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Thread: A Stranger in a Strange Land - An FoTS Saga [Updated: 17/04/2015]

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    McScottish's Avatar The Scribbling Scotsman
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    Default A Stranger in a Strange Land - An FoTS Saga [Updated: 17/04/2015]





    Well, here is another one - same Mac time, same Mac place.

    Of course, being Fall of the Samurai, it is an entirely different kettle of fish; that and, this time, we see it from the view of a young British Lieutenant.

    So, if that sounds interesting, feel free to stick around!

    Long live the Emperor.

  2. #2

    Default Re: A Stranger in a Strange Land - An FoTS Saga [Updated: -/-/-]

    Still waiting for a chapter......

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    McScottish's Avatar The Scribbling Scotsman
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    Default Re: A Stranger in a Strange Land - An FoTS Saga [Updated: -/-/-]

    Quote Originally Posted by Merchant of Venice View Post
    Still waiting for a chapter......
    SILENCE, HEATHEN!

    You'll have one, sirrah, you shall have one soon enough...

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    McScottish's Avatar The Scribbling Scotsman
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    Default Re: A Stranger in a Strange Land - An FoTS Saga [Updated: -/-/-]

    Chapter I, Part I ~ Nagasaki, Winter, 1865







    Like a shimmering veil, the fingers of winter tightened there skeletal hold on the port city of Nagasaki, the jewel of Saga-han and the governing clan of Nabeshima. Here and there the merchants, the farmers and the artisans scurried, seeking shelter inside the relative warmth of their homes, or at least receiving the heat of a warm fire while sipping on a cup of sake inside one of the city's many inns.

    It was in fact from the doorway of one of these inns, located in the city's sea facing quarter, that three strange figures emerged into the oncoming deluge of snow and sleet who would become so intertwined in the destiny of the city that their lives and actions would be recorded for posterity.

    The foremost individual was dressed in the Western style - a top hat, finely tailored suit and waistcoat, and equally splendid trousers and shoes covering and shielding the almost painfully thin man beneath them from the cold - tall, cold, and walking with his cane clacking against the ground, Richard Fitzgerald was the diplomat that had been chosen and dispatched by Her Majesty and Her government to come to an agreeable arrangement with the Japanese and their Emperor. He did not relish nor even look forward to his task, knowing little of these short, yellow, people and only enough of their grunting tongue to make himself understood. There had been others, but, knowing full well that Fitzgerald held many in his pocket, Prime Minister John Russell had wisely (and not without some mirth) allowed him to leave.

    To his left was a man no less dour, but at least more sympathetic to the local inhabitants.

    Major Douglas MacKenzie, not long retired from a command with the forty-second regiment of foot - otherwise known as the infamous 'Black Watch' - knew full well that repressing the Japanese on their own soil could, and would, bring nothing but misery for any British endeavours. Being a military man, made abundantly clear from his ramrod straight back and crimson uniform laced with gold thread and braid, as well as the Scottish broadsword he wore at his side, he had fought on nearly every continent (and that included the Americas) and had shed his blood for Queen and Country against native forces too many times to doubt them.

    "Look at them though, MacKenzie, and tell me that these little wretches actually deserve our nation's bounties...look, you see that! That one there just stared at me, damn his eyes!"

    "Sir, please. Once upon a time we believed that the Mongols were nothing but savages, yet controlled a vast empire, well, these 'wretches' defeated that empire more than once. They are not to be disparaged, with all due respect sir."

    Such conversation was entertaining, but ultimately wasted on the third of the trio, keeping apace with Fitzgerald and his over long lower limbs; it was not because he did not understand, only that he did not yet have an opinion of his own. Lieutenant Philip Rayleigh, a rather mature name for one of only twenty-three years, had only recently arrived to the island of Kyushu from New Zealand in command of a platoon of the Royal Marine Light Infantry consisting of some thirty men of so, and as such was still somewhat ill at ease with his surroundings - including being in the company of a much senior officer, and a well known politician like Lord Fitzgerald.

    A native of Plymouth, Rayleigh - connected by blood to one of the local heroes, the other being none other than Sir Francis Drake - had followed his father in enlisting with the RMLI (named so by Her Majesties wishes), being swiftly thrown into the role of Second Lieutenant and eventually gaining his rank of Lieutenant when he took an enemy position near single-handedly during the revolt of a local Maori chief. It was an action he soon came to regret, however, being born into the middling class of his country but holding a traditionally gentleman's rank by way of merit rather than birth, the weight of money in hands, or good breeding. Nevertheless, he was a reasonably handsome lad, six feet in height and of a slender build, pale skinned and broad shouldered, sporting a fine pair of brown sideburns as well as a layer of bristling stubble, and thanks to some connections at home a man with opportunities ahead of him.

