Noblesse Oblige [Znt/SI]
Karin wore hotpants for her disguise, so...
Yes but Henry thinks his mother doesn't know that he knows. So it's an indirect jab at his mother
Lina Inverse will be having words with you both.
AnonymousRabbit
Rabbit Faced
It was my mistake reading during class. It was my mistake to laugh during class... Goddammit, Steel Abs, I can't stop sniggering.
SKsniper128
22050 kg of ordinance per minute
Did Henry forget about all the literary porn he had hidden in his mancave? I think it's less Zerbst influencing her and more Louise spending too much time reading pseudo-modern porn.
-SK
-SK
- Location
- sweden
"Mother, we must go to war with the zerbst."
"... Henry you are going to war against Albion. Why would-"
"Kirch has corrupted little Lulu with filth"
"... When you say filth..."
"Yes"
"We ride as soon as possible. Not one will survive."
"... Henry you are going to war against Albion. Why would-"
"Kirch has corrupted little Lulu with filth"
"... When you say filth..."
"Yes"
"We ride as soon as possible. Not one will survive."
Jackercracks
In a British accent
- Location
- England
Big McLargeHuge! Rick Hardslap! Stud Beefpile!
trooperist
Cinnamon Roll AI
What's up with Agnes here? It's not like he's done anything particularly traumatizing with her around.
Chapter One Hundred and Forty-Five
- Location
- https://discord.gg/z9tBvbh
Chapter One Hundred and Forty-Five
The plan is simple. We kill the Zerbst.
No, honestly, the plan is even simpler. We exterminate the Zerbst.
No, even easier, we-
"Your highness!" General de Montpassant coughed in his closed hand. "You are scaring the younger officers," he spoke plainly, and I quickly glanced at the group of young men that stood on the other side of the table, trying their hardest not to breathe for fear I'd snap them in half with my bare hands, which were currently making an artistic rendition of the marshal baton of Gallia.
"Ah, apologies," I said with a nod, before calmly fixing the baton once more. "Now," I said as I pointed at the map of Albion upon the table. "The main port cities of Albion are well defended, and scout fleets will alert them of the arrival of any large number of troops," I glanced at the floating continent's borders, at the maps concerning the air currents, and then planted my baton by the side of Londinium. "Which is why we will ignore them. We will take Londinium by storm with the cover of the night," I spoke plainly. "The main fleet shall act as a diversion by attacking here and here." I pointed at the port city of Rosais and Dartanes. "We on the other hand will be having supply ships deliver to us in the air the fuel and the windstones we need. Once we land, assault will begin immediately. Time to put the night training to use."
"Fighting in the middle of the night-" an officer mumbled, "That sort of thing-what about friendly fire, your highness?"
"My men won't fire on one another," I replied dutifully. "Because they will be going from one side of the city to the other. Anything in front of them is an enemy. Anything behind them an ally. Forty thousand men strong will break doors and conquer the city before the guard can even be roused. Also, if there is an enemy camp nearby, they shall siege from the opposite side of the city. Using it as a barrier to slow them down, they will fight house by house-" I hummed, and then turned my eyes towards General Bowood, who was present. "The city of Londinium," I said. "Is it mostly made of bricks or of wood?"
Bowood looked at me, his brows creasing as he tried to understand the reason behind my question. "Most of the old city was remade in brick after a fire broke out, but the place where commoners sleep is composed of wooden houses."
"Uhm," I tapped my chin thoughtfully.
"We could smoke them out," another officer said. "Burning down the houses-"
"No," I said flatly. "We can definitely take the city that way, but what will we conquer if not ashes and charred husks? True war means conquering the hearts of the people we wish to rule over, not just their land," I drawled. "Burning down their houses-would they be thankful to us? No, merely, this means we will not be using Basilisk or incendiary rounds. If a fire spreads out, I want it to be clear to the people that it came from the side of Albion. That it was Reconquista's mages, unworthy of being rulers, that burned the commoners down. We are the heroes here, not the tyrants, or the monsters," I snapped my gaze up. "Any who shall give the order to pillage, to rape, to destroy the life of civilians shall be judged and hanged by my own hand, make no mistake. We will not commit crimes. We will not come as conquerors, but liberators. And we will do so with such grace and elegance that the crown will be given to us by the people, by all of them."
