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Old Grudges; Or in Zaliviyan: "The Anax's Heart Attack"
Topic Started: Jul 10 2015, 11:42 PM (138 Views)
Mastropa
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Zinovios Mesolongias, Epistatis

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FROM THE VASILISSA OF THE LAKONIAN ACHAIANS

To Kypseli, Vasilissa of Ikaria:

Hail!

In this time of uncertainty, I am sure you have recognized the shifts in the temper of the anax, and the reversals of his mind and policy. His frustration regarding his diplomatic position has become obvious even to foreign observers. With international concerns drawing his attention, especially given his inability to avoid or preempt any possible disaster on his own merits, the anax cannot spare the time or the energy to enforce his will on the Achaian tribes, nor can he afford the cost of offending those to whose militias he entrusts the home defense.

I speak of all this to entreat you to consider my former proposals, which we discussed most recently in Kerkyra following the latest session of the Achaian Council. I share your concerns regarding this course of action; nonetheless, I share also your detestation of your unfortunate neighbor, and regardless of the anax’s threats and implications, it has always been my duty and my life’s work to revenge my father’s death and see that man brought low. Our chance will hardly come again; now we must act, if Ymittos is to fall without a Peloponnesian response.

To this end, I have been in communication with a source formerly close to Ymittos, and who bears him no love. You are already aware of Ymittos’s daughter, Omonoia, who has made a name for herself in the Melzaean scraps we now call “New Peloponnese.” From the words and actions of the anax, it is apparent that she has made herself known to you; she has recently contacted me likewise. In her communication to me, Omonoia revealed that she has been targeted for arrest by the anax’s order, and that she remains free due only to the grace of the anax’s son, the governor of the Melzaean territory. Omonoia understandably desires to thwart the anax’s command, and intends, with the aid of allies such as ourselves, to make her way back to Kalymnos, and there declare herself vasilissa.

You are aware, obviously, that the anax has thus far preserved Ymittos’s life with the threat of armed suppression of anyone, most especially myself, who attempts to remove him. In the current uncertain climate, this threat can no longer be easily carried out. With that confidence, Kypseli, I write to you in the hopes that you will count yourself among us when the time comes—as it must very shortly indeed.

Your friend in sympathy,

Exarcheia
Vasilissa
Achaian Lakonia
Edited by Mastropa, Jul 11 2015, 12:02 AM.
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Mastropa
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Zinovios Mesolongias, Epistatis

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FROM THE VASILISSA OF THE IKARIAN ACHAIANS

To Exarcheia, Vasilissa of Lakonia:

I must regretfully caution you in the matter you have written to me about, for multiple reasons. In my experience with Anax Kerameikos, I have gleaned much about his character and values. You are already well acquainted with his pride; I can inform you with confidence that the anax displays it most fully in Council, where he is assured of his control and superiority. Nowhere else does the anax have the opportunity to express the exalted nature of the anakate, whose history and glory pales next to that of other national leaders, allies and rivals alike. As you noted already, abroad the anax must bite his tongue; but at home he is free to remind those few who must listen that the anakate holds the reins of the Achaian people.

Thus frustrated abroad, the anax will not accept defiance at home. Any act directly contrary to his order will see him act out in rage, regardless of the circumstances. Lakonia cannot stand against the Peloponnese; nor, indeed, can Ikaria. The son of the anax plays a dangerous game by defying his father, and I do not anticipate a great deal of success for him. For your sake alone, then, I would urge you to move extremely cautiously.

I also urge caution for the sake of the Achaian people. As you pointed out in your communication to me, the Megaron is now entirely focused on international matters. While this may appear to be a boon to your plans, I must emphasize just how essential this vigilance really is. Distracting the anax from his international duties will only expose the Achaian people to the possibility of foreign disaster. Our vengeance cannot compare with our duties, as vasileis, to secure the safety of our people.

Nonetheless, all that you wrote is true. In peace, the anax’s arms protect Ymittos without question; now, in crisis, they cannot do so until they are made to turn away from their current duties. It is incumbent on us, then, to persuade the generals, the admirals, the other vasileis, and possibly even the Megaron to either accept our cause, or to maintain their watchfulness on the distant horizon despite the orders of the anax. In addition, I recommend achieving a tentative rapport with the anax’s son in Melzae, who has broken with his father’s commands; he may prove yet to be helpful, at least in the short term. Only by persuading these notables of the importance of their duties, and the comparative irrelevance of our actions, can we hope to stave off disaster for ourselves, and possibly for the Achaian people in total.

