Voting is open
Kir: On the origins of "Ukraine," of Ukraine as we know it, and the Union of Brest
[X] Yes.
If there's any war the Commonwealth participated in that was just, it was this one, even if they didn't miss the chance to get some land grabs.
[X] An outside hire, specifically a mercenary captain.
Time to capitalize on our character's traveler upbringing. Another thing is, the Livonian wars were full of disguised intervention, some argue that Ivan's whole unrelenting continuation of war where retreat was more prudent, and the surprise and "specific" Crimean raid, happened as they did because of the Ottoman policy to prop up Muscovy as a possible bridge to the Baltic, and, with both "mercenaries" and threats of harsher raids, keep it in war and away from the multiple valuable armistice possibilities. Similarly, the Germans, both Catholic and Protestant, had their own sympathies and interests in the Baltic (the Livonian bishoprics and the duchy of Courland, respectively), and the German "mercenaries" here have likewise been agents of various interests, with German Flugschriften pamphlets of the time attacking both the Muscovites and the Turks as a joint force planning invasions into Europe. The Livonian War marks the Empire's turn towards the Commonwealth as its main partner in the east of Europe, from its previous, relatively amicable relations with Ivan III and Basil II, even taking their imperial claims seriously, to becoming the Commonwealth's partner at the negotiation table regarding Livonia and the Commonwealth's succession, specifically against the Ottoman Padishah setting himself as the eastern Augustus to Ivan IV's Caesar.
[X] Attempting to convince Firlej of the Imperial camp's good intentions.
If it's possible, sure.

As I promised, I'll add some notes on local topography and the status of Orthodoxy, and why the 1589-1596 union of Brest became such a huge problem for the lands of the Commonwealth, particularly in Ukraine.

Let's start with Ukraine itself, and what it means in late 16th century and onward. The name of "Ukraine" first appears on the maps circa 1580s, and at the time was considered to be roughly the southern part of the Dnieper basin, from the western bank to the east. When trying to explain the name, the Polish would try to argue that it must come from it being "at the edge of the king's lands", and, indeed, many common sources, like the wiki, will tell you that "it means borderland". Thing is, "krai" is a Slavic word that can mean both "edge", "land", and "homeland" (like the Polish Homeland Army: Armia Krajowa), and the usage comes from times before the Commonwealth. The earliest mention comes from the 11th century (though, personally, I suspect that the source was either created or edited much later in the Romanov Empire, but for now let's take it at face value), associating Ukraine with the principalities around Kyiv, particularly the Pereiaslav Dukedom. Extremely hard to name those lands, from the core of Ruthenia itself, the borderlands, but one could argue that for Pereiaslav's eastern lands, perhaps..? The next mentions are from 14th century, using the Vkraina variation (this one is used both in Latin, with the U=V, but also in Ukrainian itself, if mostly in poetic form), but here it's used for the "cut-off lands": "Vkraina Polska" meaning the lands around Lublin captured by the Galicians, and "Vkraina Rus'ska" later on meaning the lands around Chelm captured by the Poles. Then come the Muscovite sources, containing "many ukraines", thus argued to mean "borderlands", but then it can be seen that some of the "ukrainian towns" named by the Muscovites are nowhere near Moscow's borderlands. The situation is better clarified by a source dealing with the diplomatic situation after the Livonian War: the Barkulabiv Chronicle. That Chronicle is written by a knowledgeable politician of the time, likely a bishop, who participated in the negotiations, including the Union of Brest, and the author uses two variations of the word: "Ukraine" and "ukraines, ukrainian". Lets start with the latter one, as he describes the negotiations after the Livonian War, during the Sejm in Warsaw of 1587:
"In the year of our Lord 1587, on the 7th day of the month of June. Thee Muscovite ambassadors went to Warsaw to elect a king for the Kingdom of Poland after the death of King Stephen... There were also at that Sejm from many and distant lands, that is, from the Caesar of Turkey, from the Prince of Moscow Ivan Vasilevich, from Maximilian, the Caesar of Christendom, from the King of Sweden; of all those there were twenty ambassadors from different ukraines." (side note, this Sejm was that big "Moscow gambit" attempt by the Radziwills, with their rationale being that, even if they succeeded, the distances and the laws of the Commonwealth would make it impossible for the Tsar to restrain their rights).
The Barkulabiv chronicle later uses the same "ukraines" to describe the old principalities (also called "lands") of Minsk, Vitebsk, Polotsk, and other ancient principalities in today's Belarus, and also uses "ukrainian" to describe the castles and cities under direct royal or government control. So here it means "state", "land", maybe even "heartland".
As for Ukraine, uppercase, the chronicle uses it to contrast it with Lithuania, which he places in today's Belarus, but also with Rus, which he places around Kyiv. So, Ukraine is the "reclaimed" part of the old Kyiv land by the Cossacks, in this sense: "And in the summer [of 1583] there was a great heat: the grains, the groats, the grass, and also the garden springs, everything burned in Lithuania, and there were fires near Mensk, near Vilna. The pitiable poor went for the breads of to Ruthenia - the lads, the wives, the young girls, many found their lot in Rus' and Ukraine."
Ukraine meaning the southern lands, held by Cossacks, will stick into the 17th century, and transform as the Cossacks establish the Cossack Hetmanate proper, taking the north. It is the Cossacks who start identifying themselves as Ukrainians (though it was more of toponymic rather than an ethnonym prior to the 18th century, when the German ethnographers note it being accepted by the rest of the populace: a 17th century Ukrainian could have specified being of Ruthenian, Vlach, Tatar, or Polish origins - in fact, a famous Polish pamphlet against the Cossack rebellion included a message to the "fellow pans-Ukrainians", meaning the Polish lords settled there). After the establishment of the Cossack state, more and more maps of the second half of 17th - first half of 18th centuries will include, or even focus on "Vkrania, Terra Cossacorum", and the word itself on various maps evolves from being a part of Ruthenia around the Dnieper basin (note how it's no longer included into the Polonia Minor province after the Union of Hadjac of 1658) to a synonym of "Russia Rubra", Red Ruthenia, which originally meant Galicia, but expanded to the rest of similar lands in the region, stretching from Galicia to the east of Zaporozhia.
On the borderland side, you have Sloboda (roughly translated as "small free settlement") Ukraine, which was created in the uninhabited borderland nominally belonging to the Tsar of Moscow, and was, deliberately and specifically, named "Sloboda Borderland". The thing is, the guys who inhabited it were the runaway Cossack rebels of 1630-1640s, who, as I noted, already called themselves Ukrainians by the time, so likely started calling the land to their liking, as a "little piece of Ukraine here". So, in this case, "Sloboda Ukraine" is roughly akin to a "Cossack March". Nevertheless, the world didn't know much of this linguistic transformation, thus the maps like this one, or that one, divided "Ukraine, the Land of Cossacks" and "Dikaia Okraina, the wild outskirts". Overall, I think the similarities of the majority of populating led to the name of Ukraine spreading like it did, and more so wherever the Cossack traditions, specifically, were the strongest - which is why the eastern "borderland Ukraine" survived as a toponym for far longer than the 14th century's "western" ones.

