Fandom High School

"Juana I de Castilla," Ghanima announced cheerfully, Trebor obliviously playing with his blocks. "Queen of Castile and León, Queen of Aragon, Duchess of Burgundy, Duchess of Brabant, Limburg and Lothier, Duchess of Luxemburg, Margravine of Namur, Countess of Artois and Flanders, Countess of Charolais, Countess of Hainaut, Holland and Zeeland."

( Madness is not just constrained to men )
"She is entombed in the Capilla Real of Granada, alongside her parents, her husband, and her nephew Miguel. Between 1498 and 1507 she gave birth to six children, two emperors and four queens, all of whom allegedly carried to some degree her seeds of madness."

As the students came in today, they'd probably all notice the big screen now at the front of the room.

"I have spent the week playing 'diplomat' to my brother's 'tyrant' to manipulate the Guilds to do what we want, so today we're supposed to cover Idi Amin Dada," Ghanima said, pointing to the stack of handouts by the door. "Take one when you leave. For now, we're going to watch a movie. It's called the meta for The Last King of Scotland, and it happens to be on the person we're supposed to be studying today."

"Anna of Saxony," Ghanima said, launching into the lecture the moment everyone was comfortable, "--was the only child and heiress of Maurice, Elector of Saxony, and Agnes, eldest daughter of Philip I, Landgrave of Hesse. She was the second wife of William the Silent."

( Wilhelmus van Nassaue, ben ik, van Deutschen bloeeeeed )

"Anna lived out the rest of her days in Dresden, until her death aged thirty-two in 1577, most likely from neglect and hemorrhaging."

Trebor was entertaining himself with a pile of books today - stacks of brightly colored titles, all for children slightly older than him, but not by much, while Ghanima watched from her perch on her desk. Literacy was so very important, after all. And flexible young minds would hopefully not end up like...

"Isabel of Portugal!" she said brightly the moment everyone had arrived. "Was a beautiful young princess who fell in love with a king, but her marriage was tainted by his weak nature, and her possessive behavior, obsessions, paranoia, and her chronic depression. She ended her days alone, hidden away in a bleak tower."

( It is sometimes an appropriate response to reality to go insane. )

"Right then," Ghanima said cheerfully, with all the brightness and perk of someone distinctly unaffected by the island's latest nonsense because she was absolutely cheating and altering her personal body chemistry to avoid it. "I decided that since some of you may have been distracted by, ah, romance, we'll be watching Wildcat in Snow. None of them are, technically, mad, unless you count the lust for power as a madness. Horribly clever, most of them, which is part of the problem."

"As you've learned, the lines of succession can cause problems," Ghanima continued. "Sometimes rulers behead potential rivals. Sometimes they lock them up. And sometimes, it is not always clear who is next in line."

"Henry the Second of England. Eleanor of Aquitaine. King Philip the Second of France. Three of the most powerful people in the world. Add in three would-be players, and a hapless pawn or two, and you've got a dynastic battle of the highest order."

"So get comfortable, enjoy the movie, and chat amongst yourselves. Is this madness? Or just good-old-fashioned family squabbling on a much larger scale? After all, it's not just the family silver at stake - it's two countries, and the entire balance of power in the 'civilized'--" and if you thought you heard air-quotes around that word, you were totally right. "--world."

Ghanima was leaning up against the wall with the wipeboard as students entered today, already twirling a marker in her hand as if it were a knife while Trebor napped on a pillow.

( Peace of mind! I have no peace of mind. I've had no peace of mind since we lost America. Forests, old as the world itself... meadows... plains... strange delicate flowers... immense solitudes... and all nature new to art... all ours... Mine. Gone. A paradise... lost. )

"Today, most people are familiar with him from popular culture -- the popular musical meta for Hamilton, or the television world of meta for Bridgerton, both of which take great creative liberties."

Ghanima was sitting on her desk, absently eating lemon drops and sharing them with Trebor as they watched the students wander into the room. As usual, the space was filled with large piles of pillows, some divans, and various cushioned footstools. Ghanima disapproved of sterile classrooms, thank you very much, and both she and the students tended to be more comfortable this way.

Once the last of her class had arrived, her face lit up with a smile.

"Well now," she said, her voice carrying effortlessly. "It seems I have both new and familiar faces!"

( The Throne raises the majesty of kings above scorn and above laws. )

When everyone arrived today, they'd find bingo cards and pencils for all. "You just spent the week babysitting, or recovering from babysitting," Ghanima said, an impish twinkle in her blue-on-blue eyes, "--so you already know madness is a game. I thought we might as well have some fun with it. Mark off the square as you hear it in the lecture today."