    "Mr Rayleigh," he heard in one ear, bringing his thoughts back from where so ever they had been drifting, almost able to taste the irritation without having to see the sneer on the face of Fitzgerald, "Mr Rayleigh!"

    "Aye, sir, what can I do for you?"

    "You fought those...those marked cannibals, did you not? Got your commission there?"

    "That I did, sir."

    Philip tried not to speak much, having never entirely shed himself of the thick accent he had been raised with, teachers doing their best to drum it out of him; a task in which they had reasonable success, but never enough to wrench those rolling Rs from him completely.

    "What did you make of them?"

    "Intelligent, in their own way. At times they could be merciful, sometimes savage, but often they were simply as human as any of us, sir."

    "Humans?" Snorted the diplomat, thumping his cane down with extra force for emphasise, the chill of the wind and thickness of the snow already beginning to pick up above and around them, "and what do you make of these...people." He spat out the last word with a venom that only a British aristocrat would ever be able to muster, an intonation that did not go unnoticed by the grimacing Scotsman on his other side.

    "I do not yet know, sir, for I have been here only a short while serving as Major MacKenzie's adjutant; so far I would say that they could not be more different from ourselves, but these Nanbemshima seem willing to learn."

    "Nabeshima, laddie," corrected the Major with a chuckle, always ready to impart knowledge to his ward and the eldest son of his best friend Fredrick Rayleigh, "we are here to negotiate with the Nabeshima clan."

    "Clans!" Scoffed Fitzgerald, waving his arms so frantically that he near enough knocked his hat from his balding head and its sparse mane of greying hair, "who do they think they are, some of your bunch, MacKenzie?!"

    No doubt he was alluding to the much diluted and essentially no longer existent clan system of the Highlands, a system of which the back had been broken after Culloden but which the British monarchy still maintained the illusion of controlling to this day. No difference was made to anyone else when only the slightest percentage of soldiers within kilt wearing 'Highland' regiments were of that particular origin, not as long as they continued to act as the darlings of the British Empire and hide behind their mirage of fierce and noble savagery.

    "Indeed, sir."

    "Indeed, MacKenzie..." there was a slight pause, "anyway, we shall all soon be discovering more about their intentions, I do believe we are here."

    Coming to a halt before a large building, Rayleigh raised a hand to shield his eyes from the sickly sunlight, in front of them stood a distinctly Western style building; to all present it could have looked at home in any British city or township, built of solid stone and roofed with tiles, the doors of black painted wood presenting to them two large knockers. Above the arched doorway fluttered a flag, on a flagpole no less, bearing a symbol - a crest - that the young Lieutenant did not recognise; little did he realise that he would come to know it thoroughly.



    ************



    There were some Japanese that were truly disgusted by the gaijin and their ways, by their clothing and their smell, by their large noses and excessive body hair, and by their very presence on the soil of Japan.

    Many of these 'rebels' now fought, or at least lived under the protection of, the rotting carcass of the Tokugawa Shogunate; this was a dynasty that had ruled for centuries, had kept the nation together throughout their reign it was true, but Japan as a whole had long ago forgotten the sacred personage of the Emperor, and only now many of the daimyo now coming around.*

    Of course there were those that would resist until the very end, clinging to outdated beliefs and denying assistance from the West with all the strength and courage they could muster, but these fools could not see beyond their own noses.

    Nabeshima Mochizuru, eighteen years of age and only recently proclaimed lord of the Nabeshima and Saga Domain, was certainly not one of those. If anything, he and his younger brother could not have been more enamoured with the West, the gaijin, and the surety that in the divine personage of the Emperor lay the future and destiny of Japan.

    He and his younger sibling, fifteen years only but already having learnt so much, sat in their central chambers flanked on either side by their most loyal councillors; the chambers were bedecked in the latest Western style, each man sitting on a seat imported from Germany, the highest among them wearing uniforms made from materials bought from the British Empire, all manner of things - from spy glasses to brandy decanters to translations of Latin and Greek writers scattered about - spread everywhere. Propped against the rear wall were a set of colours, one bearing the Nabeshima mon, and the other a rough prototype of a white flag bearing a red and beaming sun, a symbol taken from Japanese merchant ships but becoming more frequently used by the Imperial forces on land.

    When it was announced that the three foreigners from Britain had arrived, Mochizuru immediately craned his neck as much as possible to catch a glimpse of their new guests.

    Before him, and in front of a large desk behind which the lord sat, were three chairs for the occasion, and just over his right shoulder stood a bearded man in civilian clothing who was most assuredly not from Japan - he was in fact an American, a man by the name of Clayton De Veer, who was of Dutch descent and had fled America at the beginning of the Civil War. Why and how he had gotten to Japan were reasons of his own, but it was known that he had served Mochizuru and his father before him as interpreter, an occupation he continued to relish.

