Death of an Empire (Neopoly RP)

[GeneralTacticus]

Lord Emperor Victor Ivanovich stared gloomily out over the windswept plains and sparse shrubbery of his homeland as his truck bumped and rattled along the unpaved road. ‘Former Lord Emperor,’ he reminded himself bitterly. Until yesterday, he had been the nominal ruler of an empire encompassing untold millions under its banner. But now… now, he was no more than just another leader with a band of followers behind him, like so many others who had emerged amidst the last dying convulsions of the Bolarian Empire. That empire was dead now. All of the provinces – Macron Bollero, Belicosnia, Boralinia, and all the others – had asserted their independence, and even if imperial control had remained in the capital, the Empire would have been no more than a shell of it’s former self.

Those convulsions went back quite a way. For all the centuries that had passed since the empire had been created by a succession of warrior princes, the vast fertile plains of Macron Bollero had been the breadbasket of the Empire, allowing it to sustain large populations in areas unsuitable for farming. As the early 20th century arrived, and the population of the Empire grew, and grew, the pressure on those who farmed the plains to grow more food had risen, and they had met the challenge with an ever-increasing dependence n chemical fertilizers, pesticides and herbicides.

At the time, no one had realized the effects that this would have. It solved the Empire’s food problems, again, and so everyone was happy. Even when the harvests started to decline, no one blamed it on what was being done to the soil; the farmers just applied more chemicals.

Eventually, the crops had begun to fail. Twice over a period of seven years, only a trickle of grain arrived at the mills, and there was hunger and hardship. There was some unrest, but a combination of repression, austerity, and food imports meant that the trouble was limited.

Then, less than three years before, the crops had failed again. The Imperial House fell back on the same measures they had used before; troublemakers were arrested in the night and never heard from again; everybody was ordered to reduce food consumption; and food was purchased from abroad using the Imperial treasury. No one expected this to be any worse than previous years when the crops had failed – they simply tightened their belts and looked forward to next year’s harvest.

Then that harvest failed, too.

At that point, the aristocracy began to panic. The Empire was not poor, but importing enough food to feed everyone was expensive, and if things continued at this rate, there would simply be no more money left in the Treasury. Still, pinning his hopes on a good harvest, the next year, the Emperor announced that food would henceforth be strictly rationed, imposing austerity on everybody outside of his immediate circle, and raised taxes to pay for continued food imports. There was some unrest as a result, but increased surveillance and repression kept it contained.

Then the unthinkable happened. The harvest failed for the third year in a row. At that point, it had been clear to all that the writing was on the wall for the Empire. The treasury was empty, the economy was in recession, and with no harvest delivered there was nothing with which to pay the workers on the farms. Rioting set in, and in a last-ditch attempt at self-preservation, the Emperor had sent troops into the streets to break up the demonstrations.

That proved to be the final straw. What had been mere civil unrest now turned into open revolt, and uprisings began across the empire, with long-subjugated peoples demanding their freedom from the aristocracy in Bollerius. In the space of two months, the once-proud Imperial army had collapsed, new flags flew over the capitals of the various provinces, and a communist revolt had taken control of the capital region of Micron Bollero.

And thus it was that Victor Ivanovich, once the ruler of a mighty empire with a proud history, was now driving with his remaining loyal troops down a dusty road toward the only area of the Empire still vaguely loyal to him. Perhaps, when he arrived, he could raise new armies, and even retake what had once been his…

Absorbed as he was in his thoughts, the Lord Emperor never noticed the gun barrels poking out of the bushes beside the road – barely heard the explosions of the anti-tank mines ahead that brought the convoy to a halt. And he never saw the rocket that came screaming out of the undergrowth and destroyed him and his truck in a plume of fire.

* * *

The day after the guerrillas entered the capital, the day of the Lord Emperor’s death, the people gathered in the square before the old Imperial palace to hear the new rulers speak. The first citizens began arriving around 9 in the morning; by 11, the square was full, and the seven-strong Supreme Revolutionary Council stepped out onto the balcony from which the rulers had traditionally addressed the populace. General Secretary Sakharov strode to the front of the balcony, flanked by his six colleagues.