"The true story of Ranavalona's reign has been difficult to establish," Ghanima began immediately as class started. "Accounts of her activities have been told throughout history from people who either mistrusted her or were her outright enemies—Christian missionaries whom she persecuted and exiled, the few Europeans whom she allowed to remain on the island as she consolidated her power, and travelers and traders who viewed her as bloodthirsty and at various times plotted to destabilize her regime. Most of what is available is outright racist propaganda. Thankfully, recent academic research has recast Ranavalona's actions as those of a queen attempting to expand her empire while protecting Malagasy sovereignty against the encroachment of European cultural and political influence."

( Never say she is only a feeble and ignorant woman, how can she rule such a vast empire? I will rule here, to the good fortune of my people and the glory of my name! )

"Today we're working with someone many of you may be familiar with," Ghanima announced as the class assembled. "If, at any point, today's discussion becomes too much, please feel free to excuse yourselves."

( WARNING: Here there be Dracul. )

[OOC: NOTE: Today's class is behind the cut-tag for impalement, violence, and lots of people dying.]

"Étudiants, bonjour." Ghanima said as the last of the class trickled into the room. "Today we look at a French monarch, King Charles VI."

"For those of you trying to keep track of where all these people are, France, which you heard mentioned during Wildcat in Snow, is south of England, across a narrow straight," she said, pulling down the map to point out the locations.

( King of England, and you, duke of Bedford, who call yourself regent of the kingdom of France... settle your debt to the king of Heaven; return to the Maiden, who is envoy of the king of Heaven, the keys to all the good towns you took and violated in France. -- Joan of Arc )

"Charles VI appeared to have passed on his instability to his grandson Henry, whose inability to govern England helped spark the Wars of the Roses."

"Many royal families can be brutal when it comes to lines of succession. Sometimes, a royal will try to protect their beloved sibling. And it does not always go well," Ghanima said once everyone had arrived.

"When Mustafa I -- called both 'Mustafa the Saint' and 'Mustafa the Mad,' was born, a tradition had long been in place in Turkey that newly crowned Sultans would execute any contenders to the throne. Namely, their brothers," Ghanima continued. "This practice was called kardeş katliamı, literally 'fraternal massacring.'"

"When Mustafa's brother, Ahmed, came to the throne, he decided to spare his little brother's life, and instead he was confined to a set of rooms in virtual imprisonment, a system called 'kafes', for fourteen years. Think of it as being locked in a two-bedroom apartment for your entire life, never to set foot outside your door, and to have your contact with the outside world limited."

"You must keep in mind that the early history of the Ottoman Empire is littered with succession wars between rival sons of the deceased sultan. Therefore, it was almost considered the law that once the new sultan ascended to the throne, he had his brothers killed, sometimes dozens of them at once, including infants," Ghanima continued briskly. "Although this practice effectively reduced the number of claimants to the throne, there were several occasions where the Ottoman line seemed destined to end. The introduction of confinement of heirs provided security for an incumbent sultan and continuity of the dynasty. It wreaked havoc on their education and mental health, as they were removed from the harem and their mothers upon puberty, but it was seen as a measure to guarantee succession."

"When Ahmet I died in 1617 his eldest son was only 13 years old and for the first time in 14 generations the succession was altered by the Imperial Council so that the late sultan's brother acceded to the throne as Mustafa I."

"When Mustafa was first freed, his mental health was hotly debated at court. Some said he was divinely inspired and a religious visionary. Others saw his ranting as psychotic rather than celestial. His policies and orders did little to gain any confidence: any kind page or generous farmer could find themselves in an exalted position of considerable power at the royal court. It was hoped that regular social contact would improve Mustafa's mental health, but his behavior remained eccentric. He reportedly pulled off the turbans of his viziers and yanked their beards, which, in their culture, was highly disrespectful. This annoyed enough courtiers to tip the balance of public opinion against him, and after less-than a year, Mustafa was returned to his cage."

"For the next four years, Mustafa remained locked away with two female slaves to care for him. Outside, Osman II, his late brother's son, was ruling. He issued edicts against everything from tobacco to alcohol, and practiced with bow and arrow on living targets around the court. Ultimately, he made himself very unpopular, and was tortured to death in 1622."

"During this period, Mustafa was rather content in his cage. When he was released in 1623, he refused to leave at first, and had to be dragged out at the end of a rope. Despite his objections, questionable mental health, and obvious inadequacies, Mustafa was a reluctant sultan once more."

"Again entrusted with governing Turkey, terrified of the responsibility, and unprepared, he set out to wreak havoc. He slaughtered all those who had been responsible for removing him from his cage, including his nephew. Farm laborers, donkey drivers, and other unlikely subjects found themselves promoted. Taxes went unpaid, armed forces went un-salaried, and nationwide anarchy loomed. Meanwhile, Mustafa ran in search of Osman, convinced he was alive and begging him to return and take over the throne. When he ordered the execution of all Osman's brothers, he was persuaded by his court to renounce the throne, and turn over the monarchy to another one of his nephews."