I clenched my right fist and lifted it up in the air, "This war will be over in a matter of weeks. If not-then, by the end of the month."
"The general leading the Albion army is not a fool," Bowood said hesitantly. "He won't move his troops if the attack is like this. Not knowing whether to defend Dartanes or Rosais, he'll stay in Londinium and wait for the armies to come to him, starving the supply lines. Rather than by the end of the month, I think the end of the year would be more probable. Even if the head falls, the barons-they will still try to fight unless the army is dealt with resolutely."
"The army of Albion is thirty thousands strong, is it not?" I asked.
"Should be by the time this invasion comes round. When-When we left Albion, word was it had reached twenty-five thousand," as Bowood said that, I nodded. "Also, they should have forty ships of the line still functional. While I heard words about having captured half a fleet-it's not true, it's merely a fifth of it, and the oldest models too-if not for the Lexington, that is."
I smiled. "Ah, honesty. Refreshing to hear, glad to have," I grinned and then moved my baton away from the table to gaze at the map of Albion once more.
"Then, between Dartanes or Rosais, which is the best port to conquer were I to invade Albion?" I asked, and dutifully, Bowood replied with Rosais. It was the one closest to Londinium, directly to the South of it.
"I see," I hummed. "Sending the distraction fleet to Dartanes and then advancing towards Rosais with only the Windland would see us discovered. We are slow, but deadly. We must catch them by surprise-or have them come to us."
I grabbed a nearby ruler and hummed, quite loudly too. "Well, I guess...I guess what we need is a bit of a bold face," I slammed my ruler down on Rosais. "General Bowood, is Rosais built with wood too?"
"No, it's the largest port city-" Bowood replied. "Stone, steel-everything to hold the ships anchored even under the most horrible of hurricanes-"
"Then it's settled. In one month time, we will assault Rosais," I spoke crisply. "And we will send them a letter about it too," I nodded most wisely. "One week prior, we will write to them and say that we will be landing at Rosais. Tell them to have the people evacuated from the city on the day of our arrival, if they do not wish to see them die."
Montpassant's eyebrows rose to unspeakable heights, as did those of the other officers. "That's-they most certainly won't believe such-"
And then he furrowed his brows, and looked down at the map. "Your highness," he muttered. "What is the plan?"
"If I were an enemy general being told I'd be assaulted here, I would think it a trap, but would not renounce the chance of it being true," I acquiesced. "Thus, I'd camp myself here," I pointed at the spot which neatly intersected the distances of Rosais and Londinium. "That way, truth or not, I'd be able to act based on it. When news will arrive of our fleet's assault on Dartanes," I moved the ruler to the city itself, "He'll begin marching, and he'll move Albion's fleet to reach the port city. When that happens...well..."
I slammed my baton down on Rosais. "We assault Rosais and claim it in the name of Gallia."
I looked up at Bowood. "Will it work?"
The man mulled it over for a bit, and then grimaced. "I give it a good chance of working, but the timing-"
"Do not worry about the timing," I said. "We have the Dragon's Raiment. It can cover distances faster than wind dragons can fly," I smiled. "Now, gentlemen, let's get over the equipment needed for the campaign-Mister Bowood? Albion's your country...tell me the weather patterns, the temperatures, the consistency of the soil and..."
The importance of history was that it had to be learned, so it could not be repeated.
I would be damned before I sent my men to fight in the Russian tundra with summer wear and flip-flops.
He who knows himself and the enemy shall never lose a battle.
And what better way to know the enemy, than to have him on your side when the time of war comes?
Friendship isn't magic.
It's power.
The plan is simple. We kill the Zerbst.
No, honestly, the plan is even simpler. We exterminate the Zerbst.
No, even easier, we-
"Your highness!" General de Montpassant coughed in his closed hand. "You are scaring the younger officers," he spoke plainly, and I quickly glanced at the group of young men that stood on the other side of the table, trying their hardest not to breathe for fear I'd snap them in half with my bare hands, which were currently making an artistic rendition of the marshal baton of Gallia.