So, this land, a heartland and a borderland at the same time, had major issues with religion. Although if you asked them, they'd say there were no issues at all! The haughty, superior Orthodox denouncing the "Caesaro-Papists" simply did not exist until the lackluster Union of Brest caused discontent, which became one of the main "rivers of discontent" for the many, many people feeling like their ancient realm got the short end of the stick. The Ostrogski, remembering their descent from royalty, were quite unhappy for the west of what they considered their kingdom falling to the rivals in Poland, and their remaining central lands falling under the suzerainty of the Lithuanian Dukes, whom they'd before consider more of a partner in scamming the Tatar Khans and settling Lithuanian fresh blood as vassals, but the strengthening of Poland led the Ostrogskis to full vassalage under Lithuania, and after that the Lithuanian and Polish thrones united (though with ups and comings, not exactly important). The question of religion came into politics after the Battle of Tannenberg in 1410, after the Teutonic Order brought up the issue at the Council of Constance of 1414-1418 (the same that led to the execution of Jan Hus). Now, the Teutons should have known better, seeing as they and the Kings of Ruthenia were good allied just a century ago, but, acting as innocent wronged boys (mad at their defeat at Tannenberg/Grunwald), the Teutons argued for the burning of the Jageillo of Poland and Vytautus of Lithuania for defending pagans against Christianization and bringing infidel Tatars and schismatic Ruthenians to war against fellow Catholics. On his behalf, Vytautas brought the learned Ostrogskis and "other princes from Ruthenia Minor" (at the time meaning the lands of the Galician Arch-Bishopric), and the contested Metropolitan of Kyiv Gregory Tsamblak (Vilno and Moscow contested whose Metropolitan of Kyiv was rightful at the time, and traded favors and gifts to the Ecumenial Patriarch for this goal with differing success, until Moscow seceded from the Union of Florence). Tsamblak and the Ostrogskis claimed that there was no trouble at all, the Tatars were Christianized, and, as for Ruthenians, why, they have always been faithful Catholics, for Ruthenia took the crown from the Popes, and before that the recognition from the Emperors, and recognized the Union of Lyon, and was already Christianizing other countries in 989, long before any schisms, which they never cared about. And the explanation worked well then.

Indeed, Medieval Ruthenia cared little for the schism between Rome and Constantinople, and tried to insert itself into the Crusades (reportedly that's where Volhynian heraldry may come from), and, according to the Annales Magdeburgenses, "though less Catholic", are Catholic enough to join up against the Pagan and Pagan-suspected Prussians and Polabians ("Contra quos etiam Rutheni, licet minus catholici tamen christiani nominis karacterem habentes, inestimabili Dei nutu cum maximis armatorum copiis exiverunt"). The kings and princes would deter to the authority of the Holy Roman Emperor even moreso than the Byzantine one, for example, joining him for the anti-Polish action agains the rebellious king Meshko II, or turning to HRE to resolve the Iziaslav vs Sviatoslav succession crisis, and then Iziaslav's son Yaropolk/Peter going separately to the Pope, with the result being the Emperor recognizing Sviatoslav's line, and the Pope Iziaslav's. Things like these wouldn't happen if they just hated "those darn Catholics", would they? And the Germans, the Franks, the Italians were fine with that. So who wasn't fine with that? Why, the good, neighbourly Poles and Hungarians, who, like those Teutons, should have known better, having the most marriages between them and the Ruthenians, but the aspirations for lands and the division of those between the kings and bishoprics was strong enough to consider cunning plans. As such, the Polish bishops tried to make their Frankish colleagues to believe that, oh no, there was nothing good and Christian in Ruthenia, and, in fact, it was much, much worse, a full-on herecy neither Latin, nor Greek:
"Gens autem ilia Ruthenica,
multitudine innumerabili
ceu sideribus adaequata,
orthodoxae fidei regulam
ac verae religionis instituta non servat.

Non attendens, quoniam
extra catholicam ecclesiam
veri sacrificii locus non est,
nec solum in sacrificio
dominici corporis,
sed in conjugiis repudiandis
et rebaptizandis
atque aliis
ecelesiae sacramentis
turpitei claudicare cognoscitur.

Ita erroribus variis,
immo vero haeretica pravitate
a primordio suae conversionis imbuta
Christum solo quidem nomino confitetur,
factis autem penitus abnegat.

Neque enim vel Latinae vel Graecae
vult esse conformis ecclesiae,
sed seorsum ab utraque divisa
neutri gens praefata
sacramentorum participatione communicat."
That may be part of why the Ruthenians took part in various Crusading activities: to protect their reputations as good Christians and stay amicable with both the western and the eastern Christendom. But was there some truth to those Polish accusations? In some ways yes. It's possible that what the Poles confused for heresy and "neither Latin nor Greek" tradition was the Church Slavic language and all of its related elements of faith associating with Bulgaria, which, naming its ruler a Caesar, did challenge the Byzantine Imperium system, if not the Ecumenial Patriarchate's authority. Thing is, that wasn't much of a problem for most Catholics, whose beef was specifically with the Patriarch. It is also possible that the heresy mentioned is somehow related to another weird aspect of the Ruthenian church, mentioned by Arab travelers, and later on described as the dominant denomination in Muscovy by other travelers, and that is... the Nestorian faith. Wait, what? An obscure, pre-Nicene, largely Central Asian faith somehow dab in the middle of Eastern Europe!? It's a weird aspect of the sources, but it must require an explanation. With Muscovy it is rather easy: through the Golden Horde, it's no wonder that Eastern Christianity freely traveled and intermingled with the main Ruthenian Church authorities in its efforts to Christianize the Turks and Finno-Ugrics. With pre-GH Ruthenia it is much harder, though I would suspect either Arab confusion, or influx of the few Christians living in the neighboring lands of the Steppe World: Khazaria, and later Cumania. Along with the Miaphysite Armenian influx, I think there was enough pre-Nicene Christians living in Ukraine for the foreigners to get confused.

