Final Chapter

As the years rolled by, first Turkey and then the Franco-Austrian alliance succumbed to the two dominant powers of England and Germany. A stalemate line had been reached 3 seasons ago but both sides were trying to prevent the inevitable draw hoping perhaps that the other person would miss a phase. Germany rued not putting an each-way bet on himself and also cursed how ineffective he was at tracking down England in real life. He thought he’d been close a few times, but he had always slipped the net. He’d even tried contacting him through the messaging system and via PMs, but England just wasn’t responding. He’d show up a few minutes before the orders were due and vanish until the end of the next phase. Germany had one last shot at winning this game, he knew that England couldn’t resist going to WDC 2015 next week. Germany would meet him there and try to make him an offer he couldn’t refuse.

Germany arrived early at WDC 2015 registration. He was the first to enrol and took a seat overlooking the reception desk and awaited his prey. With minutes to go before last registration England entered and signed up for the tournament that would start in a few hours. Germany pounced, approached England and led him by the arm to the balcony. England was expecting his old nemesis. They had played together in three previous tournaments and England had come off worse each time. Germany explained that they were in a webDip game together and came right out and suggested England throw the game in exchange for $20,000.00.

England was shocked. Did Germany really think he could be bought so cheap? Diplomacy was about so much more than money and to think that Germany was trying to corrupt the purity of the game disgusted him. He told Germany where to shove his money. Germany was now pleading, it’s only I game. I have everything invested in this game and I’ve been so unlucky; I’ve tried bribing two other players already, but I turn up to see them just a little too late. This was something England already knew. He had seen Germany in the first Turkey’s hospital and Russia’s bookshop. He also knew he was on the verge of winning the game. He threw a punch trying to knock Germany over the balcony, but Germany ducked just in time and England’s follow-though carried him over the balcony. The two storey fall would have killed many men but England’s fall was cushioned by some straw bales and he rolled off these and down a small embankment. He was dazed for a moment and looked up to see a horse’s face right next to his. “G’day mate.” “What brings you down here?” England thought how odd it would be if horses in Heaven or Hell had Australian accents before his dizziness subsided and he realised that it was the rider speaking to him. He couldn’t make the rider out clearly; his face was directly in line with the sun so it appeared as if this face had a halo. As England rose and shielded his eyes from the glare he started to make out the features of the face. He moved around so that the sun was no longer directly behind him. But the Halo effect remained. England spoke “Hi Kestas. You wouldn’t believe what’s being happening.” “Oh, but we would.” Kestas replied. He went on to explain how the mods had been aware of the nosebleed game shenanigans for some time, but had been powerless to prevent any of it as it wasn’t against any of the site rules and whenever they interfered on such matters it would start a flame war in the forums. England had until then been only conscious of Kestas, but there was two other knights on horseback by his side. One was ugly and wearing a dress that only a 90-year-old Granny would be comfortable in. England was aghast by how ugly someone with only one head could be. He looked as if he’d not only fallen from the ugly tree, but had face-butted every branch on the way down. It wasn’t his fault, of course, he had bad genes. Rumour has it that Picasso had painted his grandmother as true-life and people thought it was an impressionist. This was not a pretty boy. England, had met this man many times, but his brain had tried desperately to remove it from his memory. “Oh Hi Jmo. Glad you’re here.” Jmo offered a greeting but it sounded like a dolphin trying to imitate the sound of fingernails on a chalkboard. It was no surprise that Jmo didn’t get out much.

The third horseman was Zultar, [The original draft of this document contains some mildly funny ribbing of the great man, but they have been redacted by persons unknown.]

England saw his opportunity to finally win the game. “Germany was present at the deaths of Russia and Turkey and I think he had a hand in Italy’s suicide. You have to ban him.” He paused. “Oh and alert the proper authorities.”

“We can’t, I’m afraid.” Kestas replied. “We don’t have any evidence connecting Germany to the two deaths and even if we did it isn’t against the site rules. There is nothing we can do.”

England was desperate. “What about Italy’s suicide, can’t we pin anything on him for that?”

“I very much doubt it but we’ll work tirelessly to find anything we can hang our hat on. We can’t let these people prosper.” Zultar and Kestas then worked tirelessly for about two minutes and handed everything to Jmo.

The following morning Jmo emerged bleary-eyed but excited from his room and joined the others at breakfast. “Eureka! I have it!” The others gathered round. Jmo began to explain that after Italy’s death Germany had posted on the forum that “for all we know Italy may have cheated on his wife.” The penny clearly didn’t drop with England, Kestas and zultar. “Don’t you see?” said Jmo. “He’s posted a cheating allegation on the forum! We have him” It was true, many things were permitted in Diplomacy but posting a cheating allegation was a depth to which no one should sink. Jmo imposed an immediate ban [which was later rescinded] and England won the game.

England’s jubilation was tainted somewhat. He had planned to quit the site after this game, but now he had so many points he just had to go on and maybe rise some more in the Ghost Rankings so all the world would know what an excellent gamer he was.

Getting a real life could wait.

The End.