Your friend,

Kypseli
Vasilissa
Achaian Ikaria
Edited by Mastropa, Jul 11 2015, 12:03 AM.
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Zinovios Mesolongias, Epistatis

Strategos Kamatero strode into the headquarters of New Dorian Enterprises sharply, followed closely by his usual aides and by General Aigisthos, who had insisted on joining him for this meeting. As had happened before, the receptionists in the lobby were startled and frightened by his appearance, and the strategos was in no mood to wait on them to regain their equilibrium. “Tell Omonoia that we’re here to speak with her. Now.” Not bothering to wait for a reply, Kamatero turned to the door that he knew would lead to the stairway and the offices above, only to find it blocked by three broad-shouldered men whose dark business suit failed to hide the holstered weapons in their jackets. The strategos glared at the obvious guards. “Stand aside.”

To his credit, the spokesman was extremely polite when he said, “We can’t do that, sir—”

General Aigisthos and seven other men had drawn their weapons before he had even gotten that far. The other two guards twitched as though to reach for their own guns, but they had already been made, and knew better than to try; Kamatero could only guess that these were the replacements for the building’s original security staff, who had been snapped up for military duty almost immediately after the strategos had legitimized NDE’s operations. Kamatero stared the spokesman down. “Stand aside or be shot.”

The men stepped aside.

Three minutes later, Kamatero threw open the door of Omonoia’s office and strode inside, followed by five of his men, including General Aigisthos. Omonoia started in surprise at the interruption, being on the telephone, but relaxed slightly when she saw who had barged into her office. “Yes, they’re here now,” she said soothingly. “I’ll take care of everything.”

“That’s good to hear,” Kamatero said brightly as he took a seat on the other side of her desk without invitation; the general did likewise, not bothering to hide his anger as he glared at her. The strategos simply leaned back and said, “You can start by explaining a rather interesting communiqué I received earlier today from Vasilissa Exarcheia, all the way over in Lakonia.”

Omonoia hung up the telephone and raised an eyebrow. “She mentioned in her letter that she would be contacting you, but I didn’t realize that it would warrant a personal visit from you to confirm it,” she said blandly.

“If only,” Kamatero said, some of his irritation beginning to leak through. “Omonoia, do realize just what kind of risk it is for anyone to even know your name outside of New Peloponnese right now?”

The woman scoffed. “You’ve already told the Megaron that you aren’t ready to arrest anyone yet—”

“Which is no excuse for you to be communicating with people on the far side of Achaian territory, especially people who are almost as loathed by the anax as you are!” snapped Kamatero, losing patience. “The moment anyone realizes that you’re sending mail to Exarcheia, they will be more than happy to check into it to see just what you’ve been writing… and they will find treason, not just on your part, but on mine!”

It was the first time he had said as much aloud, and out of the corner of his eye Kamatero could see the soldiers surrounding him tense up in surprise. They hadn’t been aware, or were at least unsure of the strategos’s actions and intentions; now they knew in no uncertain terms. Kamatero could only hope that they would keep their mouths shut about it, if they didn’t turn against him outright. “I have purposely ignored the instructions of the anax himself,” he continued harshly, “for your sake. Had it not been for my leniency, you would be awaiting the judgment of the anax in a cell at this very moment. And in repayment for that consideration, you have put my own life and freedom at risk in the hopes of saving your own neck! Should I turn back from this path and drag you out to the camps right now?”

Omonoia straightened in her seat. “I am saving our necks,” she snapped, “yours as well as mine. You said it yourself, Strategos: You are committing treason today. Did you imagine you would survive it without friends to support you when the time comes? The Megaron’s control over the military everywhere but here remains absolute, and you understand your lack of manpower much better than I do. What happens when the troops who are already here are told by the anax himself to turn against you? They clearly don’t know who’s really ordering them about now, do they?” She nodded toward the guards surrounding them, who were mainly looking about uncomfortably, no longer sure of their place.

Kamatero glanced over them for a moment, but only long enough to acknowledge to himself that he would have to soothe their tempers before he could let them mix with the rest of the men. Turning back to Omonoia, he said, “I may need allies, but I do not need to be associated with my father’s least-favorite vasilissa! He expects treason from her at every moment. He cannot imagine any correspondence with her that is not suspicious! You are only attracting the very attention that you mean for us to escape!”