"Ah, apologies," I said with a nod, before calmly fixing the baton once more. "Now," I said as I pointed at the map of Albion upon the table. "The main port cities of Albion are well defended, and scout fleets will alert them of the arrival of any large number of troops," I glanced at the floating continent's borders, at the maps concerning the air currents, and then planted my baton by the side of Londinium. "Which is why we will ignore them. We will take Londinium by storm with the cover of the night," I spoke plainly. "The main fleet shall act as a diversion by attacking here and here." I pointed at the port city of Rosais and Dartanes. "We on the other hand will be having supply ships deliver to us in the air the fuel and the windstones we need. Once we land, assault will begin immediately. Time to put the night training to use."
"Fighting in the middle of the night-" an officer mumbled, "That sort of thing-what about friendly fire, your highness?"
"My men won't fire on one another," I replied dutifully. "Because they will be going from one side of the city to the other. Anything in front of them is an enemy. Anything behind them an ally. Forty thousand men strong will break doors and conquer the city before the guard can even be roused. Also, if there is an enemy camp nearby, they shall siege from the opposite side of the city. Using it as a barrier to slow them down, they will fight house by house-" I hummed, and then turned my eyes towards General Bowood, who was present. "The city of Londinium," I said. "Is it mostly made of bricks or of wood?"
Bowood looked at me, his brows creasing as he tried to understand the reason behind my question. "Most of the old city was remade in brick after a fire broke out, but the place where commoners sleep is composed of wooden houses."
"Uhm," I tapped my chin thoughtfully.
"We could smoke them out," another officer said. "Burning down the houses-"
"No," I said flatly. "We can definitely take the city that way, but what will we conquer if not ashes and charred husks? True war means conquering the hearts of the people we wish to rule over, not just their land," I drawled. "Burning down their houses-would they be thankful to us? No, merely, this means we will not be using Basilisk or incendiary rounds. If a fire spreads out, I want it to be clear to the people that it came from the side of Albion. That it was Reconquista's mages, unworthy of being rulers, that burned the commoners down. We are the heroes here, not the tyrants, or the monsters," I snapped my gaze up. "Any who shall give the order to pillage, to rape, to destroy the life of civilians shall be judged and hanged by my own hand, make no mistake. We will not commit crimes. We will not come as conquerors, but liberators. And we will do so with such grace and elegance that the crown will be given to us by the people, by all of them."
I clenched my right fist and lifted it up in the air, "This war will be over in a matter of weeks. If not-then, by the end of the month."
"The general leading the Albion army is not a fool," Bowood said hesitantly. "He won't move his troops if the attack is like this. Not knowing whether to defend Dartanes or Rosais, he'll stay in Londinium and wait for the armies to come to him, starving the supply lines. Rather than by the end of the month, I think the end of the year would be more probable. Even if the head falls, the barons-they will still try to fight unless the army is dealt with resolutely."
"The army of Albion is thirty thousands strong, is it not?" I asked.
"Should be by the time this invasion comes round. When-When we left Albion, word was it had reached twenty-five thousand," as Bowood said that, I nodded. "Also, they should have forty ships of the line still functional. While I heard words about having captured half a fleet-it's not true, it's merely a fifth of it, and the oldest models too-if not for the Lexington, that is."
I smiled. "Ah, honesty. Refreshing to hear, glad to have," I grinned and then moved my baton away from the table to gaze at the map of Albion once more.
"Then, between Dartanes or Rosais, which is the best port to conquer were I to invade Albion?" I asked, and dutifully, Bowood replied with Rosais. It was the one closest to Londinium, directly to the South of it.
"I see," I hummed. "Sending the distraction fleet to Dartanes and then advancing towards Rosais with only the Windland would see us discovered. We are slow, but deadly. We must catch them by surprise-or have them come to us."
I grabbed a nearby ruler and hummed, quite loudly too. "Well, I guess...I guess what we need is a bit of a bold face," I slammed my ruler down on Rosais. "General Bowood, is Rosais built with wood too?"
