Stories thread - King of the Romans PBM

[econ21]

This thread is for in-character stories in the King of the Romans thread (except battle reports, which have their own thread). Any out of character comments or discussion should be kept in the OOC thread.

Note - if your story involves casting another player's avatar in an unfavourable light or doing bad things to them, you must liase with that player first.

[Lucjan]

The clean up process was never a glorious one, or a heartening one. The sacking of Hamburg had left much of the castle's lower quarters in shambles as the men trashed the place searching for loot. The bodies of the enemy lie everywhere, stamped and mangled beneath the thunder of half a thousand hooves, cheap armaments broken and portruding from their planted position in the ground, horrified faces twisted in agony staring up into the beating sun, into the faces of their killers. He had always thought of the battlefield as a graveyard, but at the same time far from such a sacred place. Battlefields were the place where murderers and grave robbers were allowed to enact their trade with impunity.

And then there was the case of fallen friends, comrades in arms now shut out of life. Dietrich sighed as he stood beside one of the men in his own retinue that had fallen in the battle. He was from southern Frankfurt. He was not particularly any sort of spectacular man, but he was honest, good intentioned. He remembered seeing him fall, struck by the final release of an archer's arrow right before they ran the regiment down in the street.

As Dietrich stood amongst the bodies, he noted the approach of the young knight he'd been briefed by before the battle. He could see a slight look of disdain on the man's face, and hesitated for a moment before he spoke.

"There's going to be many more days like this ahead, have no regrets if you are certain you did all you could. All that can be done afterwards is to see off lost friends to the heavens with respect." He said, reaching into a small pouch at his side and dismounting his horse. From the pouch he pulled two Imperial coins, then, bending down, placed them over the eyes of the man he recognised from his retinue. "And, sometimes, to pay their way there from your own pocket." Dietrich stared up into the sun and sighed. "Come, help me, there's much work to be done."

[IvarrWolfsong]

Cardinal Peter Scherer walked around tiny church frowning. The parish priest looked aghast and ashamed. He skittered about trying to straighten a candle here and wipe away some dust there, unable to keep up with the wandering gaze of the Cardinal.

"Fret not, good Father. This is a small parish and I know the tithes are not great in size or number," said Cardinal Peter. He thought to himself, "How will we ever stand up to the Italian's arrogance when there houses of worship are works of divinely inspired art, yet ours are seem but stables with pews..."

"Thank you your Eminence, but I again apologize for the meager comforts and state of unpreparedness of this House of God. I beg your forgiveness most wholeheartedly..." groaned Father Mueller.

"Nonsense, a good and pious House of our Lord this is! It preaches to the simple folk and as such has simple charm," replied the Cardinal. He continued, "Regardless, I have recieved word from the Imperial Diet that funds have been set aside to subsidize the erecting of many new Churchs. Our Kaiser and his men are filled with such faith! If only the other peoples of our world were led by such holy men...<sigh>.. but I digress into matters that are not for you to fret good Father."

"Our Emperor and his noble lords are righteous men indeed, your Eminence," agreed the priest.

"As are you good Father. And I am sure that the Kaiser and the Prince and all our noble born lords will be happy to know the common men feel that way," said Peter. He continued, "Considering the state of affairs here, I may recommend that this parish receive a church in which you may preach."

"That is MOST gracious, your Eminence!" said Father Mueller, grinning widely and bowing deeply.

The two clerics said there farewells and Peter climbed into his coach. Willem of Bruges, the cardinal's secretary, looked him over and, in his Flemish accent, queried "All is well, your Eminence?"

"Yes, yes... fine. Advise the electors that this will be a good parish to build a new church in. The current one is no better than a swine yard, and smells as such. When I visited here just half a dozen years ago, this church thrived. It was never a glorious place but it had a pastoral charm," said the Cardinal. "I dare say that I mistook the cobwebs for silk curtains," he continued, chuckling.

As his chuckling died out he grew cold and a stern look washed over his face. "As for this simpleton, Mueller, I don't want him near our new Church. If he doesn't lead it to ruin, he will only serve to remind the folk of this miserable ruin of a shack," said Peter. "Send him on a pilgrimage somewhere far away, Spain or the Holy Land, I care not. Somewhere with brigands and lepers and the like. I don't want to see him again."

Willem raised an eyebrow, "I hear the Reconquista of Iberia is particularly violent these days. There are captains, Christian and heathen, who serve one master one day and his sworn enemies the next... desperate men they are," said the secratary, as if musing over a random thought. He continued, "has your Eminence ever been to the Shrine of Santa Maria Dolores de Cordoba? I have heard that every holy man should be given an oppurtunity to drink from the spring there. It is said to give new insight into spreading the word of Our Lord...."

The Cardinal simply nodded.

Cardinal Peter Scherer listened with pride as the Flemish priest stated that Bavaria would be the first to build these new Churches. He gazed out among the pine trees and watched as the sun slowly sank behind them. It seemed as though the pointed pines were fangs in the maw of some great beast that was devouring the sun and the cardinal was lost in this pagan image from some long forgotten myth.

Ashamed of such heretical thoughts, he quickly tried to think of something more pious. Without consciously chosing the image, he thought of a time in his boyhood. He was 12 and he was crying and laughing at the same time. he was on his knees in the street. His chaperone was aghast and telling him to get out of the filth and that when his father saw his hose torn and muddy, he would have him horse whipped. However, Peter stayed where he was, kneeling in front of the Cath&#233;drale Notre-Dame de Chartres. He had never seen anything so magnificent or so beautiful in his life. He was overcome with a sense of faith and knelt paralyzed and in a state of rapture. One of the priests, seeing this young boy, dressed in noble finery, kneeling in the mud before the Cathedral, asked him to come inside. After speaking to Preist for some time, he was taken to see the Sancta Camisia, the gown of Saint Mary, Blessed Mother. His fathers dreams of Peter taking over the family's lucridive silver trade died that very instant. Peter knew his calling and all the horse-whipping in the world would not change his mind.

Suddenly he he straightened and looked to Willem.

"Willem, these new Houses of Our Lord are but a first step. Greater works must follow. A Cathedral, in Bavaria ... a Cathedral that will bring glory to our Church, glory to our People, glory to our Empire. A Cathedral that will make all other princes and kings grow green with jealousy... that will make hardened Catalans weep and Saracens throw down their turbans. I swear upon my Holy Oath that we will have such a Cathedral, although I may never see it completed, I will see it started...."

[TinCow]

Maximillian Mandorf rolled over and wiped the sweat from his face. After a momentary pause, he reached out and grasped a half-empty goblet of wine. Propping himself up on his elbow, he took a deep draught, then wiped a red rivulet from the corner of his mouth. Behind him on the bed, a peasant girl lay bare-breasted, breathing heavily.

Mandorf distained mistresses. They were expensive and expected rank and privilege. Far too much trouble in comparison to the simple service they performed. Servants and townsfolk were free and never said a word. As he rose, a butler stepped forward from the far corner and proffered a heavy robe. Mandorf shrugged on the garment and walked into his private study.

Another servant was waiting there. He immediately stepped forward and held up a parchment. “Sir, the latest report from Italy.” The letter was sealed with the insignia of a minor Bavarian noble in Kaiser Heinrich’s retinue. Mandorf broke it with his thumb and scanned the text.

Progress. At last, some progress. There was no official word of Florence’s fall, but the siege had been nearing its end when the letter had been written. By now the city had surely rejoined the Empire. Hamburg, Metz, and Florence. It was a start. The Steward of Bavaria walked over to the eastern wall behind a massive oak desk. A large embroidered tapestry hung there, depicting the extent of Imperial power under Konrad the Second, only 60 years before.

The Holy Roman Empire had stretched from Antwerp and Marseille in the west to Prague in the east. Bruges, Rheims, Dijon, and Zagreb had been within a day’s ride of the border. On the other axis, Imperial power had held sway from Hamburg and Magdeburg in the north, to Rome in the south. Rome.

So much had been lost in the last decade and it was all because of Rome. The arrogance of the Pope knew no bounds. In 1075, against all laws of man and God, he had declared himself the sole authority in the appointment of clergymen, effectively severing the Kaiser’s power over Christianity. The Pope claimed authority from God, but he had no precedence for the matter. The Divine Mandate came from God himself and transcended the politics of man. Kaiser Heinrich had inherited the role handed down from the time of the Constantine the Great himself. The Pope’s actions were illegal and without support in history.

At first, Kaiser Heinrich had responded as an Emperor should, he had thrown down the gauntlet and sent a scathing letter to Rome in which he exercised his rightful power to depose the Pope and call for a new election. The Pope had responded by excommunicating Heinrich.

Mandorf laughed just remembering the matter. The sheer audacity of the Pope’s action had to be respected, even if it made him the enemy of the entire Empire. The man had balls. Yet, instead of crushing the impudent lout, as an Emperor should, Heinrich had humiliated himself! It was pathetic. A rebellion by some of the nobility had threatened Heinrich’s power, and he had surrendered his God given rights to that petulant monk without a struggle. The man had stood barefoot in the snow, wearing a hairshirt, until the priest had forgiven him! It made Mandorf sick just thinking about it.

The Emperor should have marched on the Pope, torn down his fortress stone by stone, and disemboweled him alive. Instead he had gutted his own authority. In the time since, it seemed as if half the Empire had ceased to obey Imperial power. Bern, Metz, Hamburg, Antwerp, Magdeburg, Prague, and Florence had declared themselves Free Cities. Marseilles had joined the Franks, and the Milanese and Venetians had declared themselves powers in their own right. It was an unmitigated disaster.

Recently, Heinrich seemed to have finally regrown some of his backbone. Asserting Imperial authority over Hamburg, Metz, and Florence was a good start, but it remained just that, a start. The Empire would never be restored to its rightful order until the Pope bent knee and groveled before the Kaiser. Mandorf doubted that Heinrich would ever have the authority or the courage to confront the Empire’s greatest enemy.

There was no prospect of Prinz Henry rising to the challenge either. That ‘royal’ had actually proposed to give regular tribute to the Roman usurper! It was outrageous. Not only had the Kaiser seconded the motion, but the entire damned Diet had gone along with it. Only Mandorf himself had retained enough dignity to oppose the insult to the Empire.

Mandorf would never bow to a false Pope. Any man who did was a heretic and would surely be separated from God in the next life. Yet, if the Kaiser and the Prinz threw themselves at the heathen’s feet, was it sacrilege to swear fealty to them as well?

The Steward of Bavaria gazed longingly at the tapestry. The Empire could regain its rightful place as God’s authority on Earth, but only if men had the will to make it so. Only if they had the strength to do what had to be done. All enemies of the Reich had to be purged. The only question was who these enemies were. Those who had thrown off Imperial authority to be sure, but what of those who remained? Was a man who allowed treason also a traitor?

A shuffling sound behind him caused Mandorf to turn. The peasant girl was gathering up her clothes in the bedroom. All thoughts of Popes and treason vanished. Mandorf grinned. “Where do you think you’re going?”

[OverKnight]

A letter from Otto von Kassel to Wilhelm von Kassel shortly after the capture of Metz:

Father,

I am sure you have heard the news that Metz has been returned to the Reich. The Prinz and his new "brother" stormed the rebels' fort in a bold action. I had not heard of this Der Stoltze fellow before, but I am glad he has proven the Kaiser correct in his choice.

Yes, I am still in Innsbruck, to some regret. I was stupid and misinterpreted a passing remark from the Kaiser to mean that I was to go on campaign. My eagerness clouded my judgement once again. I find solace by walking the walls of the keep. The view is astounding. The Alps tower to the north and south, almost ringing the castle. The Inn river flows from the west to the east down the broad valley dividing the two ranges and eventually feeds into the Danube. From the south the Sill river winds down from the mountains, and where it flows into the Inn lies the castle. I am told a settlement, by one name or another, has been on this spot since Roman times.

If you follow the Sill south into the mountains to it's source, you come to the Brenner Pass. This is the only pass, Father, between us and the Venetians that can accommodate an army. A small force could hold back an entire army in such a confined space! Woods, cliffs, and switchbacks provide several excellent spots for ambushes. That is why there is a castle here, and the castle is why I am here. The garrison has grown and needs training and quarters. Even though we have sworn a treaty of goodwill and trade with those merchants, the border needs to be watched and tariffs need to be collected. Even now, a Venetian trade caravan eats at my table and sleeps in my hall because the pass has been snowed in. I offer them hospitality, as is my duty, and they return the favor with sidelong glances and snide remarks about the food. I do not trust them!

Between merchants, freeholders fighting over livestock, and endless drilling of conscripts I sometimes regret defying you and not going into the priesthood. "A soldier or a priest, that is the choice for the younger son, and I didn't have you taught to read so you could be arrow fodder!", you often told me. Very often. Still, I would have made a poor priest, I can barely recite the Lord's Prayer, and my Latin is atrocious. I am a soldier, a Ritter of Bavaria, and I serve the Reich in whatever task I am given.

Yet, there are times when my service weighs more heavily than others. I hear of the victories to the north, to the west, and to the south, and I am envious. The Mountains close in and seem more of a prison than a spectacle. I want to strike at our enemies, I want to be in the field, I want to feel flesh and bone break beneath my sword arm! I can hear you now, "Patience, you impetuous pup!". Aye, I know. But if you always had your way I would be mouthing Te Deums and wedding swine herders to their cousins in some hole of a hamlet. Which reminds me, did you hear that rumour about the Austrian electors? It was the talk of Frankfurt before I left.

I hope you are in good health Father and the old wound does not trouble you as much as in the past. Send along my greetings to my brother, read him the letter if you wish. I will write again when I have the time.

Your son,

Otto

[Lucjan]

The voices down the hall were muddled, and the thunder's cacophanous symphony shattered Hamburg's new peace in a crescendo reminiscent of Dietrich's charge through the gates. The organ playing in the main hall could still be heard at the top of the stairs as well. In a lower layer of hell, this musical orgy could have tantalised darker spirits into ecstasy, but it scared Godfrey half to death. If he had not personally seen the Duke occassionally in the castle's small chapel, praying for his sins, he might, at that moment, have been inclined to believe he were a man of the devil.
He shook, half from the atmosphere, half in an attempt to shove such thoughts from his mind. "Stop it, just go. Go, tell him the news." He said to himself, willing himself down the hallway one step at a time. The dark corridor's shadows seemed to scurry away with every crack of the lightning, then instantly lunge back out, kept at bay only by the light of a few small torches. As he grew nearer the door, some of the muffled conversation began to sound more clear.

"So she's well then?"

"Yes."

"Good, and what of -" The voice was cut off by the ravenous growl of thunder, but it was distinguishable, familiar. The second voice though was new, and deeply accented in its speech.

"It's fine, hardly changed at all, even since you've left. The family's kept its eminence through your father's trade, and the town itself is coming into a considerable amount of wealth because of it. I know I shouldn't mention it, but they miss you."

"It's ok Cibor, hopefully -" Again, the the sky's vengeful roar interrupted the conversation, to which Godfrey was now listening intently. "secure the deal. Do me a favor though, when you get home, have my father urge the rest of the local noble council to push for compliance. Our current situation places us in a position to make this a reality. But, by all means Cibor, speak only to my father. That twisted wretch of a 'prince' must not get wind of this. If he takes the throne -" The next crack of thunder made Godfrey jump, his ear pressed close to the door he couldn't help but bang his head in his fright. As he stepped backwards, suddenly fearing for his life with the realisation of what just happened, their was startled bantering from inside and the door swung open with a heavy slam against the wall. Dietrich stood in the doorway, sword drawn, the man behind him staring, startled, over his shoulder.

"Godfrey..." Dietrich seemed appalled.

"Who is it? Gut him! It's a spy!" The man behind him yelled.

"No." Dietrich replied, lowering his sword. "I've fought with this man, he helped in this castle's fall, he's a good man. He's just in the wrong place at the wrong time." He looked down the hall, towards the sound of the organ's music and the stairs, and reached out to grab Godfrey by the tunic. "I'll assume you've already heard much, so come inside Godfrey, and let me tell you a story."

[GeneralHankerchief]

Florence, 1100

The sound of trumpets. The cheering crowd. The fine food, exquisite sleeping arrangements, and dedicated staff. One got used to these things as Holy Roman Emperor.

Then why was this job so damned hard?

Kaiser Heinrich, upon his return to the city, retired to his chamber for the night, asked himself that question. The midterm session of the Diet that had just ended was a particularly... annoying one.

"Wise Kaiser, noble Kaiser they all say publicly. And then they proceed to quickly ignore my proposals and go the other way, unanimously. They all want to benefit their House and their House only, and they all want to make their city the shiniest and most glorious in the entire Reich, never mind that it will make me bankrupt."

One could say that the Kaiser was in a bad mood.

"I have to deal with that stupid Cardinal who can't even identify people's gender. And of course he cares little for the Empire, only Rome. And my son, bah! Henry is weak. He was too young to remember. An entire generation, starting with him, is being raised to accept the fact that the Papacy is infalliable. This is unacceptable. He wants me to abdicate. I can see it. He figures that if a pro-Rome ruler is installed then things will be perfect.

"This cannot happen. We must not forget. This Reich has been wronged. It took me some time to realize that but we have been wronged. And if we do not act quickly people will never remember the power we once held."

He gazed out his window to the south. The prominent feature in the city was a small church, rising above the mostly small buildings but not obstructing his view. Past the church, symbol of much were the city gates. Past the gates were the fields of the Florence region, where many farmers now toiled to bring wealth to the Reich. And beyond those fields, to the south, were the fields of Rome.

Many years ago, over a thousand, those fields had been the site of a bloody, but decisive conflict for Rome itself. In earlier, happier times, Heinrich had paid visits to those fields. Certainly, the grounds were contested by heretics who believed in the pagan practice of polytheism, but when that many people died in one concentrated spot, the ground was hallowed no matter who fought there.

"I hereby vow, at this moment, that before I die Rome will be under the benevolent arm of the Empire once again. And may this battle be less bloody than the last."

[Lucjan]

As light flooded the previously darkened room, the torch cast a warm, glowing light across his face. The diet floor was empty, the chairs vacated, the candelabras that adorned many of the tables had long been extinguished for the night. The room bore a chill in its emptiness, and Dietrich felt the need to progress to his seat at the head of Franconia's section, staring out across the circular arrangement of desks, chairs, and the oratory floor at the center.

As his gaze turned towards the map on the far wall, his thoughts went to the future of the Reich. He closed his eyes for a moment, reaching into the inside of his shirt to pull out a necklace with a silver crucifix. Holding the cross tight, he closed his eyes in prayer. Our father who art in heaven flowed from his lips as it has done a thousand times before. It was in these quiet moments of silence that he felt closest to his God. Not on the field of battle, where promises of heaven and glory inspired other men to great deeds, or in the churches and altar houses where he often donated to the Catholic faith, but in his own solitude, his own place of silence in the night. This place of aloneness was where he spoke to God, and it was the answers he made for himself in that state of silence that guided his life. The shrill creaking of the door behind him occurred almost simultaneously with the opening of his eyes. Then he recognised the footsteps.

"I've been waiting." He said. "I almost thought you wouldn't come, Conrad." Looking towards the open door to where the old man stood, he slipped the cross back into his shirt.

Conrad Schüsselen was a wiry man whose white thin hair was slowly baldening. It was difficult imagining the fragile person on a battlefield, and it is understood that although he has been one several campaigns, he was never a man of the field. His duty had led him elsewhere. Scribes and Runners were always needed. Behind the glorious charges of knights and deadly hails of arrows, small cogs twirled endlessly to supply an army with its needs and Conrad was the man who made those things happen.

Clothed in an elaborate gown that seemed several sizes too large for him, Conrad entered the chamber of the Diet. A throaty cough escapes his lips and immediately his right hand rises to his mouth, and a handkerchief tugged away in his sleeve for this purpose is pressed against his lips. Small specks of blood can be seen which are quickly wiped away.
"My Grace! I'm honoured to meet you."
A small bow with just the right degree of reverence to somebody of Dietrich's station is given, not an inch more. Then he straightens and looks at him expectantly.

"You needn't bow to me." Dietrich stepped towards the old man, and, as he approached, extended his hand in greetings. After tucking the bloodied hankerchief back into his sleeve, Conrad shook the duke's hand, a slight look of bewilderment on his face.

Taking note of his unusual attire, Dietrich opted then to light the candelabra on the table and deposit the torch in a brazier before returning to sit at the table. "I have a great deal of respect for you Conrad. You stand here, old and ill, some might say leperous, blood accompanying your almost every word, and yet still you continue to attend the diet and dictate your opinion to the electors. Rarely have I seen such devotion to a cause."

Before Conrad could muster a response, he continued more directly on the purpose of their meeting. "The diet today, the exchange between myself and the Kaiser, it is much like the battle of chivalry against corruption. I have made my point and the corrupt has been exposed as such, but there are things he can do which I cannot. One of which, I believe, has been to prevent me from meeting with Duke Leopold. Every messenger I have sent has failed to return, and I can't remember the Duke ever appearing for more than a moment in the diet. I understand that you, however, meet with him regularly. What can you do? What must be done to have you arrange a meeting between Leopold and myself? Somewhere safe, somewhere, somewhere like Hamburg."

Conrad von Schüsselen was truly bewildered by this breach of protocol from Dietrich von Saxony. It seemed that he was a man who beleived in protocol and order. Neatness, yes, besides being wiry the man was neat and seemed to like it.
"You honour me with your words, my Grace. My duty is to serve and try to fulfill this duty. Can't let myself be distracted by petty illnesses, now can I?"

He listened intently to Dietrichs words. Chivalry against Corruption, an interesting way to put it.
"Indeed the Kaiser has been acting strange lately. I did not get to know him as such a man from my time in Italy. You have heard my words in the Diet. It seems my requests fall on deaf ears with the Kaiser, but I'm just a simple Elector. Ignoring a Duke now, I think he has gone too far. You seek contact to my Liege, I think I can provide it. I don't know what happened to the messengers you sent, but I have secure communication channels established. Whatever message you want to have sent, I shall deliver it."

Conrad clasps his hand in front of him, ready to deliver a final bow. Was this all this meeting was about or would there be more?

"Thank you. Have Duke Leopold meet me in Hamburg as soon as possible. I'll temporarily delay heading out to begin work on the Kaiser's menial task of setting up watch towers in the Reich's interior, something that, were he not so blinded by his power, he would have made the regional responsability of the individual Duchies a long time ago. As for brother Leopold, travelling with a small retinue, he should be able to arrive without issue in a few short weeks. My captain, Godfrey, will greet him at the front gates."

Conrad performs his bow once again as he receives Dietrichs request: "Be assured that my Liege will receive my message and will meet you in Hamburg as soon as the siege of Prague is concluded."

Dietrich, looking down towards the candelabra on the table, stared into the core of the flame, watching it flicker and dance. He lost his concentration for a moment, as if thinking back to something in his past, before he looked back up. "Oh, yes. I almost forgot." He said, then, reaching into the gilded pouch attached to his belt, pulled from it a smooth, crimson colored hankerchief that felt of silk, embroidered with the House of Austria's coat of arms.

Offering the cloth to the old man with a respectful nod, he smiled. "I thought the color might help to make the severity of your condition a little less noticeable to the diet."

Conrad stepped forward carefully and extended a hand to receive this unusual gift. His gaze is cast down upon the handkerchief as he takes it and reverently turns it around in his hand. Finally, he looks up, a quizzical look on his face: "Thank you, your Grace, your attention is too kind. Although I believe this is too fine a material to be stained by my own blood."

"Then consider it a token of my appreciation. Do you have any questions for me, Conrad?" The duke asked, watching the old man closely, attempting to pick out any discrepencies in his responce with his movements. "You seemed surprised by my greeting tonight."

Conrad seemed to be a little nervous all of a sudden and began to twirl the handkerchief in his hands, before finally getting a grip on himself and tugging it away in his sleeve. "I was indeed surprised by your invitation tonight, but it was a pleasant surprise. I have been meaning to get in contact with you. Since you will meet Duke Leopold soon though, I'm not convinced of the necessity of this meeting. Surely he can discuss these matters with you in person. However..."

Conrad reached into his garment and pulled forward a scroll, sealed with the sigil of the House of Austria and handed it to Dietrich.

"... I can give you this, it should prepare you for one of the things my master has in mind for the next Diet session. Of course all things mentioned within this document are purely a base for negotiation. I'm sure your support in this matter will be appreciated by our House and every favour returned as soon as possible." He smiled a sleek smile and bowed his exact bow once more.

After reading over the document Dietrich smiled and stood to retrieve his torch from the brazier, making sure that any ashes left are out. "I will speak with Leopold on this matter deeply, but let him know that I am fully supportive of his ideas. The House of Austria has a friend in Franconia." He said, before offering the elderly elector a bow.

As he snuffed out the candle light at the table, he took one final look around the empty diet floor. "Conrad." He said, still thinking back to the elector's bewilderment in his greeting and feeling it may be best to explain his breach of regular diet protocol. "Do not be surprised by my informality today. We are both men of nobility and station, and you, being worthy of my great respect, I believe should also then be worthy of my friendship. And when the diet is closed, well, why worry about formalities between friends? I'll be leaving in a moment, no need to wait for me."

At this comment Conrad bowed even deeper to the Duke. "I'm just a simple servant, my Grace. Your offer of friendship is heartily accepted. I'm convinced that the friendship between our Houses will bear many fruits."
He turned around and left the Diet floor, already engrossed in his own thoughts again, a smug smile showed on his face, as he was quite pleased with his accomplishments tonight.

There was one last thing he had to do before he left. Earlier in the day the Kaiser had snorted and fumed about Dietrich's supposed lack of children. If the Kaiser wanted Dietrich so greatly to have a son, then Dietrich would have a son, but it would be a son who understood the errors of the Kaiser's judgement. Reaching again into the pouch he removed a small scroll, his eyes crossing over the petition for adoption before finally coming to rest on the Kaiser's table. He would have to accept, his remarks earlier that day really gave him no other choice.


This story was written as a cooperative work between Lucjan and Ituralde.

[TinCow]

The servant shuffled his feet and kept his eyes on the ground. He was visually uncomfortable with the conversation.

“I will repeat this one last time.” Maximillian Mandorf stared hard at the man. “Tell that uncultured Polish bastard that I expect some proper hospitality in this God-forsaken town. Tell him that I want proper lodgings for my men and a full haunch of beef for each of them this evening. And tell him…” the Bavarian’s face reddened and his voice began to boom “…that if one more Polish peasant delays our march or demands a toll for a river crossing, I will personally geld him!”

The servant continued to stare at his feet. Mandorf gave him a three-count before exploding. “What the hell are you standing there for? Get out and do your job! If you come back here one more time without having done what I said, I will strap you to the top of the battering ram when we reach Stettin!” All color left the man’s face and for a moment it appeared as if he would faint. The man recovered well though, turning an involuntary backwards step into a proper about-face. He left in a hurry.

The room was silent for several moments, then Mandorf exploded into laughter. “It is a farce! A mockery of proper order!” He bellowed deeply for several moments, then shook his head with a broad smile. “Kaiser Heinrich is a more astute politician than I gave him credit for.” He turned and looked at the robed figure in the corner. “You disagree?”

The priest replied in a pinched voice, as if suffering from a cold. “Imperial politics are not something I concern myself with; I care only for spiritual matters.”

A huge smile crept across Mandorf’s face. “Yes, I’m sure you do.” He stood up and crossed the room. “Well, I am feeling very much like a sinner at the moment.” The Steward of Bavaria grabbed his crotch. “Would you like to hear my confession?”

A look of horror crossed the priest’s face. Mandorf erupted into laughter again. “You do not appreciate my affection, Charles?”

The priest sputtered out a response, “It is not a lack of affection, my lord, I… I am just concerned that such things might be seen!” His voice dropped into a whisper, “We are not in your private estate, who knows what eyes and ears could be spying on us, here in Poland?”

Mandorf waved his hand dismissively. “Do not concern yourself with such matters. These Poles are ignorant buffoons and my men are completely loyal.” His eyes met the priests’ and he gazed at them deeply. “Besides, you have not answered my question.”

The priest shifted in his seat. “It seems to me that the Kaiser has managed to offend everyone in every way possible.”

“Offend? Ah, but he has done anything but!” Mandorf turned and began to pace the room. “He demonstrates his displeasure with von Saxony by denying him command of the attack on Stettin. Yet the Duke of Franconia cannot be publicly offended as the rights to Stettin will surely be given to his House. Furthermore, he cannot protest too greatly at the command, lest he risk offending me and the House of Bavaria.” Mandorf paused before a window and looked out. “At the same time, he removes me from my lands, and orders me North, away from the Milanese and that bastard in Rome. While I am up here, I am unable to effectively agitate against the Usurper and I am exceedingly far from the Italian lands which I concern myself with. Yet I too cannot be publicly offended. I have been given a military command that was unexpected and not mandated by the Imperial Diet. This is a high compliment and, combined with the previous allocation of Bolognia to Bavaria, I cannot honorably express displeasure. Any protest I make also risks offending von Saxony and the Franconians. If I were spurn a military command the Kaiser has felt they were not fit for, I would be making myself out to be superior to them!”

Mandorf turned back to the priest, a slight smirk spreading across his face. “Yes, the Kaiser knows exactly what he is doing. Franconia’s interests lie only in the north and Bavaria’s lie only in the south. We are natural allies, yet with this act the Kaiser drives a wedge between us. At the same time, the difficulties between Swabia and Austria continue, preventing them from forming any kind of coherent bond, despite their similarly compatible interests. In the south, both Austria and Bavaria desire the Italian lands, which will undoubtedly prevent us from reaching any kind of long-term alliance. Thank the heavens that the assault on Bern went well. If Sigismund had died under von Kassel’s command, our relations with Swabia would have been greatly damaged. Yes, the Kaiser knows what he is doing. He plays us all off against one another. As long as we squabble amongst ourselves, he may do what he wishes.”

The priest considered this for a moment before speaking. “You speak of this as if it is undesirable, yet the Kaiser has been exceedingly kind to Bavaria and none in the Reich has more of a reason to hate Pope Gregory than him. Surely a more powerful Kaiser is a boon to the House of Bavaria?”

Mandorf raised an eyebrow. “So much for restricting your thoughts to spiritual matters. Yes, you are correct. We have no reason to oppose the Kaiser at the moment. However, politics is a fickle beast and interests change as rapidly as a whore’s lover. The Kaiser is looking to his own interests in the coming years. He will be prepared no matter what course the Houses take.” The Steward of Bavaria glanced down at the priest’s robes. “Speaking of whores…”

The priest gaped. “My lord, please, this is not the place!”

“This is the place if I say it is the place!” Mandorf snarled. He placed his hand between the priest’s legs, the robe giving way to reveal a decided lack of bulk. “Or would you prefer that I inform Cardinal Scherer of your… peculiarity?”

The priest’s eyes began to water. “My lord, Maximillian… you promised!”

Mandorf grabbed the priest by the hair. “And so did you. I swore to keep your secret and you swore to preach the righteous word of God; to undermine support for the Usurper from your pulpit. Those you convert in Stettin must be loyal to the Kaiser, not to Rome! Yet, I have heard reports of your sermons and they have been decidedly lacking in the fiery rhetoric I have been expecting.”

“But, but, my lord… I cannot simply speak of it openly, it must be done subtly and often in private! If Scherer hears of open sermons against Pope Gregory, I will be as damned as if he knew…” His gaze moved down to where Mandorf’s hand rested.

“Yes, well, then you had better start giving more convincing private sermons, hadn’t you?” He pulled up the priest’s robes, revealing an entirely feminine body. Mandorf smiled. “Let’s call this… practice.”

[Ituralde]

It was an unusual chilly morning and his breathing turned into small clouds of mist as Leopold looked over the battlements. The sun was not fully over the horizon yet, but soon it would rise through the cool morning air and bask the surrounding countryside in its warmth. Soon it would glisten off the standards and weapons of his adversaries, but right now the only thing revealing the Venetian presence in the surrounding hills were small spirals of smoke rising from several fires. Judging from their position all major roads to and from Vienna were blocked by the Doge's army.

He should have known something was up when the guards on the merchant trains coming into Austria had been doubled. Brigands and robbery in the Alp passes were supposedly endangering the Venetian merchants. In a motion of goodwill he had granted the Venetians access and even supplied them with scouts to traverse along the Danube. Hah! What an gullible idiot he had been. A small detachment of cavalry had just marched up to the city the previous month and demanded that Vienna surrender to the Doge. Leopold could not believe his ears! Surrender to the Doge? Had they not been allies just minutes ago? But soon the fires had sprung up around the city and the army sent into the Alps had just arrived in time to support the intruders. Vienna was completely surrounded and all that stood between them and the city was Leopold and a large assembly of Militia.

"Mein Herzog! Mein Herzog!" Rainer, a burly man in his midfourties, an aged retainer and veteran warrior pulled Leopold out of his revery. "They are ready mein Herr, for the demonstration." Leopold tore his gaze away from the Venetian encampments and looked at Rainer. It was hard to suppress a sigh but he followed the aged man into the courtyard. He had to pass a small construction site where workers were still attempting to improve the fortifications. Leopold had ordered Stone Walls to be build and they had progressed nicely, however with the city cut off no more stones from the quarries arrived and the masons had to make do with the little they got.

Assembled in the courtyard besides some guild leaders and dignitaries of the city stood five men, looking somewhat uneasy that they were the center of attention. Each one of them had a crossbow dangling from their belts. The guilds were eager to show off their new capabilities for defending the city. Had the Venetians arrived later Leopold might have had a regiment or two of those men at his disposal. After a brief demonstration of the Peasants skill the guild leaders mumbled something about merely a dozen of them being ready now. While not enough to make a difference should the Venetians attack, Leopold could at least man the towers with those men and hope they inflict some damage on the enemy.

Once again his thoughts were far away as a spindly looking clerk explained something about tension and recoil effect to him. Not only his situation in Vienna looked grim. The Reich was at war against Milan and would soon attack Rome itself. Every voice of reason was needed in the Diet and he was not able to attend. He could only hope that his messengers had made it through, but everything else lay in the hands of Chancellor Sigismund.
He could understand the hatred against Pope Gregory it had filled him in the first years of the investiture crisis, but now he had begun to understand that the will of god was not to be questioned by mere men. God's representative on earth had spoken and the following events had proven him right. The Reich had lain shattered and in ruins just years ago. They had worked hard to regain its former glory and accomplished some things. Although Leopold still felt left out on the recent expansions of the Reich. Prague, one meager city had been given to his control, while everyone that had taken a look at the profits generated by Vienna should know that he would have been the best choice to turn their Italian possessions in the cash-machines they could be.
Instead he was now besieged by those merchants, unable to muster a professional force for his defense or strike at those traitors directly, while excommunication loomed over their every heads and all they had worked for so hard could be shattered in mere instants.

But he would not give up without a fight. The clerk had just finished that the new techniques could punch a hole into a plank of wood a hundred meters distant.
"Punch a hole! That's what we're going to do. Punch a hole in their shiny armour once they try to scale our walls! And then, then we'll bring the fight right to their doorstep! I will see the city of Venice under our control and their coffers plundered by our soldiers or I will not be Leopold of Austria!"
He laughed, laughed for the pure joy of it, while at the same time hoping that the defense of Vienna might hold and that he would carry the day once the Venetians attacked.

[GeneralHankerchief]

Sylvio Miracola, special Messenger of the Pope, was shocked at the amount of hostility that was present in the atmosphere as he made his short ride to deliver a message from Pope Gregory to Kaiser Heinrich. Gregory had given him a blessing before he had departed, but Sylvio had the distinct impression that this land was outside of God's control. The skies were gloomy, the roads were a mess, and he had come down with a sudden cough as he rode to Genoa.

The hostility was even more open once he arrived in the city proper. The guards at the gates spent an inordinately long amount of time checking his papers as well as his person, and finally let him pass with scowls on their faces. He received the same treatment upon arrival at Heinrich's residence, and even the Kaiser himself displayed little hospitality to this ambassador to the Pope.

And that was before he had read the message.

"His Holiness Pope Gregory hereby summons me to meet with him and discuss recent events by his headquarters on MY land??!!?! Tell me, messenger, since when did His Holiness acquire such cheek?"

"His Holiness would ask the same to you, Your Highness," Sylvio piped in. He was under protection of the Pope, and thus cared little about etiquette.

Heinrich stared at him for several moments, apparently deciding whether this ingrate was for real or not. Finally, he sent the messenger off with his reply.

Two days later, Heinrich and his entourage, including Captain Ludwig, rode out to the Pope's location. They were more numerous than what was usual for this sort of meeting and much more heavily-armed. The Kaiser finally arrived at Pope Gregory's tent, more than three hours late. He would at least have some say in the pace of this meeting.

The Pope's retinue was just as numerous, and some of them were even armed. However, all were respectful and silent. The only voices to be heard that evening would be the Kaiser's and the Pope's, and the Kaiser began the meeting without any of the respectful greetings that the Pope was probably accustomed to.

"So, Your Holiness, what troubles you enough to summon me to meet with you on my own land?"

Pope Gregory smiled for a moment, and then spoke. “Ah, Heinrich, I see this time you do not come to me wearing a hairshirt and walking through the snow. Tell me, how is your eldest son, Henry? I had such high hopes for that man - I thought perhaps he would be the one to finally remove all trace of the wounds caused by the Investiture Crisis. And yet I have heard such a disturbing report from one of my inquisitors, Bandius de Bargio. I hope the report is misinformed - after all, de Bargio is more used to rooting out foul spirits than conversing with Princes.”

"Henry is quite fine," said Heinrich, eyeing the Pope. "And please tell your inquisitor that there is a difference between supporting the Pope and knowing when an invited guest oversteps his boundaries."

That was all the Kaiser said of the matter, not mentioning that there was currently Diet discussion about hunting down and executing all inquisitors that made their way into Imperial territory. Gregory continued, shrugging.

“Before we get down to why I have summoned you here, I must protest at the action of your men in blocking the roads around Genoa. What do they think they are doing, trying to confine my army to its camp? I have 1300 men with me - do they think a single regiment will stop me passing down a road if I have a mind to do so? Do you think to stop me returning to Rome? Do you dare to believe you can reclaim it, now that the Sicilians who helped evict you from it are no longer at my side?”

Heinrich chuckled for a second. "Believe me, Your Holiness, if I had it my way the road back to Rome would be wide open. I would even send regiments to make sure that your journey back would go as smoothly as possible. If you wish to return to Rome then just give the word. I shall pass it onto Sigismund. In the meantime, you are violating Imperial borders."

“Enough of this talk of borders and blockades - I will leave Genoa with or without your men's permission, and as soon as I'm ready. But let us talk instead of why I have summoned you here. I wish to personally convey my injunctions regarding your Empire. I know it is no longer yours to command, and you must suffer at the mercy of those buffoonish Dukes and your Diet, but what am I to do? I cannot address each Elector individually and anyway, you - not they - were chosen by God to rule your kingdom. Even if the monkeys usurp the role of organ-grinder, it does not mean that I must attempt to converse with the simians! So, now I tell you, Heinrich, King of the Romans, my four demands.”

“First, I remind you that you have not yet fulfilled my injunction to end your alliance with the Kingdom of Sicily. Quite why you remain loyal to these pirates is beyond me. Do you not remember that you lost Rome due to their intervention? They have certainly forgotten any pretence that they were acting for the good of the Church.”

“Second, no German army has joined the crusade against the Sicilians. I have overlooked this for a while, as you lacked a fleet to reach Tunis. But that is no longer true. Why are you content to let your brother nations take the lead in bringing down these godless Normans?”

“Third, you must end hostilities with Milan. Your mad friend Maximillan is quite wrong on this point. I have no sympathy for these Milanese - normally, I would not suffer them to be mentioned in my presence; they rank even lower in my estimation than your Empire. Milan started this war and they have paid a steep price. But enough is enough. You have driven them out of every settlement on mainland Europe. There is no need to persist in your attacks. Let no more Catholic blood be spilled; if they defy me by attacking you, they will join Sicily in being cast outside the Church.”

“Fourth, you must end hostilities with Venice. Venice is a powerful Catholic faction - perhaps the mightiest faction in Europe. They vie with you for dominance in Europe; such is the nature of the mighty. Do lions not fight for the pride? Do stags not lock horns for the herd? But, as in nature, these struggles must be kept limited - it will not serve the good of the species for its leaders to both be mortally wounded. So it is with Christendom. If your Empire and Venice fight a total war, Catholicism will be weakened from within. The Orthodox nations, the Muslims, the pagans, will all benefit and rejoice. And again, if for her part, Venice continues hostilities, know that she too will learn of God’s displeasure.”

After Gregory concluded, an aide whispered something in Heinrich's ear. The Kaiser nodded and made a motion with his hand dismissing the aide, replying.

"It's funny, Your Holiness. You question my continued allegiance to the Sicilians when you state that they were instrumental in me being removed from Rome. Yet you were instrumental in making them who they are today. But you still excommunicated them. Obviously, opinions change over time. Sicily is now our only friend on the Italian Peninsula, thanks to your machinations. I will not break our allegiance, and I will not waste lives attacking far-off cities while our main cities are in danger.

"I wonder why you called the crusade on Tunis, of all places. Is it just because Sicily now holds it? Or is it because nearly every faction on their way to the place will march through our lands? Why did you excommunicate Sicily? Was it strictly a power play because they had allied with us?

"As far as Milan, you have finally said something of merit. I hold you to your promise and will report your intentions to the Diet. The only thing that worries me are the two armies still on the mainland. Perhaps you could send your inquisitor to their locations and... inform of what has transpired.

"However, for Venice, I have little mercy for them. They were our allies - they betrayed us. They must pay. You may blather all you wish about this war being bad for Christianity but the bottom line is that currently, we are out for revenge. I do not intend on terminating hostilites with the Venetians until their namesake city is in our possession, and some Electors may even want more. Until that happens, your threats fall on empty ears."

Heinrich finished, sipping some water. He waited for the Pope to blast him for his stance on Venice, but no words came. The two leaders sat across from each other, saying nothing, just eyeing each other, perhaps sizing each other up. This intense staring contest lasted for over a minute when the Pope finally broke it, speaking soberly.

“So, it seems we have said all that we came to say. May you ponder long on what I have said, Emperor Heinrich, King of the Romans. Your Empire has made great gains thanks to the impetuosity and aggression of the Milanese. But they say a creature may inherit the qualities of the thing it consumes. Ensure your Empire does not inherit the vices of your Milanese victims, Heinrich.”

The Kaiser rose and departed, this time managing a proper goodbye. "God's Grace be with you, Your Holiness."

The ride back to Genoa was quiet, the Kaiser once again lost in his own thoughts. However, one thing escaped his lips that only Captain Ludwig heard:

"Last we met, I was begging him for forgiveness. This time, we were equals. The next time, he shall be the one begging me."

(Thanks to econ21 for agreeing to play Pope Gregory)

[TinCow]

The room was uncomfortably cold. Winters in Bavaria were often harsh, but thick robes and plentiful fires kept the worst of it at bay; two large ones blazed in the immense hearths at either end of the hall. The walls were hung with thick tapestries which served to insulate the room from the seeping cold. Wearing two layers of wool on top of his underclothes, Maximillian Mandorf should have been comfortable, yet he felt chilled to the bone. I cannot even remember the last time I felt warm.

When he had heard that ‘Charles’ Otterbach had been appointed to Cardinal, all the joys of life had left him. Despite her deception, ‘Charles’ was a supremely holy being. The Lord must have favored her highly, to allow her to ascend to such a position despite her sex. I have defiled one of God’s chosen.

He heard the creaking steps of the household servant approaching from several rooms away; the sound delivered the message just as effectively as the man himself. When he arrived, he bowed quickly, looking to the Steward of Bavaria for permission to speak. Mandorf raised a finger.

“My Lord, she has arrived.”

Mandorf nodded and the servant exited through a small side-door. The sound of his retreat faded into the depths of the manor. The vacuum of silence filled the room. Mandorf closed his eyes and prayed. Minutes passed. His lips moved, but he did not give voice to his thoughts.

“It is good that you commune with the Lord.”

He jerked and his entire body tensed into a rigid mass. The suddenness of the unexpected comment frightened him to the core. Mandof slowly raised his eyes, fearing what he would see. Before him stood a tall, thin woman in a dark habit. He opened his mouth, but no words came.

“You do not need to speak, I am here to deliver a message from the Heavenly Father. You have sinned greatly, Steward Mandorf. You have given yourself over to the temptations of the flesh and by doing so you have fallen under the sway of Satan.”

A shiver ran through Mandorf’s body and he felt himself shrink into his chair. The woman tilted her head slightly and looked at him. A smile came over her face.

“Do not fear me, I do not bring the Inquisition to your door. The Lord grants me visions from time to time and recently I have had visions of you. He wants me to help guide you back to the light. You are a pious and worthy man, but you have lost your way.” She held out her hand.

For several moments, Mandorf didn’t move. Slowly, he slid from his chair and fell to his knees. As he crawled across the floor towards Hildegard of Bingen, he began to weep.

“You seek to uphold God’s will, yet your passion has been corrupted. You embrace violence and the pleasures of the body in place of the Word of the Lord. The Prince of Lies holds you in his grasp and if you do not escape, you shall pay for your sins for all eternity.”

Mandorf grasped Hildegard’s feet, laying his head between them. He sobbed openly. “I… I have always put the Lord foremost in my life. I wish only to do his work.”

“He knows. That is why he has sent me to you. You can be a powerful force for Christ and do much good for his people, but first you must repent. You have sinned greatly.” She reached deep into a dark sleeve and pulled out a small gilded tome. She opened it and began to read.

"God united man and woman, thus joining the strong to the weak, that each might sustain the other. But these perverted adulterers change their virile strength into perverse weakness, rejecting the proper male and female roles, and in their wickedness they shamefully follow Satan, who in his pride sought to split and divide Him Who is indivisible. They create in themselves by their wicked deeds a strange and perverse adultery, and so appear polluted and shameful in My sight. And men who touch their own genital organ and emit their semen seriously imperil their souls, for they excite themselves to distraction; they appear to Me as impure animals devouring their own whelps, for they wickedly produce their semen only for abusive pollution. When a person feels himself disturbed by bodily stimulation let him run to the refuge of continence, and seize the shield of chastity, and thus defend himself from uncleanness."

Hildegard closed the book and gazed down upon Mandorf. As he looked up into her face, the glow of the fire illuminated her from behind. The spreading light seemed to emanate from deep within her, purifying all that it touched. For the first time in weeks, Maximillian Mandorf stopped shivering. “What must I do?”

She reached down and touched his cheek. “The Lord has already told you that. You have known from the beginning that what you were doing was wrong. There is no secret to be revealed, only the path of God to be followed.” Mandorf blinked slowly, his eyes dropping back to the floor. “Stand, my child. I will help you to make yourself worthy of His love once again.”

Mandorf staggered to his feet, feeling light-headed and weak, but strangely whole. “I will do all that you say from this day forward.”

She smiled at him again. “I know you will. First, you must pay penance for your sins. Purify yourself of evil and you will be reborn. You are a slave to your flesh, so you must master your body before you can cleanse your soul. You will spend one week in contemplation of the Lord. You must fast during this time and you may drink naught but water. Three times a day I shall lead you in prayer and guidance. When we are done, you shall be a new man.” She looked deeply into his eyes, the smile fading. “Then, we shall talk of Pope Gregory.”

(OOC: My info on Hildegard von Bingen comes from the Wikipedia entry on her here ( http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hildegard_of_Bingen). I had never heard of her before I saw her in Max’s retinue. Just goes to show that computer games can teach you a lot sometimes.)

[Ignoramus]

Bern, 1130

The guards ushered the Chancellor into the presence of Prinz Henry - Sigismund walked quickly and looked distracted, as if he had a lot on his mind. In his hand, he carried a long list of issues to discuss with the Prinz - both matters of the House of Swabia and Imperial matters.

“Heil, mein noble Prinz!” he said vigorously, “It is a pleasure to see you once again.”

Henry sat back: “Welcome, Chancellor. Now that Edict 4.8 has been passed, I am preparing to march immediately to Lombardy, but I am honoured that you wish to consult with me before I depart. How goes things in the Chancellery?”

Sigismund shook his head agitatedly: “I am concerned about the behaviour of the Austrians. It is true that they are not very popular with the Diet now, but I am now an enemy of Duke Leopold, and that puts Austria at enmity against Swabia.”

Henry paused and considered his reply. He and Sigismund were bound together by duty and House, although frequently their judgements and instincts seemed opposed. Henry had to try to strike the right balance between not trying to bind the Chancellor to his own will and not being committed to policies or actions he personally opposed.

“I agree that the situation with the Austrians is vexatious. However, I am concerned that if we treat them too harshly, they will withdraw from public life - as Dietrich has done. We cannot afford to have half the Empire inactive. Furthermore, you must bear in mind that I am destined to be Emperor one day. My father has been drawn into frosty conflicts with two Dukes - an outcome I would like to avoid. Your own relations with them are your affair, but I would not like myself or Swabia to burn any bridges.”

Sigismund considered this and then turned to another subject: ”I also worry about our newest elector. He has not been informed of our goals and alliances, and perhaps it would be wise to inform him.”

Henry nodded: “Since you have volunteered to act as Secretary to the House of Swabia, I will leave briefing the newest Elector in your hands.” Henry was relieved to have passed on the day to day management of the House of Swabia to Sigismund. The Prinz did not have the time or inclination to organise the House as an active cabal in the Diet. In part, this was because Swabia appeared to be faring well enough without organisation. And in part, because as a future Emperor, Henry did not wish to partake too vigorously in partisan actions that would alienate him from the nobles on whose cooperation he would come to depend.

Sigismund continued: “Now to Imperial matters. I am worried about the amount of time it will take you to reach Lombardy. As you are currently in Bern, it is best that you travel east to Innsbruck, where you shall finf spearmen in mail waiting for you. However, there is currently an experienced Venetian army blocking the pass through the Alps from Innsbruck to Venice; you may need to fight your way through. Normally, I would not worry, but our recent defeat at the hands of that army may shake the spirits of our men somewhat, despite being commanded by an Imperial Prinz. Still, I trust your generalship will get you through.”

Henry sat up - Imperial matters, especially those involving the Prinz on campaign, were much more to his likely than factional politics. ”Going all the way to Innsbruck would be something of a diversion, but I wonder if I could rendezvous with their garrison somewhere between that settlement and Bern?

Henry paused for a moment. He knew Sigismund had voted against Edicts 4.1 and 4.2 restraining the Chancellor from attacking Milan and Venice. To raise the matter again would be impolite, but Henry felt it important to drive home the implications. “I am quite prepared to meet the Venetians in the field, although given our edicts to avoid excommunication, I believe a strategy of "passive aggression" will be best - we should induce them to strike first.”

Sigismund’s face was inscrutable as he moved on to the next item on his agenda. “I still hesitate to launch an offensive against Poland. We are stretched enough as it is, and I cannot trust some of those Franconians; after the example of their Duke, Dietrich, it would not be wise to place too many men under their command.

Henry did not react to Sigismund’s criticism of the Franconians: “On the Poles, I agree that taking the war to them is not a priority. I believe Franconia should take the initiative in proposing aggressive action. It is they who are besieged at Stettin and they who should initiate an appropriate response. Furthermore, only Dietrich is qualified to command an army. The lesser nobles in his House need to first earn their spurs - whether under his leadership or that of another. I would be happy to have one assigned to my command, as you yourself were once, Sigismund.”

Sigismund smiled faintly at the memory of simpler times, before he had become weighed down by matters of state. Then his brow darkened as he turned to the next item on his list.

“Now, we must discuss the Pope. I know that you are a supporter of the Pope, yet a German one, not a Roman. I agree, save that I do not wish that we ought to subject ourselves to him at all. Look at the chaos he has wrought upon us. Who can say what he might do later?”

Henry lowered his head, reverentially, and intoned softly: “Forbearance is the best approach. If we are patient, I suspect our enemies will not be. If they are excommunicated, then we can spring for their throats unrestrained.”

Sigismund looked up at the Prinz - he had reached the last item on his list: ”Finally, there is the matter of my successor. I have not, as yet, spoken to Count von Kassel, however, I am wondering whether you have heard from Steward Maximillian yet? His opinion would greatly assist our discussions.”

Henry nodded. Swabia owed a debt to Bavaria for backing Sigismund’s candidacy. Henry could not abide the thought of staying in debt to another and was keen to promote the candidacy of a Bavarian to succeed Sigismund as Chancellor. But which Bavarian? The first step was finding out if either or both prominent nobles in that House wished to stand. In truth, it seemed that Henry shared more in outlook with Count Otto and Sigismund with Steward Mandorf. But protocol implied that it was more appropriate, as head of a noble house, for Henry to approach Mandorf while Sigismund consulted his fellow Count, Otto.

“Like you, I have not yet communicated with my Bavarian counterpart but now that the mid-term is over, I believe now may be an appropriate time and will write to Maximillan before I depart for Lombardy.”

His list finished, Sigismund visibly started to relax. Henry watched with relief as the Chancellor put away his list. The mood in the room lightened.

“Now, let us drink to our success in Lombardy!”

[TinCow]

The chapel stank of stale incense, sweat, and human waste. The rector of the Nuremburg church made special efforts to cover up the foul stench coming from the figure hunched in the corner, but there was only so much a few passes with a thurible could do. The man had not left the room for a week. Though his bodily excretions had diminished quickly with his fasting, their odor remained, as if haunting him. The air itself had taken on a smoky appearance, though from dust, smoke, or stench, it was impossible to tell.