“Then what would you prefer?” Omonoia demanded. “Regardless of the attention, I stand by what I said before. We need allies. You need allies. These people will be those allies, allies we can trust to stand by us; not only do they have no special love for the anax, but they have other mutual interests with us, or at least with me, besides. You will be able to depend on them more seriously than you can depend on this weak veil of secrecy that can be punctured as easily as a mistimed letter home!”

“What ‘people’?” Kamatero demanded. “Who else have you been contacting?”

“Whatever people I know we can depend on,” Omonoia insisted. “For the present, vasileis whose position aligns with our own. Exarcheia of course. But Kypseli as well.”

Kamatero frowned deeply. Omonoia might have thought that this was good news, but the son of the anax wished no real harm to come to his father or the Peloponnese. Learning that the vasilissa of Ikaria, a tribe which normally got along well with the Peloponnese, and whose territory was much like it in terms of industry and economy, was willing to turn against Kerameikos in such a blatant fashion, and with such little warning or indication, deeply troubled the strategos. Omonoia interpreted his expression correctly and added, “The vasileis are not joining us out of hatred of the Megaron or the anax. I have certain goals in life that both Exarcheia and Kypseli support. They will align themselves with us as long as it is in their interests, and I assure you that the goal I have in mind is very much agreeable to both of them.”

The strategos shook his head slightly. “What else do Exarcheia and Kypseli agree on but their hatred of Vasilefs Ymit—” Kamatero stopped suddenly, his eyes narrowing. “In fact,” he began as though he hadn’t interrupted himself in the middle of a word, “what benefit could they see at all by aligning themselves with his daughter?”

Omonoia shrugged. “They want my father dead, Kamatero. Who better to inherit than a relative who wants the same thing?” The strategos’s eyes widened as he choked; Omonoia ignored his distress as she added, “And just think of the support that three vasileis could provide you, to say nothing of the fact that my presence in Kalymnos, and thus my absence from New Peloponnese, will serve to take the anax’s attention away from you for a time—hopefully long enough for you to consolidate here, of course.”

Kamatero stared for another long moment. “The anax has already declared that killing Ymittos, no matter who’s responsible, will mean war with Lakonia. Surely Exarcheia doesn’t think she can win a fight against the Peloponnese, even with an ally or two.”

The woman grimaced. “That is the obstacle facing us now,” she admitted. “I understand from the letter I’ve received from Exarcheia that Kypseli has suggested a solution, but it will require work, and we will need to plan.” She eyed the strategos pointedly. “Hence the mail.”

Kamatero considered Omonoia for a moment. All of these shocks were making it difficult to think straight, but he managed in the end to put his thoughts and feelings together and make sense of the situation. Yes, planning was essential for such an audacious goal, but the strategos was firmly opposed to any further correspondence between Omonoia and the vasileis who would help her; there was no point in actively tempting discovery like that when the help such allies could provide would be minimal regardless. Nonetheless, some allies were certainly better than none, and while there was only a small chance that they could find a way to attract enough allies to truly prevent the Peloponnese from causing a disaster, it was absolutely certain that the secrecy of New Peloponnese’s break from the Megaron could not be maintained forever. Kamatero would certainly rather see the Peloponnese worrying about multiple problems than the problem of New Peloponnese alone. The negotiations, then, could not be delayed.

Kamatero furrowed his brow as he followed that train of thought to its logical conclusion. “No,” he said firmly. “The risk is still too great, and it will take entirely too long to sort every point out by letter.”

Omonoia sneered. “Do you expect it to be any safer by telephone?” she demanded. “Every line in New Peloponnese goes through the Megaron, just as every letter does. At least delivered letters remain sealed!”

“I would be surprised if Exarcheia even bothered with telephones,” Kamatero replied. “And I refuse absolutely for you to continue negotiating via methods that can be easily intercepted, regardless. If you are going to negotiate, with or without me, you’re going to do it face-to-face.” Ignoring Omonoia’s raised eyebrows, the strategos turned to Aigisthos and said, “I think I can spare a quick visit home if I leave you in charge here, General.”

“The same can’t be said for me,” Omonoia protested.