However, as far as the rulers of the land were concerned, there was no trouble. In fact, until the Ottomans took over Constantinople and specifically started pressuring the Ecumenical Patriarch to abandon the Union of Florence, the Ruthenian nobles were supportive of the union, and even without it did not consider the Catholic Pope as something terrible and unlikable. The Orthodox Church authorities was a different case, but they knew how to keep their heads low enough to pass as good little boys. The Poles had little success in the efforts to get Papist support against Ruthenians, though the Hungarians did, getting a Pope-approved claim to the "Kingdom of Galicia and Lodomeria", which persisted (usually in titular form) all the way to the Habsburg times, until Maria Theresa finally made it "real" in 1772. Nevertheless, the Ruthenian position persisted: "we recognize both Rome and Constantinople, all the unions and crusades in the world, just let us worship as we like in peace (and don't try to divide our churchlands on the prefix of fighting the heretics)". When Poland got the suzerainty over Ukraine in 1569 Union of Lublin Catholic church officials started courting royalty on the topic of making the Ruthenians' allegiance to Catholicism official, since the Ottomans were actively using Orthodoxy to spread dislike of any alliance with the Catholics, and the Protestants were used for fear-mongering. The divison of lands was not so much on the table, but the general idea of increasing control and potential taxes (more on that later) appealed to both the Catholic Church and the royals. Plus, there was chaos in determining denominations in the country. Just look at this map supposedly showing the majority religions in provinces on 1573, the Orthodox barely exist outside of central Ukraine and eastern Lithuania, and a small strip in Galicia, and Volhynia, THE center of power of the Ostrogski-backed Orthodoxy is like "uh, we're all Catholics here, honest!" Compare it with this map of post-Union Greek-Catholic church structure in the 18th century, or the map of Greek-Catholic denomination's greatest widespread, and you can see easily why the "Orthodoxy issue" wasn't even considered such a big deal in Commonwealth! What, those guys at the edge of the map are actually much closer than thought? You don't say.

The issue came from HOW the Union of Brest of 1589-1596 was done. The Ostrogskis and other nobility expected a proper Ecumenical Council to be gathered and decide on the matter. The Catholic hierarchs and the King considered (rightfully, I must say) that the Ottomans would block any such decision, and instead had discussions with separate bishops, so that the Bishoprics would transfer themselves and their faithful to the Roman Pope from the Ecumenial Patriarch, while keeping the same old faith practices, just as the princes asked. However, when the Exarch of the Ecumenial Patriarch in Ruthenia heard of the matter, he published a decree, proclaiming that the bishops who would sign on the Union, would lose their titles and positions. Kostiantyn Vasyl Ostrogski said that the rules were broken (you don't piss off either Rome or Constantinople), and managed to pressure the bishops in Kyiv and western Galicia to revoke their signatures. However, the union articles were already presented to the Pope, so the king and the aligned bishops went forward with the Union anyway, hoping that the rest of the Ruthenian bishops will be pressured to join during the conclave. The Exarch of the Ecumenial Patriarch declared the "Uniate" bishops deposed, and sent the letter to the Polish king to confirm the transfer of their land to new bishops, but it was refused. So on the Council of Brest the hierarchs were given an example of being left landless, and so, the king's gambit worked. It worked very well in Belarus, where everybody joined the Union (and then similarly left it without issue when the Romanov Empire and its anti-Union policies arrived), and in most of central Ukraine, but not everywhere. Ostrogski started counter-action, after his prime ally, Gedeon Balaban, the original "father of the union", who at the last moment revoked his signature at Ostrogski's request, was stripped of his sit in Kyiv, settled in Lviv, and died there. As such, only Lviv and Prszemysl remained active non-Union Orthodox bishoprics with actual lands, while the rest joined the Union. It is arguable whether the Orthodox Church was truly "outlawed" at the time, as many Orthodox-supporters write, but it was certainly in a bad position. With the help from Ostrogski and other Orthodox nobility, the "Orthodox Brotherhoods" were created in Lviv, Ostroh, and other major castles and cities, supporting schools, printing press, and churches, which, due to the lack of any official religious control, were started to get more and more radicalized, with Catholic-bashing crazy coots like Vyshensky and other polemists becoming the popular branch of the church, and dialogue with the "prince in Moscow, who's still Orthodox, people say," to get money for the moneyless church and the brotherhoods (it was from those dealings that the term "Ruthenia Minor", long forgotten from the time when Kyiv and Halych were separate Metropolitans, arose in political form, to divide themselves as "Little Russia", so as not to fail the negotiations with the Metropolitan of Moscow, who was still claiming to be "of Kyiv and All Rus"). In 1620 a Patriarch of JERUSALEM arrived, escorted by the Cossacks under Hetman Konashevych-Sahaidachny, who did the wondrous decision of SIGNING THE WHOLE OF ZAPOROZHIAN HOST INTO THE ORTHODOX BROTHERHOOD OF KYIV, and somehow the Ecumenial Patriarch AND the Poles were FINE with, of all places, JERUSALEM patriarch ordaining new Metropolitans and bishops, separated from the Uniate ones. Now, these bishops wanted land, not just around churches, but all the land they could have potentially had had, that was lost to the Union of Brest. Didn't work out in Belarus, but in Ukraine, suddenly Cossack rebellions started getting more of a divisive topic to them other than just inane military bullshit and "please expand the registry, I wanna fight and raid, not pay taxes". This will culminate in the Khmelnytsky War, where the Hetman will make incredibly generous donations to the non-Uniate Orthodox hierarchs, and all the lands they ever wanted, to the point that the Syrian mission will be wondering seeing the golden chariot of the Metropolitan of Kyiv riding through the streets.

Did this radicalization help the Orthodox much? Well, only those that managed to stay under Cossack rule in late 17th century. You see, the biggest problem with the Union of Brest, outside of "playing not by the rules" and various religious polemica, was that that Union decided whom the Commonwealth actually considered "a church". One of the reasons why the Commonwealth both stayed relatively religiously free, and yet the Catholicism majority persevered, but the east STILL had religious wars, was due to the little point about taxation. Only the Catholic, and the Greek-Catholic ("Uniate") Church was seen as "the church", and thus freed from taxes. The Protestants had to pay the taxes, so the whole "cheaper religion" spiel didn't really work as well as in other places. The Orthodox, as such, those that managed to keep their lands and stay outside the Union, were also treated as a target for taxes. It would not be resolved until the 1658 Union of Hadjac, which, for SOME reason Ukrainian authors pretend "never worked and was ignored by the Poles". But, no, as Professors Kaminski and Pritsak's research shows, the Poles took Hadjac seriously. In particular, the tax exemptions to Orthodox priests, which were still being implemented in Galicia in 1661-1665. This has finally solved the Orthodox-Uniate conflict on the inside... Except now there was a huge threat to the whole of Catholicism from the strengthened Romanov Muscovy, and the Cossack Hetmanate, which treated the Uniates in particular as "acceptable target practice".