“Citizens! This is a glorious day in the history of our nation,” he began. “Today, the people rose up as one against the tyranny and exploitation of the aristocracy and the bourgeoisie. Today, the ‘Lord Emperor’ was sent fleeing in disgrace from his own capital, pursued by the armies of the proletariat.

“All across the Empire, this scene is being repeated. Every subjected people has, one by one, risen up to cast off its chains. The Empire is no more. From this day forth, there shall be no higher authority over any of us save the free association of peoples. We, the inhabitants of Micron Bollero, shall build our own socialist paradise here, on land that is ours by right. Other peoples, on their own land, will chart their future.

“Thus it is that I now hereby proclaim the establishment of the United Socialist States of Micron Bollero. Our government shall be based upon the principles of equality, socialism, democracy, and human rights. Though we shall not seek to extend our reach by force, let all aggressors beware, for we shall defend the gains of our revolution to the last drop of our blood!”

The crowd cheered when he finished, at first somewhat uncertainly, then with genuine enthusiasm. The old order was gone, and would not return; perhaps now they would no longer have to go to bed hungry.

* * *

Similar scenes were played out all over the old Empire, as provinces long dominated by the Imperial House and its allies proclaimed their freedom and independence. One exception, though, took place in the industrial city of Boralis, capital of Boralinia, where the former Duke of the province, Salvador Sondar, assembled thousands of loyalist troops in and around the parade ground of the former Imperial barracks, stood upon a podium, and delivered a brief, angry speech.

“Loyal troops of the Empire,” he said, “I regret to inform you that as he attempted to reach here and escape from the treasonous communist rebels, Our great Lord Emperor, Victor Ivanovich, was ambushed and murdered by his pursuers. With his death, and his immediate family already assassinated by various means, the majority of the Imperial House has perished. This means that the Imperial throne now passes to the closest relative of the Emperor – that is, to me, for I am the Emperor’s closest surviving cousin. Pledge your allegiance to me, men, and we will return this land to the glories of old! The Empire of Bolaris shall rise again!”

At this, the soldiers shouted their support in a tumult of voices, before their officers brought them to order and had them first pledge their loyalty to the new Lord Emperor, then launch into a series of hymns and battle anthems. In at least one place, the Empire still lived…

EDIT:
OOC: Like I said in the revitalisation thread, if anyone wants to RP their nation as having emerge dfrom the remains of this empire as well, you're welcome to. I did envision it as containing more than just three or four regions, but I didn't want to create too many new nations...

Also, for those who want a brief summary of what the Empire was like, it was a repressive, feudalist society with some capitalist elements, a bit like Tsarist Russia with more industry, basically.

[Mr. President]

One day Jared had been a steel mill worker. The next, he was a king.

His passport still listed "Bolarian" as his nationality; but Jared was from Alaborn, one of the less important regions of the empire. According to his family tree, he was a cousin of the last King of Alaborn, whose name was not now spoken as he was considered an enemy of the empire. It had never come up, as the Bolarian Empire had decreed in 1900 that access to medieval records was to be restricted to all but a select few.

So he was as surprised as anybody when two heavyset men came to his door one morning. They explained that the troops loyal to the Emperor were leaving the region, and that Alaborn would need a strong leader to defend itself amidst the chaos.

"You," they said, "are the last of the royal house of Alaborn. Long live the King."

Alaborn had not had a king in five hundred years. Jared had no idea how he was supposed to behave. Fortunately, there were advisers to help him along. They taught him how to address the public, asked his permission to sign purchase orders for weapons and factories and things he didn't quite understand. Jared was glad he didn't have to manage the everyday affairs of the province himself; it was all far over his head.

"We'll need to find you a queen, of course," his chamberlain said. "Wouldn't do to have a king without a queen. And then what would become of the royal line?"