Kamatero ignored her. “In fact,” he added, “I will be visiting Ikaria while I have the opportunity to ensure that Vasilissa Kypseli understands the problems her people have caused New Peloponnese and the Cult of Makaria, and to negotiate regarding the Ikarian teachers that I have unfortunately had to arrest.”

“Arrest?!”

Aigisthos frowned. “You will need to have actually arrested them for that excuse to work,” he said. “As far as the anax is concerned, you’re still biding your time.”

“Nothing prevents me from restricting their movements before I can properly arrest them,” the strategos said simply. “Expect an influx of new recruits shortly.”

“But the company—”

Kamatero turned back to Omonoia. “The company will be leaderless for an indefinite period of time as it stands,” he said. “Rather than appoint someone else to try to run it in your absence, you should be grateful that I’m putting everything on hiatus.”

“My absence will be a grand total of a few days,” Omonoia said in frustration. “You said yourself that you wanted to speed up these negotiations! We’ll be back before the company could possibly stutter.”

“I’ll be back,” corrected Kamatero. “But you’re a self-admitted liability to New Peloponnese. Your disappearance will go a long way toward appeasing my father’s temper, especially if he believes that I’ve put you into the military with the rest. And in the meantime, you’ll have safely escaped the anax’s attention, hiding in a place he would never expect, and will have direct access to at least one of your coconspirators whenever you need to make new plans. You ought not to complain.”

Omonoia gritted her teeth, but the strategos turned back to General Aigisthos before she could retort. “Is there anything that will prevent us from being in Ikaria by the end of this week?”

“Nothing that I can think of,” Aigisthos replied.

“Then that’s settled.” Kamatero turned back to Omonoia and nodded sharply as he got to his feet. “You’ll see me tomorrow, then,” he said, “if only to make sure we can pass you off as a trained guard.” The woman simply glared at his back as he turned to the door and made his way out.
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Omonoia swallowed nervously as she looked out the window at the approaching ground. The plane was on its final descent; soon she would be on public display, flanking Kamatero in the guise of a private guard with the eyes of the press, the Cult Regiment, and the anax himself taking note of any missteps. She had told the strategos several times already that she was not yet ready, and pointed out that the basic choreography she had been forced to memorize over the past two days would not be able to replace months of intensive drill. Kamatero had ignored her concerns and brushed aside her complaints. “Either this or nothing,” he had reminded her. “Choose wisely.”

As the plane touched down in Kerkyra, Omonoia glanced over at the strategos one more time. He appeared calm enough, but Omonoia took note of the tension in his expression, the slight twitch in his hands. Ironically, it helped to calm Omonoia’s panic to know that Kamatero, this plan’s main proponent, was just as worried about it as she was. While she should have found that notion terrifying, instead the woman could only think to herself, ‘At least I’ll have company.’ Her ‘fellow’ guards, proper ones, couldn’t be considered nervous at all, and their professionalism and expertise only served to remind Omonoia that she really didn’t belong among their number. Regardless of Kamatero’s assurances to the contrary, Omonoia knew that they were less than impressed with the idea of an interloper like her spoiling their perfect formations in front of the anax himself—and that ignored their feelings about trying to slip something by him in the first place.

‘So be it,’ Omonoia though, steeling herself. ‘If I have to be caught, at least I’ll be caught in style.’ The immaculate black-and-red uniform she wore would make sure of that.

Almost as soon as she thought this, Kamatero got to his feet. His permanent guards leapt up in response, and Omonoia stumbled up as quickly as she could to match them as they checked their side arms one more time and pulled their rifles from the racks set above their heads. Within half a minute, the guards were ready; Omonoia took slightly longer, by which time the strategos had already made his way to the hatch. The smartly-dressed stewardess waiting for him there—also armed, Omonoia noted—nodded respectfully, opened the hatch, and stepped aside. The guards formed up behind their lord, and Omonoia took her place as Kamatero started down the steps to the carpet-lined tarmac below.

