Marseille, 1380

"So, let me get this straight... why are you taking my ship again?"

Maximilian von Hapsburg sighed. This time it was out of annoyance, not shortness of breath. "Kaiser Peter von Kastilien is requisitioning your vessel for military reasons. He has decisively triumphed at the Battle of Trent and the traitor Arnold has fled by sea. The Kaiser is ordering a massive search to finish the job and make sure that the Illuminati never rise as a threat again." It was a lie, of course, but the ship's owner didn't know that. The news had not yet spread of the Republican victory at Trent, and since Hapsburg had gone all-out in trying to get as far away from the battle as possible, he knew he had good odds of fooling the man.

"Well, I suppose, if it's for the good of the Reich... will I be compensated for this?"

"You misunderstand me, sir," Hapsburg said. "We are requisitioning this ship. The Kaiser is prepared to take a more active approach in sniffing out traitors to the Reich. Surely he will take notice if the owner of such a fine ship does not assist in the effort against Arnold... how many children did you say you had? Four?"

Defeated, the ship owner groaned. "All right, sir... she's all yours. Anything for the Empire, I suppose..."

"Much better," said Hapsburg, suddenly adopting a brisk tone. "My men will be leaving tonight and taking it to Rome for the assembly of the Grand Fleet. I do not expect any trouble on the docks when we come to take it."

With that, Hapsburg departed, making his way to a cheap hotel near the docks. Inside the lobby were the members of his escort, fellow survivors of Trent, waiting for him.

"Simon," he said, greeting the first one. "Did you get the food?"

"Yes, m'lord," Simon said. "And Erich got the drinks, and Johann got the girls."

"Are they good-looking, Johann?"

"Of course, mein Lord."

"Excellent," said Hapsburg. "Gentlemen," he said, addressing the entire body, "I have secured the ship. Tonight, we are going to board it, have the greatest party ever thrown in the dying Empire, get ridiculously drunk, and for the night forget that we are the last remaining Imperialists in a Republican country."

Everyone cheered.

That night

"Everyone on board the ship!" Hapsburg yelled. "Simon, do you know how to sail?"

"No, m'Lord."

"I don't care, get us out to sea a bit anyway!" Simon nodded and took the rudder of the rather large ship, trying to figure out how to get it moving. "Ladies and gentlemen, this is what remains of the Imperial government! I am the last Imperialist noble, so I suppose that makes me Kaiser! As Kaiser, I give you the following orders:

"Eat and drink as much as you can! Girls, begin the whoring! Men, enjoy yourselves! Any man who does not feel terrible in the morning will be thrown off the boat! Now, that said... begin the merriment!"

Someone dove into one of the large barrels of beer on board. Another snatched a large pile of food and began shoving it into his face. One of the girls laughed shrilly as she was jumped by three separate men.

The party was on.

The next morning

Maximilian von Hapsburg turned over on the floor, still asleep. Mouth closed, he involuntarily threw up. The acidic taste and smell finally got him to wake up and empty the contents of his mouth. His head was pounding.

"Oog... Can't remember anything... but that means it was probably worth it... being at sea certainly isn't helping. Simon!" he slurred. "Simon, where are you? Are we docked? Can you get us back?"

Simon, of course, didn't respond, still sleeping off the previous night. Hapsburg went to the deck and looked around. All around him was sea. No land was in sight anywhere. He rubbed his eyes, wondering if the alcohol was still playing havoc with his vision. Nope. No land. They were out to sea.

He stumbled around, waking up his retinue. A few of the women were up now too, asking him questions. He ignored them. They weren't just there for pleasure now, they had to be treated like people. This would take some getting used to. Finally, Hapsburg succeeded in getting everyone up. More than half of the people were moaning. He still felt terrible himself, but there was a group to lead.

"Men," he said, "It appears that we're far out to sea. I suppose that in all of the... excitement... last night, we forgot to maintain proper care of the ship. Until further notice, I guess I'm Captain."

"Does this take precedence over you being Kaiser?" someone shouted. Some people chuckled. Most of them groaned.

"Shut it, Fritz." Hapsburg shivered at the name. "First of all, we need to find land. Does anybody know how to sail?"

No response.

"Anyone at all?"

No response.