Children! He had never thought about the subject before. Most kings didn't live their entire lives childless; those who did were quickly replaced. Still, it was intimidating. Do it for your . . . new country, he told himself; but nonetheless he became dizzy each time he thought of it.

[Giovanni Wine]

In the deep south of the Bolaris Empire, where there is nothing but desert, the long time subjugated Gistani people too rose up against Emperor Ivanovich, but unlike in the other parts of the Empire, this was not a socialist revolution, the Islamic Shiite majority had taken arms against the Imperial troops, and against the infidels, under the leadership of General Giovanni, a Christian converted to Islam.

"Long time ago the Proud Gistani horde was subjugated by the infidels of Bolaris" declared Giovanni "They have flooded our land with infidels, they have destroyed our Oasis in order to drill their oil, they have killed and raped our women.... Now, for the glory of Allah, we shall take revenge on the Bolaris infidels, we shall kick the invaders out of our country"

A horde of fanatics cheered at these words, noone seemed to care that Giovanni was a decendent of an old Bolaris family, very close to Emperor Ivanovich, and that he was born Christian. Giovanni now was a traitor of the Empire, and the leader of the Gistani.

The last attempt of maintaining control of the region by the Imperial troops failed, in a numerical disadvantage of 4:1 and with a much lower morale the Imperial troops could not resist, nonetheless thanks to their better organization and equipment they managed to inflict many casualities.

When the battle was over, over 120.000 bodies were lying lifeless on the plains near Al-Frasih, over 90.000 Gistani were killed. General Giovanni ordered that all the captured Imperial troops to be hanged in the pubblic square of Al-Frasih: This was one of the bloodiest moment of the Bolaris revolution.

General Giovanni quickly proclaimed himself Sultan Giovanni of the Gistan, and renamed in his own honor the Gistan to Giovannistan. He declared that Moslem Shiite was the official religion of the new state, and started a tolerance zero against over religion minority.

Saluti

[GeneralTacticus]

News travelled slowly on the outskirts of the empire, all the more so when it's destination was a distant backwater province with no need for food imports and no wealth to contribute to the imperial coffers at all. Thus it was that in the capital city of the province of Buchenburg, it was not until several months after the collapse of the empire that the enws arrived, prompting an immediate emergency conference by the provincial government and local notables. After two hours, a decision was reached, and the Duke of the province went before a gathering of educated citizens and proclaimed the establishment of the Dominion of Bugenburg.

"Citizens, today we recieved word, at last, from the capital, saying that the Empire has fallen. The Emperor, it seems, is dead, and his dominions are going their separate ways. In view of this, and in view of the disregard with which we have been treated by the Empire in the past, I do now hereby proclaim the establishment of the independent Dominion of Buchenburg. No longer shall we be governed from a far-away capital; henceforth, we shall choose our own rulers, by a vote of all literate, propertied persons, and shall turn all our effort to the advancement of our nation..."

[Squeblish Nef?]

Once upon a time there was a happy little barbarian called Reimarden of the Belicosii.
When he turned twelve, Reimarden decided to make something of his life, so he and two of his closest friends murded the chieftain of the Belicosii and all of his family and made Reimarden the new chief.
Reimarden wanted his people to make something of their lives too, so he asked them to massacre and enslave all of the neighbouring tribes.
Soon the Belicosii were the most powerful tribe in Gateaux.

A new problem soon arose. The Belicosii had run out of people to enslave!
Reimhard, who was a smart little chap, asked them to invade the dense, but heavily inhabited coniferous forests situated in the very far north of Boleris.
This resulted in the partial destabilisation of the Bollarian control of the entire north of their empire.

When Bolaris finally crumbled, the Belicosii decided to settle in these nice gnoll-free forests, forming the state of Belicosnia.

And to this very day, Reimhard happily rules in Belicosnia, stockpiling weapons for his invasion of the rest of Bolaris.

OOC: Happy now, GC?