Maximillian Mandorf noticed none of this. Not the smell, not the hunger, not even the hairshirt on his back. His skin was ashen and tight around his face. To all others, a week had passed, but to Mandorf it had been a lifetime. The rigors of the fast and the constant prayer had stripped him of all memory of earthly pleasures.

He was aware of a presence in the room, though no sound had been made. For whatever reason, he simply knew she was there. She coughed gently to announce her presence, but he ignored it and continued in prayer, his lips moving in silence, his head rocking back and forth in short jerks. Minutes passed. When he finally finished, he bowed his head and looked at the floor.

“We have already completed the lesson for this evening. Why are you here?”

Hildegard von Bilgen cocked her head slightly and looked at him. “The week is over, your penance is done.” Mandorf did not respond. The nun was about to repeat herself, when his voice came in a soft whisper.

“I am not ready.”

“Perhaps your soul is not ready, but you body must be tended to. You must eat and regain your strength.”

“I am not ready.”

She sighed and shook her head. “Have you forgotten the lesson from yesterday morning so quickly?” She closed her eyes, tilted her head upwards, and began to recite a passage.

“If our soul, under the body's urging, does evil with the body, the power of our soul will be darkened, because the light of the truth is missing. But if later the soul feels humiliated by sin and rises up again in opposition to the desires of the flesh, it will henceforth harry that flesh and hinder its evil deeds.

Indeed, the soul sustains the flesh, just as the flesh sustains the soul. For, after all, every deed is accomplished by the soul and the flesh. And, therefore, the soul can achieve with the body good and holy things and be revived as a result.

In this connection, it often happens that our flesh may feel bored when it cooperates with the soul. In such a case, therefore, the soul may give in to its fleshly partner and let the flesh take delight in earthly things. Similarly, a mother knows how to get her crying child to laugh again. Thus the soul accomplishes good deeds with the body, even though there may be some evil mixed up with them. The soul lets this happen so as not to overburden the flesh too much.”

Hildegard’s eyes opened again and she looked at Mandorf. “You soul may still require time, but your flesh must be nourished. Without the one you will never be able to achieve the other.”

The Steward of Bavaria’s head tilted upwards; the movement so slow that it appeared he struggled against a great weight. “I cannot help myself. I still desire.” Hildegard could see pale vertical channels carved in the filth below his eyes; the memory of tears that had long since dried.

“Desire itself is not an evil thing. It is only acting on the sinful desire that is evil. A man can desire to be generous to others. A woman can desire to make her children happy. Are these signs of evil?” Again, silence penetrated the room. Mandorf’s head bowed again.

“It is you I desire.”

Hildegard paused and considered this for a moment. “Will you act on this desire?”

“No. Never without your permission.”

She nodded. “Permission which you cannot have. Do not think me unfeeling; your affections have been apparent to me for several days now. Were I another person, I would assent to your advances, but I am devoted to Christ and my oath is stronger than any earthly love.”

“I know. That is why I must continue. My desire will consume me, unless I consume it. Without food, my body will feast on my passions, until they too are gone.”

The nun shook her head. “Your passions can further the glory of Christ. You must simply harness them and direct them towards his Works. Besides, carnal pleasures are not evil if they are between a man and a woman united by love and marriage. You are without a wife, a man without a family. When you have found a love that is true, you may enjoy your passions with her and be blessed. Until then, use your desires for other purposes.”

Mandorf considered this and shook his head. He closed his eyes and parted his lips in preparation for prayer, but the words would not form in his head. He remained like that, frozen and listless, but he could not remember a single prayer. After some time, Mandorf raised his head and looked at the nun. “What purposes?”

She smiled and held out her hand. “Come… we will talk while you eat.”


---------


Note: Hildegard's sermon recital is an actual passage from her work "Liber Divinorum Operum (http://home.infionline.net/~ddisse/hildegar.html#anchor216469)".

[Kagemusha]

Near Magdeburg 13.6.1136 Anno Domini

Dietrich Von Saxony sat on his tent in front of a desk made from barrel. He was drinking beer after he had finished few urgent letters. After a long time of life without the matters of the Reich, many things that had felt hidious in the past felt better now. Maybe it was the succesfull battle against the Polish or just freshness of affairs after long time,Dietrich didnt know and really didnt care.
After he had returned to public life.The fist affair for him was to contact his Franconian Electors. He had already bonded with Jonas Von Mahren before and after the battle of Kamienski.

"There is a young man with great opportunities."

Dietrich thought.

"Only thing im worried about is the bit heavy drinking Mahren tend to do bit more usually then its usual. Many great men have lost their way with too much drinking, but then man is only young once and yuth is time of celebrating and recklesnes."

Gunther Von Kastillien had entered Dietrich&#180;s forces few days earlier,when Von Mahren was sent to Stettin by Dietrich to keep things organised in order to be ready for the next move of the Polish.

"This Von Kastillien is a very different kind of man then most of us. "

Early expressions from him was that he was bit silent,but not becouse of shyness. There was something very grim about Count Kastillien. He usually didnt smile much, but on one day when one of the remaining peasants of Dietrich&#180;s forces got into accident and got his feet mauled badly, Kastillien was very intrested on the suffering of the serf. But there was no sympathy in Von Kastilliens,behavior, rather like he was just looking at an animal and was intrested on its suffering.
Dietrich had talked few times briefly with Count Kastillien and there was no doubt that he wasnt an able man with lot of good qualities, but kindness was definately among his virtues. If Dietrich&#180;s expectations werent completely wrong. Soon he would find out how Von Kastillien would handle himself in the field of battle.
Dietrich had also named Fredericus von Hamburg,the former steward of Franconia as count of Hamburg. But after his return into public life he had not heard a word from Von Hamburg and was worried that Count Von Hamburg could hold some grudges over Dietrich,or that his loyalty was not what it was supposed to be. Maybe Von Hamburg had gained too much power while acting Steward of Franconia and was plannning on taking Dietrich&#180;s place as the Duke.

"What ever the truth may be.I have to meet Von Hamburg as soon as possible.I have to find out what is going through that mans mind."

Another case that puzzled Friedrich&#180;s mind was the fourth Elector of Franconia.

"He has been silent just like Count Von Hamburg. Could those two have plans against me? I have to find out or this time i could be put out of my position for good and not by my superiors, but by my closest own men."

Friedrich woke up from his thoughts and realized that soon it would be morning. He stepped out and felt the fresh morning mist on his face. A guard was walking near him and stopped for a moment when he saw the Duke of Franconia on this early hour, standing outside his tent,while most men were still sleeping. Dietrich answered on the guards salutation and watched over to the horizon,where the first rays of the rising sun were colouring the morning sky red.

[TinCow]

The smell of food almost made him wretch. When his fast began, the hunger pains gnawed at him ceaselessly. For three days it had been nearly all he could think about. The ritual of prayer became a shield with which he could fend off the beast of starvation. On the fourth day, the pain receded into a dull ache which in turn became a simple presence in his mind; a constant reminder of his sins. His soul mastered his flesh and the healing began.

Yet with the first waft of odor, it all rushed back to him. His stomach knotted so tightly that he found it difficult to walk. With great effort, Mandorf achieved the rough-hewn table, seating himself before the source of his agony. It was a thin, steaming gruel with a few chunks of solid matter that might have once been turnips. His household dogs would have refused better food than this. It took all of his willpower not to grab the bowl and gulp it.

Slowly and deliberately, he folded his hands, bowed his head, and mumbled the Common Prayer. From the corner of his eye, he could see Hildegard smiling at him.

“Your patience at this final moment serves you well, my Lord.” She gestured towards the bowl. “Please, eat.”

Mandorf stared at the gruel for a moment, then picked up the dish and drank deeply. The hot liquid coursed through his body, warming parts of him where the very memory of heat was long forgotten. The nun waited until the bowl was half empty before she began.

“You do not hide your feelings for Pope Gregory.”

Mandorf froze, his lips a hair’s breadth from the edge of the bowl.

“Why do you hate him so?”

He raised his head and looked at her, then remembered the gruel in his hands and carefully placed it on the table. “He has rejected God’s laws, sinned against the Kaiser, excommunicated the Reich’s allies, supported those who have rebelled against us, and allowed war to be waged against us.” Mandorf’s voice grew icy. “He is an abomination, a tool of Satan.”

“What do you know of God’s laws? Does he speak to you?”

His eyes narrowed. “It has always been the right of the Roman Emperor to appoint the Pope.”

“Always? Did an Emperor appoint Peter?”

The anger on Mandorf’s face turned to confusion. “Of course not, he was the successor of Christ, by divine appointment.”

“Was Peter’s successor, Pope Linus, appointed by an Emperor?” Mandorf did not answer. “So, it has not always been the right of the Emperor to appoint the Pope. Why then is it God’s law?”

“It has been this way for years beyond memory. It is the way of the Church.”

Hildegard shook her head. “That does not answer the question.” She paused for a moment, then looked Mandorf in the eye. “Do you think all of the Cardinals are evil men?”

The Steward of Bavaria frowned. He thought of Cardinal Otterbach and Cardinal Scherer. “No, of course not.”

“If the Cardinals are good and holy men, true to the Word, then surely they would also choose a worthy man to act as the Vicar of Christ.”

It was all Mandorf could do to control his frustration. “NO! They have not done so! They have supported Gregory!”

“Is he really so evil?”

He wanted to pound on the table, to overturn it, to break it, break something, break anything. “HE HAS ENCOURAGED WAR AGAINST US!”

“You mean the Milanese and the Venitians.”

“YES!”

“Then why has he excommunicated Venice? Why did he not use his army to defend Milan and Genoa?”

Mandorf’s eyes glazed over. Why indeed. What was Gregory playing at? Why undermine his own allies?

The nun stepped closer. “Did you ever consider that Gregory has simply sought to maintain order amongst Christian nations? Perhaps he has made mistakes, made enemies where he should not have, and made friends of foul men, but who are you to say what is in his heart?”

Maximillian shook his head. “Simply being Pope does not make a man holy.”

Hildegard grinned. “Indeed.” She looked up at the soot darkened beams which supported the peaked ceiling. “Some undertake the religious life renouncing not their own will but only their secular clothes, because they have experienced misery and poverty instead of riches in the world; they leave the world because they cannot have it as they wish. Others are foolish and simple about the world and, being unable to guide themselves, are contemptible to people; so they flee from the world because they are mocked by it. Others labor greatly under the calamities of sickness and bodily weakness, and so leave the world not for God’s sake but to remedy these afflictions more easily.
Yet others suffer such great anguish and oppression from the temporal Lords to whom they are subject that they withdraw from the world for fear of them, not so as to obey God’s precepts but only so that those Lords can no longer have power over them. So all these come to the religious life not for the sake of celestial love but for the sake of the earthly troubles they have, not knowing whether God is salted with wisdom or insipid, sweet or bitter, a dweller in Heaven or on earth.”

She turned her gaze upon Mandorf once more. “Who are you to judge whether Gregory is one of these or not?”

Fatigue rushed over Mandorf. Fatigue from a week’s worth of fasting and prayer. Fatigue from a lifetime of duty and responsibility. “I am a loyal vassal of the Kaiser,” he said, his voice almost a whisper.

The nun nodded. “As you should be, but you are also a Christian. What has Heinrich gained from challenging Gregory? What has the Reich gained?”

His head sagged, his shoulders slumped. “Rebellion. War. Humiliation. Death.”

“Is it loyal to lead your Kaiser to his destruction? Is it loyal to cause the deaths of so many Bavarian sons?”

Mandorf shook his head. “I will not side with Gregory against the Kaiser.”

“It is not a question of sides. You must simply obey the Will of Christ. If Gregory’s actions violate God’s Word, then he must be resisted. If his actions are generous and Christian, they must be obeyed.”

He looked up into her eyes. They sparkled with a clarity and compassion that he had not seen since he was a child. “How am I to know one from another?”

The smile that spread across her face was like the first warm breath of spring after a hard winter. “If you are true to the Lord, you shall never doubt.”

She sat down next to him. He could feel her warmth through her course robes. “Trust in God, follow your heart, but do not judge. Follow the Word in all your actions.”

She placed her hand on his. “We can never be together, but you can embrace your passions for me. Use them for the glory of Christ. Act as his servant in all matters. Follow those who in turn follow the Teachings. Shun those who stray from the path. Bring justice to those who are in need.”

Her eyes darkened, her tone became subdued. “Destroy those who are evil. Do this, and you will be the beloved of God, and I will be forever at your side. We may be lovers in soul, if not in flesh.”

Mandorf drank in the sight of Hildegard von Bilgen. The gruel lay forgotten in front of him. His hunger was gone, and he knew it would never return. He turned his eyes and looked back into the chapel. Sunlight was playing on the altar, illuminating the gilded cross. He gazed at it for a long moment, then stood and held out his hand.

“Come. There is much work to be done.”

------------------

Note: Hildegard's comments about the reasons why some people join the Church is an actual passage from her work "Scivias (http://home.infionline.net/~ddisse/hildegar.html#anchor197894).”

[GeneralHankerchief]

Outside of Milan, 1136

Twilight illuminated the Italian sky, casting some interesting shadows over Kaiser Heinrich and his army's campsite. Hundreds of tents littered the fields of what was once known as Aemilia. The largest and most richly decorated of these tents housed the commander the army and Holy Roman Emperor. While he was not Chancellor, Heinrich still held immense power and influence, although some of it seemed to be lessening of late.

"Ugh, I can't believe that fool Mandorf sides with the Pope now too. After all these years. Who would have thought that he would have given in so quickly?"

Heinrich was steaming about his encounter in the Diet with the Steward of Bavaria, Maximillian Mandorf. The unlucky recepient of the Kaiser's venting was his trusted advisor, Captain Ludwig, who had long accepted that this would be one of his roles in life.

"So how many heads of the Houses have you angered now?" Despite all the anger emanating from the Kaiser, Ludwig knew that the time was not quite wrong to tell a joke.

It worked, getting a slight chuckle out of Heinrich. "Hmm, that's a tough one. Publicly, three out of the four Dukes and Stewards are now against me: Dietrich (although I may not have to worry about him much longer if the Polish fight well), Leopold, and now Mandorf. Privately, Henry disagrees with me I'm sure, but he at least has enough loyalty to say nothing. So I am a Kaiser with the heads of Houses united against me. Excellent."

Ludwig, pushing his luck, tried another funny comment. "Well, at least they're united about something."

However, this only seemed to depress the Kaiser, as he sunk down into his throne-like chair. "I've spent the second half of my life trying to right the wrongs I made in the first half, but these idiots don't care about that. All they do is scream 'But I want MY house to be the best!' in these shrill falsetto voices, and if I make a decision that puts the good of the Reich over the good of their House, they stir trouble and make my life even more difficult. Honestly, I'm thinking about marrying Elsebeth off to a Frenchman."

"A wise decision, Mein Kaiser," Ludwig chimed in, offering his opinion on the Kaiser's soon-to-be-of-age daughter.

Heinrich looked at him oddly. "No it isn't! It's the French! That's how bad our nobility has become! The only marriable options here are Mandorf, who's probably chopped off his reproducer by now, and a couple of no-name Franconians."

It was an unspoken agreement that the Kaiser would never marry his second daughter off to a Franconian, after the first one ended in zero children and a falling out.

Ludwig, however, finally said something of merit.

"There is von Kassel, Mein Kaiser..."

Von Kassel. The man had fought admirably well in the campaigns in Bern and Italy. However, there was the slight problem of Otto disagreeing with most of his proposals in the Diet, especially the most important one: taking back Rome.

"At least he does it respectfully," Heinrich said out loud, not realizing his previous thoughts had been only thoughts. "Ludwig, what do you know of his past?"

Captain Ludwig, who considered himself an expert on biographies of the Electors, rattled off some facts. "Otto von Kassel - born into a minor noble family, if it was nobility at all - now that I think of it, it's not. Anyway, it seems as if he was betrothed once as a youth but it was broken off (the details are rather shoddy). He got the rank of General through merit, which is pretty impressive."

Heinrich jumped at this. "So do you think he'd be eager for more power?"

Ludwig shook his head. "It's hard to tell with these types, Sir. Even if he was, would it be enough to compromise his principles and side with you the whole time?"

The Kaiser sighed. "Well, there's only one way to find out. Go to Milan and get him."

Ludwig started. "Now? But the twilight's almost out, and it will take quite some time to get to Milan."

"Just do it, Ludwig. I'm getting isolated in the Diet here, and I don't have much more time. Pope Gregory and his damned city are slipping away."

Captain Ludwig bowed and exited the opulent tent, leaving the Kaiser alone to hear hoofbeats heading in the direction of Milan.

[OverKnight]

OOC: This is a collaborative story between myself and GeneralHankerchief.

Milan, 1136

Otto von Kassel was woken by someone pounding on the door to his bed chamber. Snapping awake, he drew a dagger from underneath his pillow and leapt to his feet.

Otto had not slept well since the Reich had taken Milan, the city was a hotbed of discontent and several attempts had been made on his life by the locals. The would be assassins had been killed, their decaying bodies on display at the front gates of the palace as a warning to the Milanese. Without enough men to properly rule the city, Otto had to keep the Milanese cowed through fear.

Balanced on the balls of his feet with his blade extended, Otto called out, "Who's there?"

"My lord", replied a voice at the door, "The Kaiser has summoned you to his camp outside the city."

Lowering his dagger, Otto glanced out the window of the room, night still hung heavily on the city. "What time is it?", he asked.

"After midnight von Kassel, the Kaiser said to bring you to him immediately, no delay."

Otto recognized the voice now, it was Heinrich's second, Captain Ludwig, the leader of his bodyguard. A chill ran down Otto's spine. The Kaiser had chased off the second Venetian siege of Milan, but had not tarried in the city, in fact Otto felt he had been deliberately snubbed. Yet now the Kaiser wished to speak to him, in the middle of the night? Swallowing hard, Otto spoke, "Give me a moment, Sir, to dress and I will be with you shortly."

Emerging from his room clothed in riding leathers and a sword, two of Otto's men tried to form up on him.

Ludwig waved them off with a growl, "You're to come alone, no escort, the Kaiser's orders."

"Of course", said Otto in a flat voice, "Lead on Captain."

The ride to Heinrich's army camp was short and Otto soon found himself in front of the Kaiser's campaign tent, an elaborate affair that dwarfed the others. Two armed guards stood at attention in front of the entrance flap, spearheads gleaming in the torchlight. Otto moved to enter the tent. The guards crossed their spears blocking him.

"Before you enter von Kassel, I'll need your weapons", Ludwig said from behind him.

Otto turned, and glared at Ludwig. Unbuckling his sword belt he thrust it at the Captain, "You will address me as my lord or Count, Sir."

One side of Ludwig's mouth quirked upwards, "My apologies, the Kaiser is waiting to see you. . .my lord."

Otto turned away from him and passing the guards he entered the tent.

Apprehension filled Otto. He had never had an audience with the Kaiser besides the occasional encounter in the Diet or written message. They traveled in different circles, up-jumped soldiers and high nobles rarely mixed. Why does he want to see me now?, thought Otto. Reviewing his past interactions with the Kaiser did not comfort him. Otto had opposed a preemptive war with Venice and a campaign against Rome, both favorites of Heinrich.

I believe I called that last one hubris, a poor choice of words at best. I pray my service in the field has bought me some leeway. Yes, the Electors could debate in the Diet, but they served the Kaiser at his sufferance. The man still had the divine mandate of Kings. One only need think of Dietrich von Saxony, the man's own son-in-law, exiled for years and just now returning to public life. Most likely he's summoned me to go build watchtowers for the next decade, Otto thought darkly to himself. Shaking off his doubts Otto moved from the entrance further into the tent.

The Kaiser sat on an elaborate camp seat, more akin to a throne than a stool. He gazed into a small fire burning in a brazier near the center of the tent. Firelight glinted off his crown as shadows thrown by the flames danced across his face. Otto approached Heinrich and kneeled. Bowing his head, Otto spoke to the Emperor, "I am here as you commanded, mein Kaiser."


Heinrich, the Holy Roman Emperor, studied this man who addressed him. In all the times that they had deliberated in the Diet he could never get a good read on the count of Bavaria. It was obvious that Dietrich was ambitious, Henry was preparing for a career to please everyone, and that Mandorf was something of a nutter. But Otto von Kassel remained an enigma.

Sure, he had disagreed with the Kaiser's plans. Openly, at that. But he always did so in subtle ways. There was none of the brash confrontational bluster that Dietrich and Leopold had taken in recent years when presenting their grievances to Heinrich. Did that mean that he was just smarter than them, or was that his personality?

I am going to figure you out tonight, the Kaiser thought to himself as he smiled at the man currently paying him respect.

"Rise Otto von Kassel, Count of Bavaria," he said somewhat kindly as Otto did as he was told. "It's a shame that you and me have not really had the chance to talk - you have been a powerful voice in the Diet for a non-noble."

Otto said nothing at this. Obviously the Kaiser was just warming up.

"Captain Ludwig tells me that you were born and raised in Bavaria, and that you've received your military position due to merit. Also, you have had... a chance to marry into nobility but due to circumstances it did not happen."

Von Kassel stared. It appeared that the Kaiser's contacts knew much. It would be interesting to determine how much this man really knew about his Electors in the Diet.

"Let me be frank with you. I need an ally, you want more influence. I can't trust Mandorf anymore, not with that witch leeching his passion and devotion to his Kaiser away. Bavaria has also taken the brunt of the casualties in this Italian campaign, and I believe that it needs a Duke."

This was obviously the part that Heinrich was leading up to.

"I am offering my daughter Elsebeth's hand in marriage to you."


Otto's eyes widened in surprise. This was. . .unexpected. He had girded himself for a defense of his actions in the Diet, charges of disloyalty, and possible exile. Yet the Kaiser was offering him more than he ever dreamed possible. Heinrich had thought about this though, his knowledge of Otto's thwarted betrothal showed that.

My God, after all these years it still hurts to think of it, thought Otto. Unbidden the memories came back, he and Katarine had been so young. Otto clenched his jaw. It had been a love match, the second son of a rich but minor noble family, and the younger sister of a Baron whose family's name had heritage, but whose coffers were empty. His father had at first opposed the match, he was intent that Otto go to seminary, but it made too much sense for both families for him to deny for long. Then the Baron, only a young man himself, had died without issue and Katarine had become an heiress.

Otto's father, sensing an opportunity to add to not only the lands but to the dignity of the von Kassels, quickly substituted his elder son, Aldrick, as the suitor. If there was an estate and a title now involved, the oldest son, the heir of the von Kassel's, should receive them. Katarine's mother had quickly agreed. Otto had begged, cajoled and threatened, but in the end he was powerless. Katarine was now his sister-in-law, and at last count he had four nephews and nieces. Otto was surprised how intensely the anger still burned in him. The same anger had pushed him from his home and into the military. He had never sought to marry again.

Snapping back to the present, he could feel the Kaiser's gaze upon him. Otto sought to control his feelings, to restore a neutral expression to his features. Openly showing his emotions could be dangerous, a man walks with caution among giants. Only in the heat of battle did Otto allow himself to unleash his passions, there it was safe to do so and even useful. The Kaiser's offer, despite bringing forth bad memories, tempted him greatly. It was difficult for Otto to maintain his composure when the world was being offered to him.

Stalling for time Otto spoke, "Mein Kaiser, your man is well informed except for one fact. The von Kassels are nobles, minor to be sure, but we have served the Reich and Bavaria since the age of Charlemagne."


Heinrich paused. He did not enjoy getting his facts wrong. That was why he was a little angered at Sigismund for underestimating the strength of the Polish forces.

"Of course, but you must understand that there's nobility and there's... nobility. I apologize for the slip-up."

Otto's play for more time was good for exactly two sentences, plus emphasis on the word "nobility". It didn't take too long for the Kaiser to get back on track.

"Now," he began, "You may have some doubts in your mind about this, and I don't blame you. First of all, I have spoken to Elsebeth about this matter (she does not know that you will be the one marrying her but she does know that a marriage will be arranged) and I can assure you that she is willing to do her duty as a daughter of the Reich. If you accept, you get the title of Duke of Bavaria and all of its benefits, including added influence in the Diet."

Heinrich took a breath, trying to get a read on Otto. None came. This man was good.

"Obviously, some conditions are required in order for this marriage to follow through, mainly you must actually attempt to father plenty of children. I think if Dietrich had actually produced some grandchildren for me then I wouldn't have put him in such a bad position." He laughed harshly, unaware that Otto had been scared out of his wits about facing the same punishment as Dietrich just minutes earlier.

"So, what say you?"


The Kaiser had given Otto little time to think. Heinrich's laugh had made him jump a bit. This man was raised in power and dignity, and is not afraid to use either as a weapon, thought Otto.

If he said yes, he would be a Duke, power and position that could not be taken away at a whim. He would be his Father's overlord. He hated to admit it, but the thought filled Otto with schadenfreude. Yet there was something unspoken in the Kaiser's offer. He had mentioned one condition, yet there were sure to be others. Yes, he would be a powerful man, but he would be more beholden to the Kaiser as a Duke than a Count. Grandchildren would be the smallest price to pay.

What if I said no?, Otto thought. I have risen far in the Reich by my own actions and with the assistance of Maximillian, a good friend if a touch eccentric. Perhaps it would be best if I left well enough alone. But how would the Kaiser react to a refusal? Powerful men do not like to hear the word no, there are still many watchtowers to be built on the frontier. And If I did say no, who would be the Duke? If the Kaiser wanted the Steward as Duke, he would not have offered Elsebeth's hand to me.

The thought of a stranger as Duke filled Otto with regret. He and Maximillian had put much effort into making Bavaria first among the Duchies. To let a stranger, a non-Bavarian, fritter it away would be terrible. Otto was tempted to say yes.

"Mein Kaiser there is no need to apologize," Otto said, trying to keep his voice even, "Your proposal intrigues me, but besides children, a duty of any Christian marriage, what are the other 'conditions'?"


Otto was definitely sharp; the Kaiser gave him credit for that. In an ideal situation, Heinrich would have liked it if von Kassel had blindly agreed and he could simply catch him on the conditions later. But the wily general had seen through it. Damn it all, because his hand was forced early there was a chance that his proposal might be rejected!

"Ah, the other conditions - of course," said Heinrich as he drummed his fingers on the extremely opulent fabric that covered his knees. "As I said before, I need an ally, especially in the Diet. My own sons care mostly for their Dukedoms instead of the good of the entire Reich. I could usually count on Mandorf for my support but now his vote is called into question thanks to that woman." He shuddered. News of Hildegard's transformation of the Steward of Bavaria from a playboy to a snivelling lapdog had reminded him the dangers of the truly pious.

"I simply ask you to please keep in mind who gave you your current position -if you accept of course- when you cast your votes in the Diet. I am growing old, Otto, and before I die I would like to see certain things accomplished. Certain things that your past words and actions may not add up with. I am deliberating whether to attempt another Chancellor run in the coming session, your support would be much welcome there."

As if it were a cue to a change in Heinrich's tone, the fire suddenly turned more intense, casting even darker shadows over the Kaiser's face.

"However, if you accept and you cross me, you will be wishing that you were put on watchtower duty."


Otto swallowed hard. Besides being told no, powerful men hated to explain themselves. His patience is running thin, Otto thought, I walk a fine line here. He was reminded of the assault on Bern when the first siege tower had burst into flames. This situation had the same danger, but also the same opportunity.

Steadying himself, Otto spoke, "Your Majesty, you already have the war with Venice, and the Chancellorship will most likely be yours for the taking, the only goal that eludes you is Pope Gregory. That is where you would need my help."

Otto looked into the shadowed face of the Kaiser. He could see the grim set to it. I would hate a man, any man, even the savior himself, who made me stand in snow, clad only in hairshirt for four days, and all that for a mere audience. We have taken back the Reich, but the man responsible for it's troubles still draws breath.

Otto had never been a supporter of Pope Gregory. Gregory's actions had caused great harm to the Kaiser and the Reich. Despite his father's intentions, he was not a particularly devout man, but Otto respected the temporal power the Pope held. His word was law across most of Europe. Even now the armies of Christendom marched on Tunis because the Pope had called a crusade. That is why Otto had opposed an early move on Rome, the Reich was simply not strong enough to take on all of Europe.

Otto chose his worlds carefully, "I hope you realize, mein Kaiser, that my opposition to an attack on Rome was based on the current state of the Reich at that point and not out of any support for Hildebrand or fear of hellfire.

"Rome, at some point, must bend the knee to the Reich as it did in the past. We must regain our right of approval over the appointment of Popes. We draw closer to that point with our conquests in Italy, but we are still on the knife's edge, as the seizure of Bologna has shown."

Otto drew a deep breath. As he exhaled he thought, How much am I willing to sacrifice for a title and a royal wife?

Otto reached a decision, "My lord, if you still wish to replace Pope Gregory on the throne of Peter, I will aid you. But I hope you will strike when the Reich is ready and our enemies are not."

He kneeled in front of the Emperor, "Kaiser Heinrich, I am your man. I will marry Elsebeth if you will have me."

The die is cast, thought Otto as he awaited the Kaiser's decision.


How many rulers are placed in this position, Heinrich thought. How many Kings and Sultans and Emperors are required to marry off their daughters to some lowly noble general just so that they get their way politically?

Have I really stooped this low in life where I need to do this in order to cement my legacy and fulfill my final wish?

"Nevertheless, I suppose that this show of weakness is only temporary until I get my final revenge."

"Beg your pardon, Mein Kaiser?" Otto looked at him questioningly. Wow, did I just say that out loud? I really must be getting old. The Kaiser smiled at his soon-to-be son-in-law.

"Sorry, my mind was elsewhere." That wasn't entirely a lie. "Yes, I believe that almost fifty years of rule have made me acutely aware of the Reich's current strength. First things must be first, obviously. Rest assured Otto, I will not attack until the moment we are ready.

The Kaiser placed his hand on Otto's shoulder, looking at him with something like relief in his eyes. This was very different from the expressions that had come from Heinrich's face all evening.

"Thank you for agreeing. Together the Reich will be strengthened. Your betrothal shall be announced at the upcoming Diet session and your wedding will begin immediately when Elsebeth turns sixteen.

"May the Lord be with you in your upcoming military actions, soon-to-be Duke of Bavaria."


Rising to his feet, Otto felt a great sense of relief rush through him. Duke von Kassel, he had thought Maximillian mad when the Steward had first mentioned the possibility. Yet he would be Duke now. A new foreboding filled Otto, How will Maximillian react? How will the Diet react? Otto shook his head, Whatever comes, I will face it, I will not be daunted. I serve the Reich!


After Otto had bowed and left, being escorted back to Milan, the Kaiser was left alone with his second and advisor, Captain Ludwig, once again.

"Well," Ludwig stated smartly, "That's taken care of. Do you think Otto will hold up his end of the bargain?"

Heinrich sighed. "God, I hope so." After silently berating and crossing himself for using the Lord's name in vain, he continued. "I told them about Venice, but nobody listened. They don't seem to be listening to me about Gregory either, even after he blatantly seduces Mandorf."

Ludwig nodded, taking the subject back to Otto. "He seemed somewhat frightened that you would punish him; perhaps that is in our favor."

Heinrich agreed, sighing again. "Pope Gregory has made his latest move; I have just made mine. This is going to escalate soon enough."

Ludwig sensed where this conversation was going and tried to steer the Kaiser back.

"Mein Kaiser?"

"If Otto isn't enough to turn the tide, then I am going to have to take things into my own hands. But rest assured Ludwig, Gregory's hourglass has been turned for the last time."

Ludwig took that as his cue to exit, now leaving the Kaiser alone with the fire, which continued to cast shadows across his face.

[Kagemusha]

Imperial Diet, Frankfurt 1140 AD

Dietrich sat down after thanking Sigismund for his services to the reich,drank from his glass of red wine and wiped his mouth with a handkerchief that had the Franconian coat of arms sewed on it.
No one saw that the red liquid that Dietrich had wiped of from his lips was not wine, but blood. He had bited his lip painfully after "thanking" the now retired Chancellor, in order to cover his real feelings towards the man.
"Great services to the Reich. Great services indeed." Dietrich thought.

While Sigismund had declared publicly to support Dietrich&#180;s Franconians in the war against the Polish, in reality the case was far from that. It was true that the Chancellor had given funds for Dietrich to hire some mercenaries, but after he got reports from his Counts in Stettin and Hamburg, Friedrich had been so furious that he had broken his writing table in the camp around Magdeburg.

"That man is nothing but a snake and powermonger. While declaring his support for my arms in Diet he ordered to disband many of our forces in Stettin,including archers. Archers that Dietrich needed badly against the Polish cavalry forces. Also he send me reinforcements from my castles allright. whole 41 spearmen, who cant even break through from small army of rebels that have gathered behind the Franconian main army. Also while he could have sent Count Von Hamburg straght to me. He decided to move him into Stettin."

Dietrich stared at Sigismund,who was just giving speech, how he would be ready to smite the French and that there was no personal ambitions behind his plans to start offensive war,when Reich was already in war with 3 countries.
"I cant believe how Prinz Henry can tolerate that man. He undermines Henry in every occasion possible and still Henry acts like nothing has happened. I respect our Prinz and maybe he is just thinking of the larger picture, but if i were him i would move Sigismund somewhere,where he wouldnt be causing constant trouble with his schemes."

Dietrich looked around the room,wieving who was present and who not. Untill stopping his eyes to Kaiser Heinrich.

"Kaiser still acts like i wouldnt be even here. I cant understand how long the old warhorse can hold grudge against me. He hasnt even seen his grand daughter, which have made my wife sick of sorrow. Well it seems that i cant do anything to change the situation for now and im more then sure that, Heinrich will not do anything to help the situation either."

Dietrich turned his eyes back towards Sigismund again and thought:

"Well i will not speak one word about that snake and his traitorous acts,sabotaging my forces. I will let him have his moment now. Im sure that eventually he will trip on his own power hungry plans"

Dietrich turned to his clerk and adressed him like he had been just bored of the deliberations that were going on.

"Clerk, what the nobles are saying? I think i drank few too many ale&#180;s last night,so i cant keep up with the squabling."

[Warluster]

Near Dijon, 1140

Jobst Von Salza stood on the mountain range, dividing Bern and Dijon. The air whistled softly by, rustling the world. All manners of creatures crawled around, the sun peeked from behind lcouds in that glorious afternoon. Jobst heard a crackling of stone and foot, as the stones protested to the manner of foot. it was his Trusted Knight, the leader of jobst's bodyguard unit. He wore full army, and his helm was lifted back to show brown hair and blue eyes. He walked up beside Jobst, who was lookign out again. Thye stood on the highest mountain in the region, clouds barely touched there heads, and they could see far and wide. To the north they could see forests and froests, then mountains covering the horizon, like giants of old. Behind that would be the Great city of Metz. To there west they could see plains, and a river winding slolwy through the area, then France. Also there lay the Greta ALmighty Castle of Dijon. Jobst Von Salza sighed,
'isn't it beautiful?' he asked, sounding as if he was asking himself. he was obviously talking of the city.
'Yes Sir, a very fine city and one of the best in Swabia, although not the best' said The knight in a Afterthought. Jobst paid no thought to his words, and stared around the valleys and plains.
'This is Swabia, and its people, I shall forever be held to it' said Jobst. The Knight nodded, it was indeed a beautiful land, and had not yet been touched by recent war. Jobst Von Salza pointed East.
'There lays The Empire, the Roman Empire, the Holy Roman Empire. ' Jobst's brow thickened into thought ' Also East lies the city of Bern' The knight looked east as well, and saw mountain upon moutain, and a winding road leading through a valley, which was thousands of years old. The Knight nodded, he looked at Dijon again, then his gaze slowly went south until he saw smoke tunneling into the air, and a collection of dots. He let a gasp of suprise him, and Jobst's head swiveled slowly to where the Knight was looking, Jobst nodded,
'The worst part of the landscape' Jobst spat,
'That is where two armies of vile French camp, ready to attack Dijon. I was waiting for the moment your view tunred there, as we are to have blood on our hands soon' said Jobst, The knight looked at Jobst Von Salza, awed by his leaders words,
'Recently the House of Austria has been under attack again and again by the Vile veneatians, as you know' said Jobst, the Knight nodded,
'I know of that sir, but that is at Austria, not Swabia' exclaimed the Knight,
Jobst nodded, waving his hand vaguely,
'yes,yes. But! They have been searching for a Commander or General to fill in there ranks, to help defend Vienna and Austria' said Jobst,
'Our great Prinz Henri, Duke of Swabia, has said to me, "Austria is lookign for another General, we have no spare generla sof now. I am dealing with matters, Count Sigismund had his own city to deal with" says The Great prinz, athen he goes on,"I wonder if you would like to help defend Vienna and help Austria" he asks, this offer seemed good enough, i wad eager for battle, thoughi hate killing innocent. I was to accept, when he coughs and goes on,
"If you were willign I could also make you a Count, of either Dijon or bern" Alas! those words have clamped my mind! Alas! i was ready to leave! TO Austria! bah!' said jobst, the knight thought on hsi words and then said,
'What happened sir? Are you to Austria?' asked The Knight. Jobst shook his head,
'A message came through that Duke leopold had chosen another General' said Jobst, dissappointed,
'DOes thta mean you do not get a option of controlling bern or Dijon?' asked the General, jobst shook his head,
'Wait wait, then another messga earrives from Prinz Henri it said "Cause of your quick and swift words of acceptance, and our need of controlled cities, you may become a Count of either bern or Dijon" said the message, i was overjoyed! After hours of long discussion with the Prinz, we came to the conclusion of this- I am now a Count of Dijon' said Jobst Von Salza proudly,
' That means you control the actiopns of Dijon?' asked The knight,
'More then that, I am the city, I chose what buildings, I defend it, I am the Lord of Dijon!' cried Count Salza, the knight cried out in Congrats. but his face soured,
'Sir? What of your army?' asked The knight,
I shall keep it to defend Dijon of course!' said Count Jobst,
'I am overjoyed sir! I shall tell the army at once!' said The knight, he also looked happy. Count Jobst put a hand on The knights Shoulder,
'theres one more bit. The French are to attack Dijon, we are the defenders' said Count Jobst,
'Excellent sir! our first Town Siege! Though we are the defenders, that matters not' said The knight, who rushed away, to the area where the army ws, high in the Roman Mountains. Jobst sighed and looked onto the City which was his. He was Now Count Of Dijon. Count Jobst Von Salza of Dijon.

[GeneralHankerchief]

Deutsches Historisches Museum, Berlin, 2007

The translation of a recently-unearthed piece of the Holy Roman Emperor Heinrich's diary has just been completed by several leading historians. The paper is in moderate condition, being yellowed with age and several words having faded long ago. However, it is still readable for the most part, and preparations are underway to display it in the museum after a short restoration process.

The text reads, more or less, as follows:

Frankfurt, 1140

I am on my way back to Milan, and possibly Florence after this disaster of a Diet session. Ludwig tells me I should spend more time in the capital, to enjoy the large palace that was built for my comfort. Personally, I can't wait to get out of here. It seems every time I set foot in here I am reminded that my authority is slipping more and more. Right now I have just lost an election for Chancellorship to a man who changes his views like the wind and is widely rumored to be a puppet of a nun. However, the Diet believes that this type of man is still a better choice to be Chancellor than their Kaiser.

What is worse is that I am not even sure if the Diet is aware that they are dealing me this large of a rebuke. They do not even consciously challenge me anymore. I suspect that my loss has less to do with my departing from the majority opinion than to foolish reasons like prior promises. This is ridiculous.

I am particularly displeased with the House of Swabia. Sigismund der Stolze or whatever he calls himself now was, I thought, an ally. He told me that he intended to support my push for Chancellor before the session had begun, yet he votes for Mandorf for some idiotic reason of a prior commitment. Likewise with Prinz Henry. Absurd. It seems as if my son is shaping up to be a royal coward. If he disagrees with my ideas he should at least make it known; then I would think better of him! At least von Saxony was up front with me about why he was voting for Mandorf.

And now it seems as if I will have to take the Prinz into battle with me when I am to relieve my beloved Florence from the Milanese. Perhaps making his escort shock cavalry and placing him in danger will scare him straight and make a man out of him. Or maybe it will be easier if I just give him a heart-to-heart talk. Nah, maybe when the battle's done.

I fear for the Reich's future. Henry needs to become much more forceful, one way or another, or otherwise he will become nothing but a pawn of the Dukes.

I am most concerned about one more Italian objective - Rome. That city has plagued me for many years now and it is nearly gone from my grasp. Pope Gregory is laughing silently now that he has the Chancellor and Diet in his pocket. My honor must be redeemed, even if it makes me a pariah in the Reich. In due time, long after I am dead and residing in the Kingdom of Heaven, future generations will come to realize the wisdom of bringing Rome back into the fold and curbing the Papacy once and for all.

Unfortunately, time is running out. I am fifty-five and feel much older. The Diet is seemingly united against me, although they lack the will to say it directly to my person. I must be forceful, extremely forceful if

The entry ends abruptly there. The next page has not been recovered.

*note* Due to the document's age, an exact translation cannot be guaranteed. This represents the best effort of several medieval historians, however, accuracy may be lacking, especially in the later half of the entry, in which the condition is much poorer than the earlier half.

[OverKnight]

Bologna, 1140

Otto von Kassel drank deeply from the bottle of wine. It was a terrible vintage, the taste of sour grapes in his mouth was sickening. Still, Otto did not care, the goal was to numb the pain, not to please his palette. Finishing the bottle, he threw it violently against the stone wall of his bed chamber. Shards of glass scattered as Otto lurched from his seat and began pacing.

The towers of Venice were in sight and I had enough men to seize the city, thought Otto, yet I was recalled, stripped of my command, most of my army sent south with the Prinz and now I rot behind city walls. Walls that still have a gaping hole in them!

Otto choked back a hysterical laugh and stumbled to the window. Looking north he thought back to the last Diet session. I failed utterly! I could not keep my end of the deal with the Kaiser and I offended both the Prinz and the new Chancellor over the issue of Venice. They prattle on about honor and Christian virtue, but they don't want to hear about the stark realities of war. They didn't complain when I sacked Bern or Milan, 'good Christian' lives were lost there as well, but God forbid someone offend their sensibilities with plain talk! Maximillian, the mercurial bastard, doesn't trust me anymore, I backed the wrong horse, and now someone else will take Venice. I probably didn't flog myself and pray enough for the Steward's new taste!

Otto staggered over to the bureau to open another bottle. Taking a deep swig, he stared into the bronze mirror that hung on the wall in front of him. His eyes were bloodshot, his face guant and his clothes and hair in disarray.

"The Chancellorship will most likely be yours for the taking, Mein Kaiser", Otto said to his reflection. He spoke in a slurred mockery of the cultured tone he used in the Diet and in conversations with the mighty.

"My arse it will!", he continued in the more rustic language he used on the battlefield, "Maybe if your Lordship actually spoke up in your own defense, deigned to mingle with the small folk, you wouldn't have been crushed by Mandorf! Why the Hell did I ever listen to you!? I should have stayed a Count, but I sold my soul for the promise of a royal wife and a title. That's probably gone now too. I've managed to piss away everything!"

Taking another pull on the bottle, Otto stumbled over to the bed and collapsed onto it. The open bottle fell from his grasp and hit the floor with a thud. It slowly rolled away, spilling red wine.

Otto turned over on his back and watched the ceiling spin above him. Self-pity slowly gave way to analysis. Why had the Kaiser been so silent during the Diet session and after his loss? I expected more sturm und drang from him after such a horrible defeat. God's Blood, I expected him to give me Holy Hell for my failure! Yet the Kaiser calmly gave his build orders and left.

Otto sat up in bed, swaying a bit, but with some returned focus, and spoke out loud, "He must be plotting something."

A terrible thought occurred to Otto, and that is when he leaned over the bed and began to vomit.

After the dry heaves had passed, Otto slowly made his way back to the bureau. Rifling through his scattered papers, he came upon his copy of the Reich's Charter. Paging through it, he found what he had been looking for.

"Mein Gott!", exclaimed Otto, dropping the papers, "It might work!"

The question, thought Otto looking into the mirror, Is what should I do about it?

Below him, on the floor, the Charter became soaked in wine, turning it blood red.

[econ21]

Dijon, 1142

The tall man smiled and ruffled the boy’s hair affectionately:

“Here, boy, take this coin and fetch your mother. Then go get yourself something nice from the bakery.”

The man saw the ragged boy’s eyes widen at the sight of the gold and watched as the six year old ran off. Nasty rat faced little creature, the man thought. Shortly a plain young peasant woman arrived, fussing with her hair and straightening her crude clothing. The man leapt up eagerly and rushed towards her, embracing her passionately. The woman recoiled, but with only feigned reluctance:

“Stop! What are you doing? Anyone could see us!”

The man smiled rakishly, unconcerned: “Not being seen is a speciality of mine.”

They embraced again, longer this time. The man lavished attention on her, solicited her views, charmed her with his anecdotes and plied her with gifts from his bag. Then, when he felt he could endure the distasteful intimacy no longer, he stepped back coolly and produced one final item from his bag:

“You remember what we talked about before? Here it is.”

It was a small vial. The young peasant woman’s flush face started to whiten and she tensed:

“Is it…? Will it harm the master?”

The man laughed: “Of course not! What do you think I am? As I said before, it is a sleeping draught. He’ll merely retire a little earlier and rest a little longer. Probably do him some good, I reckon. Spends too much time gallivanting around, doing his duty, for Duke and Kaiser. He should take it easy, enjoy life … like us”

He embraced her again and her body began to soften. He whispered in her ear:

“I only want to borrow a few things, for us. He has more than he needs. Your dowry, well, it’s not quite what my father expected me to win.”

The young woman looked awkward and pulled back. The man comforted her, then placed the vial into her hand and coaxed:

“Put it in his wine tonight. Do you think you can do that?”

She looked down and nodded.

“Then, when he retires to his room, let me in through the kitchen. I’ve arranged some entertainment for the guards; they won’t be there. And I’ll be dressed as one of them. The domestic staff won’t question a man in good armour.”

She pursed her lips and nodded again. The man beamed affectionately and pulled her towards him. Her head on his chest, the peasant woman could not see the man wrinkling his nose at her smell, as his hands moved gently over her young body.

* * * * *

It was late when the tall man entered the kitchen of the manor. As he anticipated, the staff glanced at his fine German armour and long expensive cloak then anxiously turned away. Unlike that stupid peasant woman, they knew their place, he thought. She was there – watching him from a corner, wide eyed and terrified. He winked at her and she too turned away. He was grateful to put her out of his mind. He had to focus.

Sigismund had walked into the trap, the man thought. The Germans had believed the French to be fools trying to besiege Dijon with only a regiment of knights. Who were the fools now? Mandorf had diverted the new “Swabian Household Army” to Dijon, leaving the road to Bern almost open for the real French offensive. And with the Swabian Army, Mandorf had delivered Sigismund to Dijon and the tall man waiting for him there.

The man made his way quietly through the manor, evading the remaining staff and the rest of Sigismund’s entourage. Fortunately, Sigimund was a loner – he had attracted no retinue, no harridans like Mandorf , no veterans like Heinrich, Dietrich and Leopold. Unlike his patron, Prinz Henry, “Saint” Sigismund did not even have a stupid mutt to guard his quarters. He was married, but thankfully had not brought his family on campaign. And such was his virtue, it was unlikely there would be another sharing his bed this evening.

The man quietly opened the door to Sigismund’s bedroom chamber. The Count was slumped over his desk, almost as if in humble prayer. Moonlight shone through a large window, bathing the blonde Count in a gentle light. The tall man closed the door and approached the desk gingerly. He stood behind the Count and listened, hearing the faint sound of Sigismund breathing. The assassin frowned, then produced from his belt a long piece of wire. Gingerly, he slipped the wire under Sigismund’s neck. As the assassin carefully drew up the wire noose, the cold metal touched Sigismund’s warm skin. The Count stirred and in response, the tall assassin yanked the noose tight.

Sigismund started: the wire cut into his neck and he was struggling to breathe. The violence of the attack shocked Sigismund into consciousness. His mind was still swimming, oxygen deprivation now combining with the doctored drink to blur his vision and senses. But even in his stupor, Sigismund realised he was in mortal peril. He summoned his great strength and rose from his seat, dragging the assassin across his back and round, away from the desk. Sigismund’s fingers tore at the wire and his assailant’s mailed grip but flesh was of no avail against cold metal. The assassin tightened the noose yet further and Sigismund sank to the floor.

The movement eased the pressure on the Count for a second and, in a brief moment of clarity, Sigismund’s right hand moved quickly to his belt. The tall assassin steadied himself, then began to press his attack: watching triumphantly as Sigismund’s left hand flailed hopelessly and the noose gauged deeper into the Count’s neck. Sigismund arched his kneeling body further forward, again dragging the assassin closer to his back. Then suddenly the assassin felt excruciating pain. Sigismund had managed to retrieve his dagger from his belt and slammed it backwards into the assassin’s upper thigh. The blade had pierced the mesh armour protecting the region. The assassin collapsed on the floor, doubled over in pain.

Slowly, unsteadily, Sigismund rose and straightened up. He looked at the tall man bent over, bleeding on the floor. Roles reversed, now Sigismund staggered behind the helpless form on the floor. Exhausted, he grabbed the tall man’s hair and thrust back his head, preparing to draw his dagger across the exposed throat. But as Sigismund raised his knife, he felt his heart constrict. He struggled for breath and looked helplessly at his own knifehand, outstretched but motionless. Out of the corner of his eye, the wounded assassin watched the dying Count stagger and then fall. The assassin gasped and began to rise. He cursed in his pain: that dose should have killed an elephant by now! He was only supposed to make sure the deed was done – not fight the German brute hand to hand. The assassin watched Sigismund lie motionless on the floor beside him. The tall man summoned his remaining strength: he had to make sure the job was done and get out.

Outside a cloud covered the moon, drawing a veil over the Sigismund’s bed chamber.

* * * * *

When Captain Adolf arrived at Sigismund’s manor, he found the servants and guards milling around in confusion and disbelief. He shook his head - he would bring order to this chaos. Yet for moment, the Captain stood detached from those around him, taking in every detail. His eyes settled on one serving girl visibly more distressed than the rest, sobbing uncontrollably and surrounded by other kitchen staff trying to comfort her.

A Sergeant saw the Captain and marched purposefully towards him, grim-faced and ready to report. The Captain stayed his approach and pointed out the hysterical serving girl, querying:

“Sigismund was not one to stray, so why is she taking this so hard?”

The serving girl - a plain, young peasant woman - glanced up at the two men-at-arms watching her and immediately looked down. The Captain’s tone became harsher and started to step towards her: “I’ll find out what she knows.”

The Sergeant nodded, but touched the Captain’s arm to make him pause and then pointed to the kitchen floor. A small deep red stain was faintly visible under the torchlight; more stains led across the floor towards the door. The Captain’s face hardened:

“Our general did not go down without a fight. I do believe he has given us a trail. Call out the bloodhounds and wake the camp. I want the entire Army out into the countryside searching for this fiend. We’ve wounded our prey; let’s hunt him down.”

The Sergeant nodded and left, as the Captain approached the cowering young peasant woman.

[GeneralHankerchief]

Metz, 1144

The entire Imperial Diet was assembled in the church to send off one of their own. It was a rather small, modest building, but it had its own personality and probably suited Sigismund best. Kaiser Heinrich, in charge of funeral arrangements, had purposely decided to bury Sigismund in this city that he had poured so much into rather than the Imperial Capital, Frankfurt.

There had been a great exodus from the Imperial frontier and its cities by its nobles. Deputies had been left in charge of armies, advisors cities. Everyone important in the policy-making process of the Reich was present at the service. Even Cardinal Peter Scherer, himself aged and suffering from a horrible cough, turned out to preside over the event. However, he got no respite from the Kaiser, who demanded that eulogies be allowed even though they were contrary to Catholic doctrine.

Once the congregation took their seats, Scherer began speaking out in his deep, powerful voice. It was clear that this was hurting him beyond belief, but still he continued.

"A reading from the Gospel of Matthew."

The Electors wondered what passage Scherer had in mind.

"Take heed that ye do not your alms before men, to be seen of them: otherwise ye have no reward of your Father which is in heaven. Therefore when thou doest thine alms, do not sound a trumpet before thee, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets, that they may have glory of men. Verily I say unto you, They have their reward. But when thou doest alms, let not thy left hand know what thy right hand doeth:

That thine alms may be in secret: and thy Father which seeth in secret himself shall reward thee openly. And when thou prayest, thou shalt not be as the hypocrites are: for they love to pray standing in the synagogues and in the corners of the streets, that they may be seen of men. Verily I say unto you, They have their reward. But thou, when thou prayest, enter into thy closet, and when thou hast shut thy door, pray to thy Father which is in secret; and thy Father which seeth in secret shall reward thee openly.

But when ye pray, use not vain repetitions, as the heathen do: for they think that they shall be heard for their much speaking. Be not ye therefore like unto them: for your Father knoweth what things ye have need of, before ye ask him. After this manner therefore pray ye:

Our Father which art in heaven, Hallowed be thy name.
Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done in earth, as it is in heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread.
And forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors.
And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil: For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, for ever. Amen.

For if ye forgive men their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you: But if ye forgive not men their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses. Moreover when ye fast, be not, as the hypocrites, of a sad countenance: for they disfigure their faces, that they may appear unto men to fast. Verily I say unto you, They have their reward.

But thou, when thou fastest, anoint thine head, and wash thy face; That thou appear not unto men to fast, but unto thy Father which is in secret: and thy Father, which seeth in secret, shall reward thee openly.

Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth, where moth and rust doth corrupt, and where thieves break through and steal: But lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust doth corrupt, and where thieves do not break through nor steal: For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also. The light of the body is the eye: if therefore thine eye be single, thy whole body shall be full of light. But if thine eye be evil, thy whole body shall be full of darkness. If therefore the light that is in thee be darkness, how great is that darkness!

No man can serve two masters: for either he will hate the one, and love the other; or else he will hold to the one, and despise the other. Ye cannot serve God and mammon. Therefore I say unto you, Take no thought for your life, what ye shall eat, or what ye shall drink; nor yet for your body, what ye shall put on. Is not the life more than meat, and the body than raiment? Behold the fowls of the air: for they sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feedeth them. Are ye not much better than they? Which of you by taking thought can add one cubit unto his stature?

And why take ye thought for raiment? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin: And yet I say unto you, That even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. Wherefore, if God so clothe the grass of the field, which to day is, and to morrow is cast into the oven, shall he not much more clothe you, O ye of little faith?

Therefore take no thought, saying, What shall we eat? or, What shall we drink? or, Wherewithal shall we be clothed? (For after all these things do the Gentiles seek:) for your heavenly Father knoweth that ye have need of all these things.

But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you. Take therefore no thought for the morrow: for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof."

Scherer paused at the conclusion of this passage, then bent over in a violent fit of hacking that lasted for over a minute. When a deacon rushed up to see if the Cardinal was in need of medical attention, Scherer waved him away and finished up his coughing. As he made his way back to the pulpit, the deacon brought him water, which Scherer thankfully sipped. He then continued.

"This was of course part of Jesus's Sermon on the Mount, in which he preached his values and teachings to a massive amount of followers. This section is known as the Discourse on Ostentation, in which Jesus condemns fasting, alms, and prayer that is done only for show. It then focuses on, as do I, the dangers of *cough* materialism."

Scherer took another sip, and continued.

"Materialism, or the want of earthly possessions, is numerous times referenced in the Holy Book as a sin, and should be avoided. Most notably, it is done so in Exodus, where the 9th and 10th Commandments, and to a lesser extent, the 7th, deal with it. It is closely tied with several of the cardinal vices, such as greed, gluttony, and pride, which is the sin that caused Lucifer to fall from grace. It is to be avoided at all costs, for not doing so plants a seed in our minds that this is the only world that we are to look for. We sometimes tend to forget that The Lord God and His Son are waiting for us with a much better kingdom when the time has come to depart. When we pass on, He will be waiting for us, and He will be smiling, beckoning us on, saying 'Welcome my son, here is your salvation.' The eternal company of friends and angels is a far better reward than any palace, jewelry, or fine clothing."

The Diet was transfixed at Scherer's sermon. The man was clearly on his last legs, but continued to wax poetic with the wisdom and oratory skill of a higher power. The only thing that reminded the Electors of his mortality was the persistent clearing of his throat.

"Sigismund der Stolze exemplified many of the qualities that Jesus spoke of in that Sermon and Discourse. He was a very humble, chivalrous man who lived a noble life. He always downplayed his many accomplishments, whether they be in his personal life, military career, or Chancellorship. He did not seek to bask in the moment and enjoy life, rather, he simply moved onto the next objective and tackled it head-on. Observe his comments (https://forums.totalwar.org/vb/showthread.php?t=77086&page=8) to the Diet after returning from his courageous sally from Bern. Nothing is said about the actual conflict or his gallant performance. As a matter of fact, he only mentions the city once - when describing how the Milanese fight."

In the front pew, Heinrich chuckled at the memories. He would never admit it, but if he had run for Chancellor after pulling off that victory, he would have woven it into his manifesto quite a few times.

"He continued this righteous style throughout his Chancellorship. In his first report, he addressed the Diet using the following words:


Due to a good defensible position and good fortune, the Milanese were unable to attack my meagre force. My object, was therefore gained - I had prevented the Milanese from entering Lombardy.

On a personal note, I have finally married.

"Again, no mention of his heroic efforts at that battle or overly elaborate descriptions of his wedding. Instead, he simply mentions it and moves on. Such was the character of Sigismund, whom we should all seek to emulate in our actions and our words."

On the other side of the aisle, Sigismund's wife Syele, and daughter Judda were crying. The Kaiser's daughter Elsebeth, sitting next to Otto von Kassel, also had tears in her eyes. At the news of Sigismund's death Heinrich had put off the wedding between the two. Meanwhile, Scherer, after coughing some more and finishing his water, continued.

"Alas, the only truly despicable part of Sigismund was his manner of death. Such a noble and holy man should have been destined to die saving the lives of others or defending Christendom against those who would seek it harm. Nevertheless, things are better for him now. We must remember that good Sigismund has entered the House of the Lord and will be an honored guest there for all eternity."

Scherer, pale as a ghost, could by now say no more. He yielded the pulpit to Kaiser Heinrich, who gave his eulogy.

"Gentlemen, this is not my forte. My limited oratorial skills are much better applied when inspiring troops before a battle or attempting to persuade you in the Diet. Also, nothing can be said that has not already been addressed by Cardinal Scherer, whom I wish a speedy recovery to and also offer my thanks for presiding over this mass."

He motioned to Scherer, who nodded his acknowledgement and stepped out of the church to cough some more.

"Sigismund, if a little aloof, was nevertheless a great man and a huge benefit to the Reich. I had the pleasure of conversing with him many times, and he was a wise man who wished nothing more than the betterment of the Empire. The people who did this to him are cowards and unholy. I, as well as Chancellor Mandorf, assure his family that they will be hunted down and brought to justice. The coming days ahead will be difficult for us all, and Sigismund's wisdom and chivalry will be sorely missed."

The Kaiser took his seat, a little embarassed, and there was an eerie silence in the church that lasted over a minute. Scherer was absent, still coughing, and the church's deacon was still attending to him. Finally, in an impromptu manner, the six pallbearers rose as one, picked up the closed coffin, and began to carry it outside, followed by the rest of the congregation.

Kaiser Heinrich, Prinz Henry, Dukes Leopold and Dietrich von Saxony, Steward/Chancellor Maximillian Mandorf, and Sigismund's adopted son Jobst von Salza slowly and laboriously lowered the coffin into Sigismund's final resting place, a freshly-dug grave in the church's cemetary. Once again the simplicity of it reflected the character of the deceased.

With no priest present, the 5th Elector of Bavaria, who had some experience with these matters, led the Diet in the saying of the final prayer.

"Eternal rest grant unto him, O Lord.
And let perpetual light shine upon him.
May the souls of the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace.
Amen."

With that, the Electors departed, heads bowed, lost in their own thoughts. It was back to their duties, and to some, their plannings.

[OverKnight]

Deutsches Historisches Museum, Berlin, 2007

Researchers have released further translations from a cache of documents found in the city of Frankfurt during routine utility work on underground pipes. Further excavation of the site revealed ruins dating back to the 12th century. Archaeologists are speculating that this might be the location of the long lost Imperial Archives. Historians hope that these new translations will lend further insight into the momentous events of the time. The following is an exchange of letters between Maximillian Mandorf, Chancellor of the Reich, and Otto von Kassel, future Duke of Bavaria. Surprisingly enough for that era, both noblemen were literate.

Bologna 1142

Maximillian,

Congratulations on your election to Chancellor! I would have written sooner, but the last Diet was a troubling affair for me. I admit, I made a hash of it. You won an overwhelming victory and I feared that the Kaiser would cancel my betrothal. Not to mention my blunder on trying to dictate occupation policy on Venice, a fruitless gesture in hindsight.

Yet, I have good news, the engagement will continue and I am to be Duke! The Kaiser and I have reached an understanding that will benefit Bavaria. Nor have I forgotten you, my friend. Bavaria might lose a Steward, but she will gain a Count. It would be cruel of me to take Nuremberg from you, you have made clear your desire to stay there. I plan to move the capital of Bavaria to Innsbruck, my current domain, and you will keep yours. Also, as recognition of your service, you will keep the title of First Elector. Moving the capital south makes sense anyway, as I must always keep one eye on Italy.

So how does it feel to be Chancellor? I've heard the braying of the Diet has already reached your ears, even though your term has just begun. Very few people want the job, but they all think they can do it. Do not lose hope, there are some of us who still value your acumen.

Have you considered coming south in your travels as Chancellor? The Italian front is still the most active. The Milanese will be dispatched, but we could use your assistance with Venice and in other matters. For example, the Pope and his army still haunt our lands. How long are we to allow this? The first year of his "tour" of northern Italy could be seen as an aberration, but the man has yet to return to Rome. Venice, Milan and Sicily are all excommunicated and the only nation in Italy that remains in the Church, ours, bears the weight of a massive Papal army. Why is that?

I am confused as to why you have changed your mind about Gregory. You may be a man reborn, Saul on the road to Damascus, but surely he is still the same man who upended the traditional balance between Church and Empire, fostered dissent throughout the Reich, and caused the loss of much of our territory. And for what? All that so the Papacy could be free of a Kaiser's right to aid in the selection of a Pontiff. Only now have we recovered from the investiture crisis, and yet he still gets to choose who receives the crown of the Roman Empire. Is that fair?

A time may come Maximillian, and I hope it doesn't, when you will have to choose between service to the Reich and Bavaria and service to this man. I do not begrudge you your rebirth, but I question your choice of mid-wife.

Think on what I have written, and on who your true friends are.

Otto

~~~~~~~~

Otto,

It warms my heart to hear that your engagement to Elsebeth will continue. Though I have taken a vow of celibacy myself, much joy can come from a Holy Union. I wish you the utmost success with your wife in the years to come. I fervently wish I could attend the wedding, but it seems likely that it will occur in Bologna or Florence. With the Bavarian roads cleared of brigands and the new war with France, I have decided to journey westwards to give whatever aid I can to the Swabians. Unfortunately, this means I shall not be close enough to attend the wedding. Know that I will pray for God to bless your union and give you happiness and success for many years.

I do not fault you for voting for the Kaiser in the election. You must look to your own interests and ensure a prosperous future, especially now that you will have a family and a noble House dependant upon your success. It is true that I once desired to be Duke of Bavaria, but in my heart I knew it would never come to pass. I am too stubborn and sinful to bear such a responsibility. Some may mock my reform, but Hildegard has made my life joyful for the first time in many years. My soul is at peace and I have let go of most of my earthly ambitions.

You are a good man and you will be a good Duke for Bavaria. It will certainly be strange to kneel before you in the years to come, but Hildegard says it will be a good lesson in Pride. Apparently I have not yet rid myself of all of my sins.

Your words about Gregory ring true and I admit that I no longer know where he stands. His actions baffle me and I see no earthly or Heavenly reason for them. I am still convinced that he incited the Milanese and Venetians to war against us, but why did he then excommunicate them? If they displeased him in some way, then surely he would have decided to aid us. Yet all reports indicate that he still seethes at the very mention of the Reich.

Surely our people are as righteous and holy as any in Christendom. How can the Pope harbor such hatred for us and yet aid us at the same time? Is it Christian charity or Satanic duplicity? Hildegard tells me to trust in the Pope and abide by his words. She says that the Church cannot exist without a Pope, and if Gregory is false, then we are adrift and disconnected from God. She has proven herself to be a righteous woman and if she claims this to be true, I must believe it. Those who insult her and say that I am her pawn simply do not know her. She is a great and holy woman; a band of knights from the Teutonic Order even arrived in Nuremburg recently to pay homage to her!

The truth is that the question of Pope Gregory is beyond my grasp. With the situation so unclear, I must simply wait and see what the future brings. For now my life is dedicated to protecting the Reich and her people. Wars spoil our lands and good Christian blood is spilled every year. Perhaps when these battles are done with I will know better what to do.

May the Word of God guide your path.

Maximillian

[flyd]

Magdeburg, 1146

"This isn't good, you know. This whole thing with Sigismund. Nothing good will come of it."

Fredericus was standing in the courtyard of recently conquered Magdeburg, observing as a great number of workers were tearing down a part of the garrison's quarters to make room for a drill square. With him was Franz, a member of his bodyguard, and well within hearing range was Otto, the engineer overseeing the construction project.

"The war, you mean?" said Franz.

"Yeah, the war, the impending Swabian land grab that was so masterfully set up. If only I knew who exactly was behind it all."

"The French?" Franz said, knowing that this explanation was far too simple for Fredericus.

"Oh, it wasn't the French. What would they have to gain? I'll tell you what Swabia has to gain: France. It's perfect, really. The honest and chivalrous Swabian gets killed, everyone laments his death, vows revenge upon the villainous French scum, Swabian armies get sent into France. Even better if they get it done before Heinrich dies, since he can use his little 'geographical' distribution to justify giving a disproportionate number of lands to Swabia. Still, I have a difficult time blaming the Prinz, it doesn't seem like something he'd do. Maybe it was that von Salza. Conveniently enough, he's the only one eligible to be Duke of Swabia now. He's already started to point fingers at nameless electors in the Diet, as if everyone isn't eager to accept that the French did it. You know..."

"Yes, but," Franz finally interrupted the rant, "the French attacked us before the assassination. We were at war. Is it not reasonable that they would eliminate a commander of our army in the west for strategic purposes?"

"Of course they attacked us! They always do. Are you familiar with the story of how the Romans came to conquer everything?" Upon receiving a negative gesture from Franz, Fredericus continued, "well, they say that back when the Romans had only the control of Italy, and were at war with some small city in the west of Greece, I forget what it was called, they decided to send a small raid over. So they did, but one of their Senators died in battle. Naturally, there were great lamentations and cries for revenge, so they sent a big army to conquer Greece, but they said 'we'll just take Greece, then we'll stop expanding.' But in the process of doing this, their little legions were attacked by the entire Macedonian might. That's what they say anyway, but from what I've read, they seemed to be on the offensive the whole time. I think they lost another Senator, or maybe a Consul, so, of course, they had to completely destroy Macedon. But this got them into contact with the Thracians and the Illyrians, who attacked them, and then also the Seleucid and Ptolemaic empires the same, and, well, you know the rest."

"That seems a bit exaggerated," said Franz.

"Oh, I'm sure it is, but the exact history isn't important. It's more of a fable than anything. The point is, that deaths can be used to justify aggression. That expansion gets you into other wars. No one likes large armies running around near their border, conquering their neighbors. I'm already looking beyond France, and see England, Portugal, and Spain. I'm sure they're looking over here too."

Franz nodded, having nothing to add. Fredericus continued, "there is also a third way to get into wars, as the Romans have shown us with their conquest of the Iberians. That role, for us, is filled quite well by the Kaiser himself. He doesn't respect the Diet. Some of his actions can only be described as Servian, although perhaps a bit lesser in magnitude. Remember when he ordered an Imperial army to violate Polish territory, when the Diet desired good relations with the Poles? But of course, the Poles are the back stabbers! They must be destroyed! Now they wonder why the Russians won't ally with us. I'm betting they don't want to be labeled as back stabbers when our armies start taking scenic tours of the steppes around Novgorod in a few decades' time."

Franz chuckled. "So, what is to be done?"

"Nothing. Lay low and keep quiet. Sigismund is dead, remember? Woe to him who doesn't grab his lance and charge at the walls of Paris."

At that point, the conversation is interrupted, as a wall of the garrison quarters falls over, crushing several workers.

[Warluster]

Frankfurt, 1142 AD

Jobst von Salza looked upon the Great City of Frankfurt, Capital of the Reich, a home of worries, the Home of the Imperial Diet. Recently thigns had not been well, Electors in the Diet acting rudely against Swabia, Sigismunds Death. Von Salza's palns were all wrong, but he adre not reveal them to no one, the only one who knew of it was his Trusted knight. They were in a escort to Frankfurt, heading to the diet.Jobst Von Salza was with his Bodyguard, and had been speakign with the Captain Knight,
'My plans have been messed up' whispered Jobst, the Captain leaned forward, all had been mourning over Sigismunds death,
'What were your plans?' asked the Captain, the babble of city could be heard from far off,
'Why, if I explained them any more my lungs would burst' said Jobst, The Captain laughed, The Captains horse neighed,
'Yes, those plans' said Captain,
'But they were awfully mixed up with Sigismunds death'
'Why of course they were, I should've sent my whole BodyGuard if I had've to, damm it!' said Jobst, 'I bet you I know who that Assasain was workign for' said Jobst,
'Who?'
'I'd say those Austrians' said Jobst, Jobst didn't like the fraction betweent eh Houses, though now he had no thought o that,
'They swear on Swabias name, say we ahve plots, why, when those Venetians attacked Vienna, did we go about yelligna t them, screamign crap which helps no one! No! We offered men! generals! Real help' yelled Jobst,
'Why sir, Duke Leopold isn't that bad...' said The Captain, Von Salza looked at him,
'I would awfully like to know what he's up to, he seems unaffected by Sigimunds death' said Jobst Von Salza,
'Thats true Sir'
'The way those Austrians Electors act.. sometimes I wonder if the beggers have come into the Imperial Diet' said Von Salza, The Captain laughed,
'WHy sir, I agree there, when the Diet was at its end last time, and I was waiting for you by the Doors, one of those Austrian Electors comes out and spits on me' siad THe Captain, Jobst shook his head,
'Next tiem they mutter words like that about Swabia, I shall kill them personally' Jobst sighed,
'Why , I have thought on it, after Sigismunds death, i am net in line for Duke of Swabia' said Jobst, The Captain nodded, and looked at Jobst. tears were in his eyes, and Jobst muttered something, then spoke loudeer,
'I need battle' they were at the City Gates, and jobst Von Salza's escort rode n, when Von Salza saw a Austrian Elector, glaring at him, the escort passed by through the crowd, The Elector swore at him, The Captain drew his sword,
'Why you...' Jobst stopped his sword wth a hand, and spat on the Elector,
'I shall see you next Diet, begger' spat Jobst, and laughed bitterly, there escrot moved on, and the day grew old.

[GeneralHankerchief]

(OOC: This is a prelude to the Kaiser's recent actions regarding Rome, written by OverKnight and myself.)

Bologna, 1142

A sentry in the beleagured city observed a large dust cloud to the south, heading his way. While only a militiaman, he was trained to know what that type of dust cloud meant: military movement.

Judging by the size of the cloud, it was a small army, perhaps two regiments. It certainly was too big for any Imperial general's escort, even the Kaiser's. It was the right size for both Kaiser Heinrich and Prinz Henry, as well as their escorts, but why would both of these royals visit the city and leave their large army about to relieve Florence leaderless?

The sentry really didn't want to take any chances. "Someone alert Count von Kassel," he cried. "We've got something moving this way, and fast! It could be a Milanese scouting party."

Several minutes later, Otto von Kassel arrived on the scene, slightly tense with anticipation, only to groan when he saw the soldiers for himself. They were indeed the Kaiser and his escort, but there was also a mysterious entourage behind him that was not the Prinz's.

Upon greeting Heinrich, Otto asked a question about this unknown escort but the Kaiser brushed it off, instead motioning to the nearest church.

"Come, von Kassel. We have much to discuss, but first we must attend mass."

Otto stared slightly. This was odd. Although he was by all means a religious person, the Kaiser was never known to put it ahead of matters of state. During the mass and the serving of communion, his mind was on what the Kaiser could possibly want, while Heinrich's seemed to be elsewhere altogether.

After the mass got out ("lovely sermon," the Kaiser remarked to the priest), he finally turned his attention toward the soon-to-be-Duke.

"Otto, our time is approaching. Soon, very soon, unless of course I die in the upcoming battle against the Milanese, Elsebeth will come of age and the two of you shall marry. I have brought her and her escort to Bologna to get you two acquainted until this time comes. Hopefully the two of you shall have a friendly relationship."

The Kaiser paused, letting this sink in for a minute before continuing.

"Once you are married, you will become the Duke of Bavaria with all of its benefits. This includes certain powers detailed in the Imperial Charter, powers that the Dukes currently do not share with me. You are aware of these, correct?"


Otto could not help but smile. In vino veritas, he thought, I was right, my path is set. His expression quickly changed as he realized the enormity of what lay before him.

Glancing about him for eavesdroppers in the Church, Otto removed a folded, wine stained piece of paper from his belt pouch. Straightening it out, he read from it while keeping his voice low and even, "Article 3.3, any declaration of war must be authorised by an Imperial edict. The Chancellor or any Duke is empowered to declare war on a non-allied army entering its lands."

He folded the paper up and replaced it, "Maximillian is the Chancellor, regrettably, but I will be a Duke soon enough. I would be honored to do this for you on the day of your daughter's wedding. I am glad you brought Elsebeth, mein Kaiser, I look forward to meeting her. A couple should be introduced before they are married."

Otto leaned in, his voice becoming more conspiratorial, "There is one complication, however, your Majesty. The language is vague, some might say that a Duke can only declare war on an army trespassing in his own Duchy. Unfortunately, Hildebrand's army has moved from Milan, which is Bavarian, to the outskirts of Genoa, an Imperial city. If we are to have success in this endeavor, Kaiser, we must follow the letter of the law."

At Otto's latest comment, apparently to be used as a bargaining chip, the Kaiser threw his head back and laughed. The sound echoed throughout the church but the few people still inside did not give it much of a thought. They knew to leave the nobles to their business.

"It's yours. It was always going to be yours. I'm surprised that you figured out that much without realizing that Genoa would be yours. The only city I really care about is Rome, of course. I was just using Florence as a watchtower."

The Kaiser's face, wrinkled and hair almost completely gray, now had an expression that Otto had never seen before. Relatively few people did. It was full of energy and ready for anything, but this was not the same as before he went into a battle. It was clear that Heinrich had been leading up to this moment for a long time. The expression could best be categorized as... giddy.

"Now, your first days as Duke are going to be extremely busy. Once you and Elsebeth are married and the deed against Rome is done, you are to go to Innsbruck to supervise the completion of the Bavarian House army, of which you have complete control over. That fool Mandorf cannot complain otherwise; it was he who insisted that these armies be under the total supervision of the Dukes."

The church was by now empty, leaving Otto and the increasingly-excited Heinrich alone. He was talking in the same manner as a child telling a friend about a secret he had so desperately wanted to reveal.

"Assuming my army is not decimated after relieving Florence, I am going to head to Rome and assault it immediately. We must again thank Chancellor Mandorf for providing me with ballistae. Without his assistance this move would not be possible."

Otto said nothing. The Kaiser was clearly on a roll.

"At that point, Pope Gregory will have lost his safe haven and will most likely pursue one of two courses: Either he will besiege what is most likely in front of him, which is Genoa, or he will move on Rome. Now, if he attacks Rome (which would be extremely satisfying if he did, since I am itching for a defensive fight), you and the House army will most likely not get there in time, and I either drive the Pope off myself or die a heroic death. The minstrels would love it if this option happened, but the more ideal scenario would be Genoa."

Heinrich finally remembered to draw breath. He then continued.

"If that happens, then I march north from Rome and you south from Innsbruck. Then, together, we break the Pope's army and finish this Investiture Crisis once and for all."

Otto had never seen the Kaiser like this. This is his last throw of the dice, thought Otto. He will triumph, or he will die, the simplicity must be intoxicating.

"Mein Kaiser, I would have liked very much to have marched on Rome with you," Otto replied, "but we will need my Bavarians. It shall be as you say, my lord."

Otto wished he shared the Kaiser's new found serenity, but the possible consequences of their actions troubled him, "What we do is right, but there will be a price, there will be rioting in Italy I'm sure, if not the whole Reich. The Diet will be screaming for our heads, and if we don't get our own selection for Pope in power before the next session, they might be able to curtail us. Who do you favor mein Kaiser, Scherer or Otterbach?"

Heinrich laughed loudly again and sighed. "How I have longed to have been asked that question," he said. "Obviously Otterbach would be more fitting for what will hopefully be a total victory. The position of God's Messenger being held by a woman. Can you believe that? Oh, didn't you know? Otterbach is a woman. I knew as soon as I made her priest. Isn't that funny?"

Heinrich was totally oblivious to Otto's caution. He continued, still giddy. "I'm not sure if Otterbach's a preferati or not, so we'll have to side with Scherer for a while. That's assuming he lives through this. Last I heard the man was pretty ill. And hey, even if nobody we like is in the preferati, I can always... depose them."

He laughed one final time before departing (making sure to genuflect), leaving Otto alone in the House of God where two men had just conspired to overthrow the Pope.

Otto watched the Kaiser leave. Nausea filled him, but this time, wine was not the cause. All he wants is to spit Hildebrand, and the rest of us can burn for all he cares. Yet, I am committed. This must be done. I can only ride out the storm, not control it, and hope that I will not drown.

Otto moved to the altar of the Church and gazed at the Crucifix behind it. Swallowing hard, Otto knelt, and for the first time since he had left home as a young man, he prayed.

[OverKnight]

A cooperative story from TC and OK

A further exchange of letters, dating from 1146, the beginning of the second Investiture Crisis, have been translated.

Maximillian,

As you read this, I'm sure you are aware of the actions the Kaiser and myself have taken in Italy. Hildebrand has violated our borders for too long! I can only imagine your reaction, but what I do, I do for the good of Bavaria and the Reich. This day was coming for a long while, since the investiture crisis, and it is time we restored the influence of the Reich in the affairs of the Church. We have the forces available in Italy to do so, all the other nations in the area are excommunicated, and we have an Imperial Cardinal, nearing the preferati, as a possible replacement for Hildebrand. The time to complete the full restoration of the Reich is now!

There was a time when you would have welcomed this day. You and I found ourselves on the opposite ends of this issue before, yet now we have switched sides, an unfortunate irony. It's not too late Maximillian, join us! Your aid, as Chancellor and a leading man of the realm, not to mention as my friend, would be priceless.

Do you not find it odd that the Pope has excommunicated his neighbors, Sicily, Milan and Venice? Or the fact that he, a man of the cloth, leads an army marching around Italy? The man seeks temporal hegemony in the area. Are these the actions of a true Vicar of Christ? He has sent his agent to you, after hearing of your past denunciations, to cloud your mind and blunt your purpose. Think, Maximillian, it's a little too convenient, isn't it?

No matter what you decide, your new title and lands are yours. You more than deserve them for your long, distinguished service to Bavaria and the Reich. Besides, you made me a Count, it's the least I could do for you.

I beg you, join with us, together we can restore the Church and the Reich, bringing both to a Golden Age!

Otto

~~~~~~~~~~

Otto,

You have brought the Wrath of God down upon us! The Pope has declared Heinrich excommunicated, his personal army now threatens all our holdings in Italy, and citizens in every city in the Reich are in great unrest! YOU HAVE DAMNED US!

I spent hours in prayer to the Holy Father when I received word of your treachery, but my hand still shakes as I write this. The Kaiser was the one who arranged all of this and you were his willing pawn. Yet I cannot help but think that I am guilty myself for failing to prevent this. I am Chancellor, I swore to protect the Reich, uphold the law, and promote Christian values. Now I am not even halfway through with my term and the Reich is threatened with total destruction!

Otto, you have betrayed Bavaria, you have betrayed the Reich, you have betrayed all of Christendom, but the worst of it is that you have betrayed me! We were friends and allies once. Even when you were my vassal I respected you and your opinion above all others. I even forgave you for voting against me in the election.

However, I cannot forgive this. Our friendship is over. Your soul is doomed and mine hangs in the balance. My first duty is to protect the Reich. There will be unbelievably trying times ahead of us and I must devote all of my efforts towards keeping our cursed and war-ravaged lands from totally dissolving. For now you and the Kaiser are beyond my power, but know this, traitor. Somehow, I will find a way to bring God’s holy vengeance down upon you. I swear that I will personally light the bonfire that consumes your mortal shell and sends your soul to Satan for all eternity. Perhaps by doing this I will avoid a similar fate.

We will not speak again. The next time you see me, we will be enemies.