Through the irony of fate, while the faithful and the priests of central Ukraine and Belarus jumped from Orthodox and Uniate, there and back again, the Ruthenian Voievodship lands (Galicia) had the longest persevering anti-Union Orthodox bishoprics, despite still staying under the Crown of Poland all the way through the 17th century (to the point that the land became the Polish king's setting for the last-ditch attempt to save Poland from the Deluge after the Lwów Oath), yet the Orthodox still waited. Only in 1692 the Union was accepted by the diocese of Prszemysle, in 1700-1708 in Lviv, 1702 in Lutsk. The irony is, every since that time, especially the late Austro-Hungarian Empire, and still nowadays, these lands became THE bastion of Greek-Catholic Church, and the Church itself became heavily linked with local identity and eventually with Ukrainian nationalism, despite starting out as "those darn money-grabbing, rule-breaking, Pole-loving, scum-sucking tatties!"
 
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Scheduled vote count started by Rolman on Jan 23, 2024 at 9:00 AM, finished with 31 posts and 21 votes.
 
Notice regarding Ties and Tiebreakers
Hmmm...

It seems there is a tie between Maybe this'll be different and Yes.
Indeeeed. I'm choosing to interpret that as meaning Stanisław is mentally committed to generalship and understands Livonia to be a Just War but perhaps isn't quite emotionally ready yetin line with his brooding, nervous nature and traumatic past. Ready, almost eager, but definitely terrified. If "yes" won he'd be shoving it down completely and if "different" won he'd be in gloomy brood-overdrive. The update that introduces the merc captain — coming after the election Sejm update(s) — will hopefully put it on display. tease tease

I ran a tiebreaker either early in this quest or maybe in a defunct one and my number one takeaway, unless it's a tangible go-left-go-right kind of thing, is to make both be true. the complexities of people blah blah.

But therefore let it be known to all that, were it the "who to talk to" choice for example, we would run it again!
 
"Of Orders and Oaths." March 11-20, 1573. Kijów to Ostróg, Polish Crownlands.
Elżbieta Ostrogska. An apparently infamous name? It's bad when a father speaks poorly of his own daughter – or is it worse that he's warning you – but, to be fair, Marszowski says her father, the Prince Voivode, is very, very stuffy. But also extremely competent. You have also heard that men from the Russias like their women on a particularly short leash, especially old Konstanty Wasyl, so who's to say? She could just be like Mariana. Though nobody can be like Mariana, you think. Yes?

Father and Septimus are spitting images of each other, the only doubt sewn by the latter's disguise of a beard. Your baggage trains merged on the road to Kijów, for an introduction with the Prince and a summit between himself and your two elders. Then, off to Ostróg to meet her.

"Son," asks your father one night in a folwark hall, "did the Count Grand Marshal call on you at Dubinki?"

"Yes, father," you say. "He did. And I'm glad he's on our side."

Father chuckles. "Indeed. But I hope he didn't mince words."

"He did not, father."

"It means nothing of your character, son," he replies, unreadable as ever. "You did very well at Warszawa. We must merely get you ready – there's a war on, even if paused." He scoffs at the notion: "it's a damned shame they didn't let you be on the line in France."

"Thank you, father, I concur." You do, but you also must.

"I'm dispatching a captain for you at Sir Marszowski's recommendation. A foreigner, but let that worry you not. He's caught on quickly in terms of both customs and loyalty. He's… German? But not a Livonian. He can fight in our style and the Western one, too, though, and that's what matters."

"Thank you, father." You want to try to impress him. "I've read of the Great Captain, Vegetius, the Caesars. And I always studied my master's orders when I was an aide."

"He will come after election time. But books are good, too."

Why is he so cold? Mother died not long after you were born, but nobody ever said that it was your birth that did it. Does he simply not know you anymore?

Could it be the reversion? Could it be your ways, that some behind closed doors, Marszowski says with a pained expression, call you soft? Or are you merely untested?

Kijów! An escape from the marshlands to the north, bringing your swampy mind into the chaotic awakeness of a brief taste, once more, of city life. So beautiful yet so different, almost as foreign as France. Its grand castle (wooden!) standing stately on its hill, with towers tapering up like peasant caps, ringed below by geometric, latticed houses and little churches. As usual, there was a welcoming committee of gossip-lordlings and interested citizens: the streets were lined with local peasants not dissimilar from Poles and Lithuanians in dress and face, but also Armenians, Tatars, Jews, even the odd Greek. Your party snaked around Castle Hill, beholding churches growing in size: from Saint Florus-Laurus' to the shining Gold-Domed Monastery to the glorious Saint Sophia, seat of the Metropolitan, aided by Ostrogski men all the way, dismounting to hike up the steep berm to the castle gates. A rival to Dubinki and then some; and, of course, Dubinki has no great city ringing it.

The Prince Voivode awaits your party in the sprawling courtyard of the castle, surrounded by lieutenants and guards. A pudgy, aging man, wrinkles above his brow and flanking his nose – but a fierce face. "Finer than any Catalog of Ships, my lords, all the city is rightly abuzz at such a coming!"

Greetings are exchanged; Father, Septimus, and Prince Ostrogski quickly sequester themselves to your growingly unsurprised chagrin. One day it'll be me, you think, but I suppose I'm an errand boy with a title, for now.

It is only in your chambers by nightfall that your father and Septimus call on you, arriving together and ushering out a conciliatory, wine-pouring Sir Marszowski. You realize that, with your light head, you ought to mind your words.

"We've conferred with the Prince Voivode, brother," says Septimus, looking to Father. "And he does speak well of your bearing," he adds with a smile.

"Indeed," Father nods. "But -- we have decided that we cannot die on the hill of preventing the election of the Frenchman, that to do so would risk civil strife with the Crownlanders. We cannot afford such with Iwan breathing down our neck."

"So…" you think. This is a very… politique opinion, to use the French term. "Our premiere concern is stability?"

"More or less, yes," says Father. "Astute, son. Someday we will work to restore our Grand Duchy, but it will not be today. We must have a friendly King, a King who knows we supported him. And that seems to be the Walezy Prince."

Damn. Hopefully he doesn't hear of your speech, you think; I'm on thin ice with him as is.

"But we've been thinking about the future," your brother adds; Father nods in deference. "The Emperor and his family remain our best bet for the restoration of the lost Voivodeships; the Prince Voivode agreed, though he didn't seem thrilled."

"Thus groundwork must be laid," says Father. He cracks a smile, a real smile. "And since you're the… Conscience of our family, a pinch renowned from that speech I've heard of, we'd like you to be our emissary to the Crownland Protestants."

"Yes, Father, it will be done," you reply quickly. "But am I perhaps, well, always going to be too Catholic?"

"Well, that's the point, you're the Catholic, you and Sierotka – it's for the same reason you were made our emissary to Warszawa."

"We may be good Calvinists," says Septimus, "but we are Lithuanians."

Warszawa made sense, but trying to flip the Protestants? "As am I–"

Father cuts you off. "They think you a humanist, son. And a humanist first. Firlej finds you most impressive; you know he wants you wed to his daughter. I leave that to you, though it's not a terrible idea. You will consider it."