"Great..." he mumbled. "Okay, does anyone know their stars?" A few people raised their hands. "Okay, good. At night, we'll take a look at them, and try to go, uh... west. Yeah, that's it. We're fleeing to Spain. I don't want to get chased down and executed by Arnold or Cervole. We'll try to get refuge there. Any disagreement?"

No response.

"Excellent. Then, uh... let's haul the, er... anchor until night and we'll find west. Right now, go back to sleeping it off. Also, try cleaning this ship! There's a lot of debris from last night, some of which I don't even want to know what it is."

Everyone ran off somewhere, leaving Hapsburg with one of the women. Evidently she wanted a word.

"Excuse me, Captain."

"Yes, what is it...?"

"Gertrude. Anyway, my husband was a sailor-"

"You have a husband? And he... approves of your profession?"

"Well, no. He died two years ago. Infected wound from a cat scratching him."

"Indeed."

"Anyway, he was a sailor, and he told me some things about the profession. Basically, you need to be very careful when going by the stars. If you miss your angle by even a little bit, you'll go way off course and end up in Africa."

"Thank you, Gertrude. My men will be careful."

3 months later

"We should have hit Spain by now."

"Well, m'Lord," said Simon, "Nobody has any idea how slow or fast this ship is. Remember, I took it strictly because of its size! For all I know it's designed to be a party ship, not to seriously take on the open sea!"

"Still though... we should have at least seen some land."

"You're right, Simon. It's lucky that the men and some of the girls know how to fish; otherwise we'd all be dead."

"Indeed, m'Lord."

2 months later

"My lord!" said Gertrude, running up to Hapsburg. After five months at sea, the women on the ship were no longer whores. Rather, they were contributing members of the little community, trying to get back to land. Several of them began sporting noticeable bumps.

"What is it, Gertrude?"

"What star did you use to get your initial bearing?"

"We used Polaris, of course. Why, Gertrude?"

"Look at Polaris now. I think that we've gone off course. Remember what I said about being off even a little bit will wreck your whole trip?"

"Yes..." Hapsburg was starting to get worried.

"Well, I think that's happened here. Instead of going west, we've gone west by southwest. We've probably shot right through the Strait of Gibraltar without even knowing it!"

"Oh, God," said Hapsburg. He slumped down, suddenly getting a case of nausea. "Who knows how far out to sea we are? The ship wasn't going slow at all, it was going just fine... we could be out here forever..." He sank deeper and deeper into despair and misery, despite Gertrude's affections. After a few minutes, he finally snapped out of it, heading to the helm.

"Simon," he said, "turn this ship around. I need a precise 180-degree turn, and nothing else! We're far enough out to sea already; anything more and we'll be hopelessly lost. Do it in three... two..."

"LAND HO!!!"

"...one-what?!"

"Land ho!" said one of Hapsburg's men, getting more and more excited. "Look at it, sir! Dead ahead! No matter how far southwest we've gone, I guess there's something there!"

"Maybe we ran into India," Hapsburg said. "Or maybe wherever it is that the Mongols and Timurids came from."

"Or maybe something between Europe and India," Gertrude suggested.

"Prepare rowboats," Hapsburg said. "I want to check out where we are."

The men and women, the lost Imperialists of Europe, got on the rowboats and made their way to the unfamiliar territory ahead of them. It looked accomodating enough, with white sandy beaches to dock and forested land behind the beaches. Somebody checked out the trees and found fruit, exotic-looking but ripe, growing on it. That was reason enough to stay on the beach and keep exploring. After months of fish, it tasted like heaven.

Two days passed. Clearly, this land was something different entirely. Such a beach like this, such a paradise, the Indians would have been all over it. It was as hot as Africa, but still nice and wet, providing a humid climate but a nice refresher from the cold winters of Austria that most of Hapsburg's escort was used to. The explorers were taking a vote; deciding what to do next.

"I think we should move inland," one person said. "If we stay on the beach, eventually our supplies will run out and we'll have to go back on the ship. If we explore, we might encounter a civilization who can point us in the right direction."

"I agree," said Hapsburg. "Move inland, get a better idea of where we are. Does anyone think otherwise?"

Silence.

"Excellent, it's decided then. Let's move inland."