Maximillian

~~~~~~~~~~~

Chancellor,

You spend too much time on your knees! Now is the time for action!

When next you see me, I'll be dead or a hero of the Reich, either way you will find it difficult to burn me alive.

Farewell,

Duke von Kassel

[Kagemusha]

As Dietrich Von Saxony closed the door of the Diet hall behind him,he couldnt believe what he has just heard.
"Now the old man has finally done it. He has placed the Lords of the Reich for the second time to choose between himself and the Gods representative on earth."
"Maybe he has gone mad?" Dietrich asked from himself. "I could just have the Diet building surrounded,Kaiser doesnt have many men with him. The Prinz is not here and Leopold is enraged." Once Dietrich got into his own rooms,he summoned a guard. "Get me Captain Herman here,right now!" As the servant started running Dietrich continued thinking "The situation is flammable atleast. Basicly anything could happen in matter of hours. I better make sure that im prepared." Veteran Captain Herman came running into the room,trying to put his gear like it was supposed to be "Mein Duke.." Herman tryed to start,but Dietrich interfered "Shut up my friend and listen. Something has just happened and we have to take measures,if the situation calls for that. In all silence create a ring around the Diet,so no one gets out or in,without us knowing it. Pick just trustworthy men. I dont want the whole city to know about that." Herman started to ask something,but Dietrich commanded "Now Go! I will tell you later,what this about."
As Herman left the room Dietrich sat down and watched the flame of the candle on his writing table. "This will be a long night." He thought.

[TinCow]

The cold Church floor siphoned all willpower of him. Grit was lodged in the skin of his forehead, but he ignored it and continued to press his head into the stones. If only he could plunge his head clear through, perhaps he would break out on the other side into a paradise, an Eden, where the sins of men could not penetrate.

“Oh, what great evil and enmity this is!”

He had never seen Hildegard like this before. He had known her, loved her, for her shining example of Christian morality and forgiveness. She had saved his soul through compassion and patience. Yet now Mandorf was afraid to raise his head from the floor in front of the altar, fearing that he would see a great and terrible Angel seeking vengeance with a fiery sword.

“That a person is unwilling to live an upright life, either for God's sake or mankind's, but, rather, seeks honor without work and eternal rewards without abstinence! Such a one, in his supposed sanctity, vainly longs to cry out, as the devil does, I am good and holy. But this is not true!”

Mandorf focused his thoughts and attempted to calm his rising panic. I am the Chancellor of the Reich and the Steward, no… the Count of Nuremburg. I must face my failures like a nobleman.

“You are worn out by seeking after your own transitory reputation in the world, so that, at one moment, you are knights, the next slaves, the next mere jesting minstrels, so that in the perfunctory performance of your duties you sometimes manage to brush off the flies in the summer.”

He took a deep breath and raised his head, his eyes angled upwards, to meet her gaze at the first possible instant. Her robes came into view, a dark mass of fabric, punctuated by the pale white form of an outstretched hand pointed directly at his soul.

“You ought to be the day, but you are the night! For you will be either the day or the night. Choose, therefore, where you wish to take your stand!”

The Chancellor stood and looked Hildegard in the eye. “I am a man of God. I am his servant on Earth and will give my life in service to him.”

The nun’s head tilted, and her eyes bore in on him. “You lead an Empire that is at war with the Vicar of Christ, God’s representative on Earth. The very legislation you proposed now requires you to supply those responsible for this atrocity with armies to slaughter the Pope himself. If he dies, the blood of Christ will be on your hands!”

He wanted to bow his head in shame, to hide his soul from her gaze. The stone and dirt beneath his feet was a bastion of safety for the damned. Yet he did not move. “If I am damned, I shall pay for my crimes in the afterlife. When the time comes, my responsibilities for this war will be weighed in the Heavens. If I am found wanting, I will accept the consequences. But I still draw breath and I have duties to this Empire, its peoples, and its laws.”

Hildegard scowled. “You choose the night!”

“NO!” Blood rushed to his face. “I choose justice and law! I am a servant of the Reich and a servant of the Lord, and I will fulfill my obligations to both! It was not my schemes, my machinations, which started this war. The Kaiser rules us all and the Duke of Bavaria is no longer my vassal. I have no power to refuse them or to invalidate their actions, but I do have power to protect the good Christians of the Reich. The Kaiser has been excommunicated, but there are vast numbers of the Faithful within our borders. Tell me, would I serve God or the Devil if I resigned my post and left them to the wolves simply because I feared for my own soul?”

The anger subsided from her face, but the fires still burned deep in her eyes. “You will send armed men to Duke von Kassel. You will give him the means to destroy Pope Gregory.”

The Chancellor shook his head. “They are not mine to give or take away. The law requires that I maintain the Household Armies and it gives the Duke free reign to use them as he sees fit within his own borders. I could no more refuse to continue to assemble the Bavarian Household Army than I could hold back the winds with my bare hands. The army is his, it matters not whether I wish him to have it or not.”

Mandorf took a deep breath, feeling the confidence grow inside him. “Laws are not evil simply because some men may use them in evil ways. A good law cannot be abandoned because one man abuses it. I will not deny Duke von Kassel the men he is entitled to by law, but I also shall not aid him further beyond the minimum of what is required of me. He has chosen his own fate and I will have no hand in it beyond what is mandated.”

Hildegard considered him for a moment, then her stare finally broke and she look up at the cross on the altar. “Go then. Protect the good Christians and fight whatever evil you perceive. Your actions will be weighed in the end.” She turned back and looked at him. “Just remember that an immense weight will be pulling down on you always. Your virtues will have to be great indeed to break that chain.”

The Chancellor of the Reich bowed. “You will forgive my departure then, for there is much to do.” The nun did not move as he turned and strode out of the Church.

-------------

Note: Hildegard's first four quotes are a section from a sermon she gave in Cologne in 1163. (http://home.infionline.net/~ddisse/hildegar.html#anchor219129)

[GeneralHankerchief]

A small church outside of Genoa, 1154

If one was to walk into the church at that very moment, that person would have found Kaiser Heinrich alone, kneeling at the front pew, deep in prayer. However, if that person were to be specifically looking for the Kaiser, they would have been turned away by the numerous guards surrounding the church. Heinrich had specifically ordered that he be given time for solitude. And so, he was left alone in that small church, with the candles flickering and figure of the crucified Jesus staring down imposingly at him.

He did not confess his sins; he believed that there was nothing to confess. In his heart he truly thought that he had done right all these years. He was restoring the power of investiture to its proper place, ridding the world and Christendom of an usurper and false prophet.

No, he did not seek forgiveness. He had come to this church at this time to pray for success in the upcoming battle. The final battle.

"He that dwelleth in the secret place of the most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty.
I will say of the Lord, He is my refuge and my fortress: my God; in him will I trust.
Surely he shall deliver thee from the snare of the fowler, and from the noisome pestilence.
He shall cover thee with his feathers, and under his wings shalt thou trust: his truth shall be thy shield and buckler.
Thou shalt not be afraid for the terror by night; nor for the arrow that flieth by day;
Nor for the pestilence that walketh in darkness; nor for the destruction that wasteth at noonday.
A thousand shall fall at thy side, and ten thousand at thy right hand; but it shall not come nigh thee.
Only with thine eyes shalt thou behold and see the reward of the wicked.
Because thou hast made the Lord, which is my refuge, even the most High, thy habitation;
There shall no evil befall thee, neither shall any plague come nigh thy dwelling.
For he shall give his angels charge over thee, to keep thee in all thy ways.
They shall bear thee up in their hands, lest thou dash thy foot against a stone.
Thou shalt tread upon the lion and adder: the young lion and the dragon shalt thou trample under feet.
Because he hath set his love upon me, therefore will I deliver him: I will set him on high, because he hath known my name.
He shall call upon me, and I will answer him: I will be with him in trouble; I will deliver him, and honour him.
With long life will I satisfy him, and show him my salvation."

The last few years had been a blur to Heinrich. He had remembered receiving the official notice of excommunication, remembered the glory of finally entering and taking Rome, remembered the Diet's explosion and its grim realization that it could do nothing. After that, however... silence. Life moved on, and Heinrich's internal hourglass had a few more grains trickle to the bottom.

Pope Gregory, in an expected move, had besieged Genoa immediately after Rome fell. However, in an unexpected move, he had assaulted very quickly and easily overwhelemed the garrison. This turned out to be a blessing, however, as he was trapped at last. The Bavarian Household Army, led by Duke Otto von Kassel, had besieged the city again, and the Kaiser's army had followed. The long period of waiting and construction was over. Soon it would be time to assault.

"Blessed be the Lord my strength which teacheth my hands to war, and my fingers to fight:
My goodness, and my fortress; my high tower, and my deliverer; my shield, and he in whom I trust; who subdueth my people under me.
Lord, what is man, that thou takest knowledge of him! or the son of man, that thou makest account of him!
Man is like to vanity: his days are as a shadow that passeth away.
Bow thy heavens, O Lord, and come down: touch the mountains, and they shall smoke.
Cast forth lightning, and scatter them: shoot out thine arrows, and destroy them.
Send thine hand from above; rid me, and deliver me out of great waters, from the hand of strange children;
Whose mouth speaketh vanity, and their right hand is a right hand of falsehood.
I will sing a new song unto thee, O God: upon a psaltery and an instrument of ten strings will I sing praises unto thee.
It is he that giveth salvation unto kings: who delivereth David his servant from the hurtful sword.
Rid me, and deliver me from the hand of strange children, whose mouth speaketh vanity, and their right hand is a right hand of falsehood:
That our sons may be as plants grown up in their youth; that our daughters may be as corner stones, polished after the similitude of a palace:
That our garners may be full, affording all manner of store: that our sheep may bring forth thousands and ten thousands in our streets:
That our oxen may be strong to labour; that there be no breaking in, nor going out; that there be no complaining in our streets.
Happy is that people, that is in such a case: yea, happy is that people, whose God is the Lord."

It seemed as if all his life had been leading up to this moment. The Pope had broken away from the Reich when he was six; ever since then he had been fighting to repair things. At first, things did not go well. He was forced to stand in the snow for four days and beg forgiveness. Over half of his territories had been lost to him.

Finally, things had started to turn around. He began a campaign to take back the surrounding lands. Most of the Diet had supported his claim to Rome. But, just as things had started to finally get back into his grasp, Rome and investiture had slipped away again. In the Diet, he had been involved in too many conflicts with the Dukes. The situation in Italy was complicated by bloody wars with both Milan and Venice. And a servant, no, puppet of Gregory had been elected to the office of Chancellor in Maximillian Mandorf, all but denying him the prospect of redemption forever.

He had somehow managed to work around it all, getting Duke Otto involved in an elaborate plan to legally declare war on the Papacy. It had worked, to most of the Electors' outrage and chagrin. He had finally been given a chance to right the largest wrong of them all.

The Diet still denounced and demonized him. Never mind the fact that Dietrich von Saxony, Fredricus von Hamburg, and the other disbelieving Franconians finally had a free hand to drive back the Poles. Never mind the fact that Prinz Henry and the other Swabians now had nothing standing in their way to enact revenge on the French, or Duke Leopold and the Austrians against the Venetians. He had given the Electors a means of extending the glory of their Houses without any outside interference, but very few people had realized it. Gregory had done an excellent job.

"Hold not thy peace, O God of my praise;
For the mouth of the wicked and the mouth of the deceitful are opened against me: they have spoken against me with a lying tongue.
They compassed me about also with words of hatred; and fought against me without a cause.
For my love they are my adversaries: but I give myself unto prayer.
And they have rewarded me evil for good, and hatred for my love.
Set thou a wicked man over him: and let Satan stand at his right hand.
When he shall be judged, let him be condemned: and let his prayer become sin.
Let his days be few; and let another take his office.
Let his children be fatherless, and his wife a widow.
Let his children be continually vagabonds, and beg: let them seek their bread also out of their desolate places.
Let the extortioner catch all that he hath; and let the strangers spoil his labour.
Let there be none to extend mercy unto him: neither let there be any to favour his fatherless children.
Let his posterity be cut off; and in the generation following let their name be blotted out.
Let the iniquity of his fathers be remembered with the Lord; and let not the sin of his mother be blotted out.
Let them be before the Lord continually, that he may cut off the memory of them from the earth.
Because that he remembered not to shew mercy, but persecuted the poor and needy man, that he might even slay the broken in heart.
As he loved cursing, so let it come unto him: as he delighted not in blessing, so let it be far from him.
As he clothed himself with cursing like as with his garment, so let it come into his bowels like water, and like oil into his bones.
Let it be unto him as the garment which covereth him, and for a girdle wherewith he is girded continually.
Let this be the reward of mine adversaries from the Lord, and of them that speak evil against my soul.
But do thou for me, O God the Lord, for thy name's sake: because thy mercy is good, deliver thou me.
For I am poor and needy, and my heart is wounded within me.
I am gone like the shadow when it declineth: I am tossed up and down as the locust.
My knees are weak through fasting; and my flesh faileth of fatness.
I became also a reproach unto them: when they looked upon me they shaked their heads.
Help me, O Lord my God: O save me according to thy mercy:
That they may know that this is thy hand; that thou, Lord, hast done it.
Let them curse, but bless thou: when they arise, let them be ashamed; but let thy servant rejoice.
Let mine adversaries be clothed with shame, and let them cover themselves with their own confusion, as with a mantle.
I will greatly praise the Lord with my mouth; yea, I will praise him among the multitude.
For he shall stand at the right hand of the poor, to save him from those that condemn his soul."

Heinrich had won a resounding victory in his capture of Rome, but there was still the ultimate resolution to be fought. Gregory still lived, and as long as he did, Heinrich would be perceived as the lesser man.

Time to get going, Heinrich thought as he stood up, the process taking longer than usual due to his aged knees. The moment to forever decide his final reputation, his final legacy, had come at last.

[OverKnight]

Otto was back at Bern, lined up with his men for an assault. Beside him Sigismund was extolling the troops, "Men of Bavaria, follow von Kassel to the death."

Sigismund turned to him, and that is when he noticed the man's throat was cut and his face mottled in asphyxiation. All at once the siege towers burst into flames casting a red glare over the dead man's features.

The fire was now coming from a brazier, the Kaiser's face floating over it bathed in shadow and flame, "If you accept and you cross me, you will be wishing that you were put on watchtower duty."

The die is cast.

Suddenly, he was bound to a stake, on a pyre erected in the middle of the Diet. The Electors were gathered there, and Maximillian stood before him holding a torch. "YOU HAVE DAMNED US!", screamed Mandorf as he tossed the torch into the kindling. The flames leapt up.

I have to deal with the world the way it is.

"Even if nobody we like is in the preferati, I can always... depose them," said the Kaiser, as he hung from a cross in a Bolognese church.

I sold my soul for the promise of a royal wife and a title.

Otto sat on a throne in the Great Hall of Innsbruck, the crown of Bavaria on his head. A roaring fire in the hearth turned the room crimson. Around him were scattered the bodies of his family and friends, butchered and left for the crows.

"Of course you may join your comrades", Otto heard himself say, "You have fought bravely and will be released. After, of course, we hack off your head. I will not have you wearing a crown again!"

The question is what should I do about it?

The axe fell and Otto screamed. . .and woke up.

Outside Genoa, 1154

Otto's tent lay among the large Bavarian siege camp. Inside, the Duke of Bavaria started up in his bed, breathing raggedly. His wife stirred beside him, turned over and resumed snoring.

Getting up from bed, Otto threw on a robe against the chill of the night, and exited the tent. Looking south his gaze took in the siege works and beyond that the city of Genoa. Once the city is taken and Gregory is killed, thought Otto, This must end.

Returning to the tent he lit a candle, placed it on a desk, and sat before it. He stared into the flame, it flickered and danced in the darkness.

"Otto?", mumbled Elsebeth, "What are you doing up? Come back to bed."

"Later Princess," replied Otto, his eyes not moving from the fire, "I have some letters to write."

[OverKnight]

Rome, 1154

Otto's head rung from the slap.

"You bastard!", hissed Elsebeth, "Is what I heard in the Diet true? Is what I heard from my ladies-in-waiting true?"

Otto reached up and massaged his jaw, this was not the greeting he had expected after returning from the Emergency Diet session.

"I do not know Elsebeth", replied Otto, "What have they told you?"

Elsebeth slapped him again.

"Don't play stupid with me Otto! I have been told that you and my Father conspired to bring about the confrontation with Gregory, and that I was the bribe needed to make this happen! Otto von Kassel, second son and mere soldier of the Reich, needed lands and a title, my father needed a pliant Duke, and so I was married off to you to seal the deal!"

Otto grunted, someone had made damn sure that this information made it to Elsebeth, but who? Still, she would have found out eventually.

"Yes Princess, what you have heard was true. I am sorry it is so, but your father needed it done, and if it was not me, it would have been someone else who married you for the same price. That is the lot of royal daughters."

Elsebeth slapped him again.

"At least you have the bravery to be honest about your treachery! Even now, you use me as an excuse not go on my brother's Crusade! How dare you bring up our child troubles? Do you think me so weak and delicate that I can't handle the rigors of travel? You of all people need to cleanse your sins!"

Otto gaped, "But my lady, it was not an excuse, I would not drag you across Europe. There is much to be done here to rebuild Bavaria and heal the wounds of the investiture crisis. I regret my actions, but. . ."

Elsebeth tried to slap him again, but Otto caught her arm and pulled her forward. They were very close now.

"Beth, please stop that", Otto said quietly, "I do regret my actions in the crisis. I wish there had been another way. I tried my best to control it, to make sure the madness didn't continue. . .but if I hadn't said yes we would have never been married. I do love you, I hope you know that."

The Princess looked up at him, she brought up her hand and cupped his face where she had struck him, "Otto, I hear your words, but you still struggle against yourself. I love you, your better half that is. Let go of the anger and the greed, be a true Knight."

Otto smiled sadly, "Ah yes, Roland, what would he do? Go on the Crusade and leave the trappings of power behind, most like."

Elsebeth nodded, "But there is more, you must believe it in your heart. You must act in a Chivalrous manner. You must seek true forgiveness with an open mind and a clean soul."

Otto grimaced, "You sound like Maximillian, my love."

He sighed heavily, "You are right, however, though I am loathe to admit it. Well, if I am to be true Knight, than I would ask my Lady for her favor. A piece of silk perhaps?"

Elsebeth kissed Otto and then moved over to a chest. Removing an item she came back to her husband.

"You may have my favor, Otto", she said, "But I doubt a kerchief will be to your liking. Now this is more fitting."

Elsebeth presented Otto with a small dagger. It was sheathed in a scabbard that was embroidered with the quartered arms of the Empire and Bavaria. A delicate blade, but sharp.

"I no longer have need of this. Perhaps you will find it useful. I hope it will remind you of your new calling when in battle."

Otto smiled, accepting the blade, "Are you sure Beth? The times ahead will be difficult. I will be glad to have you with me, but it will not be easy for you."

Elsebeth nodded and they embraced. Their path was set.

[GeneralHankerchief]

Genoa, 1154

The door to a rarely-used room in the city's palace creaked open. Inside sat Pope Gregory, tied to a chair and looking thoroughly uncomfortable. He turned his head at this new development in what had otherwise been quite a boring day. In strode Kaiser Heinrich, dressed modestly and holding a sword in hand. Gregory chuckled.

"Ah, Heinrich, have you come to make me a martyr?"

The Kaiser kept a stern look on his face. "You delude yourself, Hildebrand," he said, using the Pope's given name. "Once I destroy you, Catholic Europe will be released from your spell and they will beg me for forgiveness, saying how right I was all these years."

The Pope seemed to ignore everything Heinrich had said, instead focusing on the first part. "As my Papal name is Gregory, you will address me as such, Kaiser. It is a part of my title."

Heinrich just sighed. "First of all, this is turning into a meta-argument. Since I did not approve of your appointment you have no right to declare your new name as part of your title. Since this past argument has led to my victory and your capture, it has already been determined that your Papacy was an illegitimate one. Second of all, that aside, you are in no position to request or demand how I am to address you."

The Pope said nothing, so the Kaiser continued.

"Now that we have settled this matter, Hildebrand, let us move on to other issues. You have put my Empire in grave danger numerous times over the course of your Papacy and flouted my authority an equal amount of those times. I do not appreciate this."

"Ha!" Gregory spat at the Kaiser, being able to do little else. "I was just reclaiming a right that you had taken away from us many years ago. Why should someone not associated with the church appoint its highest officials?"

"This was not a religious move; this was a political move and we both know it."

"It does not lessen the question. Answer it please."

The Kaiser whacked Gregory over the head with the flat edge of his sword at this last comment. The Pope, screaming in pain, fell over along with the chair he was still tied to.

"Apparently we are getting nowhere here," said Heinrich smartly. He took out a piece of brown material and after examining it, threw it at his helpless prisoner. "This is the same hairshirt that I wore to Canossa begging for your forgiveness all of these years ago. Put it on, please."

Gregory stared at it for a second and laughed. "You have got to be joking."

The Kaiser's expression was similar to that of stone. "If you do not put it on, I will give the order to execute the several hundred prisoners captured in the battle."

Gregory did a double-take (as much as it would allow while being tied-up and on one's side) at this last comment. "Surely you would not escalate this vendetta of yours to the point that when I did not obey you hundreds of lives would be lost."

"Nobody thought I'd restart this conflict and attack Rome either. Put it on. I'll untie you."

After Heinrich untied his prisoner (although cutting the ropes with his sword was more like it) he watched Gregory change, giving the man no privacy. The sight of Gregory's body, the slowness at which he changed, and the paleness of his skin with no clothes to hide it struck Heinrich. The Pope looked incredibly weak.

When Gregory was dressed, Heinrich grabbed his shoulder and dragged him out of the room into the palace corridor. Gregory was expecting to have to beg for the Kaiser's forgiveness, but Heinrich seemed to be leading him to a specific location. He vaguely paid attention to the journey, but he saw that there were lots of turns and lots of downstairs flights.

Gradually the light got darker and darker, until finally, when Heinrich opened another door, it seemed like night. Evidently they were in the city's catacombs. A horrible odor had permeated the air, and Gregory, wearing nothing but his captor's old hairshirt, quickly got chilly.

The Kaiser, noticing Gregory's uncomfortableness with the temperature, turned. "Enjoy the chill while you can, Hildebrand. It's going to get a lot hotter for you very soon."

The putrid, cool, damp air was doing more damage to Gregory's fragile system than any physical harm. He began to bend over, coughing. Meanwhile, Heinrich continued to lead him down, deeper into the city's catacombs.

"You know, I've been thinking," he said as he walked, speaking over Gregory's occasional coughing and now, sneezing, "What would be more satisfying for me personally? The prospect of killing my greatest enemy and thus fully redeeming myself for my foolish early actions, or keeping him alive and making him my puppet, thus allowing him to unfortunately witness my triumph?"

Finally, they stopped walking. Gregory was barely able to talk now. The air was so foul, he didn't understand how Heinrich could bear it. To their side was what seemed to be a river of sludge. Was it the city's sewer system, perhaps?

"I'd appreciate some input, Hildebrand."

The next thing Gregory knew, his head was being forced into the sludge. Gasping in shock and surprise, he swallowed a mouthful of God knows what. It tasted as bad as it smelt. He couldn't see, his nose, throat, eyes, and stomach were all screaming at him to stop the pain, but no respite came...

...finally, his head was pulled back up out of the sewer. His face was a mess, his long white hair now dirty and tangled. He gasped for breath, and his ears vaguely heard a "well?" before he was forced back into the muck.

The second time was as bad as the first. If this were water it wouldn't be so bad, but this was not water. He was suffocating, drowning in other people's trash, urine, excrement, and who knows what else.

He was pulled back out of the sewer once again, this time allowed to catch his breath.

"I want an answer, Hildebrand."

Gregory, sputtering, trying to clear his mouth of the toxic mixture that it had been subjected to, could only manage a "puh-puh-please..." before he was dunked again.

The third time was worse than the other two, due to the sheer longetivity that he was down. He was still fully aware of himself, and thinking clearly, but he knew that if he didn't get air, blessed air, even the pungent aroma of these catacombs, he would die soon.

When next allowed to rise out of the sludge, Gregory swallowed his pride (along with various other substances), and begged for it to stop.

"Puh-please, don't... please don't keep this up... I'll do anything... I'm sorry..."

"What was that?"

"I'm sorry... just please don't kill me... I'll do anything you ask... just don't..."

Heinrich grinned menacingly.

"Do you agree that you were wrong all these years, that I have the power of Investiture and that you unrightfully took it away from me?"

"Yes, yes! Just get me out of here!"

"Do you agree that I have the sole power of Investiture?!"

"YES! Please don't hurt me anymore..."

Heinrich ignored the final plea.

"Then, by the power vested in me as Holy Roman Emperor, I hereby depose you as Pope."

He dunked Hildebrand, for that was truly his name now, into the sewer for the final time, this time not letting up until Hildebrand had finished screaming and shaking his arms madly. Kaiser Heinrich, power asserted once and for all, turned away from the lifeless, stinking body of his tormentor and exited the catacombs without looking back.

[econ21]

Somewhere in North Italy, 1154

Henry rode through the darkened city streets with a single escort, a young Bavarian knight. It had been arranged - it was better like this, less likely to attract attention. All through the long journey, Duke Otto’s question at the Crusader Council had rang unanswered in his mind: would he, Henry, stand for Chancellor? The Bavarian knight wanted an answer for his Duke, but Henry still needed time to think. Why me? Why should I be the one to stand?

The main business of the next Diet would be shepherding the crusade to the Holy Land - for that reason, a crusading Chancellor was the best bet. With settlements governed by Counts and Household armies governed by Dukes, the Reich could almost run itself. All it would take, if Henry were elected Chancellor, were a few signatures on troop requisition forms and reliance on the Imperial secretariat to facilitate communication among the Houses.

What was the alternative? Entrusting the logistics and direction of the crusade to the trust of a man who opposed the crusade? Or worse, one of his father’s lackeys who might find a way to subvert the Edict against further territorial expansion. Who might use the opportunity to hunt down and kill future Popes and foreign Cardinals. Henry shuddered. Yes, a crusading Chancellor would be the best bet.

And yet there were no candidates. Henry had looked to Dietrich, whose accomplishments in the field Henry had always admired and envied. But the old warhorse had stubbornly ruled it out, thinking it inappropriate. Likewise, Maximillan, a shrewd and severe Chancellor, had barred himself from what would no doubt have been a most proficiently executed second term. Otto - well, Otto was wise enough to see the logic of a crusading Chancellor but was too unsure of his current standing in the Diet to risk defeat in an election. And so that left Henry.

What held him back? Was it the weakness his father had saw in him? The fear of making enemies? The lack of drive or direction that had characterised his career so far? In truth, Henry did not know. Henry lived in the shadow of his father and of the crown that would be his, God willing, when his father passed on. Until that shadow was lifted, until the crown was secure, Henry felt as if he were waiting for his real life to begin. Why expose himself to criticism and condemnation now? Why exhaust his political capital, make enemies, just for the privilege of planning a route march? The next Diet would probably be uneventful; certainly uneventful if Henry had his way. Why bother? Why me? Let Leopold or someone else do the donkey’s work. Stay under that shadow, wait for that crown.

He had arrived. His Bavarian escort dismounted and helped Henry off his horse. The knight knocked on the heavy wooden door. A shutter on the door opened and frightened eyes looked out. Whispered words in Italian and the door was unlocked. Henry entered, was ushered down to the basement by a worried looking man with a shaved head.

In the basement, Henry saw a second man waiting - dressed in plain white and black clothes, with a large black hat. An inquisitor! Henry’s hand moved to his dagger and he checked behind him to look at his Bavarian escort. The Bavarian was looking around the dark basement curiously, the blank open look on his face testimony to his innocence. Henry relaxed - it was not a trap, the inquisitor was alone and apparently not on official business.

“He is here”, the shaven man said, pointing to a wrapped form on the table.

Henry approached cautiously. Why was he, Henry, here? Why was he doing this again? But morbid fascination propelled him forward. Fascination not with the form on the table, but with the bloodline that had put it there.

“It is very bad, your Highness, very bad.” the man lamented. “We found him and brought him here. We did not want the Germans… we did not want anything more to happen to him.”

Henry pulled back the rough blanket covering the figure on the table. The smell was overpowering - a stench of waste and putrefaction. The corpse’s eyes were bulging, its face had a bluish tinge under the dirt. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the young Bavarian knight hold his nose and look away in revulsion. The inquisitor was staring at Henry, eyes burning with hatred.

Henry focussed again on the corpse. The dirt was so ingrained it was hard to make out. What was he wearing? Henry noticed the hair shirt and gasped - so it was true, there could be no doubt who was responsible for this. He looked at the expression of helpless terror on the dead man’s face. Henry’s lips curled in disdain - not at the pitiful spectacle in front of him, but at the thought of the events that had led to it. War with Papacy, sacking Rome, besieging Genoa - these were bad enough. These things he had endured. But this, this was something else.

What had he said in the Diet? …the prospect of the Holy Father lying dead at the feet of my unholy father… Even in his wildest condemnation of Heinrich, he had not imagined this prospect would come true - not like this. Death in combat was one thing; no man in an army could object to such an end. But callous and cruel murder was quite another matter. Poor Sigismund’s end had been kind compared to this. Henry gently closed the dead man’s eyes and placed the blanket back over him.

He turned angrily to the shaven headed monk:

“Clean him up. Anoint him. Dress him in the finest garments you can procure. I will send men to collect the body for burial, far from prying eyes. You must organise Mass for him in as many churches as you can. For me to do so would be seen as treason.”

The monk bowed, while the inquisitor watched Henry coolly and then quietly left the basement. Henry ignored his departure and instead stared harshly at Bavarian knight. It was as if he seeing his own father standing there, instead of the young warrior. Heinrich had to be stopped. Why me? Because there was no one else.

“And you… you tell Duke Otto the answer is yes.”

[Kagemusha]

Thorn castle at night after the fall of The castle to German hands.

At the gates of Thorn,Sergeant Ulf was counting in his head,how much money he would get from the loot of the castle. He cursed his faith,that had put him on the guard duty on this very night when others were celebrating the victory from the Poles.
At evening a rain had started and it had got worse hour by hour and now it was pouring like someone would have been pouring it from a huge barrel over the earth.
Ulf was disturbed from his thoughts,when a single rider came towards the gate. As the stranger aproached Ulf grabbed his spear and shouted to the man who was now dismounted and walking his horse towards the gate

"Who are you and why are you aproaching the gates of Thorn,after the night call has been sounded. There is no entrance to the city in the middle of the night!"

Stranger,a tall figure dressed on a black robe and an armor showing up behind the black cloath walked towards the sergeant steadily,without saying a word.

"Are you a deaf, there is no entrance to the castle at this hour!"

Ulf shouted as the stranger aproached. As the stranger came near Ulf,he tryed to lift his spear to block the way of the man. Fast as lightning,the armored hand of the stranger grabbed a firm grib from his spear. Ulf looked at the hand and saw the seal ring of Franconia in the finger of the stranger.

Dietrich Von Saxony sayed with calm and steady voice to the sergeant of the Spearmen.

"Are you blocking your Dukes way to one of his castles?"

As Ulf tryed to simultaneously salute the Duke and give reply,Dietrich interrupted him and continued.

"What is your name and rank soldier?"

Ulf replyed.

"Ulf, sergeant of Spearmen in Household army of Franconia"

"Well,Ulf,Sergeant of Spearmen in the Household army of Franconia. I have orders for you.Now you go to your captain and tell him that you want the next guard shift also. After that you will go to castle crypt and drive anyone out from there and after that come back and escort me there.Is this understood?"

Ulf tryed to sober.

"But mein Lord,there is a wake going on for the Polish nobleman who lead the defense of this castle,before he and his men were killed."

"Silence!"

Dietrich barked to the man.

"Now you go and do what i told you to do. And speak not a single word about to anyone,that im here."

"Sir!Yes Sire!"

Ulf mumbled and started running towards the guard house.Dietrich remained standing in the rain. He tapped his horses sides,which were warm and wet from the rain and sayed to the horse.

"Old friend,we still have many miles to journey this night.Rest now and wait for me hear."

The horse turned its wet and warm mouth towards Dietrich as he stroke it gently. And looked Dietrich with its large brown eyes.

Soon Ulf returned and escorted Dietrich to the Crypt. As Ulf tryed to take a torch and lead Dietrich down the stairs. Dietrich stopped him.

"Give me the torch and wait outside."

Ulf nodded and walked out,as Dietrich started walking down to the crypt. Soon he entered a large hall with a single man lying in a stand made of Stone, surrounded by candles that created a dim light to the crypt.. The man was still in full armour and Dietrich could see the dryed blood and large wounds on the man. Dietrich walked next to the corpse and put his torch into a hanger.
The man was about the same size as Dietrich was,thick neck and broad shoulders looked exactly like Dietrichs own, but while Dietrichs thick black hair had gained some grey,the man lying next to Dietrich was completely bald and had large beard.Nonetheless these two, if they would have standed side by side,could have been thought to be brothers or relatives. Dietrich talked to the dead man.

"Finally we meet. Im sorry that i could not save you, but may we meet in heaven soon. While you never knew me.I know who you were. Rest now and may you be in peace. Dietrich kneeled and prayed outloud.

"Our Father, who art in heaven,

Hallowed be thy Name.

Thy kingdom come.

Thy will be done,

On earth as it is in heaven.

Give us this day our daily bread.

And forgive us our trespasses,

As we forgive those who trespass against us.

And lead us not into temptation,

But deliver us from evil.

For thine is the kingdom,

and the power,

and the glory,

for ever and ever.

Amen."

Dietrich draw the sign of cross with his wet finger from the rain on the forehead of the dead man and stayed on his place for a while in the absolute silence of the crypt. After a while he stood up grabbed the torch and walked out,where Ulf was waiting.
As the two men came out from the gate.Dietrich mounted and turned towards Ulf and sayed.

"Sergeant Ulf. No one came in the Thorn tonight and no one left Thorn also."

Ulf swallowed as Dietrich pierced him with his eyes.

"Yes Sire,understood"

Dietrich dropped a heavy bag of Gold coins to the sergeants hand. Before Ulf could say anything, The Duke of Franconia was already galloping away,in to the rain.

OOC:Remember guys,not any of you know about this episode.

[Ituralde]

The colonnade lay quiet, except for the quiet sprinkling of the marble fountain in the middle of the inner courtyard, the noise of the Eternal City dimmed to a mere buzz. Although the Imperial Diet had chosen a central building for their congregations it was large enough to provide small patches of quietness in the busy city.

Leopold standing between two columns was lost in thought as the approaching footsteps pulled him out of the reverie. Slowly he turns to face the newcomer. Disbanding all protocol he takes a step forward to clasp his hand on the other man's shoulder. "I'm glad you came, my brother! Finally we have the time to talk." Thus declaring that this was not intended as a talk between Dukes, but between friends.

Smiling a faint smile he turns around: "Let's walk a little. We have much to discuss!"

Dietrich shook Leopolds hand with a friendly smile on his face. The two walked through the hallways and ended up on a balcony that provided a view over the holy city. After a bit of silence Dietrich said to the younger man.
"Im leaving. I am going to the Holy land to meet my destiny. It will be up to you to deal with the old man and I hope you can gather enough support in the Diet to keep him under control, so the Reich will not drive itself in to the doom, that is lurking around us.

Leopold enjoyed the sight in front of him, the bustle of a city always gave him a good feeling.
"I am happy for you. May you find your destiny on this Crusade. I had my doubts, but with your support this could still turn into a holy journey. I hear that young von Mahren is going too? Too bad, he did an admirable job and made our border even securer. I hope I can count on von Kastilien and von Hamburg to secure our Eastern border."

He looks over the balcony again, taking in the view and taking a deep breath, before looking back to Dietrich: "You presume right though. I will stay to defend what's mine. In fact I would like to defend what's ours by candidating for Chancellor. Do I have your support?"

Dietrich smiles to Leopold, leaving Leopold to wonder if he is just honestly smiling or he is just smiling to the predictable question.

"There is no question about that. I think you are the man who can save the Reich in this situation. After all we have been through together I have absolute trust on you. Im sure that Von Hamburg and Von Kastillien will help you in any way possible to protect the Reich. Von Mahren is still a young man and I'm sure one day he will be back from the Holy journey, along with the Prinz. I hope then the times will be more pleasant and these days will be just an agonizing memory. It has been an honour to know you Duke Leopold of Austria. May God go with you. I will have to go now to Frankfurt to say my goodbyes to my loved ones and prepare for my final journey to the Holy Land. You have the support and friendship of Franconia and I'm sure you will honour that."

Duke Dietrich turns his head towards the first rays of light of the rising sun. Watching somewhere in the distance and then turns to shake Leopolds hand.

"I thank you for your support Dietrich, it means a lot to me. I will do everything in my power to ensure that whoever comes back from the Crusade will find his lands untouched and secure.
It has been a pleasure to know you Duke Saxony of Franconia. It lifts my heart that such able men accompany the Crusade and at the same time saddens me that this will be your last journey. I wish you the best of luck and I am sure you will see success!"

Leopold shakes the hand of Dietrich a brief smile passing over his face. It would become a difficult time and it would be even more difficult without his trusted ally at his side. Still holding on to his hand he speaks again.

"I will honour this friendship and Franconia can always rely on Austria! Who will be your Steward once you are gone though? Who can I turn to, to uphold the friendship between our Houses?"

Dietrich looks in the eyes of Leopold and answers:

"Tell you the truth, I'm not sure even myself at the moment. I have little time before the Crusade moves out, so I will visit my home Frankfurt to say goodbyes to my family, before I will leave from there. I will decide the future ruler of Franconia. Now my friend, we should go and cast our votes in the Diet. Im in a hurry so I can leave still today to see my Duchy, before leaving from where the sun rises."

Dietrich taps Leopold on the shoulder and starts walking steadily towards the Diet, while Leopold remains standing on the banister. So much had been left untouched and untalked about, but the most important thing, the support for his Chancellroship had been secured.


(written by Kagemusha and Ituralde)

[Ituralde]

A recently unearthed letter exchange between the Dukes of Bavaria and Austria has been translated. It is believed to stem from the Second Investiture Crisis, maybe following or having been written during the Emergency Diet of the year 1154 AD. It is notable how Duke Otto von Kassel later did join the Crusade, which lead to the ensuing struggle we all know of.



Dear Otto von Kassel,
Duke of Bavaria!

I have refrained until now from speaking of your involvement in the recent developments that have led to our excommunication. I believe you had your reasons to cooperate with Emperor Heinrich and respected them. You have sold your soul and cast possible damnation on all of us for your advancement. While I admire your verve and ambition, I believed you to be a more astute man to see the consequences of your doings. Your cooperation has brought you much, a royal wife, the title of a Duke and rich lands in Italy. Who would not be tempted to sell his soul for those prospects, seeing how well the things have developed.

Gregory has clearly not had God's support in the battle and probably never had it. Who am I to judge these Celestial things? All I can do is observe what happens here on Earth and make my judgement based on it.
I believed you would see that you have done a great wrong to gain much advancement and would come to your senses and see that you may have bargained for too much. That you may try to right some of the wrongs you made. That you try to lessen the burden of sin you have laden upon your shoulders.

Your actions in this Emergency Diet sessions have once again shown your true face however. Consumed by greed you are unable to sacrifice one meagre settlement for reconciliation with the Pope, for restoring the excommunication you have cast upon us. It would still be a good deal. Duke of Bavaria, member of the Royal family, Genoa in your possession. You would have done admirably well to advance your own agenda. Do not take this game too far however by wanting to hold on to everything you have recieved. If you give up a small part of it now in the form of Florence, the other Houses may see that you are noble and pious at your heart and have done the same that most of us would have also done were they in the same situation.

As said in the Diet, if our roles were reversed I'd gladly give up Florence to gain reconciliation. Does Heinrich still have this great a hold on you? He is old and soon our brother Henry will become Emperor. Your actions are despised by most other Houses and even your own lieges seem to disagree with you. You don't have to stand without allies once Heinrichs reign ends.

If you decide not to repent yoru sins, and show some reconciliation efforts by offering one of the treasures you have gained through your unholy bargain, then I fear that I for one will not be able to forgive you. Do what you must, but don't expect me to forgive you for your atrocities. If a small sacrifice seems too much for you and your sins, then I will refuse to acknowledge you or any of your actions in the future, be they in the Diet or in private.
Choose well, my Lord!

Yours faithfully,

Duke Leopold


---------------


Duke Leopold,

Your speak plainly and I'm grateful for it. My past dealings with you and von Schusslen were usually more murky.

I simply do not agree with your proposal. It has nothing to do with the state of my soul, which is my own business, or my supposed diabolical leanings. I wish I was the mastermind you made me out to be. I support 1.1. I do not support 1.4. It is as simple as that.

Maximillian is set on going on this Crusade, I will not deny him this. I am the only army commander left in Bavaria, that, among other reasons I've already stated, is why I must stay. I will not leave Bavaria defended by a young man who has not even been knighted. Believe this or not.

If this Crusade is to be succesful the efforts on the home front are important as well. Crusaders will need florins, supplies and reinforcements. The defense of the Reich must be maintained. What use is taking Jerusalem if there is nothing to come home to? If I have sinned then I will seek forgiveness by rebuilding the war torn lands of Italy, and doing what I can to defend the Reich and Bavaria.

Again if you wish your proposal to succeed, sacrifice your own land, you will have Venice soon enough. I do not choose who recieves what, the Kaiser does. If you had served him better, perhaps you would have benefited more. Do you think your dramatic reversal of position right before the last Chancellor's election escaped my notice? Let he who is without sin, cast the first stone.

Don't threaten me your Grace, and don't invoke your brother the Prinz. He has voted against you in the Diet more often than I have. Even now, you stand against him in your opposition to 1.1.

I will find your silence most comforting.

Otto von Kassel

[GeneralHankerchief]

Rome, 1160
The Imperial Diet

It was well past midnight when the Diet building, also the Roman Senate building of old, had a live body in it once again. The building was now privy to the presence of its keeper, Kaiser Heinrich.

The old man, as he was now (un?)affectionately known by, was unable to sleep in his lavish palace and had decided to take a walk through the streets of his prize, the Reich's new capital of Rome. His post-midnight stroll had ended up at the site where the next Chancellor would be decided the following day.

The old man ascended to his usual podium, taking in the sights that were illuminated by the moonlight. All around him the chamber echoed with history. The Curia Julia, as it was known in ancient times, had been home to all the deliberations of the Roman Republic. Men such as Quintus, Augustus Verginius, Numerius Aureolus, and the entire Aemilii clan had stood in the same building that Kaiser Heinrich was in now. Upon the Empire's fall, it had been converted into a church, but when Heinrich had taken Rome in 1146 he immediately ordered the reconversion of the building to a legislative chamber in anticipation of the capital's move.

So, Heinrich thought to himself, tomorrow I drag my rear end back in here just to announce that Leopold has been elected Chancellor over Henry as well as a few edict results. And then it's happy retirement for this Kaiser, since I won't live to see another Diet session. Maybe that's for the best.

He absentmindedly made his way through the voting tally of the current session, straining his eyes to make out how his favored proposals were doing.

Hmm, not going my way, not going my way... too close to call, not going my way. Curses. Let's see how 6.2 is doing... "This Edict hereby instructs the Chancellor to have Kaiser Heinrich, reinforced with the full garrison of Rome, attack Pope Accattus so that the Reich may be reconciled more quickly." ...and, it's not going my way. Big surprise.

So the Diet wishes to take away the right that I have just won back for them. Why does it always turn out this way?

Pope Accattus of Portugal was the man that Heinrich had personally approved to succeed Gregory to the Papal Seat. However, he had betrayed the Kaiser by refusing to reconcile the Reich, and even besieging Rome and attacking Heinrich himself! Normally, this would be grounds for removal but it seemed as if the Diet was just fine with this continued period of excommunication.

These people don't seem to realize that the sooner Accattus dies, the sooner Otterbach comes in and the sooner we get reconciled.

Heinrich's mind was already working on how to get around this legality, since it seemed as if his edict that permitted the attacking of Accattus would fail.

Technically, we are in a period without a Chancellor, which means that, as Emperor, nobody is free to order troops in my jurisdiction around. I don't have much time to act since soon, the law will be set in stone that I am not allowed to attack this traitor of a Pope...

Still thinking, the Kaiser strode out of the empty chamber and once again walked in the streets of Rome. Although this time the walk had a purpose. The direction was towards the city's barracks.

[Ignoramus]

Tuttlingen, 1168

Ulrich H&#252;mmel roughly dismounted his horse and threw the reins to his page. He frowned disapprovingly on the deplorable state of the inn.

"Are you sure that there are no other lodgings?" he asked his page. "This building isn't fit for even the schwein French, let alone the Prinz's son-in-law."

"I am afraid not, mein lord. However, I hear that this landlord's beer is good."

At the mention of beer, Ulrich's expression changed. "Very well, we shall halt here for the day."

Leaving the page to attend to the horses, Ulrich strolled toward's the rough building. It was obvious that it had been poorly constructed, and one look was enough to tell Ulrich that it was in a bad state of repair.

As Ulrich entered, the landlord hurried over to him. "Welcome, mein guest! Would you care for some Schinkenwurst?"

"Nein, danke. I have eaten my fair share of sausage today. A mug of beer would be in order, though."

As the landlord went off to his kitchen, Ulrich sat down at one of the tables.

A young man, bearing a Flemish complexion, slowly walked over to him.

"Good evening, mein freund. Where do you hail from?"

Ulrich studied the man closely before replying. "I am Ulrich H&#252;mmel, the Sixth Elector of Swabia. You, I believe, are from Flandern?"

"Ja, that is correct. Mein name is Jan van Ghent; I fought against the French at Brugges."

The landlord returned with Ulrich's beer, and attended to another traveller.

"You fought against the French?" mused Ulrich, "Well, perhaps you could be kind enough to assist me."

"You need mein assistance, Herr Ulrich?" asked van Ghent.

"I am currently riding west to assist Count Jobst von Salza of the County of Burgundy in fighting the French. Herr Jobst is currently shut up in the city of Dijon, and a large French army surrounds it. Although an experienced campaigner, my battles have been chiefly against the rebels of Milan. I gained much experience under Count Sigismund der Stolze."

"Ah, Sigismund was a brilliant general! I have heard of his victories over those Italian rebels of yours."

"Ja," replied Ulrich bitterly, "and because of that those French schwein murdered him. But anyway, as I was saying, I have no experience of how to fight the French."

"You indeed have a tough task ahead of you. The King of France has many a brave Ritter at his banner, and as such you will need to stand repeatedly against his many charges."

"Ja, Ja, I know that. But how can I do that with the men that we have? Our militia are but poorly trained and ill-equiped to meet a cavalry charge. And as for our sergeants, I fear that even they cannot survive many charges unsupported."

"Have patience, mein freund. If you permit me to accompany you, I shall teach you what I know in time."

"Very well," said Ulrich as he rose, "you shall accompany me."

Jan rose and turned to leave the inn, "Good Night! I trust we shall meet tomorrow."

Ulrich sat deep in thought as the door closed. He was tired, and longed to retire to bed.

"Mein lord?"

Ulrich looked up. It was his page, Rupert.

"Ja, Rupert, what is it?" he asked

"The horses are stabled and have been fed. Are you finished with me for the night?" responded Rupert.

"Ja, you may go and rest. We must leave early. We have a long journey ahead of us."

As Rupert left to go to the stables, Ulrich called the landlord over to him.

"Landlord, here is a florin for the beer and tonight's lodging. I shall be leaving at dawn."

The landlord bowed. "Very gut, mein guest."

As he went to his room, Ulrich sighed. Today, he reflected, had been an interesting day.

[GeneralHankerchief]

Rome, 1168
The Imperial Palace

Pope Andreas is dead.

Kaiser Heinrich is dying.

Those two pieces of news had spread through the streets of Rome until nothing else was deemed worthy of discussing. These two events were quite related, which prompted even more chatter than normal. The Kaiser had sallied out of Rome some weeks ago, driving back the besieging army and killing the Pope in the process. There were even rumors that he was surrounded by ten or so Papal horsemen and had slain them all personally.

Whatever had happened in that battle, Heinrich had returned from the fields north of the city a changed man. He had sported nasty wounds all throughout his person; it's a miracle he wasn't killed. His complexion had turned much paler as well, and that combined with his white hair made him look something of a ghost.

The few times that Heinrich had been seen in public and the Diet since the last battle, he relied on an ornate walker to help him get around. Even then, it took him much longer to do things. His voice, before deep and rich with power and authority, had become wheezy and weak. His mental state was still there, struggling to complete his normal routine despite the injuries, but it was clear that the Kaiser was aware that his time was finally nearing, and if one looked closely, despair could be seen in Heinrich's eyes.

Finally, about a week ago, the Kaiser had stopped being seen in public. He was now spending all of his time in the comforts of his bed, aided by a few dedicated doctors that could really only watch as his condition deteriorated. Authority was delegated to his staff and advisors, but Heinrich still kept a close watch on the goings-on of his men.

Two days ago, the various members of the College of Cardinals had shuffled into the city to once again elect a new Pope. Some, upon hearing about the Kaiser's condition, had grinned.

"So, divine retribution strikes at last," said Froderigus of the Papal States to his entourage, commenting on Heinrich's state.

Finally, on the day of the Papal Election, Heinrich awoke with a high fever. He knew that his time had come.

Ringing the bell which had been provided should he need anything, the Kaiser addressed the first servant that had come rushing in.

"Send me *cough* my wife and Otterbach. The Anointing of the Sick must be administered."

Several minutes later, Betrada, Heinrich's wife arrived into the room, and was closely followed by Cardinal Charles Otterbach, who would soon stand for Pope.

So, these are the only two people that stand by and aid me as my time ends. No children or grandchildren. They all are off, estranged from me or too young to care. No friends or allied Electors, like Ludwig or Sigismund. They are all dead, and now I join them.

"Otterbach," he said, giving a smile to his wife, "Hold off on the Undulation for a little while. I need you to write."

"Mein Kaiser," said the female Cardinal, the same Cardinal whom a different Maximillian Mandorf had taken advantage of so many years ago, a bit shocked, "Your time is short and these matters are of grave importance. I must insist that the Undulation is performed poste-haste."

"Re*cough*lax, Otterbach, I've put off death for many years now; I can put it off for a few more minutes. As the man who appointed you as priest, I order you to write."

Reluctantly, Cardinal Otterbach picked up paper and quill, and began to transcribe what Heinrich dictated to her.

"Good Electors,

It is my regret that I leave you now after so much time on Earth. I depart with mixed emotions but no regrets. I only wish that more could have been done. Unfortunately, that task is now up to you and know that I will be with you always in seeing it done.

Regretfully, my condition prevents me from addressing certain Electors in person so I will now do so here. To the certain few that would have none of it, please, at least hear what this dying Kaiser has to say as a last request.

To Dietrich von Saxony: I apologize for never bothering to see your daughter and my grandchild that you informed me of many years ago. If you ever return from your crusade, please teach her who I was and what I stood for.

To Otto von Kassel: You disappoint me. No matter what you stood for, I wanted a friend and an ally. You were both, for a short period of time. However, when it became clear that I was on my way out in the world you threw our bond aside, forgetting all that I had done for you. While I can do nothing about you now, you will surely remember this betrayal sometime into the future.

To Leopold: May you continue to bring much glory to Austria and the Reich as Chancellor. With Hungary, Poland, and Venice still at war with us much hard times will befall your House. Know that you have my blessing in all of my endeavours.

To Prinz Henry: The crown is finally yours, my son. In due time you will recognize all of the finer points of being Kaiser, as well as appreciate your father more for what he has done. May your reign be long and prosperous, and may you continue to expand the Reich's glory.

To all of you, I realize that I leave you with enemies on all sides and within. The times ahead will be trying, but eventually we shall prevail. I leave you one last piece of advice, which you may heed if you like: Never stop fighting. France will fall, the enemies of the East be tamed, England repulsed. Even the Papacy, which some of you label as my greatest failure, will soon fall back into our hands. The fighting and sacrifices of our generations will bring peace and prosperity for the next thousand years.

Kaiser Heinrich"

Finally, once the Kaiser had finished, he allowed last rites to be performed. After Otterbach had completed them, Heinrich, breathing his last breaths, pulled the Cardinal in close.

"You must... be elected..." he said, struggling, "This must... end... For all of us... get elected... reconcile us... give the Prinz... room to move..."

Otterbach, tears in her eyes, nodded.

"Never... stop... fighting..."

The Kaiser slumped back into his bed, hand grasping his wife's. He stared at the ceiling for a few moments before departing, leaving the Reich behind forever.

https://i113.photobucket.com/albums/n231/GeneralHankerchief/KotR/kotr_111.jpg

Kaiser Heinrich, before his death. Word spread quickly through the city about the Emperor's passing, possibly impacting the College of Cardinals' decision. Three hours later, in the Papal Election, the Cardinals elected Domingo the Warmonger of Spain to the Seat. The Reich continues to be excommunicated.

[econ21]

Croatia, 1170

Prince Henry walked through the camp at night. The dark air was chill, but the many fires provided convenient refuges of warmth and light during his wanderings.

The crusade was getting off to a slow start. The rearguard, which Duke Otto and Henry commanded, was still near Zagreb - waiting for the arrival of Henry’s son, Hans. Aside from one of the priests going wild and turning heretic, there had been little incident or excitement. It was as if the nearby hostile Venetian and Hungarian armies respected the crusaders zeal. Or more likely, thought Henry cynically, they were only too happy to see the better part of Germany’s armies march away as they, the invaders, marched in.

For if the crusade’s progress had been slow and calm, all hell had broken lose back home. Enemies without count, settlements besieged. And yet the Chancellor and the Emperor seemed to be holding up well enough so far. Henry smiled and shook his head as he recalled the account of his father’s most recent battle: another Pope slain; was there no stopping the man?

Henry looked up and saw a lone figure watching him by a tent. The figure was unarmed and apparently without armour, but was staring boldly at the Prince. Henry was disconcerted by this lack of etiquette - no man was supposed to meet the gaze of the Prince without bowing. Henry raised his shoulders, puffed out his chest and strode towards the figure.

“You there, who are you, Sir?” Henry demanded.

Only then did the lone figure bow, an extravagant low bow, with a flourish of his black cape:

“Dusan Kolar, your Highness. It is an honour to meet you.”

Etiquette re-established, Henry visibly deflated and had to struggle to find something meaningful to say:

“Ahh, good, a local I take it? What brings you here? Come to join the crusade, what? You don’t look much like a soldier or a camp follower. Not one of those monks or fanatics are you?”

The man smiled knowingly:

“The world is too full of monks and fanatics, is it not?”

Henry smiled back, conspiratorially. A year or two, he might have taken umbridge at such a lack of piety. He had prayed by the body of the murdered Pope Gregory, sought to nurture his own faith - to turn from an opportunistic supporter of peace with the Papacy to a position of principled devout support. He had sought to follow Maximillan Mandorf, in the Bavarian’s spiritual conversion. But what had it got him? Trial by inquisition, within months of arranging the burial of Gregory. Even his father Heinrich’s disposal of the latest Pope had stirred little inside Henry. All this, he thought, but dared not speak.

The man was watching Henry intently, as if understanding and then looked up at the stars.

“Don’t misunderstand me, Sire. I respect the spirituality of the monks and the fanatics. But their understanding is so … limited. They speak of heaven and foreswear worldly goods, but their vision is blinkered and their preoccupations are often with things of this earth. A crown, a mitre, an Empire, a Holy City… They do not take the time to stop and look up, to see how small they and their concerns are.”

Henry stared at the man. What the hell was the fellow doing, blathering on like this to him, the Prince? As if I don’t have better things to do! But the man continued, oblivious to the incredulity on Henry’s face:

“But you, your Highness, you are finally free, are you not?”

Free? What on God’s earth was this nutter talking about? Henry stared harshly at the man, who merely registered the Prince’s look and gave another extravagant bow:

“I see I have taken up too much of your time. Until we meet again, your Highness.”

Henry watched the man leave and then heard a commotion in the camp. Guards were rushing around until they spotted the Prince. A Bavarian knight ran forward to Henry and fell onto one knee, whispering in mournful reverence and profound awe:

“Grave news, your Highness: your father has passed away. The Emperor is dead, long live the Emperor!”

Henry felt as if he had been punched in the stomach and took a deep breath. Flustered, he looked around. The camp was awake and humming with excitement. Already he could see Duke Otto rushing to approach him. Henry tried to compose himself, a million things crowding in his mind at once. And yet one thing stood out above the rest: you are finally free, are you not?. Henry turned to the Bavarian knight:

“I have a special duty for you: there was a man here, just now. Dusan… Kolar, I think his name was. Find him and bring him to me. However, hard it is - just do it.”

[OverKnight]

Otto stared into the flames of a camp fire. The news of Kaiser Heinrich's death had reached the army earlier that day, it had cast a pall over the camp as night had fallen and it was eerily quiet. Otto could hear Elsebeth weeping from his tent, she was inconsolable and he had left her to her women after a few hours. He needed time for himself, to think, to process the news that had shaken him. So now he was seated in front of a fire, drinking from a flask of wine and going over the dire messages brought that day.

The Kaiser is dead, the new Pope is not our choice and refuses to negotiate with us, a huge Hungarian army is rampaging through northern Italy, Metz has rebelled to the French and Dijon, Venice, Vienna and Hamburg are besieged. Of course, on the positive side, the Kaiser killed another Pope before he shuffled off the mortal coil.

"Did he put in a good word for you, my lord?", asked Otto to the sky.

Taking a swig from the wine, Otto raised the flask, "A toast to the Kaiser, Heinrich Pope-Bane, a man of insurmountable will and equal stubbornness. The man who made me everything, everything, I am today."

Otto shook his head to clear the cobwebs. A disappointment, Otto thought, is what he called me on his death bed. I guess that means I am part of the family, if he's humiliating me publicly. "Friend and an ally"? Hah! If by friend he means servant, and by ally he means lickspittle, than yes that is what the Kaiser wanted. I fulfilled my end of the bargain, he got Rome and Gregory. That was the deal. I served him better than anyone else. Just because I wouldn't follow him into Hell itself by slaughtering the College of Cardinals doesn't mean I'm disloyal.

Otto thought back to the last Diet in Rome, when the Kaiser's armed guards had woken him up in the middle of the night to deliver an ultimatum. Yes, that is how one treats an ally and a son-in-law. If he knew me any better, He would have known that was the worst approach he could have taken. Perhaps if the Kaiser's allies hadn't dropped like flies, he would have had more.

Otto sighed, despite the Kaiser's failings, the Reich could use a man of his singular will at this point. There were enemies on all sides. Henry was a good man but Otto was worried about his approach to the Swabian succession. Von Salva as Prinz, Hummell as Duke and his own son to accompany him on Crusade. I do not doubt Henry's motives, but this could cause conflict among the Swabians. They might be at each other's throats while the French are at their doorstep.

Thinking of the grim situation at home, Otto wished he could return to help set things right. But I have taken the Cross, that is my duty now. I have helped bring this disaster on the Reich, and I must take Jerusalem to balance the scales.

Otto stood up and turned to face his tent. I must put my feelings aside. Elsebeth sees her father through a daughter's eyes and I will not disappoint her.

Shoulders slumped, and with a bit of a stagger, he walked into the tent to try to comfort his wife.

[Warluster]

In DIjon, 1168 AD.

boom
The ground shook in the Castle of Dijon, one of the servants staggered towards the New Prinz's Room,
boom
ANother rock hit the Castle, and screamign started outside. The servant toppled over but got up and knocked on the Prinz's door. It opened, but no one was seen. the Prinz was standing by one of the only windows in his chambers. The servant spoke up,
'is there anything you need sir?' he asked, the Prinz muttered something.
boom
The servant staggered but remained upright.
'Sir?'
'Give... Bring...bring me Heidindrudis, it is not safe outside' said Jobst, the servant scurried off, and left the prinz standing there in a breakign Castle.
THis is where it starts. The next stage of our great Reich's Historythought Jobst

boom
Heidindrudis, Jobst's wife came striding in, a smiled at Jobst,
'I was called, what is wrong?' she asked, Jobst made a motion which meant the servants were to leave, then bowed his head
'The French are...'
'yes?'
'so much stronger' finished Jobst, Heidindrudis storked his arm,
'We can fight back, remember what happened at AUstria, they beat them back time and time again' said Heidindrudis,
'But I am no great general, I do not think I am even great enough for this position of Prinz! Compared to the other great generals!' said The Prinz,
'Their time is over, it is the start of the next generation, you shall become great one day'
'I mourn for the old Kaiser' said Jobst
'We all do'
boom
'The my decision has been stated, we shall sally forth when Ulrich comes!
boom
The particular blast sent them sprawling, as if a answer to his queries.

[FactionHeir]

Late Winter 1169

Hans stood alone by the narrow window of the plain room that he had been allocated in one of the towers at Castle Zagreb. The winter landscape outside had been slowly but steadily melting away over the past weeks revealing the tender first grass of the imminent spring. To anyone who would have observed him gazing out the window, he would seem a youngish man who was admiring and appraising the change in seasons, but Hans was not one to be easily read. He was lost in thought - thoughts about what he had talked to his uncle, the Chancellor Duke Leopold, about.

Several weeks back, Leopold had approached Hans and asked him whether he would want to accompany and join him against the Hungarians that had recently invaded north of Castle Zagreb - an offer Hans was too eager and curious about to refuse, but ever since he had not heard from his uncle, he grew restless and pondered whether he should leave on his own or continue waiting for Leopold to arrive. It did not make matters easier that his father, the Prince turned Emperor, requested his attendance at the crusader camp - something Hans secretly wanted to put out of his mind, at least until he had seen, and felt, the concert of battle that he had read so much about in the dusty old tomes in the castle library at Zagreb and back in Swabia. Swabia. The thought of his birthplace made him shiver. Not because he felt an aversion to it, but because he had overheard the guards talk about the recent betrayal of Metz and the invasion of the French at Dijon. Hans knew that as the newly appointed Count of Bern, he had a duty to defend his county against aggressors, but he also knew that his lack of combat experience, as well as the time he would need to gather a considerable force and march it to Swabian lands, were against him. Experience, he thought to himself, that is what I need to gather quickly if I want to stand a chance against the enemies of the empire.

Just at this moment, the door slammed open. It did not startle Hans as much as it would have any other man, for he felt a familiar presence entering the chamber. He was proven right when he heard the welcoming voice of his uncle resonate from the walls.

Leopold, who feigned a cough to draw Hans attention, began to speak. "My son, word has reached me from your father." He had a sympathetic look on his face and remembered too well the vigour Hans had shown at the prospect of campaigning against the Hungarians. Leopold would have loved to grant him the wish.

"He requests that you join the Crusade immediatelly. The route to the Crusading Army is too dangerous to travel alone and I have to agree with your father. I have arranged for something to be prepared for you though. A parting gift. Should make the travel easier." He drew a deep breath. "Good luck, my son. Your father is proud of you and so am I, teach those heathens some manners when you arrive!"

Hans did not reply. His stare had become blank when the last sounds of his uncle's resonated through his mind. His hopes, all vanished this very one moment and he felt betrayed by the one man he felt he could entrust his life with.

Leopold, noticing how Hans did not move nor respond to his words sighed and turned to leave, taking a last look at his young nephew, possibly the last for many years, if not in his life.

Hans blinked. He stared the the last words on the paper he had just written.
I hope you understand my motivations,

Your dear son,

It took him a moment before he could bring himself to sign his name and fold the letter, before sealing it. He knew his father would not be happy about what he was about to do, but Hans knew that he had to do things his own way - at least this one time. He wondered whether Henry would understand or ride after him personally. The thought of the latter brought a wry smile to his tired young face. It had been a few months since Leopold had visited Hans and word had reached him that the present would arrive in the early hours of the morning. As he sealed the letter with hot wax, he knew he had sealed his fate at the same time. Things would not be the same anymore, but then he was no longer the child he used to be. He was now old enough to take up sword in the name of the empire and defend it to the last breath. Knowing this, he slowly walked towards his bed and fell on it, falling into a deep yet dreamless sleep for several hours.

"My lord!" Hans woke up to the constantly knocks and thuds and shouts outside his door. He stretched and tried to blink away the weariness of last night, while the servant outside continued to cause a commotion. Finally awake, Hans looke around and noticed that the candle had long since burned down and the servant had not entered because he had barred his door. Slowly and sleep-drunk, Hans walked to the door and lifted the heavy plank of wood off the iron holds. His head still hurt from the constant banging against his door, and standing right next to it did not help. As he finally opened the door, the servant almost hit his fist against Hans' chest, but stopped dangerously short of doing so. Out of his breath, the servant immediately bowed and asked for permission to speak, which Hans gave using a gesture of his hand.

"My lord, there are knights waiting down in the courtyard wishing your attendance. They only had me tell you they were sent by his highness the Duke of Austria." Hans nodded and dismissed the servant, again with a gesture of his hand, but not before advising him to inform the knights that he would be with them shortly. As the servant turned and sped down the stairs to obey Hans' orders, Hans grimaced and could not but smile to himself. "Perfect. Absolutely perfect. An entourage of knights is exactly what I needed to get through to Leopold without having to worry about bandits along the way. A most useful present to be true." With this in mind, Hans donned his chainmail that he had left in his personal chest at the foot of his bed and belted his sheathed sword. Before he followed into the footsteps of the servant, who had long since arrived by the knights, he absent-mindedly grabbed his helmet and tucked it under his arm.

The rays of sunlight almost hurt in his eyes. Hans had not left the solace of his chamber for at least a week, and it felt as if the sun wanted gaze at him with all its glory. He could barely make out the knights at the other end of the courtyard readying their weaponry and horses due to the reflections off their Imperial armour. Hans paced towards them with the dignity and confidence that is laid into the cradle of anyone of noble birth. One of the knights, most likely their captain, spoke a last few words to his comrades in arms before turning and walking toward Hans. The aged yet proud soldier stopped at about 6 meters distance from Hans, identifying himself as captain Adalberth, and that he had been ordered by Leopold to bring along an entourage of no less than 120 Teutonic knights and a handful of capable knights who would make up Hans' bodyguard. Hans however was only half-listening to the man's speech as he was again lost in his thoughts about the upcoming journey north towards Leopold's position. Adalberth had long since finished briefing Hans about the situation and was patiently waiting for him to give the order to depart, which Hans, realizing that he was not alone, gave immediately. Little did he know that Adalberth had been ordered to escort Hans not to Leopold but to Henry.

A few weeks had passed since the company of horsemen had left Castle Zagreb, which Hans did not turn to look back at when they departed the castle gate. He was never quite fond of that place, which had only fairly recently been captured by soldiers of the empire and was therefore not as organized nor homely as Staufen or Rome. It did not matter anymore however as he probably would not experience a more comfortable place for a long time. "Maybe not even in my lifetime?" he wondered to himself. His thoughts did not continue much further however as Adalberth had strode his horse next to his and announced that they would have to turn east at the upcoming road if they wanted to reach Leopold in time. A shortcut, as he not so eloquently explained. Hans however did not quite believe what Adalberth said, as he did not miss the opportunity to glance over the strategic maps of the eastern part of the empire after his last encounter with Leopold. His yearning for Hungary had taken every minute of his time for many weeks to study the paths he could travel, possibly even alone, to Leopold's probable campsites. The road ahead to the east was not one of them. In contrast, it led to Henry's camp.

Noticing how Hans' narrowed his eyes, Adalberth gulped. He immediately realized that his facade had been seen through and his true intentions discovered. He could not however afford to openly admit to them, as he did not know what kind of man Hans was. Even though he appeared young enough to be no more than an innocent boy, his gestures and behavior spoke otherwise. Hans was not one to blurt out what he thought of Adalberth and his plans, and as such, measuredly yet confidently informed the captain that they would continue north on the road ahead. The aged knight knew that as a man of low birth, he could not possibly contradict a noble, even one as young and inexperienced as Hans was, without risking incarceration, or worse, execution for treason, and thus nodded in silence, returning to the formation.

The road ahead was more or less uneventful, and days passed without any notable interferences, while Hans sought the captain's company to discuss stories of great battles and generals and satiate his thirst for knowledge. Adalberth could tell that Hans was becoming increasingly reastless as they closed in on Leopold's position. The young noble was forcing his horse to move faster and kept looking towards the sun that slowly descended down towards the road. Hans even insisted that they rise earlier in the mornings and ride until late into the night, without fear of bandits that may be on the look out for weary travellers. It was not until long that they could finally see towers and then tents cropping up on the horizon, which inspired Hans to a bright smile, while the shadows over Adalberth's eyes grew darker - the captain knew that the Chancellor would not take it lightly that he had failed his mission to bring the young prince to his father, but instead headed back to his camp.

Within minutes of being spotted by the watchtowers, guards at the camp started hurrying about like busy ants to announce the arrival of a company of knights and readied their weapons in case the knights were not what they seemed. Before Adalberth could bring his horse forward to speak to the nearest guards, Hans had already dismounted and sped forward - maybe it was even better that way the old knight thought to himself, as there would be a lot of explaining to do. Without wasting much time, Hans raised his hand towards the guard captain, openly displaying the signet ring of the House of Swabia, and motioning him to bring him post haste to his highness the Duke Leopold.

The moment the cloth of his tent parted to reveal his nephew Hans, Leopold's face showed both perplexion and joy. Joy, because Hans had decided to aid him in the siege of Budapest alongside several able knights, perplexed, because he had not expected him to show up after their last meeting and his direct orders for captain Adalberth. Adalberth! That man was supposed to lead Hans to Henry! Leopold noticed him behind Hans, but before he could scold the captain, his nephew had raised his hand and exclaimed:

"My dear uncle, it is good to see you" , Hans said, not without a smirk on his face "it surely must surprise you that against your orders I decided to join you here at your camp. As you may know, it is now too late to still turn me back, so you might as well use me for the upcoming battle." He grinned "Oh, and about captain Adalberth"Adalberth felt as if struck by lightning but could not bring out any word in his own defense "I request your permission to have him join my personal bodyguard. He is a capable knight and can teach me quite a bit more about combat, what say you?" Leopold had not expect Hans to speak this bluntly to him, but at the same time he was relived he would not have to go through all kinds of formalities when his mind was needed elsewhere. As such, he replied "I shall think about it Hans, but for now, let me brief you on the situation at hand..."



Co-op story with Ituralde

[Ituralde]

He could no longer lay it off. All these past months he had put it off his mind and shoved it back in to the farthest recesses of his mind. The youth had been clever arriving just with the first snow. He could not possibly send him away in the midst of Winter, and the young man knew it. He should have done it anyway, but he had done it before. How Captain Adalberth had failed to deliver him to his father was beyond him. He had to admit that young Hans had a knack with people. Even he had not been able to resist him.

Might as well make himself useful, if he's around. That's what he had thought, and that was the reason why he had involved him, and shown him around. Hans was still young but he was a fast learner. He had shown him the peculiarities you had to deal with in a siege. The provision of the men the lay out of a camp. To always be ready for the defense. Of course he had also talked about the Reich with the boy. It's current situation and the dangers that had to be taken in order to defend it on all fronts. He should have just sent him back the moment he arrived, but he couldn't force himself.

He knew that he had to talk to him though. That's why he now strode into the tent of the young man as if it belonged to him, which it actually did, just like back then in Zagreb castle.

"You know I will have to tell him eventually! I can't keep it from him forever. He will already be wondering why you haven't arrived. He's your father goddamnit!
I sent you to him but you wouldn't obey. You wouldn't obey his command or mine!"

He paced a few steps to and fro letting his mind wander, before Hans could respond though he continued: "I have recieved word from my informant in the city. He won't be able to open the gates in time. Now it's the hard work, like I told you. Build rams, build towers, ladders and knock down the walls, the old and bloody way. I could use your help, and I could use those Teutonic Knights I gave you. You don't have the time though. If you stay now for the siege you'll never make it to the Crusaders. They will be gone too far. Either you go now or you stay here, forever."

He looks Hans straight in the eye: "You were man enough to disobey our orders, now be man enough to make a decision. Stay or Go, but you will have to take the consequences!" And I will have to tell your father. He knew why he had put this off for so long. Angering the Emperor seemed to something he was good at.

Hans, taken aback by the harshness of his uncle's words, stumbled back a few steps and almost tripped over the log of wood he had been sitting on before Leopold had barged into the tent.
He had never expected to find his uncle this enervated and was not sure whether his question was just a trick to get him to leave on his own terms and be rid from the siege forever or whether he really meant it. He knew, however, that this was not the time to question the duke on that so he spent a few moments pondering, drops of sweat starting to form on his face as Leopold continued the stare.
Should I stay? He asked himself. He then thought of his father and wondered what would happen if he did not join him, support him. But he also knew that his father had brought men on foot as well, and he only had the small mounted entourage Leopold gave him.
Decisions, decisions. Just at this moment, he could feel Leopold wanting to burst out another sentence, possibly in anger, and thus he quickly answered, if not fully convinced, "Yes, my chancellor, I will stay for the siege."
In the back of his mind, however, the battle of emotions continued, and he knew he might have to sneak away from the camp to join his father, if Leopold would have him stay.

Leopolds anger seems to have subsided a little. After pacing some more he turns on Hans again and raises a finger, this time speaking a little softer though.
"Do not make this decision lightly. I heard your words well. Stay for the siege or stay? I will have to send your escort back to the Crusade as soon as possible. There is already uproar in the Diet. It will be hard enough explaining what has happened. If you stay now, you will stay in the Reich. I will not let you travel alone to join the Crusaders. Worse than keeping you from your father would be to get you killed and I don't intend to do this."

"I ask you once again. Go on the Crusade or stay in the Reich, the choice is yours."

Hans blinked a few times at Leopold's question. Am I that easy to see through he thought to himself. What am I to tell him? What will he think when I sneak away after the siege Hans looked at his feet for a moment. He wasn't sure whether he could confide his plan to his uncle - whether he would understand. Hans sighed. His father truly wanted him to follow the crusade eastwards, and who was he to disobey the emperor's orders? I have disobeyed him already by coming here he immediately realized, but it wasn't the same. One was temporary, the other would be permanent. He had to take a chance. Maybe the last chance in his life if it did not work out and he was captured by rebels on the long road. But he had to. It was in his blood, as it had been in Heinrich's. Steadily, he responded: "I will stay in the empire..."

Leopold gave his nephew one last intent look, before nodding curtly.
He seemed to have made up his mind and he didn't feel like there was anything he could do about. Without further words, he left the tent, making his way through the camp to his own. Already his mind was occupied by the formulations he would have to use to bring this news to his brother.



in cooperation with FactionHeir

[Ituralde]

A warm breeze hung in the air and the distant sounds of celebration could be heard. A smug smile on his face Leopold warmed his hand over the long fireplace in the Great Hall. Just yesterday the Hungarian dignitaries of Budapest had occupied this room. Probably contemplating the organization of the defense or the rationing of food. Now Chancellor Leopold, Duke of Austria had set up his temporary headquarters in the Council Chambers. He knew it would not be for long, but hopefully he could once return, if Emperor Henry recognized his deeds.

Withdrawing his hands he turned around to face the man that was waiting on him. Hans was standing across the room, his face still showing some of the vigours of the previous battle. "You fought well today, my son! Your father would have been proud of you. You have rightfully been knighted." He waited a moment to let his words sink in, before continuing.

"I will be leaving tomorrow. For Rome. The Diet demands an explanation why 120 Teutonic Knights were 'obducted' from the Crusade." He slowly shakes his head. "It still amazes me how they followed your orders instead of mine. Either way, I think it would be fitting if you accompanied me. This should give extra weight to my explanations. But don't be afraid, I will not cast your actions into an uneccessary bad light.
What do you say?"

"Thank you for the praise my duke" Hans responded, with a somewhat proud smile, trying not to sound too familiar to his uncle to avoid alienating the few other knights that were drinking beer at the far end of the hall. "I do not quite know why the knights disobeyed your orders, but I did spend a while pondering about it and have come to the conclusion that they could not possibly have abandoned me in the woods and ride all the way to my father with good conscience. Although... the crusade would aid them in repenting their sins, so they really would not have had to worry much now, would they?" he ended on a lighter note.

"I suppose that either way I am part of the problem that caused you much injury with the diet, so I will try to come up with a better explanation" he paused for a moment, considering his next words. "but maybe you would allow me to retreat to my tent and have a word with captain Adalberth to clarify the circumstances?" Hans looked at Leopold expectingly.

Leopold chuckled lightly: "You're sure right. Go ahead and consult with Captain Adalberth. I'll expect your response soon though. I'll be here for a few more hours."

Hans nodded at Leopold's words and bowed half-way before turning towards the large wooden door leading to the outside. He raised his right hand to both signal the guards to open the door as well as a gesture of farewell to his uncle as he strode out into the cold and clammy streets of the city.

Once outside, he noticed the men carrying the packed tents to the storage halls, as Leopold seemed to have given the order for all men to take up residence in the barracks. That could make things easier Hans thought to himself or maybe more difficult as he realized soldiers on the battlements igniting torches to prepare for the night guard. Now where would I find Adalberth.. he continued his thread of thought. Walking along the street absentmindedly, he realized that he was heading towards the barracks himself.
As he got closer, the guards saluted and held the door opened for the young noble to enter. Before Hans even reached the door, he could hear the clamor of festival and the stench of cheap wine and sweat. It disturbed him slightly, but he could not show his disgust openly for it was one of the few joys the simple folk had - it would only make his task more difficult if he did. "Guardsman, where is captain Adalberth?" he asked the soldier holding the door for him. "The captain is on the second floor, your illustriousness" the guard responded with correct ettiquette as Hans contently noted. Nodding to his words, Hans finally entered the barracks and headed up the creaking wooden stairs. Those stairs would truly be effective in announcing intruders he thought to himself while walking.

He did not have to search long for the wereabouts of the veteran soldier for he could already hear him give commands for the rest of the night to a pair of soldiers. Noticing Hans' approach, the aged captain quickly dismissed the men and turned towards him and spoke heartily "Well well, young count. I see you have returned for more stories, aye?" Hans couldn't but smile at the directness and familiarity of this man. "Indeed good captain, a story I have come for, but of a slightly different kind." Adalberth raised his eyebrows "Ah, really? Well then please join me in the comfort of my humble room, away from the many ears then." Motioning towards the chimney in the room, Aldalberth continued "So, what can I help you with this day? It has been a long battle and I may need to rest my old bones soon". Hans, closing the door behind him, replied with the same directness "Hmm do tell me why you disobeyed the duke-chancellor and escorted me to his camp..."

After a lengthy conversation, Hans rose from the stool and walked to the lectern, dipping a feather into the well of ink and writing on a note a letter. Adalberth looked at the young count and wondered what he was writing, and to whom, but of course it was not in his position to know everything about him, even though they had become fairly good friends during the past few weeks. A seemingly endless minutes later, Hans scattered some sand onto the letter, sealed it with wax and pressed his signet ring against the seal. Without turning, he spoke "Adalberth, friend, can I trust you with a matter?" Not knowing whether it was a trick question or not, the captain replied "My young count, I would hope that you could." "Please, just answer the question. It is important." Hans grew restless. The night had already advanced and Leopold surely would soon wonder why he still hadn't reported back to him. Just at this moment, Adalberth spoke "I..yes you can trust me" Hans was relieved. He could only hope that Adalbrth had spoken the truth. "I do not know how my uncle will react to this, but please, hand him this letter and tell him that I am sorry." Adalberth stared at him with some confusion. "Wh..why should you be sorry my count? You have done great deeds today in battle?" "Maybe so, but I shall have to leave this place tonight still and head to the east. My father will need me at his side when he faces the many heathens on his crusade." Adalberth finally began to understand why the young man had seemed so distressed these weeks, always lost in thoughts and very irritable. "The journey east will not be easy alone, my count. The teutons have already left two days ago and who knows what rebel scum hides in these woods. Are you sure you do not wish to talk to the duke about this?" Hans laughed, and with a sad expression, he told Adalberth "I wish he would understand, I really do, but he will insist I accompany him to Rome. Please do not press this matter my friend for time is running short and I must leave the city soon, before he notices my absence. Just do what I tasked you to, please" Adalberth nodded "Count Hans, please allow me to accomapny you then, as your personal bodyguard. I believe the duke will have be hung and quartered if he knew I disobeyed him again. Maybe I can atone for my sins by fighting against the heathens before I die... I could even help you get out of the city, for the night captain is a man from my home village." Hans did not know whether he should be happy or not, but he did not have much of a choice. He could not argue endlessly over this matter and only said "Well, then so it shall be. Ready your weapons and we will meet at the south gate shortly. Please do hurry." The grizzled soldier agreed and opened the door for him. Now who should I task with handing this letter to good Leopold he wondered, and immediately remembered a rather annoying young man from the spear regiment. Adalberth almost felt sorry for the lad, but someone had to bring the news to the duke...


in cooperation with FactionHeir

[OverKnight]

Bridge over the Morava River, 1174

The 240 mailed and Teutonic knights had just encamped near the western end of the bridge when a sentry gave warning, riders were coming from the east. Captain Lucas, the new commander of the detachment, looked past the bridge. Apprehension filled him, had the Hungarians already gotten their scent? Squinting at the banners of the incoming horsemen, he made out the gold eagle of the Reich and relief filled him. However, when he saw the standard of Bavaria next to the Imperial arms, anxiety sprang up again. He remembered the same standard when he had left the Crusade with Captain Adalberth and the others to go to Zagreb and bring the son of Kaiser Henry back to the army. That had been four years ago.

As the Bavarians galloped into the camp, a horseman made his way to Lucas. "Where is Adalberth?!", growled the man looking about, "I want to. . .talk to him!"

Lucas noticed the vivid scar winding down the right side of the rider's face. He knew now who this was, and began to wish the Hungarians had found him first.

"Duke von Kassel, what an honor. . .umm Adalberth has left the order to serve Count Hans. I am Sir Lucas, I was Adalberth's second, I command here now."

The horseman's gaze fell on Lucas, "Indeed? That would explain a great deal. Tell me Captain, is the boy here with you?"

Looking up, Lucas swallowed hard, "No my lord, he decided to stay for the assault on Budapest."

Otto's eyes narrowed and he swore loudly, "A pity, I wished to meet the Princeling, we have much to. . .discuss. So Captain, let me see if I understand, you and your men, a sworn brotherhood, failed to return to the Crusade and now that you have, you failed to bring the boy with you. Is that correct?"

"Your grace, Adalberth felt that the safety of Count Hans was paramount. . .he did not wish to go on the Crusade so. . ."

Otto cut off Lucas, "God's Blood! Then you brain him with the hilt of your sword, throw him over the saddle like a sack of wheat and follow your damn orders! Do you know the difficulties your tour of the Reich has caused the Crusade?! Here are 120 Teutonic Knights, the fiercest horsemen of the Reich, hundreds of miles away from the Kaiser's army, which lacks a cavalry screen while surrounded by Magyars!"

Lucas shrunk from Otto's onslaught, but managed to speak, "Hundreds of miles? The army hasn't come to meet us!? How are we to get to them?"

Otto leaned in over Lucas from the saddle while chuckling darkly, "By this time, Brother Lucas, the Crusade is in Thessaly. The Kaiser thought as you did and it took all my influence to convince the Council to follow my plan. I will not have our holy endeavor slowed by stragglers. They will continue on, and we will catch up. I have ways to motivate your men to great speed."

Otto glanced around the camp, "Get your men mounted, we leave as soon as they're ready."

Lucas's mouth dropped open, "But my lord, we just made camp, it will be night soon."

Otto's jaw clenched and he spoke harshly, "Get your men ready Lucas, or I will find someone who can. The path back to the Crusade is dangerous, and we will be travelling under cover of darkness to avoid our enemies. There is no more time for delay. If you can follow a teenager and whatever minstrel's tale he fogged your minds with, than you will most certainly do as I say."

With that the Duke of Bavaria reined in his horse and began trotting through the camp yelling orders.

Lucas, wishing he had remained in Budapest, went to gather his gear.

[GeneralHankerchief]

(OOC: This is a backstory of sorts to Conrad Salier, as well as an explanation to why he was absent in the Diet for such a long period of time. Written by TinCow and myself.)

Genoa, 1160

Conrad Salier, a young squire of Bavaria and member of Chancellor Maximillian Mandorf's escort, was travelling along with the rest of the men to Rome in order to attend the upcoming Imperial Diet session. This would most likely be the last Diet for Mandorf, who would be embarking upon a Crusade to Jerusalem along with several other esteemed Electors. Their stay in Genoa was just a rest stop, but it was an important one nonetheless. The city had become something of a target for pilgrims ever since Kaiser Heinrich had slaughtered Pope Gregory here six years before.

Young Salier was a deeply religious man and the recent actions taken by the Kaiser and his Duke, Otto von Kassel, had torn him inside between duty to Nation and duty to God. In this time, he also observed that Mandorf seemed to be experiencing the physical strain of managing the Reich as well as his own emotions. When Mandorf attended one of the many secret funerals for the late Pope, he seemed ready to crack and go mad at the end of it.

Thank you, Lord, for seeing fit to see Count Maximillian's Chancellorship through without any serious personal harm. Now that he is focused on one singular goal I believe that he - and I - may be able to serve you better.

Aside from attending Mass regularly, like a good Christian, Salier prayed alone regularly. After all, if he did not gain direction and guidance from God, then the only other options were those who could have been tainted by Satan.

Outside of Conrad's room for the night, another one of Mandorf's entourage knocked on the door. Conrad opened it and smiled. Staring at him was a friend, Sergeant Wolfgang.

"The Chancellor wishes to speak to you alone, Conrad."

Salier was a bit surprised. What could the Chancellor possibly want?

After being led down a series of hallways, Conrad and the others arrived at Maximillian Mandorf's study. The place's decoration could only be described as Spartan. The walls were sparsely adorned with crucifixes, and the chairs were straight-backed with absolutely no leeway. Two bookcases were present; one contained military material, maps, books on tactics and the like. The other held many works on Christianity, including several Bibles.

Mandorf was sitting in one of the uncomfortable chairs, holding a map of Italy. When he looked up and saw that Conrad had arrived, and smiled. A motion of his hand dismissed his escort; it was now only he and Conrad.

"Welcome, Conrad Salier. Please have a seat."

Conrad did as he was told and sat in one of the chairs.

"I must ask you some questions that are rather more personal than polite conversation between gentlemen would allow. I apologize in advance if this causes you any offense. It is not my wish to pry, but I will be departing the Reich soon with the Crusade and I may never return. I simply must know these answers before I go. Where did you grow up?"

"Do not worry, Lord Mandorf," said Conrad. "I forgive you for asking. I wish I could say that I grew up in a noble house, surrounded by loving parents and lots of siblings, but that was not the case. Unfortunately, I never knew my family." Conrad did not seem uncomfortable in the least, as if he readily accepted this fact. "I was raised by the nuns, in an abbey in the mountains west of Nuremburg."

"I see," said Mandorf. "Did the ever speak about your parents?"

Conrad once again answered with little sign of discomfort. "The nuns discouraged me from discussing such affairs. They said that my parentage was unimportant, and that I was now to be a Child of God. Like a good, obedient child I did not pursue the matter."

Mandorf sat back, sighing and studying his young subject carefully. After several seconds, he spoke again. "Did anyone ever taken an unexpected interest in you when you were young? Perhaps a traveling priest who visited more often than he should? Perhaps a generous benefactor who aided you for no discernible reason? Has anyone ever asked you about your mother and father?" Mandorf smirked. "Well, other than me of course."

Finally Conrad was starting to show signs that he was thinking that this was a particularly odd conversation. Why was Mandorf asking him this? But still, he acted like a good Bavarian and answered his lord.

"Now that you mention it, Cardinal Otterbach, back when he was Father Otterbach, visited here a lot in between his Stettin Mission and other assignments. However, on the occasions that he did visit, we barely saw each other. It was almost as if he was avoiding me. It is strange that you ask me these things. When I came of age the nuns took me to a room that I had never been in before. Inside was a large pile of money that they said was mine to use for whatever purpose I wished. I had always found the military exploits of Kaiser Heinrich, Dietrich von Saxony, and the other great generals of the Reich fascinating so I bought some armor, learned how to fight, and joined up with you. I believe that the nuns were saddened to see me go yet for some reason knew that I would follow the path that I did. It's quite odd, really, but I never questioned it."

At the mention of Cardinal Otterbach's name, Mandorf glanced away sharply. He listened to Conrad's words, but was clearly deep in thought. Several long moments of uncomfortable silence passed before Mandorf spoke again.

"You are a good man, Conrad. I can see it in your face. You have a purity of spirit and a sense of purpose that most in this world lack. Yes. You are a true servant of Christ and a defender of Christendom."

Mandorf turned and looked Conrad Salier directly in the eye.

"I am proud to be your father."

It took several seconds for Conrad to grasp what had just been said. Finally, it clicked. My... what?

This could not be true. Maximillian Mandorf was a defender of Christendom, and a celebate one at that! There was no way... it was impossible...

Yet, at the same time, Conrad knew that Mandorf would not have summoned him to his study to make jokes. Suddenly sick to his stomach, he waited for his father to say more.

"I did not know for certain that this was true until our conversation today, but I have suspected it for several years. I regret not pursuing the matter further at an earlier stage in my life, but your heritage is a... difficult... subject for me. I have not always been the pious servant of Christ that I am now. In my youth I was corrupt and immoral. Yet, it seems now that even those proclivities may have had a higher purpose."

Mandorf smiled and nodded, unaware of Conrad's sudden nausea.

"Yes, it seems the Lord works in mysterious ways."

Conrad bored his eyes into the floor. This is not the conversation that he had in mind.

"You know," he said, not making eye contact with anything aside from the floor, I never asked about my parents, but I was still always curious. I figured that they were just some poor peasants that couldn't support me and had no choice but to give me up. I figured that the money was nothing but the generosity of the nuns."

Conrad finally looked up, staring his father in the face.

"But you, you were different! You had the means to keep me! You abandoned me! Whatever happened to 'Behold, children are a blessing from the Lord'? You keep me in the dark for all of these years, and now you finally tell me, now! Days before you leave the Reich forever! What am I supposed to say to that?!"

During Conrad's (deserved) tirade, Mandorf's smile had gradually been replaced by a look of sympathy. He tried to interrupt, but Conrad wasn't done.

"Tell me, are you even aware of who my mother is? Or were you just so full of concubines back before Hildegard came and saved your soul that you only have the choices narrowed down to five?!"

Mandorf's look of sympathy vanished and his face clouded.