    In came each one of the visitors, and each one was stood according to their position or rank, and each also equally as varied as Mochizuru could have hoped!

    "Lord Richard Fitzgerald, emissary to Her Majesty, Queen Victoria of Great Britain and Ireland and so forth."

    The Nabeshima brothers watched with patience and curiosity as Fitzgerald did his best imitation of a bow from the waist, not all that different from those performed in England, and gave curt nods of their own in return. After the bow, the diplomat was gestured toward the most forward of the seats, flanked slightly back by those that would be occupied by his social inferiors; in the meantime Rayleigh had already drawn forth from a small bag he was carrying all the instruments of writing that he would need to record this meeting.

    "Major Douglas MacKenzie, late of Her Majesties forty-second regiment of foot, now of the Royal Marine Light Infantry."

    Both brothers looked to the other, each one thinking alike, and what they were thinking was that they liked this 'MacKenzie' already; dressed as he was in the kilted Highland style, the sombre tartan of the Black Watch gathered about his lower half, his legs up to the knees clothed in hose of chequered red and white, and at his side the basket-hilted blade of his people, he was an enigma and a pleasant curiosity to the daimyo and his sibling.

    What they liked best about these, what did they call them again? These 'Scottish', were the lilting, almost musical sound of their speech, a source of much comment and amusement if one went by the hurried and hushed whispers of the young lords advisers.

    "Lieutenant Philip Rayleigh, officer and acting adjutant in Her Majesties Royal Marine Light Infantry."

    "He is very young to be a warrior," noted one of the older samurai, "I doubt he has even killed before."

    De Veer, who until this time had simply been translating, as accurately as he could, the ranks and positions of his lords guests, now let a smile come over his face; he knew better than this aged gentleman that Western armies were made up of and some even commanded by such young men.

    "De Veer," came a command from the Nabeshima commander-in-chief, a man who could speak fluent if accented English but much preferred it not to be known, "please translate."

    "Yes, lord."

    "His Lordship Nabeshima Mochizuru welcomes his British guests, hoping that this meeting today shall usher in a new age of prosperity and cooperation for both our peoples. He wishes for me to press the matter that he is interested in all things modern, whether they be weapons or laws or otherwise, for Nagasaki and the Saga Domain have been - and remain - at the forefront of modernisation in all Japan, and especially here on Kyushu."

    In spite of his lingering colonial dialect, De Veer nevertheless spoke the English of the English, educated well and raised from humble origins. After he had finished was also the first time that Lieutenant Rayleigh had seen Fitzgerald smile since they had arrived.

    "He is aware that you have been sent with a request, yes?"

    Puffing himself up, and looking very much like an emaciated penguin, Fitzgerald stood from his seat - already at least a head and a half taller than any Japanese in the room - and after grasping his hands behind his back began to speak.

    "We thank him for his hospitality," began the sonorous aristocrat, looking directly as Mochizuru as he spoke, "and understand that he is both a perceptive and wise ruler, a credit to his people and Japan as whole." Now he began to pace before the desk, almond eyes following him but expressions fixed on their faces that remained unchanging, "our request comes direct from the Queen herself, a request that her representatives be allowed to found a mission in the domain of Saga unmolested. In return we shall provide warriors to fight for the Emperor and his Lordship, weapons to arm the men of the Nabeshima, and as many texts as he would desire."

    The words were translated, although they need not have been, and once more the Nabeshima brothers exchanged a look; it was a look that only those who knew them would have known, and they would have known that a decision had already been reached before the British ever set foot in the chambers.

    "We are not unaware that you have already weathered a rebellion in your lands, from fanatical a traditionalist faction, if I am not mistaken?" Added MacKenzie, "friendship with the British Empire, and allowance for a mission of a military nature here in Saga, could only benefit us all! We have the military knowledge, the strategies and the ideas, and all that would be required for the Nabeshima to rise above all others - supporters of the Emperor or Shogun alike."

    Fitzgerald was not in the habit of being interrupted, but at this point he could only agree with his military advisor, sensing a perceptible change in the room as the Majors words filtered down to all levels.

    It amused him greatly that, for all their uniforms and banners, for all their modern military bands and their Western architecture, for all their weapons and drills and trade with Britain, France and America, these Japanese remained nothing but the warriors of old that they had always been. The Scotsman and his words of duty and the exchange of ideas resonated with their listeners, the same men that likely had fought for the Shogun in the past yet now professed their loyalty to the Emperor.

    "You will teach our soldiers to fight as the Westerners do?" It was Mochizuru himself that now spoke, Lord Fitzgerald somewhat taken aback that he could even speak English, "yes, we shall," he replied after he had composed himself, "they will be taught by the best in order to become the best."