"Mustafa returned to his cage one last time, late in 1623. He died there sixteen years later."

Ghanima was leaning up against the wall with the wipeboard as students entered today, already twirling a marker in her hand as if it were a knife.

( Peace of mind! I have no peace of mind. I've had no peace of mind since we lost America. Forests, old as the world itself... meadows... plains... strange delicate flowers... immense solitudes... and all nature new to art... all ours... Mine. Gone. A paradise... lost. )

When the bell rang, Ghanima did a quick head-count to see who was still there and who had dropped before beaming brightly at the class. "Looks like I didn't scare off too many of you," she teased, blue-on-blue eyes crinkling in mirth. "So, today we'll start with my personal favorite."

( If sincere, his was a career of long heroic sacrifice; if an imposter, he must be ranked as one of the most extraordinary of that class who has yet lived. He left no successor. The emoluments of an unattractive throne and an empty royalty were not alluring; there was none strong enough to follow him; and finally the world was entering upon an epoch of materialism in which there is no provision for such a monarch. From that strange stage through the doors of oblivion, thus passes forever Norton I, Emperor of the United States, and Protector of Mexico. L'Empereur est mort. )

Class today met in the Danger Shop... which looked suspiciously like their classroom. Cushions, divans, tables at varying heights, coffee, teas, fruit, all of it.

"Over the last few weeks, I have given you some examples of rulers who have gone mad or at least mad for power," Ghanima stated once everyone had arrived. "To be honest, the best way to survive such a monarch is to quite simply keep your head down. If you don't make waves, you'll probably survive the experience. Some may call this cowardly, but it is common sense. Unless you have some way to change the status quo, your best option is to try and wait it out."

( If history teaches us anything, it is simply this: every revolution carries within it the seeds of its own destruction. And empires that rise, will one day fall. )

"Remember – sometimes a failed revolution can do just as much good as a successful one, if you play your cards right. However, is a dead revolutionary really a successful one, even if his or her cause succeeds?" Ghanima leaned back against her desk, neon eyes swirling. "I will leave that up for you to decide."

"My apologies for being absent recently," Ghanima said, once everyone had arrived. "I was required for matters of state at home."

( long class is long )

"She is entombed in the Capilla Real of Granada, alongside her parents, her husband, and her nephew Miguel. Between 1498 and 1507 she gave birth to six children, two emperors and four queens.  And yet, in the end, Juana lost everything she loved."

"Right then," Ghanima said cheerfully. "We're going to do a movie today, since between the break and then nonsense and the dance, I'm thinking you need a little break. We'll be watching Wildcat in Snow, one of my favorite films. None of them are, technically, mad, unless you count the lust for power as a madness. Horribly clever, most of them, which is part of the problem."

( Of course he has a knife, he always has a knife, we all have knives! It's 1183 and we're barbarians! How clear we make it. Oh, my piglets, we are the origins of war: not history's forces, nor the times, nor justice, nor the lack of it, nor causes, nor religions, nor ideas, nor kinds of government, nor any other thing. We are the killers. We breed wars. We carry it like syphilis inside. Dead bodies rot in field and stream because the living ones are rotten. )

[OCD UP!]

"Today we're working with someone many of you may be familiar with," Ghanima announced as the class assembled. "If, at any point, today's discussion becomes too much, please feel free to excuse yourselves."

Surprise, class!  Ghanima had, possibly, found the one topic that might distract you from any incidents with your family last weekend for the next hour.

"The inspiration for Bram Stoker's famous vampire, Count Dracula, Vlad the Impaler may not have actually drunk blood, but he was certainly one of the most bloodthirsty rulers to have ever stalked through the annals of history."

( WARNING: Here there be Dracul. )


[OOC: OCD UP.  NOTE: Today's class is behind the cut-tag for impalement, violence, and lots of people dying. NOT FLUFFY.]

"Isabel of Portugal was a beautiful young princess who fell in love with a king, but her marriage was tainted by his weak nature, and her possessive behavior, obsessions, paranoia, and her chronic depression," Ghanima said. "She ended her days alone, hidden away in a bleak tower."

( I was a queen, and you took away my crown... )

[OOC: My bad, I thought today was Tuesday. OCD UP!]

When the bell rang, Ghanima did a quick head-count to see who was still there and who had dropped before beaming brightly at the class. "Looks like I didn't scare off too many of you," she teased, blue-on-blue eyes crinkling in mirth. "So, today we'll start with my personal favorite."

"Joshua Abraham Norton, the self-proclaimed His Imperial Majesty Emperor Norton I, was a celebrated citizen of San Francisco, California, who in 1859 proclaimed himself 'Emperor of these United States' and 'Protector of Mexico,'" Ghanima said, launching right into the story lecture. "Born in London, Norton spent most of his early life in South Africa; he emigrated to San Francisco in 1849 after receiving a bequest of $40,000 from his father's estate. Norton initially made a living as a businessman, but he lost his fortune in a bad investment. Afterward, he disappeared for a few years, vanishing from any sort of public record."