"I am perfectly aware of who your mother is, as is she. However, that is not for me to say. Your mother has kept her identity hidden from you throughout your life for good reasons. She has sought to protect herself, but she has also protected you. If your parentage were to become public knowledge, it could destroy you both."

Conrad looked at Mandorf in disgust. It was only through his many years of training in the abbey that he managed not to do anything more.

"I said before that I was always curious about who my parents were," he said in a monotone. "Now, I wish I didn't know. I realize that this happened before you were saved, and I am not mad about that, but to know for all those years and not tell me! Even if you only had an inkling, you could have at least expanded upon it."

Mandorf sighed, sensing that the conversation was wrapping up.

"I regret that this relationship has begun when I am on the verge of departing for the Land of Christ. It is fitting penance for my past sins that I leave behind the only family I will ever have in order to serve the Lord. I will write to you while on Crusade, but I doubt it I shall live long enough to see the Reich again. Before I go, I would like to publicly acknowledge my parentage of you. You are a nobleman of true Bavarian blood, highborn in right as well as character. I hereby adopt you as my true son and heir and name you as the successor to my estates in Nuremburg. When I die, you shall inherit my titles and lands. If you have already earned your own by that point, you may choose how to dispose of Nuremburg for yourself. If Duke von Kassel permits it though, I would greatly wish for you to rule over Nuremburg after I am gone, and in turn to pass it down to your children. Nothing would make me happier than to be entombed in a great Cathedral in Nuremburg, with pious Christians of my blood forever protecting the city."

Conrad, finally calmed down, addressed Mandorf. "I sincerely wish that you complete your task and absolve yourself as well as the Reich while Crusading," he said. "In the meantime, I shall abide by your wishes pertaining to Nuremburg. I will try to be a better son to you than you were a father to me. Goodbye, Father, and good luck."

Both men got up to leave. As Mandorf departed, he turned to his son one last time, a grave look on his face.

"Beware of involvement with Kaiser Heinrich and the Papal conflict. There are things at work here that are greater than you know. If you find yourself leading an army against a Pope, especially a German Pope, you risk eternal damnation."

Mandorf bowed low, and then strode off. It was the last time Conrad Salier would ever see his father.

[GeneralHankerchief]

A monastery east of Milan, 1170

Conrad Salier arose from his bed very early in the morning, at the same time he had done nearly every day for the past ten years. His life was one of ritual and habit ever since that fateful night in 1160, when he was informed that his father was Maximillian Mandorf by Mandorf himself. While he had managed to keep his composure through that unpleasant conversation, the next few days were one large downward spiral.

Although by right he was a Bavarian Elector, he had skipped the Diet session, opting instead to hole himself up in several churches in Genoa and taking many long walks in the hills outside of the city. He missed the passage of all of the Electors heading north after the session had concluded, including the Crusaders. He was unaware of much during that time, with the thoughts of “MANDORF IS MY FATHER” being drilled into his brain constantly.

Eventually, he departed the city, mumbling and reciting old prayers. He trekked the northern part of the Italian Peninsula on foot, carrying no possessions aside from the clothes on his back and his Bible. He walked for days on end, barely stopping for food, water, or sleep. After forty days, he finally collapsed under the Italian sun, starving and incoherent. He was within sight of a large, ornate building, but at that point Conrad was in such bad shape that he assumed it was just a mountain.

Luckily, that building happened to be a monastery, and he was nursed back to health under the care of the monks that resided there. After some time, he decided to join them. The world out there is too complicated and too corrupted, he said to himself as justification. I am more likely to be a good Servant of God if I leave that world behind. And for ten years, he did.

Today, however, things were to be different. As he made his way down to the chapel for Lauds, he noticed that the monks were a bit more animated than usual. Apparently, someone of importance had arrived during the night. Once he had taken his seat, Conrad scoured the pews for a new face, but the only one he was not used to seeing seated was the abbot himself. A figure in fancy white robes had taken the pulpit in his place. Conrad made out the “guest preacher” to be Cardinal Charles Otterbach.

During the sermon, Conrad took an eager interest in the man who was nearly Pope. For once, the Cardinal seemed to be speaking with power and conviction, as compared to the other occasions Conrad had seen him preach, when he seemed nervous and not quite focused on the sermon. This time, however, Otterbach was eloquent and convincing. In addition, the Cardinal seemed to be staring right at Conrad for most of the time, as if the mass delivered was specifically aimed at him.

After the mass let out, Conrad was walking alone in a hallway to his study, when the Cardinal came out of nowhere and spoke to the surprised monk.

“Brother Conrad,” he said, “What did you think of the sermon?”

“It was excellent, Your Eminence,” Conrad said respectfully. “I must admit that it is refreshing to hear a different take on Scripture than the Abbot’s version.”

Otterbach laughed. “I regret that this is the only time you will hear a fresh voice at mass, at least, coming from my mouth. I am returning to the heartland of the Reich after my time in Rome, a short but eventful stay.” The Cardinal was referring to his giving Last Rites to Kaiser Heinrich and then the disastrous Papal election three hours later. “My time here was only an overnight stay. However, before I leave this place, I would be honored to hear your confession.”

Conrad gave the Cardinal a sad smile. “I am afraid you are out of luck, Cardinal. I gave it just last night, did my penance, and went right to sleep. The first things I have done since waking up were preparing for and attending Lauds, and now talking to you. I do not believe that I have sinned at all since I last confessed.”

Otterbach arched an eyebrow at this last comment. “Indeed? And there are no sins, older sins, that you have forgotten to mention in past confessions?”

“If there are, I am not aware of them. I have no reason to compromise my chances of eternal salvation.”

“I maintain that there have been things that you have forgotten. Every moment you spend in this place is a sin, Brother Conrad. Walk with me.” Conrad, slightly befuddled that a Cardinal, especially one so revered as Otterbach, would be denouncing a monastery, had no choice but to follow along.

“Conrad, Kaiser Heinrich is dead. The new Kaiser, Henry, is off on a Crusade along with much of the Reich’s senior leaders. Heinrich’s preferred choice of Pope, myself, did not win the Seat, so we are faced with a hostile Pope and almost no chance of reconciliation unless an Imperial Cardinal somehow manages to win. The four Houses, depleted both in manpower and leadership thanks to the Crusade, are being invaded by Venice, Poland, France, Milan, England, and Hungary. The last country is especially a threat. If they get past the Bavarian Household Army, then any Imperial city in Italy is ripe for the taking.”

All of this news had troubled Conrad. This is exactly what he wanted to leave behind. “Your Eminence, why are you telling me of all this? I, along with you, have left the material world behind.”

“Brother Conrad, I learned long ago not to restrict myself to spiritual matters,” said Otterbach smartly. “You are qualified to assist the Reich in these hard times, both by blood and by merit. But you ran here to shut yourself away forever the first time you heard something that you did not like.”

Conrad’s mood shifted from troubled to annoyed. “Cardinal Otterbach, with all due respect, you do not know what was said, how it affected-“

Otterbach cut the young monk off. “With all due respect, Brother Conrad, I know exactly what was said. Maximillian Mandorf told me when I traveled to Zagreb to give the Crusaders my blessing.”

Maximillian Mandorf. The mention of that name brought back the whirlwind of the old memories. His Spartan study. The ever-present smile on his face when he casually told Conrad the most sensitive thing possible. Those forty days wandering through Italy, half-insane.

Otterbach, either unaware of Conrad’s emotions or uncaring, continued. “He told me that he was acknowledging his parentage of you. He told me that he made you his heir. He told me that he was giving you a position in the Diet and his titles in Nuremburg! Why can you not accept who you are and take a position in the Reich’s nobility?”

Conrad, defiant, responded with a phrase that he had used to reassure himself that what he had done was right. “Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth, where moth and rust doth corrupt, and where thieves break through and steal: But lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust doth corrupt, and where thieves do not break through nor steal: For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also,” he said, using the same reading of Matthew that the late Cardinal Peter Scherer had used in Sigismund der Stolze’s funereal.

Otterbach seemed mildly amused. “Honor thy mother and thy father,” he fired back. “Don’t even try to win an argument against a Cardinal by quoting Scripture.”

Conrad, defeated, tried one last defense. “But I choose to have this life! I want nothing of the Reich or Nuremburg. All I wish to do is remain here in solitude.”

“Then that, Brother Conrad, is a sin. You may not realize it now, but you are being extremely selfish by remaining here. There are other ways that you can be a good Servant of God aside from staying in this place and watching your life waste away for nothing. I will have no more of this. Your penance is to leave this monastery immediately. I will inform the Abbot of your departure. You are to go to the Diet, introduce yourself, and apologize for your ten-year absence. Once that has been accomplished, you are to join Gerhard Steffin and the Bavarian Household Army, and assist them in the task of driving off the Hungarian invaders. Do you understand me?”

Conrad looked at the Cardinal with a sigh. “Yes, Your Eminence.”

Otterbach smiled. “Good, my son. May the rest of your life be fulfilling in more ways than one, Conrad Salier.”

Two hours later, Conrad Salier mounted an old brown horse and departed the monastery for the first time in ten years, heading south. He was finally ready to live up to his identity.

[OverKnight]

East Anglia, England, 1182

Cardinal Aston, called the Righteous, shivered in his private chambers. This winter was particularly harsh, or perhaps his age, 60, caused him to feel that way. The Cardinal stared at the letter before him, the man who had written him had quite the dark name among the priests of Europe.

Yet the offer was tempting, the schism between the Empire and Church had lasted longer than anyone had foreseen. Aston had heard that the the new Chancellor, the man who had written the letter before him, had made a massive offer for peace to the Pope. Yet it had been rejected. Aston wondered why Florence and 10,000 florins had been cast aside by the Holy Father. Still Aston had never understood Domingo when they were in the College of Cardinals together. He hated to admit it, but Aston had suffered from the sin of envy when the younger man had been elevated.

Before him on the table lay a way he could be the Pope. An offer that he should refuse out of hand, yet the current Pontiff was harming the Church by his stubbornness. The Empire was on a self-proclaimed Crusade to the Holy Land and had shown a willingness for atonement. The Kaiser himself had been found innocent of heresy by the Inquisition when he was a prince, and Aston had heard rumors that Henry had mourned Pope Gregory and assisted in his burial. Having defied the late Kaiser like that, the English Cardinal wondered if the sins of the father should be visited on the son. This should be considered.

Making a decision, the Cardinal called for ink and paper.


West of Hamburg

Captain Humphrey shook Wilhelmus Becker's hand.

"To be honest good sir, I had not thought an alliance to be possible. Until, of course, I received the letter from the King and the Cardinal. The florins don't hurt either I suppose."

Becker smiled, "Florins always help negotiations, Captain. But so does mutual need and the recognition of that fact. I wish you luck against the Danes."


Rome

Conrad Salier shook his head. Why was he being ordered by the Chancellor to oversee the building of a watchtower on the coast of Italy? The letter mentioned a need to keep an eye on the Milanese, but Conrad wasn't convinced. Something odd was going on. Still, orders were orders.

Only after the Count of Milan had left the city, did the Chancellor's messenger hand a second letter over to Captain Friedrich, the man left in charge of the Garrison. It was an order he had been expecting, yet Friedrich had no enthusiasm for it. Sighing, he began to issue orders for the troops to assemble.


South of Rome

The camp of Pope Filippus was centered around a small village church, which was now the seat of his Holiness. A guard ran into the church seeking the Pontiff.

"My lord, the sentries have spotted Imperial banners."

The Pope turned from his prayers, "They come to negotiate again? How long will it take those apostates to realise they must return Rome to me? Yet they mewl about Florence and florins. Once the Princes of Europe heed my call for a Crusade, then we will see them beg!"

Exiting the church, the Pope turned his gaze north, looking for the Imperial envoys.

There were banners, but behind them rose a large dust cloud raised by the marching of many men. The Reich had negotiated with the Pope for the last time.


Anatolia, East of the Hellespont

Chancellor Otto von Kassel stared into the flames of the camp fire. His plan was in motion, all that was left to do was to await damnation if he was wrong, or salvation if he was right. It was the greatest risk he had ever taken in his life. Only time would tell if it would succeed.

[Kagemusha]

Near Hellespontos 1182

Dietrich´s day was saved.Few letters from home had arrived and he was sitting on a rock and trying to read carefully. His eyesight wasnt what it was used to be and water filled his eyes as he tryed to make out the letters from the pergament. He tryed to to bring the letter closer to his eyes,but the letters remained blurry. For a moment he stared at the letter and hoped that his eyes could focus better,but to no avail.

He dropped the letters to his lap and scratched his head for a while.After that he raised his head and looking at the distance thought.

"Here i am in the middle of nowhere trying to read the news from home and cant even succeed in that simple task".

To Dietrich these letters were even more important then others, becouse he didnt receive too many these days to begin with. At the vanguard army of the crusade were besides him Count Von Mandorf and knight Von Mahren. While Mandorf had been busy with Reich´s politics and was constantly in contact towards home,the affairs of the two Franconians were something completely different. Dietrich had retired from public life and had even rejected to read some letters,becouse of their political nature. Mandorf had been thoughtfull and tryed to avoid discussing any topics concerning Reich and Dietrich had started to think that Mandorf might even be thinking that he had become bit wierd or atleast turning little bit senile.
Knight Von Mahrens actions didnt help much in that,since the young knight had isolated himself almost completely from others and spent most of his time alone wondering around the crusade,sometimes hunting,sometimes just riding around alone.

"Im sure that Mandorf thinks now that we Franconians are grazy. Old fool and young man who is acting like already dead man."

The decision to withdraw from public life and go to crusade at his advanced age hadnt been an easy one for Dietrich. Basicly no one had been happy about it. Not his political allies like Leopold,his counts,his wife and least his daughter. Grim smile passed on Dietrichs face when he remembered his wifes reaction about his decision.

"You fool! You stupid old kinight!How dare you abandon your family and Duchy and go to some quest when you dont even have a chance to reach its target!Abandoning your fragile wife and daughter who love you the most in this god forsaken world!"

Dietrich could easily still remember how furious Agnes had been before bursting into tears.It was easy to regognice who´s daughter she was.

"How much i miss them. I could give up my life for seeing my family even once more before the end."

Dietrich knew deep down that the worse thing about this crusade was that in matter of fact he wasnt even himself happy about beeing part of it.What was here for him in this journey? Salvation? Salvation from the sins committed by the old blood hound Kaiser?

"God have mercy on his soul in hell."

The old warhorse had really got us into trouble.Trouble so deep that even now that Henry was the Kaiser,it was like the old Kaiser´s ghost was still haunting the Reich and casting a shadow on Henry´s reign,becouse of the magnitude of the deed´s done by the old Kaiser. Dietrich was sure that those troubles would surely outlive Dietrich himself easily.

Dietrich woke up from his thoughts as his personal scribe adressed him.

"Sire, would you like to give answers to the new letters?"

Dietrich responded.

"Answer,yes answers. My good man i need you to read these letters so i can give answers, becouse without knowing the questions it is hard to answer them."

Scribe read the letters to Dietrich. One was from his wife and two others were from Steward Von Kastillien and Count Von Hamburg. Agnes had wrote a long letter about things at home.About Hedewigis,how she was growing up and how they both missed him. For Dietrich each of his wife´s letters felt heart braking and comforting at the same time. He knew that Agnes would take care of everything,but also the sorrow for beeing apart from her and Hedewigis made the old knight feel each time even older.
The letters from the steward and Count Hamburg were not good news.

Franconia was struggling to survive. Enemies harassed her now more then ever and the internal situation was far from good. As two of the power figures in Franconia had departed on the crusade, Franconia had been left vulnerable and also after a short while it seemed that the adopted brothers,Von Kastillien and Von Hamburg didnt come along too well.
Dietrich knew that the situation was bad and it was his fault that it had gone that way. It was Dietrich´s decision to abandon everything and take the cross. But it was others who suffered from it.
There was always the option to get back into politics,nothing could deny his right to take the leads once more,also there was the possibility to change the Steward,but then the current one would be disgruntled and would be against the politics of the new one.

"This is all my doing and it is my task to solve the situation. I have been avoiding my responsibilities for far too long.I have to do decisions to solve this situation,the sooner the better."

Dietrich nodded to himself and then sayed to the scribe.

"Let us start writing some letters. It seems we have some work to do."

[OverKnight]

Avignon, France, 1184

Pope Filippus was dead, and the College of Cardinals had convened to select the next Vicar of Christ. The Cardinals, over objections of the Imperial delegation, had decided to meet in this small French city rather than Rome. The fate of the previous four Popes, all meeting their ends in Italy, had made this seem a prudent course of action.

The candidates for elevation:

https://img409.imageshack.us/img409/7977/voteforpopedj6.jpg

It was an interesting situation. Cardinal Herden had the votes of his fellow Imperial clergy at his disposal, but his Empire was excommunicated and at war with many of the other Catholic nations.

Cardinal Aston was the most respected of the Preferati, but there were no other English Cardinals to support him. He had seniority but little clout.

Cardinal Frederik was considered a favorite by many, he had support within his own faction, but not as much as those of the Reich. The Danes hungered to elevate another Pope after the fall of Andreas, killed in Kaiser Heinrich's last battle.

The Venetians, though favored by the Church with three Cardinals, had none among the Preferati. Their votes would be influential, and most likely go against the Empire. Sicily had two votes, and many wondered, that without a candidate of their own, if they would support Cardinal Herden. The Hungarians and the Papal States, an entity that currently only existed on paper, each had one vote. Their Cardinals would most likely vote for anyone but the Imperial candidate.

The College gathered in Avignon's Cathedral to reach a decision. The faithful outside waited for the puff of white smoke from the chimney of the rectory, produced by the burning of the counted ballots, that would indicate the elevation of a new Pope.

to be continued

[OverKnight]

Part II

Cardinal Herden sighed as he listened to the sermon in the Cathedral before the Papal conclave officially began. Usually the rituals of the Church were of great comfort to him, but not today. Typically, the sermon given before the conclave concerned the challenges facing the Church, and a zealous French priest, one of the hosts, was railing against the Empire. If he was to be believed, the Reich was the dominion of the Beast, it's Kaiser the anti-Christ and the end of days was approaching. The priest wanted a Pope to be elected who would immediately call a Crusade to liberate Rome from the clutches of Satan.

Of course, Herden wryly thought to himself, the priest failed to mention that the French had attacked the Empire four years before the second investiture crisis. Still, it was to be expected. Looking around at his fellow Cardinals and their attendants, he noticed several of them nodding in agreement. That was not a good sign. Herden hoped the Chancellor knew what he was doing.

It was Otterbach, his fellow Imperial Cardinal, who had approached him first with the proposal from the Chancellor. Herden was not surprised, Charles had always possessed a keen political eye, and his defeat in the last Papal conclave had incensed him, pushing him further into the pro-Imperial camp. Herden remembered that a whispering campaign had been started against Otterbach by Domingo, the future Filippus, or so it was rumored. Gossip had arisen that Charles was a eunuch, of all things, and therefore unfit to be Pontiff. When Herden had informed Charles, he had been angry and asked if any other accusations were being mentioned. Having been told no, he replied, "If that's the worst they say, let them talk."

When Filippus had died, it was rumored that his former opponent had offered a prayer of thanksgiving.

Still Otterbach had been defeated and now he had proposed a plan to Herden, who stood for the Papacy himself. It required that Herden abandon his own candidacy, a sacrifice, but he was practical enough to realize that it was most likely doomed anyway. Still, the plan required a level of subterfuge he found distasteful. Yet if the Reich was to be reconciled, and of course his chances of attaining the throne of Peter in the future revived, it was necessary. It didn't hurt that the Chancellor had promised to advance the military career of the grand-nephew of his departed mentor, Peter Scherer.

The sermon ended, and with the invocation "Extra Omnes", everyone who was not a Cardinal or one of their attendants was ushered out of the Cathedral. The conclave had begun. It was time for Cardinal Herden to play his part.

Wait for him to come to you, Otterbach had advised him. Sure enough, an hour into the conclave, Herden was approached by Cardinal Frederik the Missionary.

"Karl, by God, it is good to see you again. I am sorry about the change of venue, but some of our brothers felt safer here."

Herden put on his best smile and replied, "Of course Frederik, we must not let temporal concerns intrude on our holy task."

The Danish Cardinal nodded in agreement, "Yes, exactly, quite astute. You must understand that the conditions that compel us not to meet in Rome, also imperil your own candidacy."

Herden maintained his smile with great effort, "I am aware of this Frederik, but I feel compelled to continue. I may be the only candidate who could ease the spiritual suffering of my people."

"Of course, your concern for your flock is to your credit. What if I was to tell you that if I was to be elevated, I would accept the penance of the Reich, in the name of our Lord, that our dear departed Filippus refused. There would be peace, and of course reconciliation with the Church after further signs of atonement."

"I would be intrigued", Herden responded, trying to fake interest, "If indeed another candidate could care for my flock better than I, I would be a fool not to elevate him to a position where he could do so."

The Imperial Cardinal could see the gleam of ambition alight in the other Cardinal's eyes as he replied, "Yes, it would be foolish not to support that candidate. Do we have an understanding, Karl?"

In response, Cardinal Herden, sacrificing his candidacy and his pride, took the hand of Cardinal Frederik and kissed his ring. Offering a silent prayer for forgiveness, he tried to make the gesture as ostentatious as possible.

The Danish Cardinal, well satisfied with the show of subservience, passed on to other possible supporters after a few pleasantries.

Sparing a quick glance around him, Herden could see the Venetian delegation staring at him. Their gaze then followed the departed Dane. They quickly fell back into an animated discussion.

If Charles is right, Herden thought to himself, the Venetians, lacking a candidate themselves, will want to be the power behind the throne. They can hardly be that if it looks like the Danes are beholden to us. It's a good thing the voting is by secret ballot.

As if to confirm his thoughts, the Venetians moved over to speak with Cardinal Aston. The poor man had been left alone up until now, but as the day wore on he became quite popular.

The election only took one ballot:

https://img408.imageshack.us/img408/25/poperesultssh7.jpg

As the ballots burned in the hearth of the rectory, white smoke poured forth from the chimney, proclaiming the new Pope, Lanbertus of England.


Epilogue

South of Nicea

Otto von Kassel smiled, the message about Aston's elevation had reached him as he was sorting through the final orders for the attack on the Egyptians.

I hope Pope Lanbertus is a man of his word, thought Otto, and more upright than some of his fellows.

With Cardinals on the mind, Otto's thoughts turned to the Imperial clergy. It's odd, with Herden I needed to have a family friend promoted and speak to his ambition to gain his cooperation. All that I needed to do for Otterbach was to promise that Count Salier would not take part in an attack on Filippus. I know he was raised in a nunnery, but for a Cardinal to take such personal interest in one man's soul is peculiar.

Shaking his head, Otto's thoughts turned to the attack, I've done all I can, now I wait. I best get to the task at hand.

Otto motioned over a messenger.

"Tell Duke von Saxony he may attack, and may God aid him in his battle."

Of course, Otto thought, God helps those, who help themselves.

[Ignoramus]

Metz, 1180

"Ulrich Hummel, Duke of Swabia, Elector of the Reich.

To Otto von Kassel, Chancellor of the Reich, Duke of Bavaria, Elector of the Reich.

Mein Chancellor, it is with great difficulty that I profess my loyalty to you. You have flagrantly disregarded the interests of mein Duchy. Here I am with all these Swabians, to be willing to be content with cowering behind our walls and repelling these Franks. Our lands are constantly pillaged, plundered, and desolated. The city of Dijon is crowded with homeless peasants whose homes have been destroyed by the French. Prinz Jobst is scarcely able to maintain order in the city due to their uproar.

And what, may I ask of you, are you concerned about? Italy? The east? Bah, may I remind you that there are many men in Swabia who are now questioning your leadership. And not yours only, they are also beginning to doubt the wisdom of the Diet to invest the leadership of the Reich to such a man as you.

I warn you to reconsider your actions carefully; there are those who would be not afraid to reject one who is off in the east.

Written in Metz, in the year of our Lord, 1080."


"Duke Hummel,

You had the opportunity to address the needs of Swabia during the past Diet session. You and some of your fellow Swabians did not, that is not my fault.

With all respect, Duke, if you bothered to view the election results, you would see that the Diet has given me a mandate for my goals, not yours.

I agree Swabia has endured much, but so have the other Duchies of the Reich. I will take steps to address the unrest in Dijon. I will make sure that your Duchy is well guarded against the French, but that is all I can do at the moment. Peace and reconciliation with the Church is my priority, all other goals are secondary.

I would ask that you consider your own actions carefully. The Kaiser, who is with me in the east I must remind you, appointed you Duke. It would be a shame if he came to regret his decision.

Look to the defense of your realm, my Lord, and remember your oath of fealty to the Kaiser and all shall be well.

Chancellor von Kassel"

[Ignoramus]

Rheims, 1186

"Mein Gott! So that's their game, is it?" sighed Ulrich, as he read the lastest dispatch from the Imperial Diet.

It had looked so promising. After marching across the border into Champagne, Ulrich and the depleted Swabian army had reached the city of Rhiems. It was an impressive sight, surrounded by thick stone walls, flanked by towers. After blockading the city's four main gates, Ulrich was hopeful that the fate of the city was now sealed. Reports had filtered through the camp that though the city was well supplied, the French had but a weak garrision quartered here. After setting his engineers to construct siege equipment, Ulrich was confident that an brief assault would carry the city.

But then the besiegers became the besieged. After surveying his men, a party of horsemen rushed back towards the Duke.

"Mein lord Duke, the French are here!" shouted the leader, Rupert von Hapsburg, a knight from the Tyrol.

Ulrich turned with a start. He had not counted on another French army in the vicinity of Rheims. Was not a large army already besieging Dijon? Quickly regaining his composure, Ulrich signalled the men to come to his tent.

Once they had entered, Ulrich began to question them.

"Where are the French camped?" he began, "How many men do you estimate march under the Fleur de lis?"

"They are but four miles distant, mein Duke." answered Rupert. "Herr Lothar and I reckon that they are over 700 men strong, though we had difficulty in concealing ourselves from the French sentries."

"You have done well, gut ritters." replied Ulrich, "You have the gratitude of your Duke and Swabia"

As the knights exited Ulrich's tent, a page bowed before entering. When he entered he silently handed Ulrich a missive bearing the unmistakeable seal of the Imperial Diet.

A discreet cough interrupted his train of thought. As Ulrich looked up, he saw Jan van Ghent, his Flemish military advisor.

"They have forced mein hand; I must pull back. Those fools in the Diet care more about following rules, rather than serving the Reich. I have just heard that they will call upon mein men to desert, unless I withdraw. Mein men would remain loyal, but I cannot lead them into a life of inglorious exile.

Besides, there are the French to consider. They have now surrounded us. Regardless of mein actions, I shall have to fight mein way out of thier encirclement. The losses will be heavy, but I trust that on this field we will deal them such a blow that will break the spirit of all those who swear loyalty to the French King.

But the further insult comes unabated. They now demand my abdication as Duke of Swabia. For what? For marching across a border of our enemies? I have little pride left this day, for they have trampled Swabia into the dirt."

"Your course is decided? asked van Ghent, "What shall you do, and where shall you go?"

"I shall take a loyal band of Swabians with me to the Holy Land. Perhaps there I can make a name for myself, but I cannot remain in Swabia as a disgraced knight, though it was unjustly deserved."

"Very well, I shall go with you!" exclaimed van Ghent, "But first, we have a French army to scatter."

Ulrich smiled and buckled on his sword.

[Kagemusha]

Peace

It was a a quiet evening in the crusader camp. Dietrich was sitting alone on his camp stool outside of his tent,watching how a warm breeze from the Mediterranian Sea shook the grass and little trees on the small hill his tent was positioned. The warm breeze felt good on Dietrich&#180;s old wrinkled skin. He liked the Southern weather, but maybe it was just the aging that made him like more hospital enviroment of the Mediterranian.
Dietrich sipped some red wine from a cup he was holding and took a look on the surrounding camp. To the smaller tents of pilgrims on the outskirts of the camp,going through the larger individual tents showing where Counts and Knights had their spots on this huge war camp stopping in the end to an single huge tent in the middle of the camp, the Kaiser Henry&#180;s tent with its bright Imperial colours and swarm of soldiers,messengers and scribes besieging it.
Dietrich was happy that Henry was with them. He liked the Kaiser very much and had many times wondered how different the father and son were. Where Heinrich had been an autocrat and very jealous of his personal power, Henry was more kind,calm and was more of an mediator as Kaiser. Maybe some felt that the good character of Henry was sign of weakness,but Dietrich didnt agree on such opinions.
For him fighting together with Henry had been a real honour,commanding the right wing of the army was position of great honour. Dietrich had witnessed also the commanding abilities of Kaiser in that battle and he was pleased on what he had seen.Dietrich thought.

"I hope that the Kaiser will be safe and one day will return to the Reich. Under his leadership and bit of luck,the reich could be heading towards a golden age."

Dietrich streched his legs on the camp stool a bit and continued thinking about the current situation. One man had completely suprised him in the last few years.That man was Chancellor Von Kassel.

"In the end of the reign of Kaiser Heinrich i became to think that Von Kassel was nothing but an upstart who was ready to betray anyone or anything to climb the latters towards larger power. Now this man has completely suprised us when he finally got the power&#180;s of Chancellor. Nothing pleases me more then that we are now back on the lap of mother church. I think that this huge effort made by Von Kassel will turn us once more towards more peacefull times.Unfortunately im not sure that i will witness that time"

During the last battle something had happened. At the middle of the fight when Dietrich and his knights were charging on the right wing,suddenly when Dietrich was gallopping towards the enemy, a swift pain had crossed the left side of Dietrichs body. First he had thought that he had been hit by an arrow,but soon he realized that the pain was coming from inside. Dietrich had crashed on the enemy,but for a moment he couldnt bare even the weight of his shield and he had thrown it to the ground. Soon his veterans had surrounded him,becouse they had thought that the Duke was wounded,but as the pain gave away, Dietrich had commanded his men forward.
When the battle had ended and Dietrich had undressed his armour he felt like his whole body was covered on cold sweat. At that moment he understood that the Lord had told him that soon his time on this earth would be over.
Dietrich had acted like nothing had happened,but his close men knew something was wrong. Maybe becouse of their respect towards their leader they had not bothered asking questions, in which they knew they would have not gotten answers anyway.

As months had passed,Dietrich had felt how his stength started to vanish,little by little. He still could walk and do normal things,but as the time passed he was getting slower and slower. The kingdom of heaven was coming closer and closer towards old Dietrich.
As he sat on his camp stool in the diminishing light of the evening,his thoughts turned into Franconia. To the dark forests and hills covered on morning mist. To the shores of the wild northern sea. Oh how he missed his land,the land he wouldnt see anymore. As the last rays of sun disappeared behind the horizon,the old knight raised slowly from his seat and walked to his tent. A page came inside and offered Dietrich&#180;s evening meal. Tasty roast with bread and some more wine. When Dietrich was finished with his suppers and the page had cleared the table,Dietrich opened an scroll.

"I have been avoiding this decision for far too long.Well now the decision is made.I hope its the right one."

Dietrich thought as he casted his seal ring on hot red wax and pushed the mark of the Duke of Franconia on the pergament.
For a while Dietrich just sat there looking at the scroll.Then he wrapped it up and placed on the draw where he put all his letters and documents that were to be dispatched. Dietrich tasted the last few drops from his wine glass and then undressed and layed down to his bed. With his eyes closed he prayed a silent prayer.

"The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures:
he leadeth me beside the still waters.
He restoreth my soul:
he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.
Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies:
thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life:
and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever. "

During the last sentences of the prayers,Dietrich felt like he was getting lighter. He saw his family, the faces of his wife and daughter smiling to him,he saw how light was starting to shine around their faces and with silent voice Dietrich sayed.

"Im coming home."

[OverKnight]

A letter written to Gunther of Eichstadt from Chancellor Otto von Kassel in 1190

Gunther,

You have done well in the Diet, my Chancellorship would not be possible without you serving as my liaison. I hope you have passed on my call for more nobles to come to Outremer. Even when the Crusade ends, the Reich must remain here in the Holy Land. The Church will need us as their protector from the infidel. The Papacy reigns supreme in spiritual matters, but they will need our assistance in their temporal defence.

That is how the special relationship between Empire and Church began you see. Pope Leo needed a protector from the Lombards, Charlemagne assisted him, and so was made Emperor, putting him above all the other sovereigns of Europe. This balance held for many years, but as the threat receded, the Papacy sought more temporal power, secure in their support from the other Catholic nations of Europe. Soon enough, as the Empire weakened and the Church gained in strength, we lost our role as the protector. Other nations vied for it, and the Church began interfering in the succession of the Reich and picking away at our lands in Italy. The delicate balance between the two fell apart, as the Popes would not keep to their proper sphere.

This led to the investiture crisis. The Papacy tried to become a Kingdom of Earth as well as Heaven. As we had once helped choose the Pope, they tried to choose the Emperor. Kaiser Heinrich, to his credit, sought to restore the old balance, to return the Popes to the spiritual realm. Unfortunately he did so with brute force, and I was young, prideful and greedy enough to help. Our long night under interdiction showed me the error of my ways. Yes, we did eventually reconcile but how could we make sure this would never happen again? There had to be a different, more subtle way to restore the balance. Yet if we gave them territories in Europe, they would always have the other Catholic realms to call upon. Our role as protector in return for primacy among the nations would never be guaranteed.

So we come to the Holy Land. We will give the Pope Jerusalem, and we ourselves will take the rest of Palestine and the Levant. We will be the protectors again, the shield against the Saracen, first among the Catholic nations, first in the favor of God and Church. And there will be no one else for the Popes to turn to for protection, no one else to play us off against, for we are the only Catholic presence in this heathen land. The balance will be restored, and so it will stay. The Popes will pray, we will fight and all will be well under Heaven.

Give my best to your lovely wife,

Otto

[GeneralHankerchief]

Rome, 1192

Conrad Salier snapped up the latest reports on the Crusade. The governor of the Reich's capital had been little more than an administrator for the past years, but he didn't mind. Work, he learned, could be delegated rather easily. And unlike in battle, if someone screwed up, the consequences didn't put everyone's lives in danger.

After telling an adept young fellow, Fritz von something or other (Conrad would have to try harder to learn names) to appoint a committee to inspect the condition of the ancient Roman aqueducts in the city, Conrad turned to the Crusade reports.

"Two large Jihad armies beaten back, the Crusaders have reached the Levant, excellent, excellent." Conrad flipped the paper to the back and read the next report (having spent most of life around nuns and monks, he was quite literate). His expression quickly clouded.

“Duke von Saxony has died. Unbelievable. What a loss.”

Dietrich was the kind of man who seemed immortal. He was supposed to live forever, fading into obscurity, enjoying the better life that he helped create. Instead, the Lord had seen fit to end his life with his greatest objective, Jerusalem, in sight.

The Lord does work in mysterious ways, Conrad thought with a chuckle as he mulled over the Duke –no, former Duke- of Franconia’s accomplishments. And there were many. He really seemed to come into prominence during the first years of Kaiser Heinrich’s Chancellorship, when the Reich had been at its lowest point. There were many records of his brilliant victory at Hamburg and subsequent marriage to the Kaiser’s daughter, propelling him to Dukedom in what amounted to an amazing rise.

Unfortunately, he fell just as quickly when he got into a relatively minor argument with Heinrich. The hot-tempered Kaiser took offense at what he saw as disloyalty (he had, after all, given him a title and a wife) and sentenced Dietrich to watchtower duty for a number of years. For that time, von Saxony’s name was dirt in the Diet.

However, time passed and Dietrich eventually returned to the Diet, a more mature man. He came back into favor with the Diet quickly with more stunning victories against the Poles, and became known as a voice of reason and an “old warhorse” up to the very day of his death.

“He will definitely be missed.” More missed than most of the Reich would suspect, if Maximillian Mandorf’s letters were not exaggerating. Conrad’s father had recently been fearful of the company that Kaiser Henry kept. Maximillian spoke of a Pagan magician, evidently the same man that the Kaiser picked up in the Balkans, who was exercising his influence over Henry daily. The most recent letter from Mandorf gave the inclination that the Steward of Bavaria now had the same opinion of Kaiser Henry as he did the Kaiser’s father.

I worry for the future of the Reich if its leader becomes less pious while embarking on a journey to save his country’s soul, the last letter had concluded. After ominous news such as that, Conrad was glad to be back in Rome. There was little point on going on a Crusade if it was tainted.

“And so,” Conrad said to himself, “I shall stay in Rome for the time being, and continue to be a prepared leader.” For, even in these times, the monsters of unrest and disaster lurked below the surface of prosperity. It would only be a matter of time before a large enough monster broke the surface.

[Ituralde]

The scruffy man looked expectantly up to his master from his make-shift wooden stool. He despised being here in the countryside, but travelling with Duke Leopold had carried him to far worse places in the past. As a writer it had been hard enough to make a living, so he had used the fact that his father was one of the more influential persons in the Austrian court, to persuade Leopold that he needed a biographer that would mark down all his achievements for the ages to come. It had come as a surprise how happily Leopold had accepted the offer, if he had only committed half the atrocities of his master he would not want any of them to be known. What made his job worse was the fact that Leopold insisted on reading bits of his biography, to find errors in them or to bask in it, he could only guess.


Leopold turned to walk up and down again, still studying the parchment in his hand, before finally turning to the man sitting in front of him. While Leopold had never been interested in reading much, he had obtained a level of literacy that was useful for his everyday affairs in governing the Duchy. He never read for pure enjoyment, but he understood the importance of a legacy. That's why he decided to read what his biographer wrote from time to time, lest the man proclaim him mad or worse to the afterworld.

"'Thus he swung down mightily with his sword, decapitating fifty of the prisoners with his own hands, that the blood flowed in rivers upon the green meadows.'"

Leopold had read a small excerpt aloud and now looked at the man.

"So I personally executed fifty unarmed prisoners? Is that what you are saying?"

The scribe was taken aback by the harshness in his masters words, but tried to keep his composure while answering. "Well, that is what they say at least... " he stammered nervously.

"That is what the say? Well maybe you would not have to rely on hearsay if you hadn't spent the time after the battle, retching your guts out. Personally decapitated. How does that make me look. The Venetians had to be killed, there's no use in letting them go and having to fight them over and over again. I fear that's not something you understand though."

He tossed the piece of parchment away and the scribe hurried to catch the piece, before it drifted into the mud. He should make a habit out of copying the stuff he gave the Duke to read. "I am sorry your Highness. I write down what I see and for those parts I don't see I have to rely on other sources. I will change the passage immediately."

"No, no. Leave it be. It's not that big of a difference anyways, don't you think. I killed them alright."

Leopold waved at the man dismissively, his concentration had already shifted to the rider approaching his little encampment. Building watchtowers, especially overseeing it was an ordous job, but he had to make sure that the border with the Hungarians was secure. And more importantly he had to be seen by the newly claimed Hungarian subjects. While Budapest was under his firm control the peasants living out here seemed to care little who was in charge in the far away city.

The rider halted his horse, jumped down and walked over to Leopold, casting a quick salute. His manner made it clear that he was used to talk to Leopold and although there was quite a difference between them in rank and formalities had to be observed he knew the Duke like few other men did.

"Rainer, what brings you here so early? Surely arranging a marriage should take longer than that, shouldn't it?"

"My lord, I am sorry to be back this early, but... well... Permission to speak honest my Lord?"

Leopold smiled and gave a brief nod: "When have you ever not been honest to me, hm?"

"The truth is, that although you sent me out to arrange a suitor for your daughter, I am afraid there is none who will marry her. Well none that you would approve of that is."

Leopold looked at his retainer in disbelief: "What do you mean man? Speak clearly. I know I refused to hear from all those high-nosed arrogant fools from the court in Vienna, but didn't we settle on young... young what was his name again?"

"Markus, my Lord!"

"Yes, Markus. Decent lad I heard, good family from Friaul. Can hold a sword and has shown some aptitude in the late campaigns. Wasn't he the one to lead that charge against those Croatian rebels? I thought it was settled?"

"Well, you see it's not quite as easy as that, my Lord."

"But of course it's easy. You take them, you marry them. Finished. What's there to worry about. I hear Meckil is a docile young woman, that Markus has nothing to fear of her."

Rainer coughed uneasily: "Well I don't think it's her that he's afraid of." he cast an uneasy glance sideways then rushed on quickly to get it all out: "He is more afraid of you my Lord. The men are talking and word goes round, fact is that most people are afraid of having you as their father-in-law, it gives them nightmares my Lord. That's why no officers have come forward. They know how you fight and they're afraid of ever having to fight you."

Leopold casts an angry towards the scribe, who is still busy gathering up all his papers, before he looks back at Rainer. "So they're afraid, ey? Afraid of me?" He looks at Rainer intently.

"Last I heard they call you 'the Mean' my Lord, no disrespect intended."

Leopold looks past Rainer, his thoughts taking over. "No, no. I'm sure there is no disrespect intended. Leopold the Mean. Well I can't say there's no reason, but war is war and someone has to do it." Leopolds look trails further off.

"Well, if you want I could put a stop to it. They respect you, it's just that tales go round and some things get a little exaggerated in the process."

Leopold focuses once again on Rainer, this time wearing a knowing smile. "No don't. Leopold the Mean, I rather like the sound of that, let's just see what it takes for them to call me the Cruel or the Gruesome shall we." He turns a finger towards the scribe who flinches under the sudden attention. "And you! Be sure to write it all down will you. Just listen to what the people tell you and write it down."

Leopold's smile broadens has he returns his gaze to Rainer. They called him Leopold the Mean now, well he would show them just how mean he could be.

[econ21]

South-east of Antioch, 1200

The Teuton watched a dishevelled and exhausted Duke Ulrich enter the Kaiser’s headquarters.

“Do you think the Kaiser is punishing Swabia?” the Teuton asked.

Kurt Altman, veteran warrior and the Kaiser’s new confidante on military matters, looked thoughtfully at the Teuton, who continued:

“I mean, Duke Ulrich made landfall with over 600 crusaders; he now as only 200. At least Chancellor Otto reinforced him with my regiment. The Kaiser made him attack the Egyptian siege train without reinforcements.”

Kurt laughed at the tall young Rhinelander: “You do not know your Duke, son. No one can “make” him do anything. And the one thing no one need “make” him do is attack the enemy.”

The Teuton smiled. “I suppose you are right. But I cannot help wondering, not after Swabia was so short-changed at the recent Diet. Every House received more provinces, except the Kaiser’s own.”

“The Kaiser has no house now. But still, he would not seek to punish his old friends. No, if the Kaiser is guilty of anything, it is over-optimism. He should have seen the mauling Ulrich took in his first battle and not sent him off in that weakened state for a second one, whatever the Duke’s enthusiasm.”

“And he is guilty of it again, bringing us outside Antioch?” the Teuton probed.

Kurt looked away. It was undeniable. The Kaiser had marched into a lion’s den: three strong Egyptian armies were gathering around Antioch and now were poised to strike. Henry had ordered a band of Turcopoles to interdict supplies going into the great city. It was like kicking a bee’s nest. Soon all three Egyptian armies in the province would soon be roused and marching together on the Kaiser’s position. Kurt spat on the ground. What was the Kaiser thinking?

A tall figure in a black cloak stormed out of the Kaiser’s Headquarters. The hairs on Kurt’s back prickled and his hand reached for his sword hilt. Yet inside, the Kaiser could still be heard talking to Duke Ulrich. Kurt relaxed and Dusan Kolar met his gaze.

“Chivalry gone mad.” the pagan magician exclaimed and then slipped outside into the night.

[OverKnight]

Acre, 1202


Ashes, it had all turned to ashes. The victories, the triumphs, the praise from friends and past foes alike. It was gone, burned away in a few fleeting years.

Lowering his head into his hands, the last words of Kaiser Heinrich came to Otto unbidden and unwelcome, "You disappoint me. No matter what you stood for, I wanted a friend and an ally. You were both, for a short period of time. However, when it became clear that I was on my way out in the world you threw our bond aside, forgetting all that I had done for you. While I can do nothing about you now, you will surely remember this betrayal sometime into the future."

The future was now. Otto could feel the sting of betrayal turned on him. It coursed through his veins like poison. It burned.

"Why?", Otto asked in a coarse whisper, "What have I done to deserve such harsh words from the Kaiser?"

Elsebeth, having entered the room with a letter, came up behind him and placed a consoling hand on his shoulder, "You defied my brother. Whatever the wording of the edict, when you insisted it be followed, you defied his will. What else did you expect my dear?"

"I thought. . .I had earned better. I thought I had explained why we must put down the Milanese. I did not complain, I did not threaten, I merely asked that the edict be enforced."

Otto's wife shook her head and leaned in to wrap her arms around the distraught Duke.

"You do not ask something of a Kaiser, Otto, and expect him to go against his wishes without consequences. Henry might appear more reasonable than our father, but the same iron will lies underneath. They are more alike than either would ever have admitted. He has ensured, in calling you out publicly, that if the Corsica adventure fails, it will be your fault, not his. If it succeeds, than he will have won a victory despite your stubborness, and the credit goes to him."

Otto stood, breaking out of his wife's embrace, and began pacing the room.

"But why? I am not his enemy. Hell, he voted for the edict! I have aided him, during my term, I had the Reich reconciled. . .the Crusade completed. . .an alliance with the Church. Why am I now the villain?"

Elsebeth smoothed her dress and watched Otto fume.

"It is because you accomplished these things that the Kaiser moved against you. Tell me Otto, why did he not assume the Chancellorship for your term? It was the first one after father's death."

Otto stopped and turned toward his wife with a creeping realization coming to him, "He felt the Crusade wouldn't arrive in Jerusalem until this term. He wanted a caretaker Chancellor. . .But I. . ."

"But you did bring the Crusade to completion", said Elsebeth, finishing his thought, "You were much more successful than he could have imagined. Perhaps too successful. His Chancellorship was supposed to have seen the culmination of the Crusade. The crowning glory of his term and reign. Instead, an upstart General took that from him. He might not admit it, but he resents you for it."

Otto approached Elsebeth and grasped her by the shoulders, "The Kaiser is not that kind of man! He was overjoyed to hear of the reconciliation, to hear that the Crusade had been sanctioned."

"Yes I'm sure he was. But he might also have been thinking that it could have been him. That it should have been him to accomplish these triumphs. Do not act so surprised, look at my brother with the same eyes you used to discern the vanities of the Cardinals."

Otto turned from Elsebeth to gaze out the window, "No, it is not like that, it is merely a. . .misunderstanding. I am still high in his favor. He promised. . .I am his best General here, he knows this, there is no way. . ."

"Do you think your martial skill or accomplishments as Chancellor shield you? Belisarius was Emperor Justinian's best General. He never lost a campaign and restored the Byzantines to Italy and much of their lost Empire. Yet, the Emperor withdrew him from Italy at key moments, delaying the conquest, and his career ended in a trial for corruption even after he had saved the Empire from the Bulgars. He was a better General than you yet he still suffered. Rulers grow wary of accomplished Commanders with too much power. They do not wish their own accomplishments to be overshadowed or their own power superseded."

Otto had slumped in a chair by the time his wife had finished. Circling him, she spoke again.

"Tell me, if you are the most skilled General in Outremer and close confidant to my brother, why are you here in Acre, sitting in another man's castle? Why are you not in the north? Or leading an army on Damascus? Why is Ulrich Hummel the Prince of Antioch?"

"Enough!", yelled Otto, rising from his chair, "I do not know! I have no answers for you. I serve the Reich, I always have and I always will. That should be enough."

Cupping Otto's scarred face with her left hand, Elsebeth replied, "I hope it is enough, my love, but I would be surprised if you led an army into battle in my brother's term, or if Corsica is taken quickly. Otto must fall, so that Henry might rise. Tread carefully."

Bowing his head, Otto covered his wife's hand with his own and smiled sadly, "I thought you wanted me to be Roland, to be a good man and a chivalrous knight. When did you become so cunning and cold hearted?"

"I grew up Otto. You have changed for the better, but I have still learned from watching you. We can hope for a just world, but we must deal with it the way it is."

Otto sighed, "I will write Maximillian, he will know what to do. He's always been there for me. . ."

Elsebeth looked down at the message in her hand, "I had forgotten, I have a letter from Adana that just arrived."

Taking the letter Otto opened it and read the contents. Dropping it he paled and staggered as if from a heavy blow. Elsebeth rushed to steady him.

Otto clung to his wife, his head buried in her shoulder.

"He's dead! He's dead.", Otto moaned, "My God, we're all alone."

It had all turned to ashes.


OOC: Kaiser Henry's message on running for Chancellor in 1180:

https://forums.totalwar.org/vb/showpost.php?p=1511030&postcount=361

[econ21]

This is a cooperative story between GeneralHankerchief and econ21. Disclaimer: you only know all this out of character. In character, you don't know nothing!

Aleppo, 1204

“It is here?” Henry asked, trembling.

Horst Mueller, the young Teuton nodded sombrely as he opened the door to the catacombs under Aleppo.

Henry stepped cautiously into the dark and dusty vault. By the light of the torches on the walls, he could make out a large chalice on the central table. In the shadows, he could see the tall dark figure of Dusan Kolar.

“I told you it was here.” Dusan purred. “That is why it had to be you that came, not Otto or Ulrich. This prize is for you alone.”

Horst closed the large door behind them.

“Who else knows about this?” Henry asked.

“Just the three of us.” murmured Dusan. “Let us keep it that way. The chalice can only be found by true bastions of chivalry.”

“Are you sure it is genuine?” Henry asked quietly.

“One only has to touch it to know. It has special divine powers. They say it can bring back the dead.”

“And these powers, you know them to work?”

“Horst, leave us now.” said Dusan authoritatively. The Teuton looked at Henry for confirmation. Henry nodded.

Once the young knight had left, Dusan continued: “Oh yes, the powers work. Let me provide you with a demonstration.”



*****


Henry sat on the other side of the round table, facing Dusan Kolar. The chalice was between them.

“The chalice can bring back the dead, but only their souls.” said Dusan. “Their bodies are long decayed and gone. The chalice forms a holy passage between this world and the next. The deceased may return, but they should not stay. They have found their final resting place, for better or for worse, and are best left there. To trap one of the saved on this earth would be sacrilegious. For the fallen, well - there are enough of such men on earth already, we do not need to add to their number.”

“Who will you bring back?” asked Henry, his voice dry and breathless. His mind was spinning. Maximillan, who had just departed? Dietrich, his old war horse? Henry hoped it would be Sigismund - his brother and adopted son, who had been dragged from this world by French devilry.

Dusan shrugged: “Do you think I can command the heavens?”

Gingerly, Dusan wrapped his fingers around the cup. Henry gasped as Dusan’s body seemed to shake violently on contact with the golden chalice. Dusan’s head flicked back violently, and fell down with a lifeless shudder. Slowly, silently, Dusan lifted his head up - opening his eyelids to reveal white, pupil-less balls. Henry shuddered.

Dusan then opened his mouth to speak, but the voice was not his own. Henry gasped. This was not the voice he had expected, not the voice he had hoped for. As a matter of fact, it was a voice that Henry believed himself rid of, one that he had never wanted to hear again.

It was the voice of his deceased father, Heinrich.

"Ahh, Prinz Henry, we meet again." The voice, while sounding fairly like Heinrich's, had taken on a slight ethereal, echoing quality. However, there was no mistaking the tone. Not even Kolar dared call Henry anything but Kaiser.

Henry stammered: “Who? … What trickery is this?” Kolar was motionless and unresponsive, his blind eyes staring forward at Henry. Henry continued: “Damn it, I don’t know who you are pretending to be but there is no Prinz Henry here. I am your Kaiser and you will address me as such!”

"Are you really, Henry? Do you deem yourself worthy of the title of Kaiser? It is something to be earned, boy, not inherited. So far, the only notable thing you have done in your entire career is beat those Egyptians at Antioch. Commendable, but not nearly enough to redeem yourself for all those years of nothingness, for all those years of not seizing opportunity."

Henry sat back, as if slapped in the face, and struggled to think of any thing to rebut the terrible accusing voice. “I, err, I have reformed the Reich. As Prinz, I devised our current system of Household Armies; as Kaiser, I drafted a constitution for Outremer, as Kaiser I have modernised our forces…”

A bitter laugh cut him off. The laugh emanating from Kolar was shrill and unnatural, but most definitely Heinrichian. "Really? HAH! If that is so then why do continue to take counsel from this man that I speak to you through? Do you just miss someone pointing out your many flaws? Why is it that there is always great conflict in yourself? Why is it that you always shy away from the greatest of glories and responsibilities? Why do you think that *I* was chosen to speak to you and not someone you wished for, such as Sigismund, Dietrich, or Mandorf? You still have extra baggage to carry, my son, and you are most definitely not free of anything or anyone."

Kolar's eyes now appeared to start flickering, as if the apparition was wearing off. However, the voice of Heinrich took no notice, and continued to speak.

"As much as you wish that this wasn't true, you're not so different from me. The only time that either of us were Chancellor was when we exercised our rights as Kaiser. Both of us have (or had) obstacles in their path to greatness. Unfortunately for you, your obstacles are internal, and those are the more difficult to overcome.

"However, the path is now set for you to become the greatest leader of people since Caesar Augustus himself. Jerusalem is no longer Papal; the Pope is overseeing all of Christianity from a boat. As Kaiser and Chancellor, there is nothing to stop you from retaking the city and claiming it is your own. The edicts on the Crusade have all expired. You have a lapdog in Prinz Ulrich; he will do anything you ask. Take Jerusalem for yourself. Take Outremer and make it your own personal land. The people who would cry out in the Diet are now few. Mandorf and Dietrich have now joined me. Salier is in Rome and cannot possibly hold up against your influence. No one can."

“Duke Otto governs Acre, he commands the wealthiest House in the Reich…”

"Von Kassel? HAH! Von Kassel is weak. At heart, all he desires is acceptance and friendship with those in power. If you assert yourself, he will follow you like he never followed me."

By now Kolar's pupils were flickering on and off. Heinrich finally seemed to realize that his time was growing short.

"Take Jerusalem, my son. Keep Jerusalem. To hell with the Pope. He is in your pocket already. Once you have Outremer, you will have a free land to exercise absolute power over. No outside influence from the Pope; he cares not for how many Muslims you kill. Use that power. Expand. You will have Rome and the Holy Land under your direct control with the Pope little more than a figurehead. And then, my son, you will finally fulfil your destiny. You will become Henry V, Master of all Christianity."

Henry looked appalled as Heinrich’s laugh echoed around the room. Kolar’s pupils came down and the man collapsed onto the roundtable.


*****


Henry kicked back his own chair and raced round to grab Dusan. He lifted the dark figure back and shook him violently.

“You bastard!” he screamed. “You said I would be free of him! You said this was my time! But you’ve brought him back! Back to govern me!”

Dusan’s eyes were closed and his body was inert. Henry held Dusan for a moment, then calmed and gently put him back in his seat. Take back Jerusalem? And keep it for the Reich? The Diet would hang him. But he was Chancellor and this was his hour. He knew what must be done. He marched out of the crypt, past Horst.

“Guard the chalice with your life.” Henry hissed at the young Rhinelander. The knight nodded meekly.

Henry continued on until he found an apprehensive Kurt Altman, walking with the Kaiser's bear-like bodyguard Dirk Freihafen.

“Thank God, your Majesty. I feared for you.” said Kurt with relief: “I heard you went down to the crypt with that… man, Kolar.”

Henry smiled at his veteran warrior, then the expression on his faced hardened. “Jerusalem has fallen. Leave the infantry here - we make haste for Acre via the sea.”

Kurt looked stunned. Abandon the army that had triumphed at Antioch?

“But Kaiser, Duke Otto is tasked with defending Acre and protecting Jerusalem, surely he…”

“This is something I must attend to personally.” Henry said, “It is my destiny.”

[Warluster]

Staufen , 1204

The great Iron city gates of Staufen opened, creaking as the sun overhead failed, and storm clouds tried to overcome the sun.

But through the Great City gates of Staufen, was Prinz Jobst's escort, heading mainly for Staufen's Barracks. Peasents sprung out of the way, as heavily armored knights came galloping through ths treets, and the air boomed with thunder.
'Make way, make way! We're in a hurry!' yelled Jobst's Second in Command,Fritz.

The bodyguard stopped abruptly out the front of the barracks. And the Captain in charge came racing out, wondering who the visitor would be.

The sky flashed, and rain came pouring down. Rattling armor everywhere, and the air rung.

Jobst got down from his armored horse, lifted his visor and looked at the Captain hard, scanning his face.
'We did not know you were coming my lord" muttered the Captain nervously,twiddling his thumbs.
"I thought I might've created that affect" whispered Jobst, "But no.Captain, I did not want many too know I am here, I was just dropping in... to discuss urgent matters" continued Jobst. And he strided past the captain, and into the calm of the barracks. Fritz nodded to the convoy and followed Jobst and the Captain.

Fritz walked in to find Jobst sitting at one of the tables, the Captain standing nervoulsy.
"Sit" commanded Jobst, and the Captain and Fritz sat. Jobst leaned forward.
"I have some orders to discuss with you Captain, which you shall tell no one, on pain of death" whispered Jobst, The Captain nodded fearfully.
"If you tell someone who should not know, some French, Italians or even the Papal Bull, the Kaiser himself shall be angry" said Jobst with raised eyebrows.
"I want the best trained Knights,soldiers you can get from Staufen ,Captain.
" whispered Jobst, "And they shall assemble outside the City,where I shall wait, for a new army being formed by the Kaiser." said Jobst.
"What new army sir? I have heard nothing of any new armies" muttered the Captain.
"Because peasents and those of not high status don't know!" said Jobst, his voice louder. Jobst leaned forward to speak in the Captain's ear.
"The new European Imperial Army" whispered Jobst, and he leaned back,smiling. Fritz smiled as well.
"I shall leave you some 10-20 years to form this army Captain, and some personal money" Jobst handed him some coins "So you don't get off track"said Jobst with a wink, then left, but Fritz did not.
"And Captain, if you fail, I shall execute you myself" said Fritz, and he followed in Jobst's footsteps,smiling to himself. The Captain shook violently, watching them disappear. Then strode out ot the back.
"WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR!" he roared.

[OverKnight]

Acre, 1208

Kurt Altman, the veteran warrior in Kaiser Henry's retinue, was not surprised by the summons he had received. Whatever had happened in the bowels of Aleppo had left Henry a changed man. He had been watching Dusan Kolar as the Duke had requested, and over the years the man in black's influence had grown over the Emperor.

So now, Altman found himself entering Otto's chambers at Acre. The Duke was in bed, stripped to his small clothes, a broken off Saracen spear protruding from his right thigh. The wound had been hastily bandaged on the battlefield, but the gauze was soaked with blood and Otto looked pale and in pain. A local healer hovered over the wound as Princess Elsebeth looked on, her expression a mixture of concern and anger.

Before Altman could announce himself, the healer spoke, "The spearhead must be removed immediately, and the wound treated with boiling wine and sewn up or we risk putrefaction."

Elsebeth hissed in frustration, "All thanks to my brother, he would not let you lead the army, but he was content to send you into a wall of spears."

Otto looked up and noticed Kurt, he spoke in a weak voice, "Enough Elsebeth. Maimonides, you may treat me in a moment, but first I must speak to Sir Altman. If you could leave us for a moment."

The physician left the room, and Otto waved Kurt close to him.

"It is good to see you again Sir. Tell me, what news of the Kaiser and his magician?"

Altman swallowed hard, loyalties warring in him, but spoke, "It is rumored that Kolar has obtained the Chalice of Christ for the Kaiser, and that he shows him visions of the dead through it. Since the taking of Aleppo, my lord spends more time with that black spider, forsaking his other advisors. There are whispers that he plans to take Jerusalem, and this time keep the city for the Reich."

Otto made the sign of the Cross.

"Good God, it is worse than I thought. This must be Dusan's influence. The Kaiser Henry I know, or thought I knew, would not do this. The magician's hold over his Majesty must be broken."

Elsebeth snorted but stayed silent. Otto glanced up at her with a small smile, but his gaze returned to Kurt.

"Tell me Sir Altman, as the Kaiser's trusted warrior, do you know where the chalice is kept?"

Kurt thought for a moment, "The Kaiser's tent is guarded at all times, even when he is not present. I think it is there."

Otto nodded, "If the chalice is the source of Kolar's hold on the Kaiser, it must be removed. It might be more direct to silence the magician, but the results would be more in doubt. I ask that you procure the item and have it sent far away, out of the reach of Kolar. You and others guard the Kaiser, and while there are threats in battle to keep him safe from, there are worse things in his own court from which we must protect him. Will you do this for the Reich and for the Kaiser?"

Kurt clenched his jaw. He was a knight, not a thief or turncoat, but he hated Dusan, hated the dark cloud that hung over the Kaiser. Action must be taken. He nodded his head, "I've just the man for the job. He thinks as we do."

Relief mixed with pain flashed across Otto's face.

"Good man! Elsebeth will instruct you in what must be done. Now go, you have a chalice to steal, and I have a thorn to be removed. Send in the healer on your way out."

As Elsebeth and Altman made their way down the corridor, the stifled screams of the Duke of Bavaria echoed behind them. Neither of them looked back.

-----

Outside Acre

Dirk Freihafen, the mountain of a man who served as Henry's bodyguard, approached the Kaiser's tent. Torches ringed it to keep out the night. Horst Mueller, the Emperor's Teutonic escort, stood guard outside.

"Evening Horst," said Dirk as he came closer, "Is the Kaiser inside?"

"Nein," replied the knight shaking his head, "He's off somewhere with Kolar again."

Dirk spit on the ground in response and asked, "Stuck with sentry duty again?"

"Ja, the rest of the army is celebrating driving off the Egyptians and I get to watch an empty tent."

Dirk grunted in sympathy, "Well I may as well stand your watch with you, least I could do for a comrade in arms."

Proffering a flask of wine, he added, "As for the celebration, why don't we have some wine?"

Mueller gratefully took the flask and drank. Handing it back, he gave Dirk a mock salute, "My thanks, guard duty is thirsty work."

The next few minutes passed in idle conversation between the two knights until Horst trailed off and began to slump. Dirk braced him and guided him to the ground. Soon, he was snoring loudly.

Dirk waved over a figure in the shadows. It was Altman, who had been watching all the time.

"I see the Princess's drugged wine did it's job. Where is the chalice?"

"It should be in the chest next to the camp bed," replied Dirk, "A pity to waste wine like that."

After Kurt was gone, and the mission done, Dirk raised his flask to the prone body of Mueller.

"I'll see you in the morning, Horst. It seems we both had too much wine to drink and neglected our duties. I'm not looking forward to the headache."

With that he raised the flask to his lips and drank deeply.

[econ21]

The docks at Acre

Although it had only been a short trip from Adana, Hans was glad to get off the ship and onto dry land. He scanned the harbour at Acre, but was disappointed to find no sign of the large entourage that would have marked the presence of his father here to greet him. Disappointed, he set off down the pier towards the fortress.

Two men approached him, both powerfully built and clearly warriors. One was older, but sharp eyed, the other was a large bear of a man. The older man bowed, and the big man awkwardly followed.

“Your highness, I am sorry your father could not be here in person.” said the older man. Despite his grizzled appearance, there was compassion and understanding in his voice. He moved close to Hans, talking conspiratorially, while the big man stood back and appeared to be acting as a lookout.

“Ever since you came of age, your father has always been distant to you, he knows that. He also knows that, by right, it should be you who inherits after him, not Prince Jobst.”

Hans looked shocked at the familiarity and presumption of older man. The older man stopped and smiled apologetically.

“Your highness, indulge me. There is not much time and there is much at stake. I must speak candidly. Believe me, I mean you and your father no harm. Indeed, I am part of his retinue.” the grey haired warrior stopped, thoughtfully: “I would die for him.”

Hans felt uncomfortable with the man’s intimacy and affrontery, but stayed silent. Hans had long learned to watch and wait, to let the other reveal his hand, before revealing his own.

“Have you every wondered why your father was so distant? Why he has kept you away from him? Why you are not heir?”

Hans had his own thoughts on these questions, but was certainly not going to disclose them to a complete stranger. The young prince felt more and more awkward at this extraordinary meeting.

The older man looked sharply at Hans and said severely: “There are dark forces at work behind the throne. Your father feels powerless to resist. If he brings you too close, they may drag you down with him.”

Hans stared at the warrior - was he insane? The older man continued doggedly:

“Your father believes it is in his blood. The office of the Emperor is damned. It began with the unspeakable murder of Pope Gregory at the hands of Heinrich. And it is resurfacing now. Blood will out.”

A Papist fanatic? Hans wondered, but the eyes of the man in front of him were observant and thoughtful, not the unblinking lenses of the dogmatist.

“You share the same blood. Do not deny it. You believe in hard justice, winning first and are fierce in battle. These traits may be admirable in themselves, but they lead you towards the path of darkness. Like your father, coming here on the great crusade may have temporarily brought you back to the light. But if you were to take the office of Emperor, you too would be cursed. Every Imperial assassin’s blade would cut into your immortal soul, every deceit by our agents would condemn you in the eyes of the Lord, every settlement put to the sword would drag you into the pit. What does it profit a man to gain an Empire, if he loses his immortal soul?”

Hans found it hard to breath, his head was swimming but the older man pressed on:

“Your father fears he cannot save himself. He fears he is destined to join your grandfather in the life hereafter. But he does not want to take you with him. You are to be saved. You are to break this curse on the family.”

The veteran warrior paused and summoned his large companion.

“Here, this will aid you in your personal quest.”

Hans realised the larger man had been carrying something in a small bag, strapped round his back but held carefully as if it were a great treasure. The big man opened the bag and pulled out a wrapped object, gingerly unveiling it to reveal an old golden goblet.

“Do you know what it is?” said the older man.

Hans had received a fine education - he was familiar with the legends and the stories of the crusaders. Could this really be it? Was it possible? But given all the extraordinary things the veteran had just told him, to believe one more impossible thing before lunch seemed but a trifle.

"How did you get it?" said Hans, breathlessly.

For the first time, the big man spoke out: "Well, let's just say there is one Teuton with a hell of a sore head this morning."

The older man clasped his hand on the shoulders of his companion, amiably:

“And this fellow, he too shall go with you. He is roughly hewn, but will serve you well.”

The big man looked indignantly at the veteran warrior: “Roughly hewn? Rugged, is what the ladies say”.

The veteran laughed and turned back to Hans. “I am sorry you did not get to see your father today. But you must leave now, go to Adana - gather your expedition to Constantinople. Leave your father to battle his demons. I will fight by his side. I do not know if we will ever meet again, young master, but I wish you well.”

The veteran looked at the bag that Hans was now holding.

“Do not touch the chalice. But keep it secret; keep it safe.”

With that, he bowed. Scanning the area around him, the veteran warrior turned and left. Hans thought he saw a dark cloaked figure in the shadows by the docks, but given the excitement of the morning, gave it no further thought.

[econ21]

A cave outside Jerusalem

Horst screamed in pain. Why hadn’t he listened to Dirk? He should have known to pay attention when the fellow, normally so carefree and lackadaisical, had approached him so earnestly after the battle outside Acre. Why hadn’t he listened then?

Horst screamed again, as Dusan Kolar extracted yet another of the young Teuton’s fingernails.


*****

“It is not safe for you to stay. You must go. Leave this place - tonight!” Dirk had entreated.

At the time, Horst had been wracked with guilt and self-criticism: “No, I have failed terribly. I cannot flee. I must stay and be punished for my failure.”

“You do not know what is at stake here” Dirk had implored. “Hell, even I don’t know what is at stake here. But I do know if you stay, it will be very, very bad.”

“I don’t know what is at stake? I do not know? You have no idea what I was guarding that night!” Horst looked at his sheepish companion. “You and your drinking. I had a mission. I was entrusted with something, something more important than you can ever imagine. And I lost it, lost it because of you.”

Horst had continued, rounding accusingly on Dirk: “Yes, you must go. You should leave this place! You are not fit to be the Kaiser’s bodyguard. You are not fit to the Kaiser’s dog’s bodyguard! Go, get out! Run!”

And still Dirk had tried to persuade him, pleading helplessly: “Horst, they will kill you if you stay.”

Horst looked uncomprehendingly at the big man and then said shallowly: “It would be no better than I deserve for my failure. You said you are leaving. Well then, just leave.”

Dirk had moved away reluctantly, gave one last imploring look at Horst but been rebuffed by the young Teuton’s accusing glare.


*****

“You should not scream so much.” said Dusan patiently. “It is not that anyone will come. I chose this cave because it is far away from anyone. And very well sound proofed. The Hashashin provide such excellent facilities and for such a modest price. But you should not scream so much. It is most unbecoming for a knight.”

With heavy eyelids, Horst looked at the loathsome man in front of him. Damn it, he would not scream so much if only each act of torture was not so excruciatingly painful!

“Just tell me one thing, young knight, and then you are free to go. Who did you tell about the chalice?”

Horst’s head slumped down on his chest, his arms hanging from chains hammered into the cave walls. “I have already said a thousand times: I told no one. I swear by the virgin Mary, I told no one.”

Dusan looked at the young man, dripping in sweat and blood. He almost believed him.

“But you see, that is simply not possible. Only three of us knew. You, me and the Kaiser.” Dusan explained patiently. “Do you think the Kaiser stole his own Holy Grail? Do you think I stole it and am torturing you just for fun?”

Horst looked up hopelessly: “But I swear, I did not… AAARGH!”


*****

When Horst was revived, he had a few minutes to recuperate. Dusan was preparing to leave the cave.

"Why don't you ask me where the chalice is?" Horst asked in a moment of lucidity.

Dusan turned around surprised: "Why? Do you know?"

Horst shook his head: "No, of course not: I keep telling you, I know nothing about the chalice's disappearance! It was stolen from me! But if you suspect me, why don't you ask me where it is?"

Dusan laughed: "Does it matter? It is just a goblet. I can find another one just like it. The Kaiser will never know."

Horst collapsed in despair. He knew then he would never leave the cave alive.

[OverKnight]

Outside Jerusalem

Otto and his retainers rode into the Kaiser's siege camp. A swarm of men were working constructing rams, towers and ladders, the assault would happen soon. In the distance, Otto could see the Kaiser and his court gathered in front of his tent, no doubt planning the assault.

As he dismounted along with his men, Otto felt pain shoot up his right leg. The wound from two years ago still troubled him and the ride from Acre had not helped. As Otto reached behind him to pull a cane from the saddle, Kurt Altman approached him.

"Quite a surprise to see you here your Grace," Kurt said, "The Kaiser is not expecting you."

"Expected or not, I must speak with him. I must know the truth about the fate of Jerusalem. It is time to see who is in power, the Kaiser or his spider."

Kurt nodded grimly and looked at Otto's retainers, "You won't get within fifty feet of him if you keep your men with you."

"I know, I will go to see him alone and unarmed."

Awkwardly unbuckling his sword belt with his left hand while leaning on the cane in his right, Otto handed his weapon to his squire.

"I'm just an old man with a cane, how could I be a threat?"

Bringing up the cane, Otto twisted the handle and drew two feet of sharpened steel from out of the wood of the barrel. Jamming the narrow dagger back in, he took a few steps toward the camp, and then began limping in a pronounced fashion as he brought the cane back down to support him.

"Lead on Sir Altman, I have business with our lord."

Following the knight, Otto tried to walk with dignity through the camp despite his ruse. The men he passed looked at him with a mixture of emotion. Some viewed him with scorn or indifference, a product of the past few years. Others, veterans he had served with, with pride as they bowed their heads. In a few eyes, Otto even saw pity for a scarred old man. That cut him to the quick more than the derision.

Still, he thought, this needs to be done. I must see if the Kaiser will listen to reason, to keep to his original vision of Outremer and not betray the Church.

Otto chuckled wryly to himself at the last thought, who would have ever thought he would be an advocate for the Papacy? Fate was strange and God's will sometimes ineffable. His expression however quickly darkened.

What if he won't listen? What if, despite the loss of the chalice, Kolar still has his claws in him?

Otto's grip tightened on the cane. Then I will kill the magician. No doubt I will die in the attempt, but if I can remove him, end this madness, I will gladly do it.

[econ21]

This is a cooperative story written by Overknight and econ21

Outside Jerusalem, 1210

Otto came to the assembled court. It was strangely empty. There were few German nobles – so many knights had fallen in the battle outside of Acre. Instead, there were small groups of unfamiliar men – men of Slavic appearance and Arabs too. He could see Dusan Kolar to the Kaiser's right. The Germans in the gathering fell into a nervous hush as they became aware of the Duke of Bavaria's presence. The Slavs and Arabs looked sullenly at him, with disdain.

Gripping the cane for support, Otto went down on bended knee in the dirt of the camp and bowed his head.

"Your Majesty, I must speak with you. My letters have gone unanswered, my counsel unheeded. So now I must come to you for the truth. I have heard dark rumors mein Kaiser. Things I not thought possible. Yet, I must ask."

Otto raised his head and glared at Dusan Kolar, his gaze then swung to the Kaiser.

"Do you intend to forsake our agreement with the Church and take Jerusalem for the Reich? Have you decided to abandon your dream of Outremer and set forth like Alexander out into the eastern desert to conquer? Will you be Kaiser, Chancellor and King? It is time that all this be brought into the light, your Majesty."

Henry spoke superciliously. “We fulfilled our agreement with the Church and gave them Jerusalem. It is not our fault they were so careless as to lose it.”

Dusan snickered at the Kaiser’s caustic words.

“March into the desert you said?” the Kaiser continued. “Now, there’s a thought. You have heard about the horse lords approaching? I am getting old. Perhaps I should meet them on my way out of this tiresome world.”

Otto could not recognise the cold indifferent man in front of him. This was not the solicitous facilitator who had accompanied him to on the great crusade. He looked sideways at Dusan, and tightened his grip on his cane, a few strides, a thrust, and it would be over, one way or the other.

“And will I be King?" asked Henry, rhetorically: "I am already King of the Romans; you don’t want to take that away from me do you? But you mean King of Outremer I suppose. Outremer, my dream, you said. A dream of what? Death and the desert?”

The Kaiser paused. “Dusan, you tell Otto what we plan.”

The pagan magician looked stunned. He was never called out of the shadow and required to speak in public at the court. And yet now that Henry was speaking with Dusan’s voice, to come out at this point seemed appropriate.

“Duke Otto.” began Dusan cautiously. “You ask to know the Kaiser’s plans. But that is the wrong question. In future, no one will ask the Kaiser’s plans. They will wait. And when the Kaiser speaks, they will execute those plans.”

Dusan watched as Otto’s jaw clenched:

“You look shocked. But think on this: how many times has the Kaiser consulted the Council of Crusaders during his reign as Chancellor? How many times has he consulted you privately?”

The questions were purely rhetorical – Otto bade his time while Dusan continued, enjoying each blow against the Duke: “And yet you consider yourself special. You believe that when the Kaiser steps down as Chancellor, you would become King of Outremer.”

Henry interrupted definitively: “I am sorry, Otto, there's been a change of plan: it will not happen.”

Otto replied in a flat tone, trying to keep despair from his voice, "It is yours to bestow mein Kaiser and yours to take away. I did not ask for it, you offered it to me. I would ask how the Diet will react to your new autocratic approach? You are not an eastern Potentate, you must consider the Electors, you could be impeached if you defy their will."

Henry looked thoughtful. “Dusan, tell Otto what we plan for the Diet.”

Dusan straightened his shoulders and spoke with disdain: “The Diet is a bunch of old women. Divided into four petty Houses who are given a single province each to conquer and drool appreciatively over. Fools who cluck and squawk over every development and opportunity. They see nothing, understand nothing. They forget this is the Roman Empire, not the scelorotic Roman Republic of Marcellus Aemilius and Numerius Aureolus. It will operate as the dynamic Empire of Caesar and of Augustus. When the Kaiser says march, his generals will march. When he says fight, they will fight. The generals do not tell the Kaiser who to attack, when to fight. That way lies anarchy and impotence.”

Otto rose to his feet, careful to appear that he needed the cane to do so. If he was to kill Dusan, he could strike quicker from a standing position.

"This is madness!", said Otto as his gaze bored into the Kaiser, "I can't believe you, of all people, would listen to the ravings of this fool. You might have the rest of your term to run wild, but as soon as it over, they will clamp down. What of the city before us? How long will you hold it before they know you won't let it go?"

Henry smiled. “Jerusalem? This was never about Jerusalem, was it Dusan? Jerusalem is just a tool, a device to lever us free of the Diet. To ensure there will be no end of my term, to force a confrontation that will prevent the Diet from ever “clamping down” on its Kaiser.”

[GeneralHankerchief]

Rome, 1208

For the past several months, a general malaise had seemed to be settling over the Reich's capital city. This could not be attributed to anything physical; Rome had never seen better days. But despite this, the mood of its denizens had been down. As Governor of the city, Conrad Salier attributed it to an unhappy God. In his studies he had read one play by the Greeks, Oedipus Rex, where a similar, albeit deadlier, malaise fell upon the city of Thebes. Eventually it was determined that the heathen gods were dismayed at the city's ruler, Oedipus, and his previous actions. Conrad was determined that the malaise in Rome not evolve into a plague.

His advisors, those who were still Catholic yet did not believe as fervently as Conrad did, tried to convince the Governor that it was nothing, just a case of boredom. It was, after all, the first time in a while that the city was fairly safe from attack.

However, Conrad would have none of it. As if to illustrate his point, last week a murder of crows had made a nest on top of the steeple of the city's tallest church, atop a cross. When Conrad ordered the nest dismantled upon first seeing it, the crows had returned with a new nest a day later. Clearly, the Lord was displeased.

The question was, why?

Clearly, it was not his fault. While delegating perhaps a bit more responsibility than he should to his subordinates, Conrad did take part in many of the city's affairs, and continued to attend Mass regularly. He did not sin, at least, not to his knowledge. No, the source of this uneasiness had to have come from elsewhere.

"If I am not at fault, who is to blame for this?" Conrad mused aloud. "Surely not anyone else in the Four Houses, for they are all doing their duties and we are now at peace with the Pope. Perhaps it is Swabia and their preparing to destroy France, waiting for the Papal edict to run out. But no, for we have done much worse things than that and face few consequences. I do not believe that Swabia is the problem."

A messenger, clad in dusty armor, entered Conrad's study without knocking. He carried a sealed envelope with him, which Conrad did not immediately notice.

"What is the meaning of this?" he demanded. "I was busy attaining to deep spiritual matters!"

"Cry your pardon, sir, but I believe that there be bigger spiritual matters going on than you're aware of," the messenger said. "I bring this message from Outremer, from Duke Otto himself."

Conrad immediately brightened. Otto was his main source of correspondence from Outremer ever since his father, Maximillian Mandorf, had passed on. The only real bad news that he had brought back so far was the Maximillian had died.

"Thank you for the letter, Sergeant. I apologize that I was short with you earlier. Please make your way to the barracks, I'm sure that you'll be able to get a good rest after a long journey." Then man bowed and departed, leaving Conrad alone with the letter. He broke the seal and read what Duke Otto had to say with increasing horror:

1208

Count Salier,

I do not know if the news has reached you in the west, but all is not well here in Outremer. The Kaiser is a changed man, and I sense the treachery of Dusan Kolar in this matter. I wish I had more information, but I have been pushed aside and left to rot in Acre.

I fear Kolar may be pushing the Kaiser to abandon our agreement with the Church and take Jerusalem permanently. This would be folly. The Magician must be stopped, I will try, but I may fail.

We have had our disagreements, but Maximillian had always spoken of you very highly. He is gone, more the pity, but I need your help. Come what may, Bavaria will need a represenative in the Holy Land after I am gone. Someone to succeed me if I'm successful, or avenge me if I fail. I ask that you take ship to Outremer as soon as possible. You are needed in the Holy Land.

I will not command you to do this, but I hope you will.
It is God's work.

Farewell,

Otto von Kassel

So. This was the source of it all. The physical Crusade had succeeded but the spiritual one was in grave danger. With two great religious figures gone in Dietrich and Mandorf, Kaiser Henry and Duke Otto were the only two figures left in Outremer with significant influence. And apparently, the Kaiser's was fast losing his to a man in black.

Conrad, clutching only the letter, immediately departed his study and made his way towards the outskirts of the city. His time in Rome was done, one way or another. Charles Otterbach's words, once again relevant, echoed in his mind as he left the Eternal City: "There are other ways that you can be a good Servant of God aside from staying in this place and watching your life waste away for nothing." Besides, business needed to be done anyway. There was the matter of returning his father's body to Nuremburg and claiming the Holy Vorpal Sword as his own.

On the way out, he was waylaid and questioned by the Deputy Governor of Rome, who was surpervising the construction of a new church.

"My Lord, where are you going? I had no notice that you were taking leave; when will you return?"

Conrad simply smiled and waved. "You're in charge, Wilhelm. I'm going to get rid of those crows once and for all."

[econ21]

Outside Jerusalem, 1210

This is a cooperative story by Overknight and econ21. It starts with a brief recap.

Henry smiled. “Jerusalem? This was never about Jerusalem, was it Dusan? Jerusalem is just a tool, a device to lever us free of the Diet. To ensure there will be no end of my term, to force a confrontation that will prevent the Diet from ever “clamping down” on its Kaiser.”

Dusan looked quizzically at Henry, but the Kaiser went on:

“We will keep Jerusalem. Not because it matters, but to show that we can. Isn’t that right, Kolar?”

Dusan shuffled uncomfortably, but nodded agreement.

Otto looked sharply from the Kaiser to Kolar. The man behind the throne had been brought out into the light. By speaking for himself, and not through the Kaiser, his own ambitions and plans had been laid bare for the Court to see. Otto readied the cane and took a step toward the magician, but when he met the eyes of the Kaiser he stopped. Anger burned in them, but also awareness.

Henry continued. “One man cannot rule over a Diet of many proud independent nobles; certainly not the son of a peasant from Croatia. But with guile one man could rule over another one man, a King, and thereby rule by extension. And there is the rub. Everything Kolar has done, everything he has schemed for has been to that end – a simple power grab.”

In alarm Dusan turned and began to run. Leaping forward, Otto swung his cane upward smashing it into the magician's jaw sending him sprawling backwards. Reversing his grip, Otto drew the blade and stabbed it down through the prone man's right leg and into the dirt, pinning him to the earth.

"The Kaiser did not give you leave to go," growled Otto as the magician howled in agony.

“And what you have done to engineer that grab for power, Kolar! What a performance! How much time and thought and effort you have poured into it. Such virtuosity! When we first met in Croatia and you “foretold” my father’s death: what chutzpah! Finding the Holy Grail: was ever such a wondrous object put to such a low use! You played on my foolish beliefs – played on my superstitions, my crisis of faith and my self-doubt.”

“But, oh Kolar, you blew it at the end: enlisting my father for your cause. What were you thinking? If I opposed everything my father stood for in his life, why ever would I follow him after his death?”

Henry stopped and remembered tending to the brutalised corpse of Pope Gregory.

“Even if my father did speak to me after death, even if he commanded every spectre and demon from hell, I would throw myself on the fire before listening.”

Henry laughed sardonically. “At least then the two of us might share something, I suppose.”

Otto, kneeling over Kolar as he writhed in the dirt, looked up to the Kaiser, "What should be done with this schwein, mein Kaiser?"

“Done with him? Nothing. He can go. Send him back to Croatia, to live in his parent’s mud cottage. In the light, he has no power. Alone, he is nothing; just an insignificant charlatan. I remove him from my retinue, but I will not sully my hands with his blood.”

Otto, with a quick pull, removed his blade from the magician's leg, Kolar screamed again. Sheathing the blade, and throwing the cane aside, Otto stood and faced the Kaiser.

"What is to be done now, your Majesty? I assume you will still take Jerusalem? I can take this trash back with me to Acre and send him on the first leaky boat to Croatia."

“Oh, Otto!” exclaimed Henry, in exhaustion, clasping the Duke by the shoulders. “I am so sorry for all I have put you through. I wanted to test Dusan, to find out his intentions, to get him to show his hand. I confess I did not know if he was an agent of the devil or the talented fraud he is revealed to be now. I had to keep you distant, to push you away by petty reprimands and neglect. I sent Hans away too. If Dusan thought either of you still held my trust, your lives would have been in danger.”

“But now this affair is over, we will start afresh and do things right. You will take command of this army and lead the siege of Jerusalem. After all, as King of Outremer, it is only fitting that the honour should fall to you. I did not lie when I said there has been a change of plan – your reign as King will start now, not when I leave office as we had planned."

Otto looked downward with shock and gratitude playing across his face, "Kaiser. . .I would be honored to accept the position and to lead the attack."

"The aim of my Chancellorship has been to establish Outremer under a proper constitution. To prove to the Diet that the Kingdom works, we must run it as it will be run – with a King who is separate from Kaiser and Chancellor. You will return Jerusalem to the Papacy, as we have pledged. Me, I will head north. You will guard Acre and Jerusalem. I will see what else needs to be done in the east. Securing Damascus, perhaps? Or even attending to those horse lords I mentioned. Not everything I said was in jest.”
Otto bowed to the Kaiser.

"As you command, your Majesty. I serve you and the Reich."

Slowly Otto's mouth quirked up in a lop-sided smile and he thought the next time you want to smoke out a rat, mein Kaiser, I would appreciate a messenger.



*****

“I don’t care what the Kaiser said: if Horst is dead, so are you.” Kurt hissed at Dusan in private afterwards.

Dusan looked at the veteran warrior, the magician’s eyes dulled, whether by his disgrace or by the pain caused by Otto’s sword cane: “Relax: I was not through with him.”

Kurt smashed his mailed fist onto Dusan’s leg wound.

“You should be proud of your Teuton.” Dusan grimaced, enduring the pain stoically. “He consistently denied telling you about the chalice, whatever I did to him. The Hashashins with me swore they had never seen a man hold out so stubbornly.”

Kurt fought back the urge to strike Dusan again. “Why did you think he had anything to do with the disappearance of the chalice? That was my work – Horst was not involved!”

“Yes, that’s what he said. But he had to be lying: only he and I knew about the chalice.” Dusan mused. The light came back into pagan magician’s eyes, as he narrowed them in puzzlement: “Tell me, exactly how did you come to learn about the existence of the grail?”

Kurt looked at the wounded magician with contempt and produced a ruffled note from his pocket: “I received this note anonymously. It warned me that you were using a magical chalice to control the Kaiser.”

Dusan snatched the note and cried out in frustration. The note was in Henry's hand.

[FactionHeir]

The sea, 1214

Hans leaned his arms against the massive railing of the holk that was to transport him to Constantinople. It was not going to be a friendly trip to the eastern Christian allies as one would have thought, as the city had recently fallen to the invading Magyar hordes.
Magyar. Barbarians. thought Hans. He remembered only too well his last encounter with these Barabarian turned Christian horse lovers back when he traversed their lands to join the crusade to Jerusalem. He had been travelling with only a small entourage selected by his now close assoiate Adalberth and the Hungarians managed to find their camp after a blunder one of his men made.
It cost him dearly. Even to this date, Hans remembered the young soldiers who fought to the last breath to help him fight a way through the vast lines of spears and horses and reach Byzantine territory safely. Every single one of them died, save Adalberth who was severely wounded, and Hans also took away some marks of battle. Subconsciously, Hans rubbed one of the scars that a bolt inflicted on his arm.
He knew that he couldn't keep thinking back to this grim day where he was responsible for the men he was leading and failed. He had to be optimistic, look towards the future and prepare a battle plan for the upcoming siege of Constantinople. Yet it was difficult. He would face his old foes again, this time with an army of his own, but would he succeed? He didn't know, but deep inside, he could feel a burning hatred towards these Hungarians.
They weren't fit to breathe the same air as honest Germans and one day the empire would make them its servants...one day. But until then, much would have to be done. He thought back to the days in the outremer, crusading with his father and uncles, the first victory he savored and how he felt ill afterwards spilling so much blood. It was nothing but heathen blood, he corrected himself, but he knew it was blood nonetheless, and spilling it was an offence.
Some less pious men would say that it is necessary and it was done to establish god's peace, but he was not sure whether this was true. He had left not a single survivor, not a single prisoner then, but at his second battle north of Adana, Hans had more mercy with the heathens. He actually captured over three hundred of them, yet all for naught. The Turks would not pay and he knew he could not let them live. Not after what they had done to his men. His soldiers who lost a father, brother or friend would not look kindly upon a man who lets a heathen go so he could string his bow anew and spit more venom.
He looked away when they were executed and had one of his subordinates give the order to perform the grisly work, for he could not let the dark curse Altman spoke of get the better of him. That was before the conversation at Acre. Yet even then Hans knew that being chivalrous would not be easy yet would be necessary. And now ... Hans looked over to the bear of a man to his left. Dirk Freihafen was his name. Once his father's loyal bodyguard and now his own.
Hans wondered what compelled him to join him on this quest or even for the rest of his life. The man had not spoken much and was one of few words even when spoken to. A mysterium and maybe better so. Talkative subordinates would only spell doom for their masters he noted, but could he be sure of Dirk's loyalty without knowing anything about him?
He was about to find out. "Dirk" Hans opened, getting the man's attention. "How is it you joined me?" but there came no answer, just a grimace. "And why is it that you and Altman seemed rather...spooked at the docks?" Another grimace. Hans was determined to get his answers and so he dug further, "What did you mean when you said that someone woke up with a headache after giving me this...grail?" At the mention of grail, Dirk seemed somewhat uneasy and slowly, with Hans' gaze prodding him, began to speak.
"Well, your ... highness, let's just say I had to do something necessary so the empire would not succumb to the corruption of its emperor." Hans, becoming both nervous and curious certainly was not satisfied with that answer, and inquired "And why would I not have you hung for saying such things about my father?" Dirk did not seem all too disturbed by Hans' threat, thinking that he was but a young and inexperienced man, yet replied in earnest "You know of Kolar?" Hans nodded "Altman said he was controlling the emperor and corrupting his personality to take Jerusalem for himself. The emperor has recently acted increasingly strange and improper"
Hans raised an eyebrow. That cannot be true can it? If this is true, we shall set sail and return immediately so I can see my father and slay this snake. "Nnn..no, you must not your highness, it must be taken far away from him, it must not go back!" Dirk exclaimed, showing signs of worry on his rugged face. "And why is that? Do you not know that this chalice is the holy grail the books of old tell about? How can such a holy object be abused for an act this perverse?" Hans grew restless. Could this grail really be corrupted and even change him for the worse after all he had been through? "This magician has powers my lord, only after your father had the chalice in his posession did he grow darker!"
"If that is the case, maybe we should throw it overboard now." Hans noted. "I ...I don't know if that would be wise young sir. Maybe it was only the magicians influence?" Hans had to agree. he did not know what this object was capable of and how it could be abused, but throwing a holy object of Christianity overboard certainly could be a sin Slowly Hans nodded, "Maybe...for now I shall hold onto it and see what happens, but I still do not know how it got into your posession" Dirk became somewhat embarassed at the last few words and quietly responded how he had drugged the teuton guarding the chalice using Otto's wine and stole it the very night to bring it to Acre.
Hans was surprised. How could Otto know about all this and not tell me? Am I really this unwanted as Altman said, being passed over at all times such as when Henry chose his heir or when he chose the Duke of Swabia? He had not told him too much about his ambitions either. "This story Altman spoke of, of this dark curse on the family, is it true? Am I as accursed as my father and grandfather? Am I destined to be like them? Or will I break the curse but be forgotten, passed over, ignored?" Dirk did not know what to say. In fact, he was not sure if anything he said would or could be positive and whether this young noble, who suddenly seemed much more dangerous than he had initially estimated would have his head for an inappropriate remark.
Nevertheless, he knew he had to say something, and maybe Hans would appreciate an honest opinion? "Uhh... well that was Altman who said it. I don't know much about politics but if you asked him..." "I want to know what you think." Hans quickly countered. "Well...um... I think Altman is probably right. He is much closer to the Duke of Kassel and your father than I am, and he knows many things....I mean he even planned this heist" Hans nodded again, confirmed in what he had thought. "Then maybe I will need to prove that I can both break the curse and not be forgotten", speaking more to himself than to Dirk, "maybe, if I can take Constantinople back, it is time for me to enter politics proper. May this be a test of both my faith and my fate."