No choice. "I will." You gather some courage. "But, Father… Why not people more sure to be amenable, like the bishops?"

"Because the bishops would see our Liberty and–" he gestures as Septimus and himself, "and our faith taken, too." He sounds a little sour.

He continues: "But, anyways – we need a light touch. He knows the score regarding our Voivodeships, no doubt, and he'd never support a Habsburg King." Yes… "Put his mind at ease, though, son. Remind him of its good for the realm, the strength of an alliance against all Easterners." He raises his eyebrows, almost with mischief. "...The land and titles and Imperial gold we may all gain, of what it would mean to marry into Bohemia and Moravia and perhaps even Hungary."

Flashes of sprawling estates and double-headed eagles, a map stretching from Spain to Moskwa, across the seas to all the Indies. All Christendom united under a monarchy blessed by God.

Septimus cracks a grin and chuckles. "It's not like you'd be lying or anything, Prince Humanist, you're merely the best messenger." But cynical, oh so cynical. Thankfully, you overcome your disgust in the name of the family with relative ease.

Such is the nature of a man born under the Crab. With each passing day the urgency of things grows, the understanding that feelings and even truth itself must be pushed aside. The fortune of your ancestors, looking down from Heaven, the future of you and your kinsmen's children, the thousands of serfs and townsmen and soldiers – they all rely on you in whole or in part

"Bóg nam radzi, son. Do not forget."

"Bóg nam radzi."

Indeed, may God advise you.

The Radziwiłł procession swelled to even greater size with the addition of Prince Ostrogski, and on the western road to old Ostróg itself stretched a quarter-mile banners of red, yellow, and blue in the hands of heralds and affixed to wagons. The size of the little town and its matching, humble castle makes Marszowski hmph. "Like they've got her sequestered here. Must be a real terror."

Father and Septimus trundle on to Kraków and then Warszawa, fulfilling their duties as the chief executives of the family. Meanwhile, they say that Sierotka is due to return home soon. With the exception of Prince Field Hetman – that is to say, brother Krzysztof, and he should be bound westward anyways – four of the five adult Radziwiłł princes all in one place, a powerful host. You anticipate it as much as you dread it; the time has come to swim with the big fish. Rise to your station, Stanisław.

Septimus wished you good luck in battle. Jesting, of course, but who is this Elżbieta? Is she as bad as they say?

Into the hills, the uplands, with its patter of hill to craggy rock-face to plateau, again and again. The trees come and go.

The King of the Polonian Russias rides beside you. That may well be who he is. He speaks much of the Greek Classics and quotes the Bible with frequency; a man of ambition and erudition, inspired as much to buy printing presses to publish the Book in vernacular as he is to tussle with Crownland interlopers for the expansion of his estates.

You've managed to make him drop his formality with your knowledge of his mother tongue, and by telling him of your veneration of the Blessed Mother. "Have you read the Second Timothy, lord prince?" asks Prince Ostrogski.

"Well, of course, sir, but not the most familiar."

"My daughter is formidable. There is no doubt. But 'I do not permit a woman to teach or exercise authority over a man; rather, she is to remain quiet.'"

You think of Tatjana and Mariana, but you still say it with relative ease. "Well, sir, we don't need scripture to know that, do we?" He gives you something of a glare. "With all due respect."

"Do not speak lightly of the Book, lord prince, for it is a basis of all existence itself." He doesn't let you reply. "Through scripture we may know all things, the basis of everything, what His will is for all Christians and, indeed, all mankind."

"Most certainly, sir." You consider that a verbal retreat enough.

"Do you know that my Elżbieta swore an oath to herself? To herself, and herself alone. Not to our God. And do you know why?"

"No, sir."

Prince Ostrogski sighs, scrunches up his face. "My niece – she's also Elżbieta. My brother died a long time ago; it was the year she was born." You've heard of this. The brother, that is, Eliasz. "So she fell into my care. Perhaps old Zygmunt's granddaughter, should the rumors prove true – may they not, but – she had everything. All of it. Three towns to her name and held in her own right, the pearls, the meals, the honor and grace, she was handed the life of a true Princess on a silver platter."

He says all this with some urgency. You feel as if he's been waiting to say this for a long time, and not just to you. His face blankens, but the brow remains knit. "The Salome. And you know what she did? I'm truly asking."

You've heard her name spoken with pity, but that's about it. "No, sir."

"She and her mother, the Herodias-whore, I say that without fear – they defied me at every turn." He is reddening. "Three times did she defy me for the sake of a lustful heart and disobedient mind, more than once did she quite literally flee her duties, her husband, her rightful guardians. For this I had her confined. For this they call me 'monster.' Well, let them try to handle such a little witch."

You're tentative, but you try to steer him. "And what of your Elżbieta?"

"That she may be going down the same road, if she's not careful. Even into a tower like her cousin, if she must," he says. He's burning in the face but says it so coldly. "She swears an oath to not end up like her! Well… The only way to end up an Elżbieta is to be an Elżbieta. You are not like other men, lord prince; you are a man who values truth."

"Thank you, sir," you say, trying not to let anything slip, to not show your hand in any way whatsoever. "I will handle her in the way you've handled her – firmly. I fear no woman." Do you? "May I meet her alone?" Wait! "That is to say only with chaperones."

"Yes, you may. But do tell me if she speaks ill of me; I will have no more of it. However, for the occasion of this visit I've taken precautions to ensure good behavior."

"I understand, sir."

A walk in Castle Ostróg's gardens is how you meet her, trailed by servants. She's quiet at first but her eyes burn like Jan Firlej's. She looks like her father: a pinch husky, sharp eyebrows and straight nose, light brown eyes with hair to match. She's pretty.

She won't say anything of substance; you can't tell if she likes you. You decide to ask her point blank.

"I'm actually very afraid, my lord," she says quietly. "Contrary to popular belief, I'm terrified."

"Why's that, my lady?" you ask, similarly hushed, having a decent understanding as to why.

"I am living in a prison, my lord," she says, looking back at the attendants to make sure none are too close. "My father does not love me."

"You're being very direct, my lady."

"It's what I deal in, my lord. I am destined for more than my cousin." There is a flash of something. "I have much in here," she taps on her head. "It is corked up. I want to love. I loved. I know full well of the consequences, my lord."

"Why tell me this, my lady?"

"You have a kind face, my lord."

You smile. You want to be tender, break her guard down. She is seemingly not as they say. "Well, what do you like to do?"

"Mainly this," Elżbieta says, gesturing around at the garden. "And reading." She looks to the sky, wistful, and gives her nose an unladylike wipe. "I cannot decide if the Sun goes around the Earth or vice versa. The mathematics of it are difficult. What do you think, my lord?"