From her place in line, Omonoia took note of the scene as she scanned her eyes about for threats. The carpet extended into the distance, a red road leading from the parked jet to the looming buildings of Anassa Glyfada Airport. On either side stood the silent, stern figures of the Cult Regiment, with their blinding white uniforms, red epaulettes and cuffs, and the Shield of their goddess sewn onto their sleeves and caps. Every other cultman sounded a beat from the deep drums of their office, announcing the return of the strategos to the Peloponnese. Banners fluttered among the soldiers, representing all manner of political and religious offices that denoted the authority and presence of the anax: the Peloponnesian flag, the banner of the Achaian people, the image and Shield of Makaria, the flag of the Cult (which, Omonoia had learned from the Cult’s increased presence in New Peloponnese, was distinct from the authority of the goddess herself), the flag of the Megaron, and (almost lost among the rest) the banner of the Xenos Dynasty. The most conspicuous cluster of flags surrounded the receiving party, Anax Kerameikos and his wife, Presvytera Kifisia, with two or three logothetai standing beside them. Surrounding them all in clusters, reporters and cameramen recorded the event for the evening news broadcast and the morning papers, though Omonoia doubted that what must seem to be a routine visit by the anax’s heir could be considered serious news. Hopefully it would not become newsworthy based on her poor performance.

Kamatero stepped down onto the tarmac and strode forward, and his guards fanned out to flank him. Omonoia, on the far right end of the line, maintained her step with the other five guards, which was thankfully easy enough with the drums booming out time. The walk to reach Anax Kerameikos and his retinue seemed to take forever, but it couldn’t have been more than a minute before Kamatero stood in front of his father; Omonoia barely remembered to stop in time, and quickly busied herself by staring straight ahead at the fluttering image of Makaria, bestowing upon her people their freedom from international domination, and a defender in the form of the anax to maintain that freedom. Omonoia disagreed with her father on many points, but on this matter she knew he was right to call it a farce.

Kamatero was not nearly so distracted. The strategos bowed his head to his father respectfully, and Omonoia noted that his voice betrayed none of his nervousness when he said, “Anax, I return to you under Makaria’s Shield.”

“And may your efforts maintain its protection over our land,” Kerameikos finished, nodding in return. Ritual completed, the anax glanced at his wife and said, “Your mother has been worried for you.”

Kifisia shot a glare at her husband, before turning her attention to her son. “I’m pleased to see you home,” she said. “I’d be happier if you were staying, but I’m sure I won’t have to wait much longer before that time comes. Once those troublesome foreigners are dealt with, you’ll be able to leave everything to General Aigisthos and come back to us for good.”

“As soon as I can,” promised Kamatero. Omonoia fought to keep her eyes from straying toward him, but she wondered if he was sincere. “Until I can put the immigrants back where they came from, I’m constantly worried about what they’ll do next. I’ve had to throw most of them into the military just to keep them from politicking behind my back.” That had been extremely unpopular news, to put it lightly, and the fact that Kamatero had left it to Omonoia to give it to her employees still rankled. “Still, Aigisthos will keep them in line. And depending on how useful they make themselves for us, we might be able to delay their departure until it’s absolutely necessary.”

Kerameikos scoffed. “There are better ways of building a population, Son,” he said. “Now that we’ve expressed our displeasure with the current crop, it will be almost impossible to make them listen to you. You’re much better off replacing the lot of them.”

The anax motioned for Kamatero to walk with him as he turned toward the airport buildings in the distance. “We’ll talk more of this in the Megaron,” he said. “For now, I’d rather enjoy your visit while I can, before you head off again tomorrow.”

“I’m glad to be home already,” said Kamatero, falling into step beside his father as the reception committee turned to follow them back. Thus, only the guards and the Cult Regiment took any notice when Omonoia missed her timing and had to scramble to fall into line with the rest of the guards when they moved to follow.

Well, the guards, the Cult Regiment, and everyone who chose to watch the news this evening, anyway.
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Beside an idling diplomatic car, Vasilissa Kypseli watched from the tarmac of Ikaria’s only ‘international’ airport, Kirykos, as the stairs were rolled up to the private jet bearing the strategos and heir of the anax of the Peloponnese. She had heard through the media that Kamatero had spent only a couple of hours cloistered with his father and the logothetai of the Megaron the previous day, where he was no doubt instructed in the finest detail about what Kerameikos wanted to see from New Peloponnese in this time of crisis, and possibly what the Megaron wanted to see accomplished in this meeting between Kamatero and herself. In that sense, it really was too bad that all of these expectations had been placed on the shoulders of a man who had been persuaded to ignore the Megaron’s wishes entirely. And yet, that only made Kypseli more curious about what her guest would bring up on his own as they talked.