~~~

Later that night, as Hans lay on his makeshift bed, he wondered to himself whether it was not his father and his legacy that was to blame but himself. Had he not alienated the other nobles by his actions? Afterall, he disobeyed his dear uncle Leopold by joining him at Budapest and 'abducting' the teutons that were supposed to escort him to his father's crusading army and then shows disloyalty towards Leopold by leaving him during the night when he had told him he would stay in the empire proper. He had also not supported H&#252;mmel actively during the diet and voted against him as chancellor and even been more of a rogue player in Swabian politics, in an effort to stay more neutral, for better or worse. He had acted as if he was the prince and not Jobst and dreamed of becoming emperor one day, he thought. In those few years however, he had managed to alienate Leopold, his house and the crusaders, and he could feel the disdain the older men felt for him when he finally joined them, even though they were rather merry after the victory against the heathen army. Before the taking of Acre, he could feel how they had all allied against him and it was only for Otto's kindness that he was allowed to take Acre while Otto battled the hordes to the south. Maybe it was time to set things right...to atone for his young pride and hunger for adventure. Maybe...it was time he apologized and worked towards the future of the empire...not as emperor, but maybe as chancellor? It would certainly be a test of whether anyone still had some faith in him or not. But what if they don't? he prodded himself. Then I will just have to do what I feel is in the empire's best interest and be a good servant and just have to hope I do break this curse Altman spoke of. The curse. Maybe he should also write his father about it? Confront him? Hans pondered. The time for that was maybe not yet. But can I really leave this thought to plague me, to influence me and to eat away at my soul? Infused with new will, Hans jumped out of bed and walked over to the small desk. It would be a long night...

[Northnovas]

Florence 1212

Dear Father,

I enjoyed your last correspondence and I am sad to hear that you are carrying that cough from the winter. I hope your health holds so we can meet in Ragusa; it has been awhile since we last sit and talked.
I am told that things are going well with the wedding arrangements. When you told me of this proposition several years ago I thought it I thought you were crazy your son being married into the Royal Family. I hear that Meckil is a beautiful woman with grace and charm and thought she would have found a suitor long ago. I guess the Duke has his standards.
I have done considerable travel in Northern Italy since my days here at Seminary school. I know there are still some hurt feelings of me not finishing and doing my work within the church. I have learned from my travels that I can work for God outside of the church and possible have more influence then a priest in a local parish. I followed up your advice and met some of the Reich’s nobles here in Italy. One particular noble was Conrad Sailer the Governor of Rome. A very interest fellow; rather pious when I observe his mannerism at the table or in Mass he shows that of formal training but does not speak of attending any seminary school. I also learned that I will be travelling with him to Ragusa. He is an interesting conversationalist and hopefully will pass the time on that dreaded ship.
It is with regret that I did not get to Venice to meet the Count and discuss the viability of some business deals. I know this was another option I missed out on with the family business and travelling abroad trading exotic goods and wares. I do remember long back when I was very young and went with Uncle Ziggy with his caravan East. Those years spend there are still vivid with the strange customs, food and people.
This is why I felt compelled to write before our meet in case we don’t. I am truly grateful for what you have done for me and knowing that your legacy will continue. I am eager to accept this new responsibility in my life. However, my sense of adventure is still with me. I am no longer a wander looking and drifting around without purpose. I have recognized my calling and am finding the Lord’s work back in that mysterious land of the East. I know you are thinking it is time to settle; I will have a new wife and family should be the next priority. My responsibility should be at home managing the lands.
However, I feel compelled to the Kaiser’s calling and Duke Leopold is looking for Austrian nobles to fight in the East. I have learned many things in my travels and educated in some fine institutions but it is learning and not doing. I can ride a horse well but can I lead men into battle? I have studied the strategies and tactics of our military men but have not fought a battle. How can I prove to the Duke that he has a worthy son and provider for his only daughter if I cannot fight in battle? He is the greatest General in the Reich! I do not want to show that he has a son who is a good administrator managing crops and taxes. I have to be able to demonstrate that I am capable to taking arms and fighting for Reich. You have learned me a great deal in life skills and the art of war was not to your liking. I will now take on a new mentor and learn what I can to protect everything that you have believed and worked in your life. The Duke's reputation precedes him but I am not concerned. I have met meaner men within our Church!
When I get to Ragusa I will ask the Duke’s permission to be a representative for the Austrian House in the East.
I pray that your health holds so that we may meet once more.

