Isabella's Crusade

Isabella strode into her throne room with a broad smile on her face. She'd been weaning it since rolling out of bed. It wasn't going to last, of course - running an empire was one of the more stressful positions in the universe. Next to being a soldier in a very obsolete unit, anyway. Breakfast had been an apple danish, poached eggs, fresh fruit and coffee. With the endorphins left over from last night, nobody was more ready for another turn than almighty Spain.

She allowed herself some momentary indulgence in remembering last night's activities before addressing the day's business. She remember the spiked glove drawing blood over and over as she furiously struck down, Elizabeth's screams echoing throughout the chamber as she futilely struggled to less the impact. The pool of red on the stone floor, running through the small creases in the masonry where stones met. A chill of ecstasy ran through Isabella's body as she recalled one strike landing off-target, spikes sinking into the flesh of the eye. That scream had been unique. Isabella had a certain detached ambivalence over whether her captive would ever see from that eye again. It didn't really matter. Elizabeth was certainly never going to see sunlight again.

Shaking her head, she cleared the memories. For now. Tonight would bring more, and she did not have the luxury to dwell. "Right, turn 513. Go." The first imperial command of the day-slash-five-year-turn. No sightings of any Russian units. Discovery of a silver vein outside Seville. Excellent. "Very good. Now, you are all more than aware of Catherine. She is not to be taken lightly by any stretch of the imagination. Yet, it is clear we cannot simply coexist with her. Although we have already own half the continent, we are no larger than Catherine, who has a slight tech lead, nor are we likely to be significantly larger than our rivals hidden beyond the seas, who have a technological advantage greater still."

"Further, we have no chance at Liberalism, even with His Holy Aid. Without that, Astronomy and consequently Galleons to conquer overseas will take far too long. In all likelihood, Spain will no longer be a potent force at that point on our current course. This suggests only one plan of action." Pausing, she surveyed the room. She did not trust any of her generals, but she had no choice nonetheless. "Total war. I call for a Crusade against Catherine and all her territories, for the greater glory of Almighty God and His Faithful and Most Catholic Empire."

The reaction amongst the courtiers was muted. They'd expected this. Spain lent itself to domination, as did Isabella. In fact, the peace had already exceeded all expectations. "Cease all production on non-military buildings. I need a stack of at least 30 units on the Russian border by turn 530, preferably closer to 50. Do not spare the whip, but do spare the treasury. Strikes during wartime are...unpleasant."

The vast majority of attendants scattered. Then came the long but necessary task of double-checking the production tiles of her cities. Even on marathon game length it wasn't something to be neglected. This left the usual suspects floating about - the main advisors and several functionaries related to culture. "Oh, F5, please deliver new staff reports on potential new troop commanders. Preferably people who can deliver City Raider and Shock promotions." Catherine will certainly have some Macemen in the field, but Isabella wasn't about to spare the flasks down to chase down Bureaucracy before Guilds. In the back of her mind, Isabella wanted to have a crack at Divine Right. She'd founded Christianity via Polytheism (choose own Religion was turned on), but it was an eternal weakness of her character. Catherine was running the Judaism Darius had founded.

What would be even better than Divine Right would be for Spain's exploring Caravels to strike land somewhere and hopefully exploit trading opportunities. It was unlikely, but it would be a gamechanging advantage over the Russians. And nobody from the other continent(s?) had made contact. If only...

Isabella pushed such speculation from her mind. That was the future and it was all planned, there was no need to salivate over fantasies with business at hand. Her military advisor, F5, returned in short order with a heavy stack of papers for unit commanders. Newly constructed units would start popping out tomorrow.

Retiring from the throne room without so much as a word to he attendants, the glorious ruler of all Spain retreated to her private study - citrus wood desk, 15-year old Madeira and a quill made from a pink swan - to pore over paperwork.

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhahhhhhhhhhhhhooooooooohhhhhhh." That was good, and well-deserved. It had taken three hours and change to finish the HR work. Battle was fickle, and some men were better suited to Trebuchet units rather Crossbowmen. Isabella's games never seemed to last until Computers, when this stuff got easier. "OOoooooooooooooooaaaaaaaaaahhhhheeeeee." A good massage delivered by a talented slave was always worth the time at the end of a rough turn. The setting shone in to the dedicated massage room through an extravagant stained glass window, illuminating Isabella's nude body - face down - on the table as the ministrations continued.

The slave was blind, of course. How else could it have been managed? Certainly no servant could have been permitted such a view. Lazily clawing at some nearby grapes, Isabella's moans of pleasure continued to roll over the room, squeezing past the stone door and easily reaching the ears of the guards outside, who had long been used to such noise.

"AAAAAAAAAaaaaaaggggggggggggg-". No guards were anywhere near to hear this noise, however. Dressed back to the nines - long, flowing dress of gold and red taffeta brocade, shining black boots, silver crucifix hanging on a pendant and a red-hot poker in her left hand - Isabella smiled, watching Elizabeth's reaction to the sensation of iron heated to four hundred degrees Celsius being laid against the bare skin of her cheek. It seemed the damaged eye wasn't going to heal. No big loss. What good were eyes in a dungeon that only saw light for a brief period each day?

The rude stench of burning flesh filled the crypt. It wasn't the first time. It wasn't going to be the last, either, not by a long shot. Elizabeth was in much worse condition today than usual, the consequence of Isabella being confined to the same toy day after day. Certainly, she could have any number of slaves - or nobles, for that matter - brought here for her amusement, but it wasn't the same. There was no spark in the eyes of those who did not have the great intelligence, the supernatural luck, the iron will to build a civilization that might possibly last the test of time.

Yes, indeed, it could still be discerned in the eyes of the Englishwoman, even though her body was long was the point of any resistance. Elizabeth's mouth hung open, drooling, mixing with blood as spasms rocked her body wildly from pure instinct at each touch of the iron poker. But the eyes remained alive. Hopefully they'd last until Catherine.

Let the war come.