Said man, the strategos, appeared at the hatchway and started down the stairs. Given the overly-impressive reception he had received in Kerkyra, Kypseli wondered if he would try to be offended with her notable lack of pomp or ceremony. If the strategos had any such complaints, though, he hid them well, striding across the uncarpeted tarmac without any hesitation at all in order to greet her and the two guards who accompanied her. That said, the vasilissa noted that he brought his full complement of guards, despite her own security service: six uniformed Peloponnesians, resplendent but wary, their eyes darting around at everything in sight to ensure that it didn’t constitute a threat… all but the ‘guard’ walking closest to the strategos, whose body language was much tenser than that of her colleagues, and much more purposeful. Kypseli wondered for only a moment just what Kamatero meant by bringing such a strange companion, before realization struck her that this was the last remaining party to their discussions. She nearly laughed. ‘Did he choose that disguise simply to sneak her in, or is it meant more to stamp his authority as strategos over her?’ she wondered.

As the small group reached their host, Kypseli nodded to the strategos and said formally, “The Ikarian Achaians bid you welcome in Kirykos, Strategos.”

“Thank you,” Kamatero answered simply. “It will be good to put this quarrel between our people to rest.”

Kypseli nodded as one of her guards opened the door of the diplomatic car for them. “Certainly,” she said, “although I have to point out that a quarrel between people would require you to have people in the first place. I understand that you have disowned the citizens of New Peloponnese—have set them up for deportation, in fact. Who will be left to have a quarrel with when you are finished?”

Kamatero raised an eyebrow in challenge as he accepted the unspoken offer and stepped into the car. “Me, of course,” he said to her. “And as far as New Peloponnese is concerned, my personal enmity will be enough to set us on a collision course… assuming that we find no common ground whatsoever here.”

Kypseli snorted. “I suppose that’s enough of an incentive to succeed, then, isn’t it?” she said, following Kamatero into the car. One of her guards entered beside her, while the disguised Omonoia took her seat next to the strategos. The remaining Ikarian guard closed the car door and motioned toward another vehicle to take the rest of Kamatero’s bodyguards to the meeting place, while the first car began to pull away. “Or should I say,” the vasilissa added in the privacy of the vehicle, “it could have been such an incentive, if true?”

Kamatero smiled without humor. “I think we already have quite enough incentives for success,” he said, “not the least of which being my father’s temper when we reveal our plotting to him in the near future.”

The vasilissa shrugged. “True enough,” she said. “But that only means that you’ll have to make this discussion worth my while, doesn’t it?”
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Ikaria had a proud history. Like every other tribe save Lakonia, the Ikarians had taken their territory at the head of a general invasion from the Peloponnese, orchestrated by Anax Vyronas no less impressively than the anax had orchestrated the revolt of the Peloponnese against the Dorian occupation. By the time of Vyronas’s death, the Ikarians under Vasilefs Zografos were an established tribe to the north of the Achaian Gulf, and the ambitious vasilefs was among the few who contested the succession of the anakate. It was not to be—had any tribal vasilefs succeeded Vyronas in that struggle, the nature of the anakate would have evolved along very different lines—and Zografos’s ill-considered invasion of the Peloponnese after the assassination of Vyronas’s first successor was met with the determination and the full fury of Anassa Anafiotika. It was an unmitigated disaster for the Ikarians and the mercenaries, native and Achaian, who had signed up for the attempt, and the body of Vasilefs Zografos was never recovered from the sea where he had fallen. But Ikarians still remembered Zografos warmly: He was the first to rule them, and under him they were great enough to challenge the Peloponnese at its height. His successors could only dare to emulate him when the anax was so totally incompetent as to invite revolt.

Anax Kerameikos was not exactly incompetent, Kypseli knew from experience. He was a hard-headed man who despised the Achaians’ position as a secondary, or even tertiary, people on the world stage, but he knew when to bend (even if he grumbled about it). The problem was that he absolutely refused to bend to those who he knew to be below him, either socially or politically. He often agreed with his vasileis, but on those occasions where they were at odds, he would not compromise his desires for their sake. He dictated what and how his people should think without considering what they actually thought, and while generations of propaganda had ensured that the Peloponnesians generally agreed with his dictates, this wasn’t always guaranteed. And, most importantly, Kerameikos expected instant and unresisting obedience from everyone under his command. Those who disobeyed him—in this case, his eldest son, two vasileis, and the daughter of a third—were constantly reminded of the example provided by previous political opponents within the Peloponnese, who were usually executed within days of their resistance. Kerameikos had previously leashed Vasilissa Exarcheia by forcing the Achaian Council to agree to make war against her and the Lakonians as a whole if anything at all unnatural befell Vasilefs Ymittos of the Kalymnians. It should have been no surprise to anyone, then, that those who now plotted to defy Kerameikos were also plotting to see Ymittos dead.