Your Faithful and Loving son,

Karl

Letter to the Count of Zagreb from his son Karl Zirn

[Ituralde]

Thessalonica, 1212:

This is a coop story between Kagemusha and Ituralde



It was a small hill just to the north of Thessalonica, where the Duke of Austria had set up the main camp of his besieging army. The city was well-defended so with the prospect of a prolonged siege the battlements of the besiegers have also grown in size to prevent a possible counter-attack. In the middle of the camp on a small outcrop sat the largest tent by far, guarded by soldiers with messengers entering and leaving. It was clear that here all the generals and officers sat together to plan the future strategies. A little off to the right was a smaller tent, undistinguishable from the others if it hadn't been for the single guard standing outside.

It was this tent that Jonas von Mahren had been ordered to shortly after his arrival. As he entered he could see the spartan interior. Besides a cot, a stout chest and two chairs around a makeshift table the only thing of interest in the room was the man he was here to meet, Duke Leopold of Austria

Leopold looked up as the younger man entered his tent outside of Thessalonica. Putting away for the moment his thoughts about the siege and eventual assault, he raises and turns to the newcomer.

"Welcome Jonas von Mahren! I am glad you could join us here on the way back to the Reich. Sit down."

Pointing to a makeshift chair in front of the table, Leopold had been sitting at. Slowly Leopold walks to a small chest where a decanter containing wine and two cups had been placed. Filling them he walks over to the table and hands one over to von Mahren before settling in front of him. Taking a small sip from his goblet he eyes the younger man in front of him. Waiting a little he finally breaks the silence.

"I envy you Jonas von Mahren, I do. You had the honour of travelling with Dietrich von Saxony all the way to the end. He was a great man and a dear friend to me. I wonder what it was like with him on the Crusade?"

He waits a second but before the other man can respond he goes on: "But that's neither here nor there. We have no time today to reminisce about the past. I see you have returned from the Crusade safely? Much has happened since you left. Things change."

Von Mahren takes a long sip from his wine and replies.

"Mein Duke. To be honest I think it was honorable quest, but the reality of the journey wasnt what I expected when we departed from the Reich.
Truly we were successful and fought many great battles destroying the heathens that we faced, but for me personally it was a campaign among campaigns. For Dietrich, God bless him in heaven, it was some kind of meeting with destiny. I must say that Levant wasnt for my liking, filled with heathens and their strange habits. Most of the time I just waited for the time for me to get back to my family.
If I can ask sire, have you heard any news from Magdeburg about my family?"

Leopold looks questioningly: "I thought that visiting Jerusalem is supposed to be uplifting for every Christian? Well, I'm not here to discuss the spirituality of the Holy Land. I hope in time I will be able to see it for myself and make my own judgement."

"I have indeed news from your family. This is in fact the main reason for our talk today. When you left for the Crusade you were in charge of Prague and did a formidable job of defending Austria. Once you left your family decided to stay and in return for your services I have given them a fair share of Austrian land to call their own. In fact the entanglement of your family with Austria and your past achievements have led me to propose the title of Count of Prague to your eldest son Ehrhart von Mahren which would elevate him to Austrian nobility."

Leopold smiles a thin smile awaiting the mans reaction. Then he quickly raises his hand:

"Before you say anything. I have talked about this with your sons and they seemed quite willing to accept. As you know the House of Austria has grown large but is lacking nobles of suitable quality, whereas Franconia has plenty of young men at their disposal. There is ample opportunity of advancement. Your oldest sons are currently staying in Ragusa and await your word on this matter. They feel your consent is necessary and I agree with them. Choose your words wisely though, this is a great opportunity for your family and I hope you seize it.

Von Mahren mutters to himself.

"In Prague? I wonder why my wife has not mentioned that."

Then he raises his head,looks Leopold in the eyes and continues.

"It has been long since I have been home and I regret that I didnt have the opportunity to witness my sons growing up as men.
Mein Duke, if you see that my son´s have served your house so well that they have earned titles and lands. Who am I to question your judgement in that matter. I am fully aware that my boys are not children anymore and they should carve their own path in this world."

Jonas scratches his head for a moment and then continues.

"You know that I hold the title of Count of Magdeburg myself and the laws of the reich say that I can't hold titles in two Houses simultaneously. I will have to talk with my own Duke Von Kastillien, so I will know what he thinks about these matters. But basically I understand that you are in need of able young men and it seems that my sons have decided to align themselves more to Austria than to Franconia. So I will not prevent them from serving you. I hope this answer is enough for you."

Jonas takes a quick sip from his wine and continues.

"My journey on sea was a bit long and I couldn't receive any news during it. Has there been any matters of importance after I boarded my ship in Jerusalem. The only rumours I have heard have been about Kaiser Henry and that there has been some strange happenings around him. Have you received any news concerning that?

Leopold sighs deeply: "I don't know when you boarded ship, but the way I understood it, Emperor Henry seems to have recovered from whatever mood he was in. Some advisor of his has been replaced. Further than that I can't offer any information."

Leopolds lips curve in a slight smile: " But let us focus on your decision: I am glad that you will not hinder your children from advancement within the House of Austria." He raises his goblet in a toast.

"You don't need to worry about your allegiance to Franconia or your Duke. Your title as Count of Magdeburg will remain uncontested. This deal is for now limited to your children, unless you want to join Austrian Nobility too? Although this might cause even more problems with Duke von Kastillien than the current arrangement."

Von Mahren stands up, shakes Leopold´s hand and says.

"Well then it is settled. My sons will help you protecting Austria and I will continue fighting for Franconia. I hope my sons will serve you honorable and will give great prestige to the Von Mahren name."

Jonas smiles a bit and continues.

"If you will excuse me now,i would like to leave from here and travel to Prague to see my wife and children. It has been far too long since i have seen them the last time."

Leopold rises too and smiles at the younger man in front of him:

"There is actually one last favour I would have to ask you. I will be leaving on a second Crusade for Damascus and with the situation it is know, I'm the only Austrian who knows how to lead an army." He chuckles lightly as this. "I would be honoured, and I think it would only be fitting for your services, if you got command over the Austrian Household Army. You will either be joined by your sons here in Thessalonica or return to Ragusa. I find it only fitting that you should be the one to acquaintance your sons with the trade of leading an army. What do you say to this? As a last service to the House of Austria? This should give you a lot of time with your family too."

He looks at Jonas expectingly, who replies:

"Of course. I understand that there is no time to waste and you must hurry so you wont be late for the Crusade. I will take over the siege, but you of course have to understand that once the city has fallen I must leave to Franconia via Prague. I hope you best of luck on the Crusade. Give my best regards to the Kaiser and the nobles in the Levant. If this will be the last time we meet, farewell and may God be with you."

Leopold nods solemnly, taking another step forward he shakes hands with Jonas von Mahren for the last time. "And may God be with you!" Before the younger man leaves the tent again.

[econ21]

The road to Damascus, south of Baghdad, 1218

The riders seemed so at ease with their short mounts, it was as if they were centaurs - man and horse joined at the hip. Athalwolf Engel watched their casual movements and easy control with admiration. The horsemen in front of him appeared far more formidable than the mercenary Turcomans that the Imperials employed as mercenaries. The closest comparators Athalwolf could think of were the elite Mameluk archers. But these small men in front of him were mustering in such numbers, it was clear they were far from “elite”.

“How many armies are there?” Athalwolf asked the marsh Arab.

“Five. That we know of.” said his informer.

Athalwolf nodded - making a quick headcount of the size of the Imperial forces in Outremer. Even if the Germans were not spread over five provinces, the horse lords outnumbered them by as much as two to one. War with them would be difficult - but not impossible. Eventually, the crusade on Damascus would arrive, and Prinz Hans’ expedition would return from Constantinople. Given time, the Germans could match the horse lords.

“Five armies that have been sent here.” clarified the marsh Arab.

“Yes, I’ve heard their lands are extensive. These men, here - they are just part of their great horde?”

“The power of the horse lords cannot be exaggerated.” said the Arab. “Your Empire is the mightiest in Europe. But it is tiny compared to that of the horse lords. Their realm stretches east as far as the world extends.”

“Desert and steppe” said Athalwolf dismissively.

The marsh Arab shrugged; he was paid to provide information, not debate his employer’s prejudices.

Athalwolf turned to the one question above all that Henry wanted to know: “Where are they heading? North to Baghdad? Northeast to Edessa?”

The marsh Arab shook his head: “I do not know. They are too wily to announce their intentions. And I am too wily to ask.”

“But you suspect…?” inquired Athalwolf.

“Sir, they are marching up this desert road, yes?”

Athalwolf nodded.

“And where does this road lead?”

The Imperial spy looked uncomfortable - the Arab was making him look like an idiot. But Damascus? Why Damascus? The Reich wanted Damascus to screen Jerusalem…

Athalwolf looked in alarm at the marsh Arab. “Mother of God, they are not heading for the Holy City are they?”

The marsh Arab shrugged again. “I said - I do not know; they do not broadcast their intentions. But Jerusalem is a huge city - the largest city in the Near East until Constantinople. Your Kaiser helped see to that - sparing the multitude when he took it. And the Papacy has fed the crowd, lowering taxes in a desperate attempt to buy loyalty. The city has thrived on low taxes and pilgrims.”

“How come you know so much?” said Athalwolf, with a mixture of surprise, admiration and resentment.

“If I did not know so much, you would not pay me so well.” smiled the marsh Arab, extending his open palm to the Imperial spy.

After paying his informant, Athalwolf slipped out of the desert town and began to head back north quickly. The Reich had to know - Duke Leopold was not just racing the Spanish and the Danes for Damascus. And Henry and Otto had to know - their mission of protecting Jerusalem had just gotten a whole lot harder.

[econ21]

Stockholm, 1218

Prince Hakkon eyed his visitor carefully: “The Kaiser said what?”

The Prince’s guest consulted some parchment: “He said ‘I have a mind to find the young Prince and assassinate the cur instead, but no doubt father and son deserve each other’”

Hakkon bridled: “Insufferable, ignorant fool!”

To the guest, it was not clear which angered Hakkon most: Henry’s death threat; being called a dog; or the fact that the Kaiser's reference to a "young" Prince revealed he had been ignorant of 54 year old Haakon’s existence.

“Just because the Reich is so large, they believe they can do anything, say anything. And he said that in a public report to the Diet?”

“Yes, but such reports are not public - only a few of the most influential Electors are privy to those reports. I doubt your King has been informed.”

The Prince sat down. The Danish King Charles was in Antwerp, fighting a long war with the English and Scots. But even so, if the Prince’s treason were common knowledge, Haakon’s position in Stockholm would be under threat. Civil war would be the probable result.

The Prince’s guest said cautiously: “There may be a way you can remove the King. And avenge the Kaiser’s insult.”

Hakkon examined his guest watchfully: “I am listening.”

“You have loyal men in the General Harald’s crusade? Men you can trust?”

“I have loyal men everywhere.”

“Good. My associates have people with Prinz Jobst. Perhaps something can be arranged?”


*****


Swabia, 1218

They were coming - Luka Radman had to work fast. The Danish crusade was marching blind - Prince Hakkon’s men had seen to that. Likewise, Luka had diverted Prinz Jobst’s patrols. The Danish crusade was lumbering unknowingly towards the Imperial army resting peacefully at camp.

Carefully, he led his band of men - clad in red and white - towards the Imperial pickets outside the Prinz’s camp.

“Kill all but one. Let one escape. Make sure he sees you. But make his escape look genuine. How’s your Norse?”

“Not so bad.” the ruffian replied, in passable Norse.

“Good - make sure he hears you too then.” smiled Luka.


*****

Prinz Jobst could not believe it. Here he was, in the heart of the Reich, leading his Army of the Interior to hunt down rebels and suddenly, there was a hostile Danish army bearing down on him. He turned to the wounded survivor in front of him:

“You are sure the men that attacked our pickets were Danes?”

“They wore the Danish livery. And I heard one talking after they had killed everyone else. I could understand some of the words - they are common to our tongue too - but others were different. It was Norse; I’ve met Norsemen before.”

“But why?” asked the Prinz, “It makes no sense? Why would a Danish army be here? Attacking us?”

Luka spoke up: “With Duke Scherer tied up in Rheims, the entire western front is open. Anyway, with the war on France, our frontier with Danish held Antwerp has never been watched carefully.”

Prinz Jobst looked at his advisor: “That may explain the how, but not the why?”

Luka shrugged: “When a man is trying to cut your throat, do you stop and ask why?”

The Prinz nodded reluctantly. “What do we know about the Danish army?”

“They are double your strength. Your only chance is to strike fast and surprise them.”

Prinz Jobst looked at the wounded soldier in front of him: “Sound the call to arms - deploy for battle!”


*****

Stockholm

Prinz Haakon watched his guest leave. Had he gone too far? Conspire to cause a war between his country and the mighty German Reich? When the battle came, who would prevail? The Danish crusade or the Imperial Army of the Interior?

And then, how would the Germans respond? Would they take Antwerp, finishing King Charles, as his mysterious guest had promised? Or would they march north and threaten Stockholm as Haakon feared?

“May God have mercy on my soul.” thought Haakon as he gave a last look at his guest leaving the palace - a tall figure in a swirling black cloak, walking with a limp.

https://img524.imageshack.us/img524/8040/12186ne6.jpg (https://imageshack.us)

Denmark and the HRE blunder into war.

[FactionHeir]

Western coast of Smyrna, Winter 1219

Hans had planned to disembark this year still off Constantinople so he could engage the Hungarians forces guarding it. That plan had been delayed by his father's orders to have his fleet wait off Iraklion for the merchant expedition to join his. He shook his head at this move. How could my father delay a mission of such importance only to merge these fleets? Either was large enough to not have to fear the pirates that scoured these waters and the Byzantine navy that was guarding the passages around Greece would come to our aid if someone were so bold as to attack us.

It would certainly delay his plans and he could only hope that the Byzantines were on schedule, for when he docked near Smyrna a week back, he had forged a new plan with the Imperial allies for taking back Constantinople. A cunning plan indeed.

Hans had sent messengers to spread rumors that a large Imperial fleet was about to land south of Constantinople to retake the city for Christendom, hoping to prompt the Hungarians to leave their newly acquired city in a less defended state while diverted their attention southwards to fend off the invasion force. In the meantime, the Byzantines would lurk in the mountains east of Constantinople and watch the Magyar movements, striking if everything went like plan, waiting if the Hungarians were to hold on to their city so they could engage together with Hans' force. Truly a loss-loss situation for the poor barbarians, Hans smirked, finally spotting the sails of the small merchant fleet that was to merge with his, and giving orders to sail north for Constantinople.

Shores of Constantinople, Spring 1220

It seemed quite like his plan worked out. Before his fleet even disembarked onto the coast, the lookout had called down that some Hungarian banners could be spotted on a hill overlooking the coast. Good, they seem to think they can make me turn back by showing their presence. They will be disappointed, Hans thought to himself. But this also meant that the Byzantines had probably taken Constantinople or were at least laying siege to it. Hans was not too happy about this. He had hoped to claim Constantinople and give it back to the Byzantines as a show of good faith, but this would no longer be possible. However, his allies would still be just as glad about regaining their former capital, for it was only because of Hans' plan that they achieved this. Now it would be time for Hans to keep to the second part of his plan: To drive the barbarians back into their lands for good. Although the enemy host was considerably larger and better trained, he would not show cowardice and turn back now, not after reading Leopold's letter.

OOC note: It is assumed that in 1220, Hans fleet already moved north to stop just off the coast of Constantinople near the Hungarian army.

[FactionHeir]

Rome, Autumn 1220

It was a cold Autmn night in this capital of the empire, the wind howling as if in agony, taking yellow leaves with it where it went. Citizens were far and few on the streets that night, and those that were, hurried with cowls over their head from here to there.

Yet for one man, the shiver that this night ran over the backs of others was absent. Hans was oblivious to the world around him as he strode towards a small villa where he had taken up residence. The ballot seemed clear, I am now chancellor. was what went through this young man's mind as he walked. But I now also bear the responsibility of leading this empire, to prevent it from crumbling, to defend it with all costs. The taverns were filled with thirsty men and those who dared not go outside as a storm was anticipated on the horizon. The locals seem not too concerned about their fate and what is happening in our empire. All they care about is cheap wine, women, and a place to stay. Hans sighed. Sometimes I wish life was this easy too, but.... Shaking his head at his improper thoughts No. I must not lose focus now. Too much is in my hands to lead, it was my own choice to stand and now it must be me who honors the trust all these men put in me. Hans accelerated his movement at these words in his mind. But what to do first? The crusade? The conquest of France? The investigation near Staufen? The buildings? Or even the taking of Thorn? His eyes narrowed. Thorn. He wanted to retake it. Yet Franconia voted united against him. Should he leave this to the last? Show them their insolence would lead nowhere? A truly ironic name that. Like a thorn in my side. Maybe I should take it myself and gift it back to the Franconians with them begging at my feet? Hans smirked subconciously But no, I must keep to the ideals that I have been taught. It is much too easy to fall from the path of chivalry. Muttering to himself, he continued yet what of revenge? Was that acceptable? What would his father, or Leopold say if they heard him like this? Hans took a deep breath in... Henry would tell him to do what is best for the empire, as any emperor would, as he himself had taught to be like. Leopold. He would call him a coward for being so indecisive, pondering all the time and not acting....and out....Coward. He only too well remembered those words when he read them. And were they not true, in this extended meaning? Hans clenched his fists It would be upon him to prove otherwise. He would retake Thorn immediately for chivalry's sake and utterly destroy the Hungarians that pillaged their Byzantine ally's lands. And maybe make his own way to Sofia. The citadel he had once passed with only his small entourage and the Hungarians pouring out the gates to pursue him. It would only be too fitting to finally take this place to hold the borders better. But was it also for revenge? Hans stopped. He seemed to have gotten off the road home and now stood at the cathedral of Rome. Maybe it would be a good idea to pray and reconsider these thoughts, or maybe get god's blessing for them. And with this in mind, he slowly pushed open the heavy doors to the holy interior.

[TinCow]

He was sweating heavily. The thick woolen padding prevented any crippling damage from the blunted practice blades, but it was not designed for comfort during the hot Roman summers. Lothar took a step back, away from his circling opponent, and quickly shifted the three foot arming sword to his left hand. He wiped his hand on his thigh pad, then scooped up a fistful of dirt and ground it into his palm. It took only a moment, but it was an opening he knew would not be ignored.

The tip of the man’s sword flicked out to the right, but the weight on his left foot showed his true intent. With dirt still filling his right hand, Lothar dropped the tip of his still, angling the sword across the front of his torso. His left arm was not strong enough to stop the blow, but he kept his wrist loose and stepped into the attack with his left foot, turning his body outwards at the same time. The man’s blade slid off his own with a shriek, the force of his blow carrying his arm down and across Lothar’s right side.

In the blink of an eye, the young Bavarian flipped his weapon back into his right hand and lashed out with a wicked cut. He put all of his strength into the back handed slash. The blow would have taken the man’s right arm off below the armpit, had the blade been sharpened. With his mind’s eye he saw a fountain of blood erupting from the severed limb; the shocked expression on the face of a man who did not yet understand that he was dead. At least that was what would have happened, had the man’s arm had still been there. Instead of hitting padded armor and flesh, his blade met only air.

With his sword swinging wide into empty space, it would take precious seconds to reverse the momentum and bring it back to guard his now wide-open body. Seconds he did not have. In desperation, Lothar backpedaled, but it was useless. Before he had managed half a step, he felt cool steel sliding up the right side of his throat. Even though the edge had been rounded off, the sheer speed of the thrust drew a long line of blood. He shouted in pain and dropped his sword.

The man stood up from the crouch and threw a dirty rag in his face. “Arrogance!” He spat on the ground. “What did you think you were doing?!”

Lothar clasped the cloth to his neck and breathed heavily. “Your right was open. You put in too much weight to pull back.”

“But not too much to go forward!” Adelman, weapons master to the House of Bavaria, growled. “Never move without planning for failure as well as success!” He stepped forward, his grizzled face towering over the still growing teenager, and slapped Lothar hard on the side of the head. “You did not think, dummkopf! You celebrated victory when the battle was not yet over!”

The young Steffen bit back an acidic retort. Of all his teachers, Adelman was the only one he respected, but even so it was difficult to restrain himself. Strategy, tactics, combat, these he excelled at beyond all his peers. Few adults could best him in combat, let alone war games, yet for all that there was the indisputable fact that had the battle been real, he would have less than a minute to live before he died of blood loss.

Adelman snorted. “Good, at least you’re learning when to keep your mouth shut. Go clean yourself up, we’re done for today.” Lothar bowed and left. The weapons master was low born, peasant stock, but on the practice field he outranked even a Duke. His first day of training with Adelman had been on his tenth birthday, over six years before, but he still remembered the first lesson clearly. Though he had yet to experience the flush of manhood, Lothar had stood at the edge of the field and ordered Adelman to kneel. He had been rewarded with a laugh and a boot to the chest. The Bavarian weapons master had stood over him, his eyes cold and disparaging. “On this field, nobility is earned, not inherited. You will bow to me at the beginning and end of every lesson. Until you can best me in combat, you are not worthy of respect.” Six years later, Lothar was still bowing.

He left the practice field in a foul mood and stalked the dark halls of the manor. It was a cavernous place, built for a corrupt Milanese Cardinal who had decorated it with paintings and friezes of the most appalling nature. The grand bedroom had been adorned with a disturbingly large number of scenes of the Virgin Mary, nude. His father had stripped the place bare and replaced all religious scenes with dark tapestries and captured weapons and armor. There were rumors that one particular sword, hung over Gerhard’s bed, was the very weapon Pope Gregory had wielded in his final battle with Kaiser Heinrich.

A few servants approached him in the hallway, but the sneer on his face kept them at bay. It was with relief when he finally reached his bed chamber and shut the door behind him. I am the eldest son of the Steward of Bavaria. My father leads the greatest House in the Reich and rode with Kaiser Heinrich in his war against Pope Gregory. By the time I was thirteen, I already knew more about combat and military command than most nobles will ever hope to understand in their entire lives. Yet none of them take me seriously. The Diet disregards me; they laugh at me. They think I am a child still.

His eyes were drawn to a shape resting on the corner of his writing desk. It was a large bundle, wrapped in rough burlap and tied with twine. Lothar loosened the knot and opened the package. Inside was a smooth, folded cloth; black as pitch and soft as silk. As he lifted it, the layers opened to reveal a thick, body-length cloak with a cavernous hood. On the inside of the cowl was a small red marking, no larger than his thumbnail. When worn, it would be invisible to all, pressed against the back of his head. He raised the mark to the light and gazed at it. In small, exquisitely embroidered stitching was an all-seeing eye.

I am not a child any longer.

[econ21]

The bridge to Edessa, 1220 AD

Elberhard strode into the officer’s mess and clapped Kurt Altman on the shoulder:

“So, you old @#$%^&!!!, you’re finally going to get a chance to rip those @#$%^&!!!s at Edessa a new @#$%^&!!!, eh?!?”

Kurt looked round at the young prince with the pained expression of Ernest, Henry’s guard dog, being tormented by an irritatingly energetic young puppy.

“Master Elberhard,” Kurt touched his forehead in deference. “Your father has not confided his plans in me, you’d best be talking to him yourself.”

Elberhard turned round a chair and sat astride it, grabbing a leg of mutton from the table.

“Oh, @#$%^&!!! The old @#$%^&!!!’s not going all quiet and mysterious again is he?” Elberhard groaned, in an exaggerated world weary drawl.

Kurt gritted his teeth. “I am not sure as I rightly know to what you are referring to, young Master.”

Elberhard guffawed, spraying half digested mutton over the table. “Don’t @#$%^&!!! me, Kurt! You know what they say: you can’t @#$%^&!!! a @#$%^&!!!er! That @#$%^&!!! Kolar, that’s what I’m @#$%^&!!!ing referring to, as if you did not know."

Kurt stolidly munched on his food in silence, not giving anything away. Elberhard eyed him up carefully and continued:

"Man, he was one sly, smart son of a @#$%^&!!! Plans within plans, schemes and cons played out over decades. And yet, you know what the strange thing is? All he ever did, he did for the Reich. You may question his methods, but the old @#$%^&!!!er was our @#$%^&!!!er.”

Then, lightly, like a puppy tiring of a reluctant adult playmate, Elberhard sprang up and looked about, as if ready to leave:

“Got any women, here, Kurt?”

“What?” blurted out Kurt in shock, then quickly, “I am sorry, Sir, what did you say?”

“Oh, I forgot, you all think you are still on a @#$%^&!!!ing crusade to save Christendom, don’t you?” Elberhard laughed. “Pity you had to send Dirk away - he was the only one of you @#$%^&!!!ers who was any fun!”

With that, Elberhard threw the half-eaten leg of mutton on the table and strode off in search of his father.

Kurt looked gave a wry smile to the earnest Teuton sitting next to him: “Thank God they elected the other son.”



*****


Henry was finishing the last part of his letter to King Otto:


…I am far from convinced we should press the attack on Edessa in the face of the approach of the Mongols. The city is formidably garrisoned and will require a full army to garrison due to religious differences.

Everything seems to hinge on Damascus. While the Egyptian fortress at Gaza might seem to threaten Acre, Jerusalem may act as a protective buffer. During my term in office, small Egyptian forces crossed Jerusalem province en route for Damascus. More importantly, the Mongols are heading there. If unchecked, I believe they will then move on to Jerusalem.

For this reason, I do not believe we will have the option of fighting them from the safety of our walls. Rather I think we should use the short time we both have on this earth, and our ability as night fighters, to thin the Mongol horde down so that when the crusade arrives at Damascus, the odds will be in their favour.

…

Elberhard walked into the Kaiser’s tent and coughed awkwardly. Henry looked up at his second son, carefully scrutinising his every feature and mannerism: such unpromising material, so unlike his brother. Where Hans was quiet and contemplative, Elberhard was loud and thoughtless. Where Hans planned and acted, Elberhard partied and postured. Still, the young man had some redeeming qualities - bravery, a sense of justice, a promising strategist… perhaps something would come of him one day?

Henry stood up awkwardly and Elberhard rushed forward to embrace his reserved father.

“So” said Elberhard “Time for round two with that Egyptian - what was the @#$..., I mean, what was the chap called again?”

“Medhat Kafur, I believe his name was.” supplied Henry diffidently. “But no, that fellow will be your responsibility, I fear.”

“What? Never thought you’d walk away from a good fight, father!” joshed Elberhard.

Henry smiled: “My glory-hunting days are over. Duke Otto warned me I would have only a few years to run wild. They are over now. I have but one or two battles left in me. I do, however, intend them to count.”

Elberhard looked puzzled.

Henry continued: “You have no doubt read Athalwolf’s reports from Baghdad?”

“Athalwolf? Why, err… well, you know, I haven’t quite got around to …”

“They are coming, you know. Not here, at least Athalwolf thinks not, but to Damascus or perhaps even directly to Jerusalem. I cannot leave King Otto alone to try to fend them off.”

For once, Elberhard was still and quiet.

“I intend to strike them first, before they even set eyes on the Holy City. I have no expectation that I will prevail. But I will strike them such a blow, it will give them pause. I am contacting Duke Otto. I expect he will also make a stand - perhaps on the bridge to Jerusalem. When we two are done with them, my brother’s crusade will only have to pick up the pieces. And Christendom will be saved.”

Elberhard looked at his father, resignedly signing his letter to King Otto and putting it to one side. In a rare moment of insight, it seemed to Elberhard as if his father was signing off on all his earthly attachments. Elberhard’s stomach felt empty as he realised this was probably the last time he would ever see his father again. @#$%^&!!! this for a game of soldiers, thought Elberhard sadly: My father’s become a religious fanatic. I preferred it when Kolar was in charge.

[Warluster]

1220, Stockholm

It was a dull night,broken only by howls of wind, the streets empty,beggers asleep amongst junk. A faint clippty clop broke the air occasionly, and a thud as wheels hit potholes.

In one of the houses of Stockholm,near the Prince's Lodgings, there was several Danish Rebels,all sitting around a table waiting for someone.

The door into the room opened silently, and in walked, no snuck, a man.

"We've been waiting for you Hugo" said one of the Rebels, the man,called Hugo, sat down opposite the only man sitting,the rest were standing.
"I was very quick, I nearly got caught!" exclaimed Hugo.
"I do not care,we're here to discuss...how to get you near the Prince" said the man, Hugo hissed.
"Do not say such things,in such company..." Hugo motioned to the men standing around them,all quite large. They flexed their muscles.
"There my bodyguards"
"Why do you need bodyguards? You are such a powerful man, good with weapons, you are ever so smart..." drawled Hugo, the man considered Dieter,
"Leave bodyguards, he is right" said the man. Dieter smiled inwardly,they never picked up on the flattering. Once the guards were gone, Hugo spoke,

"I am on a mission...from a unknown person, my master is currently residing North of Frankfurt" said Hugo, the Danish Rebel asked him to go on,
"I want to see the Prince, so we can prove he is alive"
"Is this possibly a mission from the German Emperor? Or perhaps your Imperial Diet?" asked the Danish Rebel, Hugo laughed,
"They think so, I was already moving here in 1214, no, I have not been taking orders from the Germans, but from another source..." said Hugo sneakily, the rebel eyed him suspicously,
"Who then..." wondered the rebel,
"Von Darm-!" Hugo was cut off as a bodyguard barged through the door,
"Sir! We've been tipped off from a source, some Danish Soldiers are coming to kill us!" said the bodyguard, outside there was panic as people ran like crazy, The Danish Rebel Leader looked at Hugo suspicously, but was convinced at Hugo's panicked look on his face,
"RuN! get as far away as you can!" said the Danish Rebel,
"You, Hugo, at 1 tomorrow the Prince has a afternoon nap, you can see he is alive then, now run!" yelled the Danish Rebel leader, and Hugo jumped through the window, and snuck off into a alley. It was all goign excellent...


North of Frankfurt, 1220 , the Site of the previous battle between Prince Jobst and the Danes

The pine trees waved in the midday sun, as gravel was crunched beneath feet. Birds chirped, as if to add tot he atmosphere. Pine cones littered the ground,some occasioly falling, as the sun blared from the sky.

But the day was not all peaceful, because amongst those peaceful trees layed hundreds of bodies, and a foul stench ruined the forests as crows feasted on dead flesh.

No living thing could sustain that stench, but standing amongst the hundreds of dead Danish and German bodies, was a man. Beside him stood a man.
"Fromt he looks we can't tell anything here..." said the man, he looked at the other man standing beside him,
"Can you...uh,sense anything Luka?" teased the man,
"Why Dieter, do you underestimate the powers of the Pagan Gods?" said the Pagan Magician Luka. The man called Dieter replied snappishly,
"Because I am no pagan Luka's, now where was I..." he drawled,
"Hugo better be done, he knows we are on a tight schedule, if we can find the Danish Prince at Stockholm, we can prove this was a fizzle" said Dieter. Luka stood straighter and observed the ground,
"Just there, one of Prinz Jobst's bodyguards, hm..." Luka's let out a gasp,
"And there is the Danish Family Member, but he is no prinz! Plus it looks as if he was slain by a Teutonic Knight!" said Luka, Dieter stood up and looked around, he spotted something at the edge of the forest. He pointed there,
"Why is there bodies there Luka...?" asked Dieter, the two men rushed over to the clearing and found,
"The two scouts, they were slain by the danes!" exclaimed Dieter,
"Which means..."
"That the Danish started this whole battle!"
Finally the mystery was solved, but not the problem...

Otuside Staufen,1220

Jobst was sitting in his command tent, going over the last few years events.
All the drama in the Diet, at least he still could command the EIA...

Luka's, his pagan magician came marching into the command tent, followed closely by a shorter person.
"Prinz Jobst, we just returned from the scene of battle,the battle which happened north of Frankfurt in 1218..."
"Yes Luka's,that one" said Jobst wearily,
"Along with me I brought the investigator... the German Offical Dieter Von Darmstadt" said Luka's, Dieter bowed,
"Mein prinz, I bring joyful news to you, we have confirmed your story, that your scouts were attacked first" said Dieter, Jobst grinned,
"Thankyou Dieter, you have my good will on your side." said Jobst,
"mein prinz,may I also discuss with you things my counterpart found in Stockholm, Hugo von Heidelbery has found...?" asked Dieter,
"Of course, Luka,leave us,tell Fritz too be ready, we leave for the Diet after I finished talking to Dieter" said Jobst,
"Yes,si-!" luka was cut off,
"May I accompy you mein prinz to the Diet?" asked Dieter, Jobst nodded.
Luka's scowled and left, and he found Fritz waiting by the door,
"He's coming soon, be ready to leave for Rome. And that spy Dieter is coming as well" said Luka, and he strode off.

[AussieGiant]

Crash!!!

Arnold's longsword slammed into the Temple Knight's shield. His prodigious strength yet again took his opponent by surprise, the Knight was momentarily knocked back and stunned by the ferocity of Arnold's attack.

Taking immediate advantage, Arnold stepped inside his opponents sword arm and delivered a terrific blow with his shield knocking the Knight to the ground. As his opponent's breath exploded from his lungs at the fall, Arnold leaped after the Temple Knight, raising his sword for a massive overhand blow.

“ENOUGH!!”

The booming voice of the Temple Knight Commander rang across the courtyard of Ragusa Fortress.

“You've both been told not to use your real weapons when training!!”

Silence was the only response as the two combatants froze...the Temple Knight started crawling backwards away from the figure of Arnold towering above him. Arnold himself let his sword fall to his side, his face a conflict of chaos and control.

“Are you two in fact training!!??”

Again there was only silence. The Knight got to his feet, while Arnold's demeanor took on a more composed look.

“Tristan, go to the barracks and report to the Knight Lieutenant, explain what was going on, he will issue you with punishment!”

As the young Temple Knight left the courtyard the Commander strode into the courtyard to face the young Arnold.

“You should join...rather than taking your frustrations out on my younger knights Arnold!"

“I can not and you know why Commander. I'm waiting here until Jonas brings the Austrian House Army back from the east. Until I am knighted I can do nothing.” Arnold sheathed his sword in a fluid and practiced motion.

“I can knight you, as long as you pass our test” said the Commander. “You have mastered all aspects of military training...in theory of course”. The Commander grinned at Arnold's frustrated snort of agreement.

“A word of warning though. This is the last time you send another one of my novice knights to the infirmary. If you want to test your skill pick one of the veterans from the east. They will certainly give you a tougher test.”

They held each others gaze for a moment. The Commander broke his first. There was something unnerving about the young man. His father was a legend and was feared and respected beyond nearly all in Europe. As the Commander watched Arnold walk towards the the Great Hall, he recounted the times he had meet Duke Leopold. He concluded that Arnold certainly had the characteristics to follow in his fathers footsteps as the iron ruler of Austria.

As Arnold walked towards his quarters, Karl Brunner, the former Count of Venice and now adviser appeared in the doorway of the great hall.

“I see you are still conducting diplomatic relations with the Temple Knight detachment?” the grin on Karl's face clearly showed his amusement at the spectacle that just took place.

“God's knows where you acquired your speed and strength young Arnold...I'm positive my sword master Anton has taught you far too much of that Russian sword fighting technique. There's no skill at all, it's just brute strength.”

“Well it works merchant, and that's all I care about. Plus, I don't like that prat Tristan, I would have shoved my shield down his throat if the Commander had not stepped in.”

They continued inside the Fortress together, making there way to the large table dominating the centre of the great hall.

“So what are your thoughts regarding the Austrian House Army once you are knighted?” Karl glanced at Arnold while pouring them both a goblet of wine.

“I'm not sure;” replied Arnold taking a sip. While holding his cup to cover most of his face he gazed at the two von Mahren girls across the other side of the hall. They were both pretty, but it would certainly be bad form to relieve his frustrations with either of them, especially as the family had just joined the House. Plus he didn't feel like fighting with either of the brother's. He cast the thought away and focused back on Karl, who was observing him with a raised eyebrow.

“You know it looks very obvious Arnold, you should stick with the pretty serving girls until your father selects a bride or god forbid you fall in love. Nobility and their daughters are never simple affairs.”

“Your right Karl, plus I don't want to upset my father. He has worked long and hard to integrate the von Mahren's into the House. If I was to destroy all that in one night, I'm sure he would come back and tear me apart and everyone else for that matter.” Arnold stood and started up stairs.

“I'm going to have a bath. IF, anything happens, and I'm sure there wont, then I'll be in my quarters until supper.”

Making his way through the Fortress he wondered when his life would really begin. Years of training, books, languages, military history, trade...he had learnt it all, and for what? To rule Austria, to become Chancellor perhaps?

Once inside his chambers, the servants stripped off his armour and weapons. After some time he was left alone and sat at his desk. He began re-read his most recent correspondence.

Yes he realised, things had changed, he had a purpose now, recent events had crystallized everything. He now had direction and all the uncertainty was flowing away with every passing day.

All he knew right now was the burning desire to go into battle, meet the enemy face to face, and utterly crush his opponent. With that step complete he could begin his march towards fate and destiny.

[Warluster]

Frankfurt,1222
Part I
The sun was shining like a newly cracked egg, the sky like a drying painting. Life below could not be described like that though.

It was midday in Frankfurt, the market crowds were out,noise and cahos the surpreme rulers on market days. Pigs oinked,roosters crowed and people babbled.

On the third floor of a large house, standing at the window, was a German Spy,Hugo Heidelberg. He was waiting for someone to join him, for an important matter.

He let out a sigh of recognition, then sneaking through the larges crowds was his counter part, and the organiser of the whole thing. Hugo sat down on the window still, waiting for the person to come in.

The door banged open,
"mein master, you are finnaly here" said Hugo, the man,supposedly Hugo's master,let out a spulttering cough,
"It took longer to get away from them then I thought, had to escape some of those dogs..." wondered the man aloud,
"Now to matters mein master, he..." Hugo was cut off.
"Shut up! Don't you dare speak aloud,windows open" He slammed the window shut "Curtains open!" he ripped the curtains shut "And doors unlocked and empty!" He slammed the door shut and locked it, the room was now very dark, and no noise could be heard except the two men's breathing.
"At least a candle?" asked Hugo,
"Nothing!" snarled the man. Hugo accepted it and sat down at a table.

"So did the bribe work mein lord?" asked Hugo, the man nodded, his face in the dark.
"Those Danes couldn't get over it, I raised that money at the city, and gave it, they agreed to send a massive one..." drawled the man.
"Excellent mein lord..."
"Now we have to clear up this mess, at least it all worked, they didn't see anything,Luka reported it all, the bodies misplaced, the armies supposedly meeting, ha!" laughed the man.
"And today, the loose ends meet, and it all starts!" exclaimed Hugo, the man nodded and leaned forward.
"He shall be suspicous, but order it all anyway, now go, tell them to head off and wait! Let him be the ambushed!" claimed the man, and Hugo got up,unlocked the door and ran off.
"Today, it begins"
OOC:
Part II cooming up soon.

[Ituralde]

A strong breeze tugged at the tentflaps and made them flail, the two guards standing beside the entrance tried to huddle deeper into their coats. Inside a single brazier gave little illumination and not close to enough warmth for the three men occupying it.

One, a large bald man with broad shoulders was pacing slowly through the room. A second, younger man, wiry and thin was sitting on a stool perching over a piece of pergament, while the third man, a grizzled old veteran, stood silently to attention.

"This will be a glorious chapter, mein Herr! The Holy Crusade, I can't wait until you enter the city of Damascus gloriously. I have already prepared several versions of it in advance. It will be my masterpiece. Do you want to hear this third version of mine, I like it best so far..."

"Hush you fool!" The old veteran spoke, but the pacing man held up a hand. "Leave him be, Rainer. Let him write his stories."

"As you wish, my Duke!" replied the veteran stiffly.

Leopold was pacing through his tent, mainly to help him think, but also to get some movement in his stiff joints. He could feel himself becoming older. Who could have foreseen that the nights in this country could be so cold. By day the sun nearly melted your brain and by night it was hard not to shiver.
Finally he turned on the scribe, who jolted upright at the sudden attention.

"I wouldn't be so sure about me entering Damascus. If you write in advance, maybe you should prepare for some different endings as well. You have heard the news. The Mongols are besieging Damascus and have brought a force that far outnumbers us."

"I am sure you will be able to defeat them, my Lord! You always do. Nobody stands a chance against our armies. The Austrian Household Army has never lost."

Leopold gave a snort of contempt and began pacing again. The man was right though. He had never lost a battle, now had he? But then his enemies had been Rebels, Hungarians, Venetians, and he had been head of the Austrian Household Army. Now he was commanding a band of Crusaders. Men that followed him, because they believed in some pious mission. He knew what he would have done with the Austrian Army at his back. Wait for the Mongols to deplete their forces against the Egyptian defenders and then move in for the kill. Maybe deplete their ranks through nightly raids.
But this was different. The men would not sit idly by, while some barbarians took their prized objective. They had come to conquer Damascus, and conquer it they would. No backing down, no strategical maneuvering. You went towards the enemy and fought it out, square and fair.

He couldn't believe his own thoughts! Now he sounded just like Sigismund. Maybe this Crusade had changed him though. There must be a reason why his brother Henry was now hailed as Henry the Chivalrous, although he had never shown much inclination before he left. Maybe as a Crusader you had to do things differently. You presented Christendom after all. And while you may well be a sneaky bastard you couldn't act like one, that just wouldn't sit well with the Pope, or Emperor Henry and the Diet for that matter.

And for his enemies, these were no minor European powers. This were savage barbarians from the Steppe to the East. Horse Lords, they were called. Many a foe had fallen against them and it was murmured that they're Empire stretched expanses that no European mind could imagine. The had sent their best generals to conquer all of Christendom before them, and they would not be stopped easily.

Once again Leopold stopped in his steps. He knew what he had to do. He had known it all along. He was not getting any younger, and he had always wanted die in battle. He had known that the Mongols would await him and now he had his chance before him. To prove whether those Raiders from the East really were such formidable foes as everybody made them out to be. And also to find out whether he had really earned his reputation of being the greatest general of the Reich, he added wryly.

"Rainer, my trusted friend. We have been through a lot together and it looks like soon our fates will be decided. I have one final thing I ask from you." The old veteran only nodded.

"If I die, take my sword and bring it to my son Arnold."

"Die? What do you mean die?" exclaimed the Biographer from his stool in the corner.

"Hush you fool!" Leopold turns back to Rainer "Tell him, tell him to remember his father. And now go get me Karl Zirn. I have to talk with him and then I will have to speak to the Crusader Council."

"Jawohl mein Herr!" Rainer bows and leaves the tent immediately. With a thin smile on his lips Leopold turns to the scrawny man sitting in the corner.

"Well, go ahead already. Write your stories, write a lot of them. If I should die, I want nothing less than the best version you got, understand?"

[GeneralHankerchief]

Outside of Damascus, 1228

The Second Holy Crusade had arrived in Outremer to much cheering and jubiliation. After months of hellish walking, riding, and sailing the Imperial Crusaders had finally arrived at Damascus and salvation. However, there was a slight complication:

Three large armies of the same people that the Crusade was designed to protect the Holy Land against had arrived at Damascus first.

And so, the Crusading Army was camped outside of the city, debating and deliberating on what to do. Finally, Duke Leopold, leader of the Crusade, had gotten fed up and decided to take on all three armies in the field. There was some grumbling among the soldiers, but debate was finished. Come the next morning, they would all take the field in a battle against the Horse Lords.

Conrad Salier was not particularly enthused about fighting so soon, although he would never say it out loud to the Kaiser's brother. There were other, more personal reasons why he had joined the Crusade in the first place and did desire to see certain things completed before he died in battle. He sat beside one of the many campfires burning quietly in the night, comtemplating. While his chances of entering Heaven would certainly be improved by dying while on Crusade against an unholy enemy, he wished to stick around to complete a little bit more of God's Work before he went. It would be a sleepless night for Conrad and, most likely, many others in the camp.

Leopold interrupted Conrad's meditations by placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Conrad. All officers are meeting at the Command Tent for a briefing about tomorrow." Conrad nodded and departed for the Command Tent, which was the largest tent and located a few hundred yards away. When he arrived, the tent was half-full with the high-rankers in the Army. Conrad took a seat in the front (log stumps had been set up as chairs) with the other Generals. He watched in silence as the tent began to fill up.

Finally, Leopold arrived, in conversation with a big man whom Conrad had never seen before. This man was tall, clearly German, wearing a suit of battle-armor that was incredibly scratched and dented. Clearly, this man had seen some fights.

Leopold took a seat beside Karl Zirn, a fellow Austrian. The other man continued standing in front of the crowd and waited for quiet. Since this was a military crowd, he quickly received it, and began to speak.

"Welcome to Outremer, gentlemen!" he began. Conrad thought he detected a small amount of sarcasm. "You gave up the plentiful green fields of Europe and your families up for this; this stinking heap of desert that would be completely worthless if it wasn't for the fact that several important religions started here. Aren't you glad of the choice you made?"

Silence. The man chuckled.

"Sorry, forgot who was talking to. You guys are Crusaders, you still hold the higher ideals and everything. Well, a few months out here will take care of that. Heh. You're probably wondering who I am, why I'm here. My name is Kurt Altman. Some of you older folks may recognize me as part of the Kaiser's bodyguard. I'm here to teach you how to fight who you're going to fight, and I don't mean the Egyptians either."

Ah, now it made sense. Essentially this meeting was a combat seminar. A veteran who had survived the first battle with the Horse Lords was passing on information.

"These people fight hard, gentlemen," Kurt continued. "Kaiser Henry thought that it would be prudent if I imparted some of my knowledge of their forces to you officers.

"Most of you fought, what, mainly infantry back in Europe? Italians, Poles, Hungarians, the French, that lot? I guarantee you you're going to be wishing that you're fighting those guys again after your first battle against the Horse Lords. They have no infantry. None." A brief murmur went through the crowd at this. Altman acted like he didn't notice. "Instead, they focus on foot archers, horse archers, and heavy, heavy cavalry. Cavalry where one single horseman can mow down dozens if not hundreds of crossbowmen. Do not question me on this, for I have seen it happen."

Kurt's smile was now long gone. "European tactics aren't going to work out here. Your crossbows are going to have to do a lot of work in chasing their missile cavalry down with arrows. The infantry is going to have to stand firm and take whatever's delivered to them, for that's the only way the Horse Lords are going to be stopped. And our cavalry, well... I feel your pain. You guys are going to have to be everywhere. Chances are good that if you survive, you're going to be either wounded or dying of exhaustion."

The cavalrymen in the audience, Conrad included, shuddered a bit. Meanwhile, a young sergeant in the back of the tent raised his hand.

"Sir, with all due respect, what makes these people different? Every nation we fight uses different tactics, and we've adjusted to all of them. Why should we be more scared of these people?"

Kurt's gaze now turned to stone. It was impossible to believe that he had been smiling, even sarcastically, a few minutes ago. In silence, he took out a wrinkled piece of parchment and began to read it in a monotone.

"Baghdad

They are here. They have come from the East, where the ground was flatter and lands more open. We thought the desert and our walls would stop them. They did not.

They have taken the city through strange rocket launchers and sophisticated siege equipment. We placed our best infantry on the walls, knowing they had little good foot soldiers, but it had no effect. And then the gate burst, and the soldiers in front of it were subject to a terrible thunder, simply trampled alive, the Horse Lords not even bothering to hack them down.

A more efficient taking of the city I have never seen or heard of. A more efficient sacking of the city I have never seen or heard of. Baghdad is no longer recognizable. Everything of moderate worth has been looted; half of the city's buildings are destroyed. The stench of blood and sight of corpses rendered unrecognizable are now common.

There is no hope of renewal, even for those who survive. Our city is now just a giant slum. There is no hope. The only good thing that comes out of this is that the whirlwind of destruction is quickly gone, off to ravage another target. There is no hope."

Kurt sighed. "This was taken from a Mongol soldier during Kaiser Henry's battle with them. That Mongol most likely took it from the inhabitant of Baghdad who wrote the entry. It is a miracle that I am reading it to you now, for the original, non-translated copy was so bloodstained that it was almost illegible.

"Why, you ask?" Kurt pointed to the diary entry. "This is why. The fact that Kaiser Henry got into open-field combat with these people with a numerical advantage and lost his entire army is why. Most of you came here with the purpose of salvation in mind, correct? Good. Use it. You need to use whatever you can to gain an advantage when fighting these people. Killing the Horse Lords is your new career, gentlemen, secondary to everything else. You had better get good at it."

Kurt departed, and slowly the occupants of the tent shuffled out. Conrad thought to himself: Well, if anyone was going to get any sleep this night, after that little speech, nobody is now. Tomorrow would be an interesting day, to say the least.

[Kagemusha]

Home coming

After the battle of Durazzo, Jonas had quickly turned the control of Austrian army to Austrians and started travelling North with only his closest men,escorting a wagon pulled by two oxens,carrying the earthly remains of his eldest son.
An native Croatian elder man named Mirco had also joined the the escort to guide them through Austria safely to Prague,where Erhart Von Mahren was to find his final resting place.
Jonas had been very silent mostly, but not completely. Von Mahren had never spitted in the pint before and after the events of Durazzo his drinking had detoriated to the point where after nights of heavy drinking and burts of rage,the whole party had to wait untill noon sometimes before Jonas could get out from bed. Then he would ride silently or muttering to himself untill the first resting place along the way. Then everything would start again from sipping of beer and wine for the headache,then to lame jokes that drunken people tend to have and many times after the stop for the night ending into uncontrollable rage or sadness that formed by Jonas sitting near the wagon and him talking to his dead son for hours sometimes,untill the mercy for the night would come in form of passing out.
Days turned into weeks as the funeral escort rode through Austria. From the Dalmatian coast and its fresh sea air,to the the mountains of Croatia,crossing the fertile plains around Tonava. Through the Hungarian Pusta,climbing on the forested hills of Bohemia and finally they were infront of Prague.
There Jonas stopped as if he was scared to enter the city. He stubbornly found excuses not to enter inside the walls.The men reminded him that during the summer time human bodies wouldnt last long before decomposing and that Erhart should be buried so he could rest in peace. Jonas didnt listen to his men. The only one alive he talked mostly was Mirco. The old man had told that not long a go he had lost his entire family in a Hungarian raid and the two bonded in their misery,finally on the second night infront of Prague after the wife of Von Mahren had sent messenger asking what was keeping them,Mirco convinced Jonas to enter the quiet city.
The city was in mourning.All the flags were dropped in half and when the small escort entered the city,there was not usual sounds of night,but the city was like a tomb,people were home and there were no usual drunkyards travelling the streets,singing nasty songs that dunks know the best.
The messenger his wife had sent escorted Jonas to a large house in the middle of the city,while the others went towards the city church to put Erhart in the crypt to wait for his funerals to take place.
Jonas entered the room and there was only Willelda von Mahren in the room besides the unlit fire place. Only few candles were set alight to give some light on the large room.
Jonas walked to his wife and their eyes met for the first time in decades. Willelda was still beutifull,while age had left its marks on her. But her eyes were cold and the expression on her face didnt show any kind warm feelings towards the new comer.

"Wellcome Mi Lord."

Willelda sayed with cold voice. Jonas decided that it was better to stay silent.Willelda continued with now ironic voice.

"So you are back from you glorious quest to Holy land?I hear that you were mighty succesfull and people will long remember the mighty deeds of German crusaders."

Now Willelda&#180;s voice turned deeper and her eyes fixed on Jonas.

"I hear you rendevouzed with my son near Durazzo.Its a shame that you too couldnt spend more time before you got your own son killed."

Next Willelda started screaming so furiously that Jonas took one step back.

"Why didnt you die yourself?! Why you couldnt die in Holy land,so my son wouldnt have died becouse of you bastard?! We had everything allright here before you stupid fool arrived back in Reich. Can you see that your other children are not here to wellcome their father? It is becouse they hate you,you murderer!"

Jonas just stood there as the woman before screamed and cursed to him. He stood there with a face like stone,eyes focused on the woman before him. Willellda continued.

"I hope that you will soon leave for the stinking hell hole of Magdeburg you love so much. You are not the man i married and bared children to. You are nothing but stinking murderer and it would be better for all if you would just die and go to hell where you belong!"

This was too much for Von Mahren. His eyes enlargened and he took a quick step forward and punched Willelda straight to the face.Willelda dropped on a floor, her nose and lip bloodied. Before she could get up.Jonas leaned towards her and sayed with silent but determined voice. With the expression of a madman on his face.

"Woman.Your wish is granted. I will leave from here and never come back. You are dead to me for now on. I hope that you will restrain on visiting in Magdeburg and i will stay out of Prague. I buried Erhart already on our way here,im sure you can do the honours for his remains in here."

