Mediterranean a couple months after the drought, and quickly spread across it over the next few months, ravaging the unprotected Downtimer populations, and those with American expertise that were either unable or unwilling to vaccinate their populations in time.

Iker Burkes was many loathsome things, but fortunately for the population of Taras, he was not an anti-vaxxer. A such, a rapid vaccination campaign was quickly launched, as Taras's status as a major trade port would no doubt see the disease arrive upon its shores soon enough. As such, when the disease hit, rather than an apocalyptic thing that could have wiped Taras off the map, the casualties from its emergence were relatively low.

Peddling this reputation, Burkes managed to position the Neo-Nazis of Rhodes as the city's saviors, especially as news spread across the city of how many of their trading partners across the Adriatic had been all utterly ravaged by the disease. This further strengthened their position within Taras, which was peddled to allow successive waves of colonists to arrive and overruling the (quite valid) fears of the Mycenaeans that they would be sidelined in their own city.

This was doubly advantageous on account of events back in Rhodes. Conflict in Anatolia had taken a rapid turn for the worse for the far-right New American Republic, and many of its member warlords had traded on connections with Rhodes to be evacuated from the mainland, along with their personal armies and as many followers as could be managed. Along with a rapid rise in slave raids due to the easy prey of refugees, and Rhodes was quickly finding itself inundated with new Americans, hundreds of whom were free and well-armed instead of slaves.

To Burkes, the answer was simple. Rhodes had too many people, too many of whom were armed with pre-Event guns. Taras needed more people, more colonists to conquer and settle the land, and oversee the slaves. These were problems that solved each other, and many former NAR personnel, along with an equally large number of Nazi pirates, would be settled across the Nazi-Mycenaean colony.

By the time the Zeroth Reich was discovered in mid-August, its American population had already swelled to hundreds, and had begun its expansion across Apulia in earnest. The rest of the world, in particular Crete, was furious, but also unable to properly respond. The revolt in Sicily was still ongoing, and Rhodes itself had just conquered the island of Andros, while war continued to ravage Anatolia. Taras itself had also been fortified by this point, with entrenched cannons and an army of Americans with Uptime guns and Mycenaeans with muskets, as well as a small but swiftly growing navy. Triumphant, Burkes declared Apulia to be the first colony of the Zeroth Reich, declaring that Apulia would be but the first part of the Italian peninsula to become part of "Reichskommissariat Italia."

In response, Crete quickly declared an embargo, and threatened that any ship caught trading with Taras would be boarded or sunk. Frustratingly though, the following months would prove that this did little to dissuade many. Taras was, simply put, too good of a port to pass up on, being arguably the best natural harbor in all of Italy, and an easy point from which to tap into products from across the Adriatic. As the Zeroth Reich expanded, either by conquest or promoting certain favored tribes to be vassals, its grip over trade in the region tightened even further, with access to rare and valuable goods like tin and tyrian purple dye, as well as a way to bypass typical Cretan strangleholds on the Amber Road, once Tarantine merchants began sailing north.

Even worse, many Americans were beginning to immigrate to Taras and the Zeroth Reich of their own accord. Burkes offered not just land, but slaves to farm the land to any would-be settler who was willing to risk Crete's ire. This proved an immensely attractive offer, particularly to more politically right-wing Americans, or younger ones whose incomplete educations had not covered the acts of the Nazis in any particular detail. Furthermore, despite its threats, Crete proved reluctant to be too aggressive in its attempts to interdict ships heading to Taras, particularly those loaded with civilian immigrants, whose destruction would have likely enraged virtually every American still living in Anatolia. By 14 A.E., the American population of Apulia had reached over a thousand and still rapidly growing, though that number included not only free settler-landowners and urban elites, but also over a hundred slaves with valuable skills.

Jewel of the Reich
As the Nazi settlement of Apulia reaches its 4th anniversary, it is clear to all that the Zeroth Reich is, despite the best efforts of enemies like Crete, thriving. The entire heel of Italy had come under control, through a mix of steadily expanding conquests and alliances with other tribes, primarily those believed to be Indo-European, whether they be Mycenaean colonies or migrants from the north. Efforts have now been planned to bring the other major city of Apulia, what Uptime Archeology calls Coppa Nevigata, under control, either by negotiation or conquest. The army is certainly capable of fighting such a war if necessary, with a few hundred Americans with Uptime weapons, including a large amount of US military-grade gear and a number of veterans of conflicts in Anatolia, supported by musketeers levied from the Mycenaean and other Indo-European populations. Diplomatically on the other hand, it has been insisted that the people of Coppa Nevigata must be Aryan and so would benefit from joining the Reich, for surely no non-Aryan Downtimers could maintain such a well-developed city on their own.

Trade in the Adriatic has boomed, but also taken on a bloodthirsty turn. Now that the ravages of Smallpox are fading, Tarentine merchants have sailed across the Adriatic, bringing with them vast amounts of steel tools and weapons, including a number of guns, traded for agricultural products, minerals, lumber, and most importantly, slaves. Tribal warfare has escalated, with those willing to give the most favorable deals able to easily outgun their more reluctant rivals, creating a vicious cycle that has weakened the peoples of the Adriatic and enriched Taras and Rhodes greatly, with the Mycenaean trade port having exploded in size, population, and industry, at a great human cost in slaves both domestic and foreign.

This is not to say all is well in Taras. The Mycenaean nobles are increasingly aware that their deal with the Americans is only one of peers so long as the Americans continue to decide it is worth it. For their part, Burkes has spent months struggling to square the circle of the Mycenaeans as an ideal Aryan warrior aristocracy, and the rapid rise of the Popular Republic of Mycenae. The conclusion currently reached has been attempting to separate the "Italiote" Mycenaeans from the "culturally Marxist" Mycenaeans of the Greek mainland, with mixed results at best.

Other troubles also beset the colony's potential for expansion. While the Reich has slaves aplenty, labor that is trusted for more delicate tasks such as arms manufacturing and shipbuilding is beginning to run in short supply. The average proto-Etruscan slave cannot be trusted, and the number of Indo-Europeans and Americans is both strictly limited and already tapped as slave overseers and military soldiers. Some possible solutions have been raised, from enticing immigration from other Indo-European speaking peoples of the Adriatic such as the Illyrians, or the creation of an "Honorary Aryan" program that would allow a select few Etruscans to raise their standing enough to be trusted to such work.

More ominous than any domestic issue though, is the danger across the sea. Crete and the Popular Republic both seethe at the very existence of the Zeroth Reich, both from an ideological standpoint and as a barrier to their own ambitions on the Adriatic, and an invasion at some point is all but inevitable. Just as concerning however, is relations between Taras and Rhodes itself. The formation of the Reichskommissariat has benefitted Rhodes immensely. It has provided an easy release valve for the overpopulation of Americans, and a vast supply of raw resources, slaves, and prestige. But some have become concerned that one day their new colony may simply ignore any commands they find inconvenient, or even decide that the larger Apulia should be the one giving orders to Rhodes. For now, Burkes' allies have kept such things confined to the muttering of those out of favor, but whether that will last remains to be seen.