"I don't know the numbers either, my lady. But I would hope the Sun goes around the Earth, so that God arrayed everything to be given to us. So that His Earth is primate, the jewel in the crown." It's been a long while since you've had someone you could enter into poetics with. But it brews in you, always; Marszowski says it's why you've got melancholia.

She laughs. It's not necessarily a happy laugh. "It's funny, My lord – I hope for the opposite. That God made us small, so that we'd always orbit Heaven, at the mercy of it but not in danger, such is His plan. It's good to feel small sometimes."

"Because then you won't be noticed, my lady?"

She smiles. "Amongst other things."

"I don't mean to be abrupt, my lady, but: why do they say such things about you?"

Elżbieta smiles wearily. "You haven't seen how my father talks to me, my lord; how he eventually treated me. I thought that I would be no Halszka."

So this lioness has no claws? "Your oath, then, my lady?" you can't help but ask.

"I never should have said it. It was something like: 'I swear to myself, upon my own life, let me quiet myself if I don't — I will marry as I want, when I want, how I want! If I am forced then I will run, and hide, and fight as my cousin did.' And I paid a price."

"A price, my lady?

"Yes. Under God I swore an oath to secrecy."

Huh? You scowl. This evasiveness, this detachment. She thinks she better than you "Perhaps if the other oath of yours was to the Lord, then–"

Elżbieta doesn't frown. In fact, she hasn't frowned once, nor smiled, she just blinks rapidly. "As they all say, my lord, no offense; most are in agreement with you. But I wasn't contracting anything or swearing fealty or… It's hard to explain. But I've suffered for it ever since." She swallows.

"You said you'd rather die. That was the real promise. That's a promise soldiers and sworn men make, my lady, and not lightly." This moodiness does not become of her at all, the anger remains spiked up in your ribcage, having appeared with its suddenness – yet something is truly amiss.

"Yes. Well, that's the oath, my lord, once spoken it cannot be recanted." She looks away. "And so I live as a Queen Damocles. The sword, it's…" she looks back at the trailing chaperones, walking quickly to keep closeness with their arms behind their backs. "Ah, hush the thought. I'm not confined to a tower like Cousin just yet."

"You– you haven't shown a bit of the fire they all warned me about. Unless it's a cold fire, my lady," you say, taking care to note the single cough of one of the attendants. "Now I mean no offense, my lady," you tease with the hope to truly mock, trying to reel yourself in while eliciting a little scoff-laugh from Elżbieta.

"I was a terror. But now, my lord?" She taps on her temple. "It's over. There's nothing to draw out. Maybe I've given up." Her smile is weak, you realize; all at once you see the bags under her eyes, hidden by makeup, the drooping of the lids, the similarly-hidden lines on her forehead, her cheeks — too old for a young lady your age. Does she truly not sleep?

You snap a baton over your knee on the inside, where the rage-bodkin resides; you exhale sharply, envisioning doing so, and only your heartbeat remains. The Water in your body cools you. She is old. She is like Tatjana if the years came, by some fell miracle, decades too early. You wish you could tell her here and now that you could get her out of here. Yet that would require… Well, all you can think about is Mariana. As for Elżbieta, you can't tell if you pity her or, in fact, deeply respect her.

There was no more speaking after that. 'Maybe I've given up' – well, maybe I have, too. You're frustrated yet you care. You find it hard not to care about most things these days, what with you feeling the ripples of the little pond, the whooshing of your own loosed arrows.

She seems like you, to an extent. She has stood for her convictions and felt the blows returned by an angry world, a world that refuses to understand and will never acclimate or accommodate. Unless the bars of its prisons are bent, unless one can free themselves in mind and understand, you feel, of a greater humanity, a unity with God transcending everything you know of the Book and the Holy Mother and Her Son — you spent nights ecstatic before the Marian shrine in your quarters, but you know that there must be even more in waking life. You curse Fortuna for making you a Prince instead of a poet or philosopher.

Most certainly The young Elżbieta does, too – though she perhaps has been broken by circumstance. Even at dinner with her father does she never lash out, fulfilling not an ounce of her reputation save for possessing wit. It makes no sense.

What happened? Rather odd I'd probably have to marry her to find out. Yet one cannot deny that the weight of Ostrogski power is as leaden as the poor girl's heart. It must always be considered, for a Prince must remain coiled in consideration until he, at last, strikes.
 
VIII. April 8, 1573. Warszawa, Polish Crownlands.
The earth never had time to heal. Outside Warszawa's walls, the tracks and ditches of the Confederation's Sejm have refilled with water and, combined with the nature of this country's springtime, turned into an even muddier mess – now knees as opposed to ankles. While this creates ample opportunity for the drinking of fortifying beverages and fraternizing with drying feet around perpetually-lit fires, it seems to only hasten the already-antsy nobles to, well, get the Hell out of here before summertime.

The bastard Frenchman is gaining. Sierotka came back from France all ashen and nervous, and you spoke to him privately one night in his chambers in the city palace proper. "Cousin," he said, "I do believe we are in very hot water. He brings the benefits of both Swede and Emperor with none of the ill effects. Catholic, of great birth, a wealthy and eager trading partner in his homeland, a bulwark for Turk and Habsburg alike."

"Yes, yes, I know, but how can–"

"And he has this presence, cousin! I'm sure you know it." You do. "He is a formidable man, handsome, well-spoken and sharp, he's led men, too, yes?" You nodded. Your brow furrows, your hand goes to your mouth. "And you say he gloated over the Massacre?"

"Yes."

"Then God help us, a rabid dog's heart in a savant's mind in an acrobat's body."

That's one way of putting it. And that emissary Montluc gives speeches to rival any of the saltiest senators', the cheers for his balanced, approachable candidate growing by the day. The Protestants shout, meanwhile, loud as ever, mindful of your speech and unwilling to budge. The Orthodox, on the other hand, keep up their protests in general yet find the prospect of a Tatar lull most intriguing. Things are shifting.

Firlej may just be a keystone, then; Father and your brother were right. Unwilling to bend the knee to the Frenchman yet finding the Swedish option growingly hopeless, rumor had it that the preacher-noble

You approached him with familiarity. Perhaps a minor gamble. "Lord Firlej!" you say as you trudge up, horse-stepping through the mud, "where's the cannon, good sir?"

"God keep you, lord prince," he replies with a smile, exchanging bows. "It's just outside of town this time around."

"Ah! But it looked so good outside your tent, my lord!"

He laughs. "Indeed, but, well," he draws a throat-slashing hand across his neck. "Chhhk. Half the men here think I'm fomenting rebellion, I'd wake up dead!" He gives a half-serious shake of his fist. "Though I will use it for a righteous cause!"

"Fomenting rebellion, you say?"