( If sincere, his was a career of long heroic sacrifice; if an imposter, he must be ranked as one of the most extraordinary of that class who has yet lived. He left no successor. The emoluments of an unattractive throne and an empty royalty were not alluring; there was none strong enough to follow him; and finally the world was entering upon an epoch of materialism in which there is no provision for such a monarch. From that strange stage through the doors of oblivion, thus passes forever Norton I, Emperor of the United States, and Protector of Mexico. L'Empereur est mort. )

"In 1934, Norton's remains were transferred, as were all graves in the city, at the expense of the City of San Francisco to a grave site of moderate splendor at Woodlawn Cemetery, in Colma. The site is marked by a large stone inscribed "Norton I, Emperor of the United States and Protector of Mexico."

"Over the last few weeks, I have given you some examples of rulers who have gone mad or at least mad for power," Ghanima stated once everyone had arrived. "To be honest, the best way to survive such a monarch is to quite simply keep your head down. If you don't make waves, you'll probably survive the experience. Some may call this cowardly, but it is common sense. Unless you have some way to change the status quo, your best option is to try and wait it out."

( If history teaches us anything, it is simply this: every revolution carries within it the seeds of its own destruction. And empires that rise, will one day fall. )

"Remember – sometimes a failed revolution can do just as much good as a successful one, if you play your cards right. However, is a dead revolutionary really a successful one, even if his or her cause succeeds?" Ghanima leaned back against her desk, neon eyes swirling. "I will leave that up for you to decide."

"Ivan IV Vasilyevich, or 'Ivan Gronzy' was the first ruler of Russia to call himself "Tsar" or Emperor King," Ghanima said briskly.  "His name is synonymous in the West with torture, cruelty, and paranoia.  He established a bodyguard, the Oprichniki, which has been described as Russia's first secret police.  Nevertheless, many people in Russia consider him a national hero."

( A title alone may hold symbolic power, but Ivan's political revolution went further, in the process significantly altering Russia's political structure.  )

"Interestingly enough, the English word terrible is usually used to translate the Russian word grozny in Ivan's nickname, but the modern English usage of terrible, with a pejorative connotation of bad or evil, does not precisely represent the intended meaning. Grozny's meaning is closer to the original usage of terrible—inspiring fear or terror, dangerous," Ghanima wrote on the board.  "Formidable, threatening, or awesome. Perhaps a translation closer to the intended sense would be Ivan the Fearsome, or Ivan the Formidable."  She tapped her chalk against the wall, and turned to smile at them.  "Somehow, Ivan the Awesome does not quite inspire the same fear as 'Terrible' does."

"I apologize for missing last week," Ghanima announced from her perch on her desk, legs kicking against its front lightly as the students filed in. "I was called away to deal with a crisis at home, and came back to...this."

You could not corrupt sand the way these trees and the water had been fouled. As soon as this was dealt with, Ghanima would return to Dune for a long weekend to let the sun and sand scour the rot from her soul."

"If you feel the need to be elsewhere, go. For those of you who'd like to stay and continue your education instead of hurling yourself against a foe we know nothing about yet, we'll look at Anna of Saxony, a woman that was not very good at dealing with limits."

( Madness is tonic and invigorating. It makes the sane more sane. The only ones who are unable to profit by it are the insane. )

Ghanima was sitting on her desk as the class filed in today, a cup of spiced coffee clutched in her hands.  Against the wall by the door, large carafes of coffee, tea, and juice sat on a table and waited for the students.

"I'm sure many of you had busy break weeks," she said, watching as they got settled.  "Regardless, I need you awake and with me today."

( When the game is over, the king and the pawn go into the same box. )

"Mustafa returned to his cage one last time, late in 1623.  He died there sixteen years later."

"Juana I de Castilla," Ghanima announced abruptly, once the students were seated.  "Queen of Castile and León, Queen of Aragon, Duchess of Burgundy, Duchess of Brabant, Limburg and Lothier, Duchess of Luxemburg, Margravine of Namur, Countess of Artois and Flanders, Countess of Charolais, Countess of Hainaut, Holland and Zeeland."

"Today is a lesson on love, lust, and power.  Never confuse them, even in the presence of a romantic holiday."

( Madness is not just constrained to men )

She is entombed in the Capilla Real of Granada, alongside her parents, her husband, and her nephew Miguel.  Between 1498 and 1507 she gave birth to six children, two emperors and four queens, all of whom carried to some degree her seeds of madness."

Ghanima was in her usual perch, sitting on the desk and watching as the students filed into the classroom.

( No life is without its regrets yet none is without its consolations. )


[OOC: OCD coming up]