"No, it's the largest port city-" Bowood replied. "Stone, steel-everything to hold the ships anchored even under the most horrible of hurricanes-"
"Then it's settled. In one month time, we will assault Rosais," I spoke crisply. "And we will send them a letter about it too," I nodded most wisely. "One week prior, we will write to them and say that we will be landing at Rosais. Tell them to have the people evacuated from the city on the day of our arrival, if they do not wish to see them die."
Montpassant's eyebrows rose to unspeakable heights, as did those of the other officers. "That's-they most certainly won't believe such-"
And then he furrowed his brows, and looked down at the map. "Your highness," he muttered. "What is the plan?"
"If I were an enemy general being told I'd be assaulted here, I would think it a trap, but would not renounce the chance of it being true," I acquiesced. "Thus, I'd camp myself here," I pointed at the spot which neatly intersected the distances of Rosais and Londinium. "That way, truth or not, I'd be able to act based on it. When news will arrive of our fleet's assault on Dartanes," I moved the ruler to the city itself, "He'll begin marching, and he'll move Albion's fleet to reach the port city. When that happens...well..."
I slammed my baton down on Rosais. "We assault Rosais and claim it in the name of Gallia."
I looked up at Bowood. "Will it work?"
The man mulled it over for a bit, and then grimaced. "I give it a good chance of working, but the timing-"
"Do not worry about the timing," I said. "We have the Dragon's Raiment. It can cover distances faster than wind dragons can fly," I smiled. "Now, gentlemen, let's get over the equipment needed for the campaign-Mister Bowood? Albion's your country...tell me the weather patterns, the temperatures, the consistency of the soil and..."
The importance of history was that it had to be learned, so it could not be repeated.
I would be damned before I sent my men to fight in the Russian tundra with summer wear and flip-flops.
He who knows himself and the enemy shall never lose a battle.
And what better way to know the enemy, than to have him on your side when the time of war comes?
Friendship isn't magic.
It's power.
taovkool
Forever Gone
- Location
- The Library, Department of General Works
Friendship is power. Wow. First time I heard that.
Oh, scratch that. That girl probably doesn't know what the Art of War is. Know of it, perhaps. But not the content. Probably just the famous quotes up there.
And what in the world are you quoting the Art of War for? You want to write them or something? No, no. While it's probably good for publicity, it's bad idea to write them. Anne is still around, remember.
Oh, scratch that. That girl probably doesn't know what the Art of War is. Know of it, perhaps. But not the content. Probably just the famous quotes up there.
Stranger1950
Worth It
- Location
- Reverse Side of the World
- Location
- Elsewhere
And somewhere out there, a unicorn cries...
... and then goes on to conquer the world.
Omake - Agnes Most Traumatizing Day in the Army
- Location
- https://discord.gg/z9tBvbh
Omake - Agnes Most Traumatizing Day in the Army
"Does brother have a secret side, Agnes? Something he never shows to his family?"
She remembered.
She remembered the day the ground ran red.
She remembered the day grown-up men wept and cried and fell on the ground, dragging their bodies amidst twitches.
She remembered the day of no return, the day when hell itself opened its foul pits to release the toxic fumes of sin itself.
She remembered the day when the sky turned black, when people screamed and cried, hugged one another through tears that were both manly and horrifying.
She remembered the day.
The day their Prince came to announce he would become a father.
A celebration, no, an orgy of food and wine-a thing the likes of which she had never seen before. Pizza flew in the air, and people laughed and drank and for that day officers could sod off -and would do so too to one another- for wine and alcohol flew freely in the air too, and the ground turned to mud, mud made with puddles of wine.
It wasn't a feast. It was a veritable hymn to decadence and amidst it all, there he stood, drunk out of his ass and laughing louder than anyone else, pouring drinks and drinking too, the Prince-Consort.
Then he brought out the carts filled with strange greenish substances that were to be pressed into papers, rolled and smoked.
The rest was a blur.