And so, the former Imperialists blazed a trail through the jungle, every moment discovering something new and wonderful. They still had no idea where they were, but if they ever got back to Europe they certainly would have a story to tell.

On the third day through their trek inland, a large, yellow, spotted animal came tearing through the jungle right for them. Several of the women screamed, but it changed course abruptly and darted away from them. Clearly, it was running from something.

A second later, three men burst through the jungle, no doubt in pursuit of the strange animal... and stopped in surprise.

These men were of a darker complexion than all of Hapsburg's party, and almost completely naked aside from strange cloth around their groin areas and paint on their faces. They were shaven bald and carrying spears, but dropped them in surprise.

Everybody stared at each other in shock for a good amount of minutes, the odd newcomers directing their attention mostly at Hapsburg, whose armor, the shiniest out of everyone's, had a large red cross painted on it. Eventually one pulled the other two aside and began muttering in a strange language. Hapsburg couldn't make any sense of it, but he did catch the word "Quetzalcoatl", whatever that meant.

"Maximilian, what are they doing?" Gertrude asked.

"I don't know... it looks like... they're bowing to me?"

"Evidently, they think you're a god," said Simon, chuckling.

After the bowing concluded (lasting several minutes), one of them pointed at Hapsburg and said "Quetzalcoatl?" in a questioning tone.

"Yes," said Hapsburg, pointing at himself. "Quetzalcoatl."

The bowing began again. After another five minutes, Hapsburg cleared his throat. The three natives instantly stopped, eyeing him intently.

"Quetzalcoatl," Hapsburg said again, pointing at himself. "Also, Hapsburg."

"Happurg," one of them said, trying their god's new name out.

Another one made a gesture to follow him. "Happurg, waha. Tenochtitlan."

"Should we follow?" asked Gertrude.

"If they think I'm a god, it surely can't be bad."

One week later

The trek through the jungle became a lot easier now that the party had guides, especially guides that believed in Hapsburg's divinity. Thanks to the natives, the Imperialist explorers now had meat and fruit in their diet, and although there were various bowel problems the first days, it was worth it. On the seventh day, the guides stopped abruptly, approaching Hapsburg.

"Happurg," one of them said, "Tenochtitlan. Tenochtitlan, Acamapichtli." At this last word, they began bowing. "Acamapichtli, Quetzalcoatl." They bowed again.

"Anyone wanna guess what that means?"

"I think they're saying that this Acamapichtli is their ruler, but they will still bow to me because I am apparently Quetzalcoatl, who is a god. That had better be it, anyway. Let's hope it's not some Mongol commander who's friends with Arnold."

The party walked a little bit farther. Everyone could sense that the end of their journey was near, for better or for wose. They scaled the final hill... and gasped.

Ahead of them, a gigantic city, seemingly made of gold, was waiting.

They made their way into the city, Tenochtitlan, to great fanfare. Everyone gasped at the pale color of the Imperialists' skin and crowded around, torn between wanting to touch Hapsburg and scared to death to. They walked to the largest building, either the palace or some religious temple, and waited.

Down the largest stairs descended an elaborately-dressed figure. The guides bowed to him, apparently Acamapichtli, and began speaking in their own tongue. After some minutes, the ruler looked at Hapsburg.

"Quetzalcoatl?" he asked.

"Quetzalcoatl," Hapsburg replied, confidently.

"QUETZALCOATL!!!" Acamapichtli boomed. The entire crowd, several thousands-strong, cheered. All began bowing, including the ruler. Maximilian von Hapsburg grinned and took it all in. Oh, what a reversal it was from when he was fleeing Trent, not sure whether he would live or die.

Hapsburg looked at Acamapichtli, who looked up.

He pointed to himself. "Hapsburg," he said. "Emperor Hapsburg."

"Impror Happurg," Acamapichtli said, and bowed again.

Somebody started pouring gold on all the Europeans. They began carrying Hapsburg up the steps of the large building and seated him on the elaborate throne in the very top room. More gold was poured everywhere. Five beautiful women began dancing for his pleasure.

The possibilities were endless. Europe? It would wait. The Reich? It would wait. After all, Maximilian von Hapsburg was a god. He had all the time in the world. And half of its resources.