Thanatos: A name like that is asking for trouble

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Isabella Kalirion
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Joined: Fri Jan 22, 2016 10:44 am

Thanatos: A name like that is asking for trouble

Post by Isabella Kalirion » Fri Jun 15, 2018 2:52 am

Isabella Simrani-Kalirion, Vicereine of Jadid Khaz Modan, and sovereign of her own Sxiro-Natopian maritime imperium, had watched for a long time, with a certain wry disdain, the antics of her noble kin as they plagued the continent of Benacia. The Dravotine and Zinkgravenite impulse for manic territorial expansion had ebbed and faded, brought low by Laqi militancy, Kalgachi preparedness, and Nova English pluck. As was usual in these situations, the empire that ceased to expand outwards started to turn its aggressive energies back in upon itself. For Shireroth this manifested in the spectacular round of aristocratic backbiting and treachery that had come on since the no-less spectacular fall of Liv Dravot-Osman, the Imperial Mother to Isabella's lack-wit grandnephew of a Kaiser. Liv, rather too taken with her own propaganda, had made the cardinal error of loudly announcing her intention to do a thing, rather than merely doing the thing and having done with it. The thing in this particular instance had been the killing off of unwanted gelded Vanics and Jing (mostly Batavian, with one or two caste-shamed exceptions, properly speaking) prisoners of war. Her mistake had been to revel in these acts, and so intent upon preening and strutting had she been that she'd failed to notice the noose that had been snugly slipped around her neck. Her subsequent ham-fisted efforts at evading the comeuppance which was now her due had set Shirekeep into uproar and the Elwynnese back to their old habit of killing each other for reasons that they could scarcely articulate.

Whilst an amusing spectacle it had put Isabella at something of a quandary. A great deal of time, money, and forbearance had gone into the contracting of the marriage alliances which had tied up Jadid Khaz Modan, Arboria, Raspur, the Dravots, the Osmans, the Simrani, the ESB Group and the Nationalist and Humanist Party, into an informal confederacy that could almost claim to be an empire in its own right. The culmination to a lifetime of work, and Liv had very nearly managed to piss the greater part of it away with two delirium fuelled edicts about how she really, really, likes to kill things. The sensible course of action would have been of course to burn her, figuratively and literally, as the Steward had suggested, and salvage what remained, which was plenty enough as it stood. And yet - and yet - her eldest son had taken it into his soft head to emulate their father's example and tried to take Eliria by storm - except that hadn't quite worked this time, and the boy (if a twenty-five year old could still be termed such) - was instead parading about like a comic opera martinet on the borders between Araxion and Utasia.

So that was a complication. Fortunately the Imperial Forces had been somewhat uncharacteristically restrained in refraining from making the north of Benacia a sterile desert and calling it peace. Nonetheless she was left with the question of how to extract her son, preferably along with his army and what remained of the Simrani gold, from a conflict without becoming a party to that conflict.

The news from Malarboria then had been a godsend. Isabella had never really known Kizzy all that well while she'd been alive, never mind now that she was - well, whatever she was. There was the cachet of course of her having been a Kaiserin back when that had still meant something. Other than that she was just another post-human, daemonically tainted, dubiously sane, Benacian lordling. That hardly mattered. What did however was that the Daemon-Queen's throne was tottering and that her human subjects were crying out for a saviour - and she, Isabella, would provide them one, Daniyal ibn Daniyal Simrani-Kalirion and the Army of the Southern League.

The only problem with this being, consignment of the fact that if she left it to her son it would be another mind-boggling catastrophe, that if she wanted this affair to carry off in the manner that she deemed appropriate to her son's honour, she would have to attend to it herself.

All of which brought Isabella to Thanatos, a city and island of Amarr. For a year her regiments had been on standby for any eventuality, the trade fleets at her disposal cycling convoys through the southern isles with monotonous regularity to disguise the steady accumulation of shipping tonnage in harbours scattered throughout her islands. On the 19th of Nomeziooqu Isabella set out upon the seas from Nordagaat. By a circuitous route through the So-Saran isles ships had joined with ships to become convoys, convoys had become fleets, a fleet had become an armada. Ostensibly these were still trawlers, merchant ships, tramp-steamers, cargo vessels, haulers, tankers, plotting their individual courses, but on close inspection these five hundred vessels sailed in unison, bristling with men and armaments. Had the Western Armada not still been in dry-dock regenerating after the debacle in the Warring Isles, there might easily have been an insurmountable incident, as it was, Coastal Command - the last line of Imperial naval defence - fortuitously focused its fast patrol boats and attack helicopters in the west, where the looming Batavian question once again held the worried attention of a continent, leaving the way clear for Isabella's island-hopping armada to make the short excursion from the So-Saran Isles to the coast of Amarr, the oil rich county of Malarboria. With her fleet was the 1st Regiment of the Jaysh al-Sathrati and Ashby's Dragoon Regiment of the Amity Defence Force. When all the various hangers-on were counted as well, twelve thousand and sixty-two men and women were joining her as the lead ships, defiantly flying the Osmanid-Kalirion banner heaved to on the approaches into port.
Patroness of Kalir
Elder of the Simrani branch of the House of Ayreon-Kalirion
| Countess of Amity, Mirioth and So-Sara

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