"Oh yes, and all because I'll go to my Lord before I'll elect a murderer. Either that, or I'm conspiring with the Northerners to invade and crown me or the Swede as King," he waves his hand and rolls his eyes. "Yes, my army of Swedes and Prussians and Danzigers."

"I'm glad to hear you'll never support that fiend Aleksandar," you say, unsurprised yet relieved. "But who, then, the Piast camp's fool of a Prince?" you wince at your lapse in proper tact.

Thankfully, that elicits another chuckle. "I sure hope not, but what choice may I wind up with, lord prince? Either that or that silly Iwan picket."

The opportunity's here. "Well, that's what I came to speak with you about. Sadly I'm here on behalf of my kinfolk."

"Ah, well, that's alright." Yet he folds his arms. "I suppose you're going to try and get me to help with that dream of your people, lord prince? Do not think that I think you and your folk to be anything less than noble! That speech of yours was something, but – a Polonian Habsburg?"

"Well, yes."

"Ha! And indeed you remain a truth-teller, lord prince?"

This will be an uphill battle. How do you begin?

[] by appealing to its benefits for foreign policy.

No longer will we be surrounded by enemies, unaided. Though Firlej is not personally under threat as your fellow Lithuanians would be, there is certainly a sigh of relief to be breathed at the thought of Imperial troops on the Tatar periphery, of the Carpathians rendered a barrier rather than a palisade, of the Baltic Sea rendered toothless with Dane and Swede at bay. All focus may now be shifted to besting the looming Muscovite, bringing new land, opportunity, and even new Lutherans into the fold. Can a Swede or Frenchman say the same?

[] by noting the wealth and power stood to be gained.

Why worry about matters of tolerance when one can imagine the connections, the coin, the titles to be conferred? Not necessarily an appeal to greed or an attempt at bribery, but perhaps the most cynical outlook of them all. Of course, the Confederation saves us all on matters of religion, we must now think only of the Imperial splendor sure to be visited upon us; two great realms unified with a nice, loose bow.

[] by framing a Habsburg as a clean compromise candidate.

Protection from Muscovite, Turk, Swede, and Imperial alike. Trade and ideas with the very heart of Europe, a depository of the initial Italian light. A Catholic and perhaps a Spanish-raised one at that, it cannot be lied about, but – contained by the law, lest he find himself with the Low Countries anew, and a land not so low at all.

[] by appealing to the strength of the Liberty.

So he can at least get the idea into his head. Indecisive yet pleasing, perhaps, and runs the risk of blunting any later message or even veering off-topic. However, tries to bud-nip any questions regarding rollbacks: steadfast, law-abiding, and tolerant nobles we all are, by virtue of our honor and Confederation we'd never let the Trentians and Jesuits reduce us to parishioning peasants, at the confessional mercy of their landlord. Try to render faith a non-issue and tolerance a given.
 
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The meeting with the ostrogod camp was a real eye opener for how the society work in this time, it was so sad to see somebody so bleak, even in the rebelion in france was something i was understanding, this is just cruelty for the sake of authority, great job and thanks for the update
 
Nice update, though I need to add a few things:

With the exception of Prince Field Hetman
This phrase is usually abbreviated to Prince Hetman, just like Prince Marshal, etc. Differentiating isn't needed, since it's assumed, that everybody knows who's the man in question. I noticed you used it with Chodkiewicz's title as well and while it's technically correct, it would sound really weird to the populus, since Counts, Barons, etc. are forbidden by law. True, it's been awarded by a Polish King, but still to throw a Count into one's face can give a negative first impression and using it in public (like during the Sejm) can actually hurt your cause without a single word being said. In general, I think they would use the title when speaking among the magnates, with foreigners, in letters and whatnot, but not during a public event outside their own lands.

I really like this one, the thing is, it's very straightforward and blunt. It's usually used by confidants (like Marszowski) in private conversations (and even then from time to time), by family in the same situations, sometimes in public when speaking directly with nearly everybody, but the general rule should be Your Serene Highness as a universal way of addressing in any situation, while sprinkling Lord Prince here and there (and hoping the Prince doesn't take offense, unless we don't care). Of course this is just my personal opinion, since I really like your style.
 
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Nice update, though I need to add a few things:


This phrase is usually abbreviated to Prince Hetman, just like Prince Marshal, etc. Differentiating isn't needed, since it's assumed, that everybody knows who's the man in question. I noticed you used it with Chodkiewicz's title as well and while it's technically correct, it would sound really weird to the populus, since Counts, Barons, etc. are forbidden by law. True, it's been awarded by a Polish King, but still to throw a Count into one's face can give a negative first impression and using it in public (like during the Sejm) can actually hurt your cause without a single word being said. In general, I think they would use the title when speaking among the magnates, with foreigners, in letters and whatnot, but not during a public event outside their own lands.


I really like this one, the thing is, it's very straightforward and blunt. It's usually used by confidants (like Marszowski) in private conversations (and even then from time to time), by family in the same situations, sometimes in public when speaking directly with nearly everybody, but the general rule should be Your Serene Highness as a universal way of addressing in any situation, while sprinkling Lord Prince here and there (and hoping the Prince doesn't take offense, unless we don't care). Of course this is just my personal opinion, since I really like your style.
My ongoing war with styling! Thanks for the heads-up.
 
My ongoing war with styling! Thanks for the heads-up.
Thanks for understanding!

Even in the novels about the period, characters still addressed their sworn enemy with Your Serene Highness when talking with him (and used a bunch of less polite words as well to be fair).
 
[X] by appealing to its benefits for foreign policy.

I think this is the most salient point in favor of the Hapsburg candidate, whereas the Frenchman can offer the rest without the baggage.
 
Kir on Women and Law in Lithuania/the “Little Russias”
On our MC's speculation "that men from the Russias like their women on a particularly short leash", I'd say that it's largely unfounded. The Lithuanian Codex with its expanded rights for women (well, mostly noble women) was well-liked in both Lithuanian Ruthenia and later in Cossack Ukraine (to the point that the guy arguing in favor of annexation to empresses Elisabeth and Catherine II argued that "the Little Russians" seem to use any code they like: Lithuanian, Saxon, their own, except for the Russian Imperial laws). And even prior to that there were precedents for female regencies and holding of titles, at least on a small scale level (not taking the early "barbarian era" Queen Helen / Olga into account here), like the holders of Vinnytsia, or other Podolia titles: there is a reason Queen Bona Sforza, with her extensive personal holdings in Podolia and Volhynia, was a rather well-liked ruler for everyone but the current-and-future Cossacks (I should write up on Cossacks whenever we get to them).

On the other hand, Ostrogski's characterization is on point. Aside from personal troubles, he, as I imagine many other Ostrogskis, would be at least sore about matrilineal succession allowing the Piasts to take the lands of what is now Ruthenian Voievodeship, and as such be adverse to the idea of women influencing politics.