When she woke up, she was resting on the top of a table in the middle of the barracks courtyard, everyone else reduced to either a heap of sleeping limbs or having fallen asleep while fighting one another for the last scraps of food. She had pizza dough in her mouth, flour was everywhere, something was on her head -a pair of kitten ears- and the Prince-Consort was gently patting her head by her side with his eyes closed, humming a sort of tune that went terrifyingly like Soft kitty, sweet kitty, little ball of fur...
The Prince-Consort forgot about the accident when he woke up in his office's bed. She and a few others who had woken up before the rest swore an oath on that day.
It was an oath never to tell the Prince what had transpired.
It was a secret they would carry to their graves.
"N-no," Agnes said.
Nobody would ever know.
That their prince loved cats too.
"Does brother have a secret side, Agnes? Something he never shows to his family?"
She remembered.
She remembered the day the ground ran red.
She remembered the day grown-up men wept and cried and fell on the ground, dragging their bodies amidst twitches.
She remembered the day of no return, the day when hell itself opened its foul pits to release the toxic fumes of sin itself.
She remembered the day when the sky turned black, when people screamed and cried, hugged one another through tears that were both manly and horrifying.
She remembered the day.
The day their Prince came to announce he would become a father.
A celebration, no, an orgy of food and wine-a thing the likes of which she had never seen before. Pizza flew in the air, and people laughed and drank and for that day officers could sod off -and would do so too to one another- for wine and alcohol flew freely in the air too, and the ground turned to mud, mud made with puddles of wine.
It wasn't a feast. It was a veritable hymn to decadence and amidst it all, there he stood, drunk out of his ass and laughing louder than anyone else, pouring drinks and drinking too, the Prince-Consort.
Then he brought out the carts filled with strange greenish substances that were to be pressed into papers, rolled and smoked.
The rest was a blur.
When she woke up, she was resting on the top of a table in the middle of the barracks courtyard, everyone else reduced to either a heap of sleeping limbs or having fallen asleep while fighting one another for the last scraps of food. She had pizza dough in her mouth, flour was everywhere, something was on her head -a pair of kitten ears- and the Prince-Consort was gently patting her head by her side with his eyes closed, humming a sort of tune that went terrifyingly like Soft kitty, sweet kitty, little ball of fur...
The Prince-Consort forgot about the accident when he woke up in his office's bed. She and a few others who had woken up before the rest swore an oath on that day.
It was an oath never to tell the Prince what had transpired.
It was a secret they would carry to their graves.
"N-no," Agnes said.
Nobody would ever know.
That their prince loved cats too.
Louise is obviously yanking your chain.
- Location
- The Surface Of A Hostile Planet
shade no
shade stahp
shade stahp
Well, it does explain why so many cats are being killed by the crows!
The Prince orders for a bunch of kitties to be sent to the palace so he can have something furry to pet and snuggle, and Raven, jealous of his master's affection for the kitty-cats, begins a secret Holy Crusade against the feline species!
Makes perfect sense to me!
- Location
- Parts Unknown
Cut to six thousand years later where the Holy descendants of the Founder Raven wage war against the vile Cats.
floppy_seal99
D-O-G-A-R-S DOGARS!
- Location
- snooping as usual
..."The Ravenbots wage their battle to destroy the evil forces of the Decepticats"...
Is Louise at least getting paid?
I mean that in a much broader sense than if she's getting a salary or something. If Henry wants her to come along and be her secret weapon, but his conscience is bothering him, then the obvious solution would be to make sure that Louise gains from the whole endeavor. Since Gallia isn't her kingdom and she has no feudal obligation to fight for it, the traditional reward would be a nice big estate in Albion.
I mean that in a much broader sense than if she's getting a salary or something. If Henry wants her to come along and be her secret weapon, but his conscience is bothering him, then the obvious solution would be to make sure that Louise gains from the whole endeavor. Since Gallia isn't her kingdom and she has no feudal obligation to fight for it, the traditional reward would be a nice big estate in Albion.
Stratagemini
Totally a Fire Ferret.
- Location
- Central Park
- Pronouns
- He/Him/They/Them
Pretty sure this is your fault, Henry. You and your black library.