Or rather, three of them were plotting to see Ymittos dead. Kypseli glanced over at Strategos Kamatero again; he had remained silent throughout this portion of the discussion, and it was clear that he was not entirely certain that he should be encouraging this action at all. Kypseli knew, or at least she assumed, that he knew better than to turn against them at this point; his own actions lately had been directly contrary to his father’s desires, and he would need all the support he could get when Kerameikos learned the truth of his ambitions for New Peloponnese. The other two women had yet to notice his lack of participation, which given Exarcheia’s exuberance and Omonoia’s youth wasn’t surprising. Kypseli chose not to point it out, and returned her attention to the matter at hand.

“…will be completely out of position if we hesitate too long,” the other vasilissa was telling Omonoia sternly. “Eventually this mess in the north is going to simmer down, and the anax will just turn his attention back toward us. We have to move while he’s more interested in protecting himself from abroad than he is in causing trouble to us at home.”

Omonoia was nodding, but she looked troubled nonetheless. “But even if we move while Kerameikos is still looking abroad, we’ll only be safe until he decides that any foreign danger is past and turns back to us. Our supporters will have to make themselves known instantly.” She frowned more deeply for a moment. “Assuming that the danger does actually pass without war,” she added.

“This extended build-up is too taxing to last for much longer,” Kypseli pointed out, “for anyone involved in it. Kerameikos and everyone else will have to draw down those forces sooner rather than later. If we don’t move before then, we’ll lose this opportunity, but the window is extremely tight to acquire and utilize allies among the vasileis. If they aren’t prepared to defend us or themselves before the anax can redistribute his forces against us, it will all be over.” The vasilissa tapped a sheet of paper sitting in front of her, where she had jotted down several notes in preparation for this meeting, and where she had hoped to add ideas brought up in the meeting itself. “With that in mind, it only makes sense that we focus on grabbing those allies before we deal with anything else, to give them as much time as possible to prepare when we make our move.”

Kamatero leaned forward at this. “I’m going to say right now that Peiraias and Pagkrati are extremely unlikely to join in with us,” he said.

Exarcheia scoffed. “They’re too busy eating out of Kerameikos’s hand to bother biting him,” she sneered. “It makes me wonder why they don’t just sign away their leadership to him.”

Kypseli rolled her eyes at the other vasilissa’s dismissive tone. “Vasilefs Peiraias may be more amenable to giving the anax a poke in the eye now,” she pointed out. “Kerameikos forced him to give up some of that land—”

“Peiraias gave that land to Exarcheia here,” Kamatero interrupted. “Between my father and Exarcheia, Peiraias is bound to stand for Kerameikos. He will not support us unless or until the Megaron insults him beyond reason.” The strategos snorted. “Peiraias’s family has been friendly with mine since the formation of our dynasty, and Akarnania has been a friend to the Peloponnese since its foundation. The same is true for Thesprotia and Pagkrati. As I said, expect nothing from them.”

“So we are left with Monastiraki and Kaisariani,” Omonoia said. She frowned in frustration. “I can’t believe we’d be able to turn both of them to our cause at once.”

Exarcheia scoffed as Kypseli nodded. “Kaisariani and Monastiraki have a rather long-standing grudge… though if I’m honest, the problem lies mainly with Kaisariani. She will not side with Monastiraki, or with anyone supported by him. If we are to have any support from either of them, we will have to choose between them.”

“Kaisariani will be more sympathetic to us,” Exarcheia said. “Serrians live like Lakonians, and the anax has snubbed Kaisariani once or twice in the recent past.”

“Serrians live like Lakonians, to be sure,” Kamatero spoke up, “but that simply means that Serres is technologically inferior and inefficient in its use of labor. Kaisariani’s militia is almost entirely dependent on Peloponnesian supply surpluses, just as yours is. We might be better off courting Monastiraki: Argolida is more capable of putting pressure on the Peloponnese than Serres, both militarily and economically.” The strategos raised an eyebrow at Exarcheia’s furious glare before glancing over at Kypseli. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

“He has already defied the Megaron once,” Kypseli agreed. “But there’s no reason not to keep our options open. With luck, we might even get them both to support us under the impression that the other is not.”