Not sure on the vote. Both the Valois AND the Habsburgs are complicit in some religious wrangling for it to be depicted as a non-issue, but then, as noted on his desire for truth-telling, going from our previous high-and-mighty points to realpolitik ones will likely damage our guy's image.
 
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I think this is the key here. I think Firlej is much too old to be tricked or sweet-talked by us. So I'm gonna go with something we can be genuine on with a senior lord:
As far as I can tell, the foreign policy argument is relatively solid - but I'm not super familiar with the setting here. Is there more to it I'm missing context on?
 
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The Lithuanian Codex with its expanded rights for women (well, mostly noble women) was well-liked in both Lithuanian Ruthenia and later in Cossack Ukraine
Kir is talking about the Statutes of Lithuania. These were large codifications of Lithuanian laws into a single document, thus greatly helping in organizing them and adding some new ideas to the mix. There were 3 such codifications (the Statutes of 1529, 1566 and 1588, with the third being particularly important, since it remained in effect well into the XIXth century in partitioned Lithuania). The II Statute remained in force in the Ruthenian and Ukrainian lands incorporated into the Crown. Not only that, due to the high quality of the codifications the II and later III Statute started being used as auxiliary sources of law in Polish courts as well, where Łaski's Statute of 1505 was the last such codex (and the III Statute of Lithuania took great inspiration from it).
o empresses Elisabeth and Catherine II argued that "the Little Russians"
"Little Russias" is a purely Russian term and was never used historically in the Commonwealth, nor by its people. It was meant to degrade the local Ruthenians by implying, that they were always Russians, just offshoots from the main cultural path, thus little. Which is obviously bollocks.
there is a reason Queen Bona Sforza, with her extensive personal holdings in Podolia and Volhynia, was a rather well-liked ruler for everyone but the current-and-future Cossacks
Fun fact: when Bona Sforza wanted to leave Poland and return to Bari in Italy in her later years, her son and now King Sigismund II Augustus forced her to renouce all claims to her lands, titles, money and whatever else she had earned during her time in the country. She couldn't take with her anything beyond what she has brought in from Italy. The reason was very simple and pragmatic: the Crown would lose a huge amount of money should she elect to leave with what she has earned due to her good managing skills.
On our MC's speculation "that men from the Russias like their women on a particularly short leash", I'd say that it's largely unfounded
Women, particularly noble women, received quite a different education in Red Ruthenia and Ukraine. While the classic humble lady-in-waiting with a needle and courtier upbringing were still happening, especially in richer families, much like in the rest of the Commonwealth, these regions were unique due to the constant danger of Tatar raids, Cossack uprisings, large amounts of bandits and noble brigands being more numerous here, than anywhere else. Naturally, women therefore were taught to use a musket, to fight with a sabre, ride a horse and other gentlemanly skills, so they may defend themselves and help in fending off intruders. This crude education lead to them being very cocky, headstrong and un-ladylike, much like the brigands they fought against (some even lead bands themselves). In some cases, these warrior women (sometimes called "Frontier She-wolves") became legends in their own right.
 
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"Little Russias" is a purely Russian term and was never used historically in the Commonwealth, nor by its people. It was meant to degrade the local Ruthenians by implying, that they were always Russians, just offshoots from the main cultural path, thus little. Which is obviously bollocks.
I'll note two cases: at the Council of Constance, where it was noted that the speakers from the Polish-Lithuanian side were the bishop of Kyiv and lords from Ruthenia Minor, and when the Orthodox Brotherhoods or Kyiv Metropolitans wrote letters to the Muscovite Tsar and Patriarch, asking for money (thus couldn't describe their own Metropolitan being "of Kyiv and all Rus" when the guy they're asking money from already uses that title; M. Hrushevsky did a great article on this, though nowadays there is some controversy on whether those documents from Yuri-Boleslaw and Casimir he mentioned are authentic or not), but in both cases it largely related to religious matters (when Μικρας Ρωσιας was the Metropolitan of Halych, opposed to the original "Great Russian" Metropolitan in Kyiv). Muscovites just made it a political matter, and, by the Imperial times, a matter of propaganda and the "triune nation identity" (with Great Russia "migrating" from Kyiv to Moscow, justified by the migration of multiple 14th century Metropolitans, which divided the title of "Kyiv and All Rus" between Kyiv and Moscow, as in both cities the elections of new Metropolitans continued. (There is also a matter of Sarai Metropolitan, which is pretty interesting, but I'll drop it for now)

In some cases, these women became frontier legends in their own right.
I wanted to write something about that, but decided not to, because it was indeed a case of "here are some legends of Nastia the Otamansha and others", rather than "here are specific cases of Kozachkas actually doing some Cossack-ing". The ones I can remember well are Olena Zavysna taking on Stanislaw Potocki's troops alongside her ldies in waiting, and then suicide-blowing up the gunpowder storage to bury herself under the rubble alongside enemy troops, and Eudoxia Chartoryiska, who defended Ternopil from the Crimean siege. Oh, wait, there was also Sophia Ruzhynska, who, in the family of haughty princes and cossack bosses, managed to become a most brazen literal robber-baronness, leading armies for largely personal gain. Here's a an easily translatable article on her...

Yep, @Sertorius , you are right, there is quite enough evidence of those warrior-women legends in Ukraine being based on true stories, it's just that male-focused historiography doesn't focus enough on them until, like, the 19th century. Huh.
 
I'll note two cases: at the Council of Constance, where it was noted that the speakers from the Polish-Lithuanian side were the bishop of Kyiv and lords from Ruthenia Minor
Point to you, although I'll insist on leaving it as is, or translating that as "Little Ruthenia", rather than "Little Russia". Ruthenia and Russia are not the same thing.

As for the letter to the Tsar and the Muscovite Patriarch, yes well... you have to grease it to gain anything from them, therefore they had to use the terminology they would like. Not that it makes it true of course.

Yep, @Sertorius , you are right, there is quite enough evidence of those warrior-women legends in Ukraine being based on true stories, it's just that male-focused historiography doesn't focus enough on them until, like, the 19th century. Huh.
One of my favourites is probably Anna Stadnicka.

She was the wife of the infamous Stanisław Stadnicki, the "Devil of Łańcut", one of the most notorius and merciless noble brigands to have ever lived in the Commonwealth. When he was finally killed, she carried on his wars with her enemies by leading men into battle, robbing, stealing and murdering those, that displeased her. She fought with musket and sabre in hand against her husband's brother, with her own three sons, then against her second husband as well. Her daughter, Felicjana, also took up the mantle of a warrior-woman and continued her mother's conflict against her own brothers after she was defeated (since they took away her inheritance and kept her locked away to die an old lady). Anna came to be known as the "She-Devil", while her children as the "Devilkins".
 
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