    "What is that?" Asked the younger Nabeshima, one finger pointing to something sticking out from the pocket of Rayleigh and his jacket.

    "Um..." the Lieutenant had not expected to be involved in this affair at all, yet somehow he had gotten himself into it, "here, please, see for yourself." Slowly he drew forth a book, but not just any book, it was one of the very first printed editions of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll - published only that year in fact - and with some hesitation held it out toward the lords brother. De Veer stepped forward instead, taking the book and handing it to the curious boy, maybe fifteen but still a boy for all that.

    "Richard Fitzgerald," said Mochizuru, returning to the matter at hand, "if you allow my brother this book, then I shall allow your assistance in the affairs of Saga; you shall be given your own offices and quarters here in Nagasaki, and all the help that you may require. In return we expect all that you have pledged and more - we of the Nabeshima embrace your ideals where others do not, and for that we are shunned by many of our own people, but we endure and proceed forward into a better future. You will help us in this?"

    "With all my heart, your Lordship. Please do not fret, we shall be better than our word."

    With a flourish of his wrist the envoy produced a pre-written contract, it was written in both Japanese and English, and stipulated all that had been discussed and nothing more...for the time being; handing it to De Veer, who scanned over it and gave a satisfied nod that there were no entrapping clauses hidden within, Mochizuru was then allowed to read it and apply his signature to it. He had been studying for months how to write his name in the Roman alphabet, and it was not an easy feat! Nevertheless, he managed, and, with the secondary signature from Fitzgerald and lesser signings by all those present, a contract was struck that day between the Nabeshima of Saga Domain and the British Crown.

    Once they had stepped out of the inner chamber, awaiting those that would show them to their new lodgings and places of business, the trio of Britons huddled together and all were surprised at how simple the negotiations had been.

    "Clearly they want war, desire it, revel in it even," grunted MacKenzie to the others, "warriors through-and-through these laddies, but only the noblemen. Those we'll be training are nae more than the peasants and rabble."

    "I believe very much that you are up to the task, no?"

    "Aye sir," confirmed the Scot, "impatient to begin even."

    "He took my book..."

    "Oh do be quiet Rayleigh," snapped his superior, civilian though he was, "with your pay and the amount of trade we can gain from these people, well, you will be able to afford a hundred copies."

    "Yes sir, I do suppose there is that."

    "Now, let us enjoy this time away from England! We shall advise, train and nudge these Japanese in the true direction. They are, after all, fellow royalists."

    "Sir, yes sir."

    "Indeed, Lieutenant, indeed. God save the Queen."

    "Yes, your Lordship, God save the Queen."
    Last edited by McScottish; February 21, 2017 at 08:18 AM.

  5. #5

    Default Re: A Stranger in a Strange Land - An FoTS Saga [Updated: 17/04/2015]

    A brilliant and ominous start. I've recently started playing FotS again and in fact loving the actually useful artillery and the railroads. The bit about the Alice in Wonderland Book was a nice touch as well especially Rayleigh's reaction.

  6. #6

    Default Re: A Stranger in a Strange Land - An FoTS Saga [Updated: 17/04/2015]

    Any plans for more?

  7. #7
    McScottish's Avatar The Scribbling Scotsman
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    Default Re: A Stranger in a Strange Land - An FoTS Saga [Updated: 17/04/2015]

    Quote Originally Posted by 24thRegiment View Post
    Any plans for more?




    That being said, there may well be; I was actually looking at starting an AAR from the a side of the Tokugawa bakufu, so if you're interested in RotS then keep an eye out for it.

  8. #8

    Default Re: A Stranger in a Strange Land - An FoTS Saga [Updated: 17/04/2015]

    Ok thanks mate

  9. #9

    Default Re: A Stranger in a Strange Land - An FoTS Saga [Updated: 17/04/2015]

    I also like the Alice in wonderland part .The good thing is that even if you are going to continue further,your first chapter is an independent story on its own.I love the closing lines which say 'god save the queen' .And of course ROTS is my favourite so i am watching out for a new 'primitive 1173 era japan' aar .
    100% mobile poster so pls forgive grammer

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    McScottish's Avatar The Scribbling Scotsman
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    Default Re: A Stranger in a Strange Land - An FoTS Saga [Updated: 17/04/2015]




    This is not my image, but is just to say that I'll be getting this back on track very soon...

  11. #11
    Caillagh de Bodemloze's Avatar to rede I me delyte
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    Default Re: A Stranger in a Strange Land - An FoTS Saga [Updated: 17/04/2015]

    It's a nice picture. Whose is it?

    (I'll be looking forward to your next update. )






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