Omonoia scoffed. “I don’t see that working out well,” she said. Kamatero beside her nodded, though he offered a surprised glance at his companion as he did so; apparently that kind of caution was not in her character. Omonoia noticed it too, and frowned. “Isn’t it obvious that we’ll just lose both vasileis’ support if we play them off one another? As soon as we ask for public declarations, they’ll see that they’ve been duped. They’ll either pull back into neutrality or turn to the anax to spite us, and if they’re angry enough about it they might even agree to work together just to destroy us.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Exarcheia said, “but I guess that you’re right enough about the rest of it.” She sighed. “Fine, I guess we’ll only get to deal with one of them… but,” she added, “there’s no reason why we shouldn’t try to spread doubts about the anax to everyone we can’t turn to our side outright.”

“They’ll have no reason to trust any slander we give them,” Omonoia argued.

“Only if they knew our motives,” argued the Lakonian vasilissa. “They won’t until we act publicly, and by that time, if we play this right, we might even be able to use our own slander as a pretext for our defiance. Whatever vasileis that refuse to join us might equally refuse to join the anax against us if they thought that our cause was justifiable.”

Kamatero scoffed, but Kypseli was glad to see that he kept his thoughts on that matter to himself. Whether he considered their actions justifiable or not, he shared the guilt of their plotting. “I am uncomfortable with the idea of turning the vasileis against the anax on a more permanent basis than we’re already doing,” he said instead. “Achaian strength depends on the vasileis and the anax working together.”

“If that’s the case, then the anax has already weakened our people beyond reason,” Vasilissa Kypseli replied. “Even in Council, it’s obvious to everyone involved that Kerameikos does as he wishes, with or without our consent. His attempts at bringing us around to his way of thinking are clumsy and badly thought-out; more often than not, the vasileis go along with whatever scheme he’s plotting because they feel pressured by the obligations of the Compact, not because they agree with anything Kerameikos has to say about it. None of the vasileis truly trust Kerameikos at this point. Making him even more untrustworthy will not change that, but it will hopefully inspire the vasileis to take action about it, at least for our benefit. Perhaps, if we are lucky, it will actually be a lesson to Kerameikos to be more cooperative with his vasileis in the future.” The vasilissa shrugged. “We can only hope to see some positive improvement here.”

Omonoia and Exarcheia shared a glance. “I wouldn’t plan on it,” Omonoia warned, at the same moment that Exarcheia said scathingly, “It would take a miracle.”

Kamatero sighed and agreed. “I highly doubt that a near-rebellion will make my father any more inclined to cooperate with the vasileis,” he pointed out.

Kypseli shrugged again. “I can dream,” she insisted. “As long as we plan for the worst, there’s no reason to ignore the better possibilities… as long as we don’t come to depend on them.” Kamatero grudgingly conceded the point with a nod.
Edited by Mastropa, Jul 19 2015, 04:11 PM.
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MAKARIA to the Achaian People:
Be as Many as the Stars
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Zinovios Mesolongias, Epistatis

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FROM THE VASILISSA OF THE SERRIAN ACHAIANS

To Exarcheia, Vasilissa of Lakonia:

Hail!

As I’m sure you are aware, the anax has done Serres and specifically myself no favors in recent days. His failure to reign in the irritating ass I must now call a neighbor, while sparing no effort to make trouble for tribes such as Lakonia, certainly supports the news you have sent me regarding his designs for our outlying peoples. I for one have no intention of allowing Kerameikos to drive out our traditional way of life for the sake of foreign ideals of ‘modernity.’ And by no means can we allow him to suspend the Kerkyra Compact in order to do so.

I agree that we desperately need a statement of defiance and solidarity in the face of the anax’s overreach. Kerameikos must be humbled, and though I have no personal interest in your choice in demonstration, I nonetheless fully embrace it. Serres stands with Lakonia, Ikaria, and (I hope in the near future) Kalymnos against the crushing weight of the anax’s ego, the Megaron’s pointless bureaucracy, and the demands and expectations of the world at large.

As your ally, I am:

Kaisariani
Vasilissa
Achaian Serres
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MAKARIA to the Achaian People:
Be as Many as the Stars
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