After saying that Jonas turned around and walked away from the room,leaving Willelda crying on the floor.As he came out from the building,others had come back from the church and Wolf the trusted Teuton of Jonas started.

"Your son is now in the crypt.."

In the middle of the sentence Jonas interrupted Wolf and sayed.

"Yes.Now we are leaving to Franconia.Ready your horses we will depart to Magdeburg immediately"

Wolf muttered.

"But sire,the funeral? We cant leave now.We have to bury Erhard."

"Shut up!"

Jonas sayed and continued.

"We buried that boy in the field of Durazzo. There is nothing for us here now. We will leave now and thats my final word.Any who doesnt want to come can stay. I will not talk about this more. And last, any man that mentions my family ever again in my presence will taste my sword. I will swear this."

Jonas quickly mounted his horse and started gallopping out from the city.The rest looked at each other with stupified expressions on their faces. After a moment Rudolf the old Veteran captain of Jonas sayed with loud voice.

"Follow the Count! We cant let him ride alone at that state!"

After Rudolf&#180;s words,the whole escort mounted and galloped after their leader,also Mirco joined the group. Soon after, first Jonas and bit after the rest of his men galloped out from the gates of Prague disappearing in the midst of the night and leaving the shocked night guards sitting on their arses near the gate as Jonas Von Mahren and his men headed towards North.

[Ituralde]

Dust was everywhere. His eyes stung as he closed them and they stung again as he opened them. Every tiny crack of his armour seemed to be filled with sand. His right arm was sore from swinging his sword, it was aching like mad and the pain that shot up through it with every thrust was hardly bearable. Uttering another inaudible cry he slashed away at the enemy in front of him.

It seemed like minutes and hours ago that he had taken the horse from under the Mongol Heir Khanzada Batudhun. The battle had gone well. Khan Jebuk had been captured by his personal bodyguard, after the coward had fled the field. It had been a good day so far. A perfect day, to be quite honest.

The man in front of him snarled his lips as he attempted a backwardslash against Leopolds throat. He rose is sword just in time to deflect the blow, once again searing pain shot through his arm, momentarily blinding his vision. There was no helping it. He was getting old. He had never been old. He did not want to be old. Die toothless in bed, or die snarling in battle? Leopold had made his choice. A thin smile on his lips he carefully, delicately lets go of his sword. Blocking another thrust at him with his shield arm he grabs for his helmet, which is sent hurtling to the ground.

Air and sound rush in at Leopold and he takes a deep breath, two. He had never felt so alive, so aware of his surroundings, of the battle raging around him. He could feel that they were winning, that his troops were pushing forward. They were so close. His smile ever broadening he looks at the man in front of him and triumphantly spreads hir arms wide. The Mongol can hardly believe it, just minutes ago he was hard-pressed for survival and now his foe offered him such an opportunity. After a moment of hesitation he struck home.

The fool! There he was unarmed and the Mongol had only managed to drive his sword between his breast and shoulder armor, piecing deep but not deadly. He could have made it quick, but he failed. His smile still on his lips Leopold slowly sunk from his horse, his vision blurring. Before the world tilted sideways he could see the head of his opponent slashed wide open by thrust from Rainer. He had been too late and Leopold could almost feel sorry for him.

As his eyesight finally returnd to him Leopold was lying on the ground. Fate had it that he was now facing his own troops. He could see Imperial soldiers advancing towards him. Some seemed astonished, others determined. The news of his demise must have already spread. But instead of discouraging the men it seemed to drive them ever onward, forward against the Horse Lords. The battle was won!

Leopold looked down at his side where with every breath his life was spilling out of him, coating his armour blood red. Looking up again ever so slowly he sees a familiar figure dismount in front of him. Cracking a wide smile he raises his right arm as if in triumph and opens his mouth as though to shout, but only blood emerges as with a last gurgle the life fades from Leopold. Duke of Austria, Greatest General of the Reich!

[flyd]

Outside of Damascus, 1228

It would be nice to say that the Khan of the mighty Horse Lords was a mighty man. That he was ten feet tall, and that the ground trembled when he spoke. He was not. The only thing that separated him from the other Mongol prisoners was his highly fancy armor. It was probably worth more than his life.

It would also be nice to say that the German commander and the Khan could engage in an emotional conversation after such a battle. A heated argument, perhaps. Insults, would be thrown! However, they were separated by a series of no fewer than three translators. It's the best that could be arranged on short notice. I think the intermediate languages were Arabic and Persian. In any case, little was said, but it took a very long time to say.

"Tell the Khan that I am considering accepting the ransom offer, but am worried that he will raise another army and attack us again."

The tedious process started. It would be a few minutes before the response came. The 2nd and 3rd translators had especial difficulty in understanding each other, I don't think either of them were very fluent in Persian.

Fredericus walked out of the tent, and looked at the battlefield. The wind had kicked up a lot of sand, and it was not possible to see very far, but as far as it could be seen, the ground was covered in bodies of men and horses. The final count was not in, but this piece of desert would be the final resting place to some 400 Germans, and a countless number of Mongols. Not a long distance away, up the hill to the south, would be the location of another mass grave in the future. At the present, occasional cries of men or horses could still be heard from up there, to say nothing of the sounds coming from this battlefield.

The German soldiers who remained had by now largely rallied at the camp. Most were sitting or lying, being extremely tired from having fought two battles within the span of a few hours. Damascus was not far away, and another would be coming soon. They were still roughly grouped with their regiments, and it was obvious that none of them were even close to full strength. Still, I expect the men would be ready to march given the order. They could be considered happy to be in a regiment which was still at one third strength. Their commander and most of his bodyguard had died, and their new commander now formed a one-man regiment, after his entire bodyguard had been wiped out. Though the troops were inspired, this created some administrative difficulties for Fredericus, as he did not know anyone.

"Hey, you. What was your purpose, again?"

"I was ordered to count the troops, sir."

"Oh. Right. Well, what is the count?"

"596 so far, but there are still men out there."

"Has Leopold's body been found?"

No. No, it hadn't. Everyone had seen it happen, but no one now knew where. They all had different versions of the story too. Some say he dropped his sword in the middle of the battle, and wanted to die. Others say he dropped his sword because he was wounded in the arm, and killed three Mongols with his bare hands before being killed. Others say he killed five. At least a few claim they saw him bite the Khan's head off, although I would dispute that one on the grounds that the Khan is sitting over in the tent.

By this time, the tedious translation process was over, and the Arab translator was ready to deliver the Khan's response. In broken German, the following was roughly delivered:

"The Khan says that it would be in your best interest to accept the offer of ransom. The Khan says that this attack that he has led was merely a scouting party. The Khan says that the real army is now forming in Persia, and that it is ten times bigger than all the armies you have seen, combined. The Khan says that unless he reports that there is nothing here worth conquering, that you will be attacked by this army. The Khan also says that if he should die, nothing will save you from the wrath of his brothers. He says that he was impressed with the fighting skill and bravery of you Germans, and that he may yet be convinced to spare you. But the Khan wants to make clear that if you choose to face the full might of the Mongol army, that you will be destroyed. That is all the Khan says."

Everyone was a bit stunned at this reply. It was common knowledge that these Mongols possessed a vast empire, one that stretched well beyond the point where everyone's knowledge of geography stopped. Where the hell was Transoxania, anyway? But how big of an army could they really field? Was this man telling the truth, or was he merely trying to save his worthless life?

Some of the guards started to quietly discuss these considerations, when they were interrupted by a soldier entering the tent, on his horse. For some reason, the guards outside had not stopped him, and it soon became clear why: he had with him the body of Leopold. It was clear that he had come here for the Khan. As he jumped off his horse and grabbed Leopold's sword, he was restrained by the guards, but just barely, at least two of them being injured in the process. Though not happy by Leopold's death, the guards were worried about the Khan's threat.

After a short pause, Fredericus spoke up:

"Today, just one of our armies destroyed three large armies of our enemy in the open field. We only needed to do that because we were in a hurry, for we wanted to reach Damascus before them. When and if they come for the second time, we will be ready. We will have many armies, and with each of them being three times better than an army of the enemy, we cannot lose. I don't care how many armies they have. Let them come."

Nobody found further reason to protect the Khan.

[Northnovas]

North of Frankfurt

The three men rode along the secondary road to the battle scene. The road had not been used since the battle between Prince Jobst and the Danish Crusading Army. It was considered unholy by the locals. The only users were scavengers of souvenirs and family recovering their dead. Apparently many bodies of man and animal had been left to rot in the open road.

The three men rode silently along the pine sided road where the fresh scent of pine and the light rainfall made it tranquil and mediating. The tallest of the three was preparing for the worst to come. He had travelled from Hamburg on “official government business” and was to report back to his superiors on his findings; his objective was to find out what really happened on this road. The two other figures were local ancient warriors who had fought long ago with Kaiser Henreich. They were brought for their expertise and for a hansom fee they were to keep their confidentiality to the Crown.

Slowly the road opened to a small clearing, the rain was like a mist and the small patches of fog settled in the low ground. There before them lay the disaster, turkey vultures sitting on corpses pecking away not even aware of the intruders as they busily gorged on the feast before them.

The men stopped the wagon the two old men got out and began to survey the scene, scanning very methodically over the landscape. The government official also jumped down and began to walk about the carnage. The vultures would jump of the corpse to the next closes as the men walked amongst them.

Movement! I saw an arm move the official shouted, the two men ran over. The body of the young soldier was turned over the foul odour of human decomposition filled there nostrils and movement of thousands of maggots slithered all over the body. That was the movement, the two men smiled at each other and continued on their work. The government official saw enough and immediately ran to the wagon to wait for the work to finish. The damp air no longer suppressed the foul odour it had penetrated his senses and no amount of snuff was going to remove it.

The men walked and looked at what appeared first contact. They examined the horses left to rot and saw the wounds inflicted from all sides of the animal. They went wide of the road and examined the heavy foot prints of man and animal coming to the road from within the deep forest. The broken and bend branches of the trees and shrub to show the direction of travel.

After several hours they completed their work and reported back to the official who was not looking well and was has discoloured as some of the remains they had seen. They both knew why confidentiality was so important.

Venice Italy

The government official was well rested from his mission but yet the images and smells of that day were still vivid. He was now reporting to his superiors. The meeting was held in a fashionable building of a local merchant with a very ornate study under the guise of great secrecy. The room presented not only wealth but that have power and tradition. His superiors were men of great influence and yet faceless to most nobles of the Reich. They each represented the Kaiser and the respective Houses. They were the policy behind each and made things happen that had to be done for the benefit of the Reich.

Gentleman, my report is before you and I will only elaborate on the highlights of my findings. This was indeed an ambush by the Prince on the Crusading Danish Army. The reasons I do not know but the evidence of the field suggest so. I have also taken the prerogative of cleaning the site up upon the completion of my investigation. To continue:

The road the Danish were on was a secondary road. This was a large army that we were aware of and because of their mission we let them have the right to move through. The Danes not wanting to alarm our locals utilized secondary roads as they travelled through hence their slow movement through our land.

The Prince with the European Imperial Army (EIA) was on routine patrol for rebels and French invaders of our territory. I don’t know if the Prince was aware of the exact location of the Danes? He had his army in a loose formation travelling through the woods. We found the camps location several kilometres from the scene.

To start the “contact” by the initial was small and by “contact” we feel that it was staged. The scouting party of the Danes was very lightly armed and protected. I think they felt secure travelling through and were not manoeuvring under SOP for hostile territory.
The road comes to an opening and is flanked by high ground and thick brush. The evidence does suggest that the Prince waited for the Danes to expose themselves and then he attacked with his small army. The report shows the various wounds inflicted on man and animal to support our conclusions. Though I must say the attack by the Prince was strategically brilliant unfortunately it was not a recognized enemy of the Reich.

From the reports released by the Prince the contact did not occur as reported. If it did happen and the location the actual fighting would not have occurred in the location it did.

That is my report.

Silence in the room... the chair of the group then speaks,

Councillors, our friend here has done an admirable job and has not disappointed us. I also approve the action of having the scene cleaned up.
This indeed a bit of quandary and not something we want debated by the Diet members. At this time we do not know the Prince’s mind thought for his actions and we have to be strongly remembered that he will soon be our new leader of the Reich.
Though his actions have caused a War with the Danes it is only that a minor war that was inevitable. The true concern was the loss of our faith with the Church. However, through God’s providence we were spared the humiliation of ex-communication and have relatively remained unscathed by this incident. Therefore, we will protect the future Kaiser and the interest of the Reich has it our job to do and speak of this incident no more.

Advise the scribe on the official report as follows,


Frankfurt Germany 1218

The battle that was fought by Prince Jobst and the Danish Crusading Army was a combination of unfortunate events by both parties.
For unknown reason the Danes travelled a secondary road and neither party was aware of each others location.
The EIA were on policing patrol to route out rebels identified in the area. Also an intelligence report received suggested the French had amassed a large army that was converging on Frankfurt or another significant city in the north.
The weather conditions were not a clear as documented by the biographers. There was a heavy fog and coming into the twilight hours.
The EIA had split there small force as procedure to locate a rebel camp being hidden in that area.
The scouts of the EIA heard the army coming along the road but could not identify any banners but heard French being spoken.
A small patrol of EIA came out of the road to confront the unknown army moving towards them. An exchange of identification was ordered by passwords and from their chaos ensued. Through a series of miscommunication by the contact parties and the divided EIA a melee ensued that only progressed because of the difficult external conditions present.
It was only after the Prince realized who he was fighting and what occurred did he try to rally is men to halt any further offensive action.

Then we will advise the usual apology and reconciliation towards the Danes and other rhetoric that follows such reports.

In conclusion, we will send this report to the Kaiser and leave it at his discretion to announce the findings to the Diet. Otherwise it will remain buried in the archives with all the other documentation. That is all for today’s business.

[Warluster]

North of Metz, 1226 AD
Part II
It was several kilometres from Prinz Jobst's camp, the sky was pitch black, as the moon dared not show itself onto a horrible night.

From the dark road out of Metz, in a building,meant for some farmers, who lay deadon the ground. At the table was a man, he was tapping his fingers impatiently on the wooden table,waiting for someone.

As if timed the door opened, and 3 men entered, all looking fearful, one kneeled down.
"Master, we have a problem with the plan" whispered the man, the master wiped his head with a white cloth.
"What now, Hugo?" said the man.
"There was a second investigation at the battle scene!" said Hugo, the master sat up straight.
"Did they find it!? Did they notice anything!? We can not let them know... It will be obvious!" said the man, clearly agitated. Hugo got up,
"No master, the men provided a clear summary to the Diet, I thought maybe..." the mans sentence disappeared into the misty fog outside.
"Of course I wasn't Hugo, our network was down for some time..." said the master.
"The men have in fact helped us! Prince Jobst, we heard, has calmed down and ordered for a quick marched to Dijon for a visit so he can see his family" whispered Hugo, the master sat back, twiddling his thumbs,
"Excellent"
________________________________________________________________
The Road to Dijon, 1228 AD

"Quick march, forward!" roared a voice, there was banging of armor then the organisedslam oif foot on ground. Horses neighed, voices were yelling to and fro around the camp. Prince Jobst and his boyguard has gone for a scouting mission, and he had left Fritz and Luka in charge.

Jobst breathed in the fresh air, he was finnaly going to visit Dijon again, the city he controlled, his home city, where his family resided, after all the fighting against Danes and allies.

Dieter rode up next to Jobst.
"Mein prinz, are you sure we are safe? I am sure the French would be happy to see your head on a pole over the Seine River." said Dieter, Jobst laughed.
"Well you see theres the first problem, the French don't control Paris anymore, the Swabian DUke recently caught it" said Jobst, and his bodyguard cheered. Dieter smiled, the German Empire had been flourishing lately, only the arrival of the Horse Lords had stopped the flow.

There was a thunder of hooves, Jobst looked behind him, Fritz with some heavily armored knights were galloping towards Jobst's Bodyguard. Fritz stopped next to Jobst.
"mein lord, a message from a offical in Rome" said Fritz,Jobst opened it up quickly and scanned it through equally fast, he covered his mouth in shock.
"It seems, young Erhart Von Mahren was killed near Durazzo" said Jobst, the men around him bowed and shook their heads,
"And worst of all, Duke Leopold was killed by the horse lords from China!" exclaimed Jobst, Jobst continued "But not before taking their Khan's life!" roared Jobst.

A arrow flew out of the surrounding foilage and embedded itself in the Knight standing next to Fritz, he watched the knight fall to the ground, dead.
"mein prinz, AMBUSH!" roared Fritz, the whole scene erupted as men jumped from the surrounding area, and arrows flew forward. Several more knights fell.

Fritz tackled Jobst to the ground, then got up and speared an incoming man through the chest,
"Defend the Prinz!" roared Fritz, more shouting came from nearby, Luka was coming with more soldiers. Fritz slew a couple more soldiers before the backed off, he sighed as Luka came around the corner with a battalion of more men, he pointed to behind Fritz,who wheeled around.

Standing in front of jobst,who was standing bearing a longsword, was a lightly ragged man, who drawled,
"We shall kill you in the end, milord, no matter how many times we try" a arrow flew from behind Jobst and hit the man between the eyes, and fell back,instantly dead.

Dieter walked forward,
"That was the best shoot I've ever had" said Dieter, inspecting the man. Luka gasped,
"Mein Prinz, look at the clothes this man is wearing!" said Luka, Fritz and Jobst came over, and looked as well. Jobst swore quite loudly,

It was the ensigna of the Reich.

That man was a German.

[GeneralHankerchief]

Outside of Damascus, 1232

Conrad Salier and a minor scouting party consisting of several friends and retinue members were on a mission east of the city to survey the lands in case of an attack from that direction. The day was ridiculously hot out and of course, little shade was offered, so the mission would not be as long or productive as the people back in Damascus wished it would.

“I don’t even see how this is helping anybody,” Hugo Bresch grumbled. Hugo was Conrad’s veteran warrior, who had been with Salier since his campaigns against the Milanese back in Europe. The two were only really together in battle, as Hugo did not share in Conrad’s interests in religion or governing. “I mean, the Mongols are all gone and we don’t really have to worry about Egypt for a while… Who’s going to attack us out here? The Turks?”

“Careful,” Conrad chided. “There is always the possibility of a surprise attack. Did you think that Pope Gregory, God rest his soul, expected Kaiser Heinrich to violate Papal borders and take Rome? The desert is large, and we do not know what is on the other side, willing to cross it and take new territory.” Hugo simply nodded. It was easier to simply agree silently than argue and have to listen to all of that religious rhetoric crap.

“Hill to the north,” someone pointed out. It looks pretty defensible, especially if the Turks do decide to attack.” There was some minor snickering. In silence, the party swung to the north to take a closer look. Once they had crested the hill, before they had the chance to survey the land around it, a dark shape was moving their way. Upon further inspection it was found to be a lone carriage carrying goods. The scouting party, by Conrad’s orders, blocked the driver’s way. The poor man got out and started shouting at them in Arabic.

“Translator!” Conrad called. “Kindly inform this man that the city of Damascus and its surrounding area is now under the control of the Kingdom of Outremer, and as such we are allowed to deny access to its borders. Ask him about his cargo and his destination.” After several moments, the translator replied.

“He’s carrying something called hashish, from the East,” said the translator. “It’s a certain form of some kind of plant that can be smoked. Apparently, this man says, it makes you very happy.” At the mention of “happy,” the driver grinned and started to nod furiously, saying something in garbled German: “Yes… happy… big happy… you try, yes?”

After a moment, Conrad nodded. The Bible didn’t really say anything about smoking, and if it was bad, he would ban it. Besides, one time couldn’t hurt…

The Arab driver showed Conrad how to prepare the hashish, and after Conrad did so and took his first whiff of the smoke…

…and after Conrad did so and took his first whiff of the smoke, the landscape gradually changed around him. What was once mostly desert was now solid rock of various shades or red, orange, brown, and black. All at once, the flat stagnant sand/rock suddenly rose in some places, depressed in others. And then the no longer flat but still stagnant sand/rock erupted into flames, so the whole land was burning except for a path that Conrad was conveniently riding on…

…Conrad looked back at his scouting party but now there was no scouting party, no Arab driver. Instead, behind him, neatly in marching line were thousands of horrible human/bat/gorilla creatures armed with swords and shields and spears of ancient times, beating their shields as instruments and chanting in unison:

“In eleven fifty-four! We shall be prepared for war!
In eleven fifty-four! We shall be prepared for war!”

…Horrified, Conrad urged his horse (who had mysteriously changed colors from brown to purple with yellow polka-dots) forward at a gallop, but over the next ridge was a sheer cliff, with a river of lava waiting a million feet below for whatever unlucky soul fell off.

…The purple with yellow polka-dotted horse did not stop in time and they went over the edge, with Conrad screaming, but they didn’t fall – they were just suspended in mid-air, and the horse continued to trot on absolutely nothing…

…Beside Conrad, also riding on nothing, was the Mongol lord that Otto von Kassel had just defeated, Jebe the Tyrant. He sidled up beside Conrad, looked at him, and smiled. “Hello Conrad,” Jebe said. “Hello Jebe,” Conrad replied. “Where am I?” “Why, you’re riding on thin air, a million feet above a hot river of lava. I suggest you don’t fall off.”

…a gust of wind blew Jebe’s head off (oh right, he was decapitated) and they both watched it fall a million feet below but then Jebe continued talking as if he didn’t notice, and Conrad could hear him clearly despite the fact that the headless body of Jebe had no mouth: “You know, you still have work to do,” Jebe said. “Another wave of my people is coming, and this one will be much larger and powerful than the previous wave.” “Oh really?” Conrad asked. “Why should I trust you? You’re a Horse Lord.”

…the headless body of Jebe laughed and Conrad’s horse changed colors again. This time it was plaid. “Dude” (Dude? What on earth does “dude” mean?) “Dude, I’m dead, remember? I have no personal gain either way in this matter.” “Oh yeah,” Conrad replied. That sounded reasonable. He paused, and then a thought struck him. “Hey Jebe, how come we can understand each other? I mean, I thought you couldn’t speak German, and I know I’m not speaking Mongolese…”

…Jebe laughed once again and put a hand on Conrad’s shoulder. “Actually my friend,” he said, “we’re both speaking English.”

English?

…all at once the body of Jebe and his horse disappeared and suddenly gravity kicked back in and Conrad and his horse started hurtling down to the river of lava a million feet below, but this was only momentary as they regained momentum and actually started to rise – his horse could fly? – and then they were racing upwards, flying in circles and dive-bombing nothing…

…all at once, a giant arm came out of the sky and grabbed the two. Conrad was facing the index finger, and at the tip, where the fingerprint would be, he instead saw the face of Maximillian Mandorf…

…the index finger began to speak, in Mandorf’s voice. “Conrad, wake up,” it said. “You need to get back to Damascus, somebody has something to say to you.” All at once, before he could reply, the hand started squeezing very hard, and Conrad screamed, he was losing air, he was going to burst under pressure…

…he was going to burst under pressure but he suddenly snapped back to life, fully aware of himself. He looked around at the scouting party who, to his horror, looked away, not wanting to face him eye-to-eye.

“How long was I out?” he asked. Finally, Hugo said something. “About two hours. Although I wouldn’t really say you were out, so much as not there… what do you want to do about this man?”

“Arrest him and burn the carriage. Hashish is an evil substance and the Lord most certainly did not put it on the Earth in this current form. We’re heading back to Damascus.”

The next sound heard was a unison sigh of relief, broken only by the Arab driver’s yelling and (presumably) cursing.

[OverKnight]

A cooperative story between myself and GeneralHankerchief.

Acre, 1232

The King of Outremer had never fully recovered from the Battle of Galilee. The many wounds of countless battles had caught up with Otto von Kassel, and the loss of so many men had taken a toll as well. He aged quickly, wracked with pain and moving slowly. Still the past four years had been pleasant, as he had passed off the day to day affairs and battles of Outremer to others, enjoying a semi-retirement at Acre with Elsebeth.

In the spring of 1232, however, Otto fell ill. A chill that would not go away despite the warm weather. He was wise enough to know his end was coming and sent for Conrad Salier. While awaiting the arrival of the Count of Adana, he discussed his final wishes with his wife while on his deathbed.

"Have you got it all, my dear?", asked Otto weakly, "I know it is a lot ask, but the case for Outremer must be made in the Diet. I hope my words still carry weight there."

"Yes Otto," Elsebeth replied sitting next to him on the bed, tears in her eyes, but her voice clear, "I know what to say to the Diet. I am a Princess, I was raised in the Imperial Court. I did not spend my youth in the army after all."

She smiled as Otto chuckled and briefly touched her face before his arm dropped back down.

"As for the other. . .arrangements, I understand. Do not worry. . .save your strength."

https://forums.totalwar.org/vb/showpost.php?p=1572569&postcount=235

A servant entered and announced the arrival of the Count of Adana.

"Send him in, we must talk," said the dying King.

Conrad Salier was somewhat frightened upon his return to Damascus and his summons to Otto. He remembered with great clarity in his hashish vision the face of Maximillian Mandorf telling him that someone had something to say to him back in Damascus. He had passed the plant off as devil's work, but it had correctly predicted that King Otto was dying...

Enough. Now was not the time to debate the merits of the plant. The King of Outremer had some final words to say, and Conrad would go in and hear them.

Otto weakly waved Conrad over as the Count of Adana entered the bed chamber.

"Elsebeth would you give us a moment?"

The Princess, eyes red, glanced from her husband to the new arrival and left the room with some hesitation.

"I am sorry I cannot stand to greet you Sir. I am glad we have an opportunity to talk before the end. I wanted to thank you for answering my call for help those many years ago. It turns out we were both Pawns in the Kaiser's game, but I'm grateful you came, nonetheless."

Conrad chuckled. "I'm glad that I was a pawn in this Kaiser's plans rather than the last one's, sir. Although I came pretty late, I'm glad to be of service."

Otto's mouth quirked upward in a wry grimace. He was silent for a bit, as if lost in thought.

"Outremer is secure for now, Conrad. We put paid to the Mongols, the Egyptians have barely bothered us, and the Turks are restive, but contained by Adana. I am content. But even now the seeds of new threats are growing. My watch is done, but yours has just begun.

"Many in the Diet will point to the destruction of the Mongols and say that our work in Outremer is done. That the Crusaders should be brought home and a token force left behind. They will talk of the homeland and its needs. Our worst enemy here might be Electors of limited vision in Rome. I ask that you continue to argue our case in the Diet."

Conrad nodded. "The homeland seems to be doing well enough on its own. However, I of course shall do as you ask."

Otto continued: "Another threat, I am sad to say, lies among the men of Outremer themselves. I would like to think everyone who took the Cross did so out of true piety and patriotism, but that is not so. Hell, my own motivations for going on Crusade were less than ideal. There are those among us who would use Outremer for their own ends and ambitions, perhaps to set up their own Empire in the East. This must not happen."

"If anyone comes into Outremer with that attitude, I shall either correct their thinking or put them in a negligible position. You can be sure of that," Conrad said with a cough. Theoretically the whole point of Crusading was to give up titles for a higher purpose, but someone had to govern the Levant. He would make sure that only the worthy did.

"And, of course, there are the external threats to the Holy Land. The Turks are newly aggressive and the Egyptians might decide to put in a renewed claim to their old lands. I fear that the Mongols might return. We destroyed their forces here, but from the rumors I've heard their Empire stretches all the way to lands beyond imagination. Will they take their defeat here as a warning to go elsewhere or a challenge to meet again? I do not know."

The King of Outremer raised himself out of bed, grasping Conrad's arm for emphasis as he spoke, "But watch the East, Conrad, watch the East!"

Otto's impassioned plea had drained him, he fell back in bed, coughing and breathing heavily.

Conrad, slightly alarmed, knew to reassure the man on his deathbed. "Of course, my King. We will be safe from all threats, do not worry."

In the back of his mind, though, the hashish and the headless body of Jebe the Tyrant came through. More of us.

No. Now was not the time. Discipline. Otto wasn't quite done yet.

The King of Outremer gathered his little remaining strength and spoke again.

"Do not lose heart, Conrad, the Hordes of the East might seem limitless, but God, as my years in the Holy Land have shown me, is on our side. He guides us and sends us artifacts to aid us."

He motioned to a bureau at the side of the bed. A small chest stood atop it, "Open it."

Conrad did so and gasped. Staring at him upon first glance appeared to be an ugly bramble of long-dead sticks, but Conrad's experiences with religion told him that this was the famous Crown of Thorns that Christ Himself had worn before His crucifixion. And here it was... before him, presented to him.

"When I retook Jerusalem, this along with some other relics, was given into my safekeeping by the Christian residents of the City. At first, I thought it was a forgery, like so many others 'Holy Men' sell in the bazaars. Yet, I kept it, and over the years I became convinced the Crown is authentic. Just a feeling perhaps, but still. . .It was with me when I destroyed the last Mongol Army, in His name I did conquer. Much to my own amazement."

Once again Otto motioned to the chest.

"Take it, it is now yours. The Grail may have left the Holy Land, but Outremer should have its own relic. Real or no, it will serve as a rallying focus for our Crusaders, and an object of fear for our enemies. Keep it safe Conrad. But remember, it is men, men like you, who are the final arbiters of success or failure."

Conrad could only nod. After about a minute he found his voice again. "I shall not fail you, my King."

Otto now spoke in a whisper, "I almost forgot. I meant. . .do you remember when I sent you away from Rome so I could send Friedrich Scherer to deal with Pope Filippus?"

Conrad paused. Why was von Kassel bringing this up now? He was always conflicted by Otto's actions on this matter. Otto had twisted Conrad's edict, killed another Pope... but he had gotten the Reich reconciled. Conrad decided that it was best to simply nod.

"I must apologize for that. I sent you away because it was asked of me. She didn't want you to face the Pope in battle."

This was getting weirder and weirder. "She?" Conrad asked, thinking of Otto's wife. Did Elsebeth have that much influence over Otto? Power and influence did run strong in her blood though...

But then Otto said something that made Conrad wish that he was referring to Elsebeth. "Cardinal Otterbach. She didn't want you in that battle. It was her price for supporting Cardinal Aston for Pope. I assumed because of your religious upbringing. Seemed odd though."

Conrad gaped at the dying Duke. "You're trying to tell me that Cardinal Otterbach was... female?"

Otto blinked and looked up at Conrad trying to focus, "Oh. . .yes. Kaiser Heinrich once told me that Charles was actually a woman, if you could believe it. Seems the Priesthood is filled with them. Odd, but she served the Reich well, God rest her soul."

Conrad put his hands over his eyes. This wasn't happening. The Cardinal had been quite friendly with his father, Maximillian Mandorf, more than just your average priest/confessor relationship... Otterbach had always been there for Conrad, suspiciously turning up in his life at certain points, almost as if she was watching over him, as if she was his...

"Oh no. No, no no no..." Once again, Conrad seemed to sink in his own misery. Thank goodness he only had two parents.

"I am sorry Conrad. Outremer is your charge to keep now. God help you."

Otto paled and spoke in a smaller voice than before, "Goodbye Conrad. Could you please send my wife in? She would be very angry with me if I left without her."

Conrad composed himself enough to reply. "Goodbye, my King, and have a good journey. Thank you for everything." He gripped the King of Outremer's hand, turned around, and departed, carrying the chest. After nodding to Elsebeth, he realized that his father's face had been in his hashish-induced vision.

This was just too much to be coincidental.

Elsebeth returned to the room, glancing behind her at the departed Count.

"Can he be trusted? He has not always served you loyally."

Otto sighed and began to cough again. After a moment he responded.

"This isn't about me, Princess, it is about Outremer. Besides Henry, I trust him above all others to ensure the safety of the Kingdom. I will die, but Outremer must live on."

Elsebeth's facade cracked, with a moan she sunk to her knees besides the bed, seized Otto's hands and began to cry.

Otto comforted her as best he could, "Shhhh, 'Beth. Such is the fate of young woman wed to an older man. I am sorry."

Elsebeth looked up, tears running down her face, hair scattered.

"I love you. I will mourn you. . .a nunnery, I will join an order. . .take vows, I can't. . .can't, not without you."

Otto looked on his wife with compassion and sadness, "I have no doubt you would be Mother Superior within a month. But that is not your path. You must make you own way now."

He stroked her hair, "You are Elsebeth, daughter of an Emperor, Queen in her own right. A nun's habit is not for you. You have been my strength, my faith. There is much left for you to do."

Otto began to fade. His hand again fell to the bed. Pain flashed across his scarred face as he struggled to speak.

"Keep an eye for me on Bavaria. Gerhard is a good man. . .a good Duke. His sons. . .they grew up in a Reich triumphant. . .they did not know the humiliations and privation of Heinrich's early reign. . .before the reconquest. Do what you can for them, my love. Do what. . ."

Otto trailed off and drew a last ragged breath.

Elsebeth kissed him fiercely.

"Of course. It will be taken care of. All of it. Rest now, it will be done. Rest."

Otto eyes closed as the pain left him. His features relaxed as he let out his last breath. Otto was at peace, the King was dead.

Elsebeth collapsed onto his chest weeping. "My Roland," she kept saying, "My Roland."

[Northnovas]

Part 2 of story at request of Chancellor for the whereabouts of the Crusading Danish Army after the battle.

Chancellors Office Report

The Imperial Spy submitted his final report of the Frankfurt incident involving Prince Jobst.

To the Honourable Chancellor Hans,

I am advising you that I did not complete mandate of my original mission. I was ordered that there was a change in priorities I did not need to attend the battle site as originally directed. However, I am submitting what I was able to find out in my investigation.

I went to the camp of Prince Jobst but there was no information to be gathered there. The men gave inconsistent stories and the Nobles were not talking. I continued north and followed the trail of the Danish Army.
I was sometime behind them but I was able to obtain information. Most of the army broke up along the way. Some units joined local settlements for defenses. Some of the Nobles made a hasty route for the capital Arhus.

I continued on to the capital and picked up the stories along the way. The stories from the Danes were about the treachery of the Germans and death of the Prince or the Crusaders crushed the Germans on behalf of the Faith. The locals told there stories in song and tales but there was no consistent facts.
When I got to Arhus the Nobles had appeared to be associated with the Governor of Arhus Sweyn of Svanabyr. It came apparent that the state of the Danish government is dysfunctional by internal strife. This led me to further investigation of the country. It was rather difficult but information could be bought for a price.

In the battle Prince Jobst thought he was fighting the Danish Prince who was leading the Crusading Army. This was an assumption by most of the Crusading Army and some of the Danish court but it was far from the truth.
King Charles to be in better favour of the Pope joined the Crusade. He could not lead because of his need to defend Antwerp from the Scots and the English. Prince Haakon was ordered to lead this army.

However, the Prince not a young man himself had no intention of joining the Crusade. The life of nobility of wine, woman and song was just too good.
He had his first cousin Harold to take his place. The only condition that when he met a foreign dignitary he would advise that he was a representative of the Prince and not say he was the Crown. Most of the units in the Crusade thought they had the actual Prince with them with the exception of a few nobles. The Prince then traveled to Stockholm to have court and a low profile from the King.
King Charles was not aware who was really leading the Crusade. From Stockholm the Prince continued plotting to usurp the King. This has led to discord in the Danish House.

Even though this action led to war with the Danes nothing has happened. They cannot function to coordinate an offensive attack on the Reich in the most likely area Hamburg. The King is too tied up in Antwerp to deal with internal matters back home. The nobles are building up protection from each other. They are on the brink of civil war.

My final summation would be that the Danes had manipulated Prince Jobst into attacking their Crusaders. Why?, because of the turmoil in the House but how I do not know. The information Prince Jobst had was convincing enough for him to take the action he did but who was responsible from the Danish Nobility? I do not know and may never find that answer.
I had wished to source more of the information obtained but as you are aware are standing throughout Europe is low. It is very difficult to interact with other courts and diplomats in making inquiries of intelligence.

Respectfully Submitted,

Dimarus von Luxemburg

[GeneralHankerchief]

Damascus, 1234

Being King of Outremer was a very stressful job, Conrad Salier had discovered fairly on into his formal appointment to the post. As essentially the Kaiser’s viceroy and mouthpiece in the East, it fell on Conrad to make sure that borders were guarded, soldiers were inspected, and people of importance, both Imperial and foreign, were liaised with. Already the job had taken a small toll on him, and Conrad privately believed that the position made at least a small contribution to his predecessor’s death.

The always-present question of the hashish did not make matters any easier. While Conrad had banned the substance in Outremer and arrested those smuggling it in, the fact remained that the one time he had smoked it, he had seen visions in his high. Later on, the things he had seen had come to pass on multiple levels. The only thing that was still in question was whether the Mongols would return, and so far all rumors were that they would indeed return to the West. Ever since King Otto had passed on, Conrad found an internal battle raging within himself, concerned squarely with the merits of the hashish.

It is an evil substance and you should not be tempted by it.

But I saw the truth!

Some things are not intended to be seen. Did you wish to know your true relationship with Cardinal Otterbach?

But surely isn’t knowledge better than ignorance? What if God is sending these visions?

What if Satan is and he’s successfully leading you on by them?

Eventually one of the voices won out and Conrad finally decided to act. He made his way through the streets of the city accompanied by Hugo Bresch and eventually arrived at its dungeons. Room #19 was his target, as it contained two men of importance in the hashish smuggling cartel that were recently arrested.

As Hugo put the keys in the lock and prepared to open the door to Room #19, he turned and looked at Conrad.

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

Conrad, unable to look his veteran warrior in the eye, stared at the floor and nodded. Shrugging, Hugo opened the door.

Facing the Germans as they entered, shackled to the wall, were two Arabs. The one on the left wore a scraggly beard of modest size. He was tall and very muscular; he would have made a fine warrior had he chosen a different profession. The one on the right was less toned but still held an intimidating appearance. His thick, black mustache and hair were still very neat and slicked despite the weeks he had spent in the dungeon. His dark eyes, reminding Conrad of the bottomless pits in Hell that he had read about, regarded the two Imperial soldiers as they walked in.

“Hamid, Abdullah,” said Hugo, addressing the bearded and mustachioed prisoners, respectively, “The King of Outremer has a proposition for you.” Neither man said anything, and Abdullah’s dark eyes unnerved Conrad, causing him to stumble over his words.

“Be completely, uh, honest with me here,” Conrad began. “How much infl-influence do you have with the hashish, uh, growers and transporters?”

“You could say that we are a small part of the hierarchy,” said Hamid, the bearded one, in fluent German.

“Are you large enough to be trusted by the leaders of your outfit when it comes to negotiating with the Kingdom of Outremer and Holy Roman Empire?”

The two captives looked at each other, expressionless. After a moment Abdullah, the mustachioed one, nodded. In a voice as smooth and oily as his hair, he asked: “What sort of negotiations are you proposing, King Salier?”

Conrad was momentarily unable to speak at the mention of his title, handed to him by a dying King and friend. Hugo spoke in his stead.

“King Salier is hereby proposing the decriminalization of the hashish plant – that is, it’s still illegal per se, but no arrests will be made. You will be allowed to continue your business and sell at the same rates as before hashish was made illegal, provided…” Hugo stopped, almost ashamed to continue. “…provided that you supply King Salier and his staff with any amount that he requests for no charge.”

Once again the two captives looked at each other. Finally, there was a change in expression, as Abdullah slowly grinned. Hamid, however, continued to remain stoic. “I see one problem with this negotiation,” he said impassively. “We are currently unable to notify our people of this development, since we are in chains and cannot physically leave this very room.”

Conrad reluctantly nodded. He seemed to be immensely regretting this decision, but continued to follow through with the deal. “You will hereby be released and pardoned, under the condition that you remain in Damascus or another location under my eye. Do we have an agreement?”

After about a minute, the prisoners gave their answer. “Very well. Release us,” said Abdullah in his oily voice. With a look of utter exasperation on his face, Hugo Bresch undid the shackles of the two men. Abdullah and Hamid took several seconds to adjust and rub their wrists and ankles, and promptly headed out the door. Before doing so, Abdullah stared at Conrad from the distance of a foot. His endless black eyes seemed to hypnotize the King of Outremer.

“You can expect your first personal shipment three days from now.” With that, the two men returned to society and freedom, leaving Conrad and Hugo alone in the dark, smelly dungeon Room #19. The veteran warrior stared at his commander with an accusing look in his eye. Despite this, the look was still infinitely less frightening than anything that Abdul could give.

“I hope you know what you’re doing. I don’t trust those people at all.”

Conrad put a hand on Hugo’s shoulder. “I know, my friend. But if this hashish is truly a medium that connects me closer to the Lord, then surely it will be worth doing business with these people.”

The two men walked out of the dungeon into the streets of the city, but the day looked much less bright and sunny than it did for the two Arabs who had just exited the same place a minute ago.

[OverKnight]

Innsbruck, 1134

The woman's arm lay across Matthias's bare chest, her mouth close to his ear as they lay in the afterglow of their lovemaking. She was speaking to him, but he found it difficult to focus on anything at the moment. He was not a virgin, far from it, but this last encounter far surpassed any tussle in the hay with a serving wench. It had been, Matthias searched for the right word, sublime. As he emerged from the post-coital fog, he began to listen to her.

". . .so, my young Bavarian, you must understand the importance of Outremer. It is a fine place for a third son to find his fortune, to make his name. Of course if the Diet has it's way, that avenue might be shut off to you. You should speak out in favor of Outremer."

Matthias blinked, his mind still trying to focus, "Of course, Outremer must not be abandoned."

The only less than ideal moment in the encounter, had been when she, in ecstasy, had screamed the name of another man. "Otto!", she had cried, with a note of pain in her voice.

Elsebeth von Kassel raised herself up in the bed, gathering a sheet around her. She looked down at the young Squire with an inquisitive gaze.

"Are you paying attention Matthias? It would be wise of you to support Outremer. Your Brother attacks it, perhaps out of true feeling or as an attempt to divert the Diet from his own actions. You must defend it."

"Of course," Matthias mumbled, distracted by the curve of hip and breast.

"Listen, you young pup! You have potential, I would not have. . .mentored you otherwise. However, you lack finesse, subtlety and vision, the marks of a true leader. You need these if you are to be a force for Bavaria, Outremer and the Reich."

Matthias frowned, his fragile teenage ego bruised. He looked away, with a blush rising in his face.

Elsebeth laughed and cupped his face, turning him back to face her.

"Do not worry, I can teach you some of this, and experience will take care of the rest. Let your brother Lothar be the bludgeon, the frontal attack that tries to break through any opposition. You must be the dagger in the left hand. Unnoticed until too late and much more effective.

"A time of troubles is coming to the Reich, my sweet boy. A new Kaiser will bring changes. Alliances will shift, coalitions will fall apart and men of ambition will grasp and claw to gain advantage in the new reign. There will be many dangers, but an 'educated' young man will be able to take advantage of this, to advance his own cause and that of Bavaria. You must be ready."

Matthias swallowed hard, his world had been enlarged in more ways than one this day, it was a lot to take in. Still, best to enjoy the moment.

"If I am to be educated," Matthias said as he drew the sheet away from Elsebeth, "We should start right away, my Queen."

[GeneralHankerchief]

Antioch, 1236

Death stalked the streets of the capital of Outremer. A devastating plague, caused by an unknown substance, had made its way into the once-grand city and claimed thousands of lives. As a measure designed to prevent further spread of the outbreak, Antioch had locked down and was, in essence, completely cut off from the rest of the world, a vortex in time. Its citizens neither knew nor cared for outside events. The fact that Baghdad was being besieged by an unknown enemy, perhaps the long-foretold second wave of the Horse Lords, did not matter to them. Nor did it matter that Adana was no longer under immediate threat from the Turks, or that Kaiser Henry and his lewd son were about to complete the conquest of Edessa and thus bring Outremer to its envisioned size.

All they knew was death, death, death. Conditions inside the city were horrible. The streets were entirely deserted, aside from the rotting corpses of men and horses, unable to be properly buried for fear of the disease spreading to the gravediggers. The horrid stench reeking from these bodies didn’t help either. Nobody knew if the smell was a cause of the streets being empty or an effect of it. Perhaps it was both. Those people still healthy holed themselves up in their houses, generally in the smallest, least-accessible rooms. Thirteenth-century wisdom was that this was the best way of not getting sick, but as a result the people soon developed minor ailments if their own, generally bad coughs. Increasingly worried that what they had was the plague, they didn’t wash or bathe for fear of contamination, contributing to the city’s overall mood of dirt, death, and despair.

At least, these were the rumors that Conrad Salier had heard.

Damascus, 1236

The King of Outremer was safe from the disease, holed up in a city far to the southeast. Instead, he was slowly being claimed by another disease: the one brought on by constant use of the hashish, the one that was taking his mind. He had (so far) successfully hidden his use of the drug from the Diet, although this was in large part due to the Herculean efforts of Hugo Bresch, his veteran warrior, and Frederick Weinmuth, his Chief of Staff. The majority of the Reich lay blissfully distracted by Conrad’s partaking on the debate regarding Milan and his aggressive drive to bring more people to the East. However, in the inner circle of people that knew better, bets were being made to see how long he’d last before he finally cracked.

A knocking sound came from the door of Conrad’s study. “Enter,” he said, and four people did. Frederick Weinmuth was first. Trailing him were three Arabs, two of which Conrad was familiar with. They were Abdullah and Hamid, the pair that Conrad had released from the dungeon in order to provide him with hashish.

“Who’s the third?” Conrad asked. Abdullah, the man with the slicked mustache and dark, dark eyes, answered.

“His name is Achmed,” he said. “He’s a mute, so he’s not much good in the intelligence department. We use him for deliveries… and other work.” Achmed nodded, his expression similar to that of a statue. It was clear that he was well-suited for both purposes. He dwarfed even the large Hamid in stature, and was carrying a huge load of hashish. After being directed by Conrad to place it in a hidden compartment of the study, he resumed his place alongside Abdullah and Hamid.

A minute of silence ensued. Nobody was quite sure what to say. Conrad and Frederick looked especially befuddled. Finally, Hamid broke the silence.

“What are you waiting for?” he asked. “We are waiting for our best customer’s opinion on the quality of this latest shipment.” Conrad’s face flushed with red. The hashish did serve him well on many occasions, but there was still a part of him that was ashamed of what he was doing.

Hesitantly, Conrad rolled a huge batch of the plant, his biggest yet, and stuffed as much as he could into the wrapping (he was well-trained in this practice by now). He took a whiff with four sets of eyes watching him…

…he took a whiff with four sets of eyes watching him, but they disappeared quickly, the room disappeared, Conrad himself disappeared. He now consisted of an entity, some kind of something, overlooking a square surrounded by black…

…the square consisted of Outremer and the surrounding areas. Without any prompting, the view of the square changed, it was centering, focusing on Antioch. For some reason the term “zooming in” came to his mind but it meant nothing to him…

…the square changed again, it became 3D, with the buildings of the beleaguered city popping up suddenly. The view that was Conrad entered one of the buildings, he saw a young woman, her hair falling out, vomiting on her infant son, the son’s face was flushed and he was crying, he looked dangerously thin…

… Conrad departed from that particular house, entering others near it; the sights were each more gruesome than the last. Suddenly the square zoomed out again, it moved northeast, to the pass that led to either Adana or Caesarea, depending on which direction one was taking…

…in the pass, two large Turkish armies were camping, resting, preparing for a fight, probably against the Reich but who would know?… Conrad abruptly “zoomed in” on a group of soldiers, they were eating some kind of animal raw, biting it and watching its blood spill out gleefully…

…was what he saw typical? Conrad doubted it, the Turks were surely more civilized and pious than this, this was something more akin to the Horse Lords… a person in a normal state would realize that it was probably the hashish doing this, but Conrad was not in a normal state and all he saw was a large amount of bloodthirsty enemy soldiers marching on Adana, which currently had no Count…

..the view changed, the square “zoomed out” and headed east, east past Antioch, east past Kaiser Henry and Elberhard, nearing Edessa, east past the great desert, east to Baghdad, which was rumored to be under siege…

…there was no rumor, Baghdad was under siege again by a great force, they carried familiar flags of the Horse Lords, they had finally come again, would make their way west, and this time it was up to Conrad to defend the place, for Otto was dead and Henry aging rapidly…

…he “zoomed in”, again, without prompting, on a meeting of commanders, they were discussing strategy in some foreign language, then suddenly the headless body of a familiar friend (if he was a friend) appeared, it was Jebe the Tyrant, and somehow, he could… see… Conrad…

… “I told you,” he said simply, and suddenly Conrad “zoomed out” so fast it gave him nausea, he vomited on the square, Baghdad was shrinking and now covered with chunks, the desert was shrinking, Outremer was shrinking, suddenly the square itself exploded in a fiery ball and Conrad screamed…

…and Conrad screamed, and finally he returned to normal. He looked up, as pale as the thousands dead in Antioch, to the concerned eyes of Frederick. His own eyes glossed over to those of Frederick’s and set themselves on the three Arabs still in the room. All of them were smirking.

“Leave me!” he cried, and then collapsed.

[Stig]

Thorn, 1238

Count of Thorn, that's not the most sought-after job. Ansehelm, the man who had the job, would absolutely agree with that. The last couple of years he had been busy in and around Thorn. Multiple enemy armies had been raiding the countryside. In 1232 and 1233 Ansehelm had been on a campaign to destroy two small Polish armies around Thorn itself. He and his knights had destroyed a small army that sieged the near to unprotected Thorn, and he then took one of his regiments and destroyed the second one. In 1236 he destroyed a Russian Horsemen Army that layed siege to Thorn and this very year he lead the Franconian Household Army to a victory over another big Russian army.
And next to all that he had the internal politics in the Reich to take care off. There had been big arguments in the Diets and in the summer months Ansehelm travelled to Rome to join the great politicians of the Reich.

Now things however turned to normal again, if they can even be called normal. Ansehelm hardly knew this. He had lived in the far north for all his life. He was born in Frankfurt, but at the age of 6 he beceame a Page to the old and jolly knight Karl von Bremen and he moved to Bremen at the North Sea coast. Soon after he moved with Karl to Stettin where he became a squire at the age of 14. When he came of age he lived in Thorn and at the normal age of 21 he was knighted.
He was used to the north and liked the long cold winters. He enjoyed staying at Schloss Folklung, his own personal estate which was converted to a small castle. There he had many servants, he could enjoy hunts in the abondoned forests of Prussia, he had good food and pleasant company. He often brought in great storytellers and jokers to enjoy him and his friends.
During the summers however he hardly ever was at Folklung, he travelled to Rome which took several months when he could, but often he was busy in his province, which he called Prussia. The last 20 years he only managed to visit Rome twice. And he certainly did not like what he saw, both time he had only been in Rome for nothing more then 2 weeks, but already he saw the Italian nobles enjoying their good and peacefull life. That was nothing for him. Rome was too hot for his liking, he liked the rough life he lived in the north. In Rome he was seen as something strange, something weird. After the almost 4 month travel to Rome he often looked like a viking with a beard, and he didn't fit in with the good looking Italians. No, Ansehelm didn't like Rome, but he had to come there every once in a while.
In the north he could enjoy himself, people where different there, used to a hard life and long winters. There was always something to do in the summer. If not in Folklung Ansehelm could go to Thorn itself or any of the little surrounding hamlets. But more importantly the summer was the season of war. That was when the Poles and the Russians came, when they sacked the countryside, and when Ansehelm dispatched the little forces he had to drive them back. From time to time the Poles and Russians send more than 20 men across the border, and that was when big action was needed. Ansehelm himself fully led 3 battles, and helped his brother Peter winning a fourth one. But it seemed the enemy kept coming. Ansehelm, against his true will decided to execute 600 prisoners, so that they would not fight another day. This for Ansehelm was one of the toughest decisions he ever made, but he was happy that he could atleast make a decision.

Now Ansehelm camped with the Franconian Household Army, the year 1238 AD, and time was moving on...

[GeneralHankerchief]

Rome, 1240

"Ggggghxxhxzz."

Conrad Salier woke up and returned to full alertness for the first time in days. Since he had overdosed on the hashish (if that was even possible) and unknowingly revealed his secret to the entire Diet, Conrad had slipped into a state halfway between life and death, temporarily suspending the session as he was given emergency medical attention. After that, his condition had improved slightly, but he was still in a coma for some time. When he finally arose he found himself in a large, comfortable bed that happened to be the exact bed that Kaiser Heinrich had died in many years ago, but no one in the room knew this little fact.

Present when he awoke were the most trusted members of his retinue: Hugo Bresch, his veteran warrior, Frederick Weinmuth, his Chief of Staff, and his old friend Wilhelm de Lannoy, the former Deputy Governor of Rome who had officially joined Conrad's staff upon his return to Rome.

"Ah, Conrad" said Wilhelm, his eyes brightening when he saw that Conrad had woken up, "Welcome back to the world of the living."

Conrad blinked for a second and then looked around. "Care to be more specific?"

Frederick spoke up. "You're in Rome, Conrad. Still in Rome . We've hidden you away from the public eye ever since that little display of yours a couple of days ago."

Although he heard Frederick's words clearly, Conrad thought that he was still groggy. They didn't make any sense to him. "Display? What display? I don't know what you're talking about."

"You blabbed, Conrad. You overdosed on the hashish, stumbled into the Diet, and told the entire esteemed body that Rome was going to fall thanks to the hands of Satan, and that the hashish had told you this. Then you collapsed. You're lucky to be alive."

Finally, everything fell into place. His three friends watched silently as Conrad put two and two together. "I… overdosed… hashish… Diet? …oh, no, oh God no…" He put his head in his hands. "Oh, no…"

"Oh yes," said Frederick unkindly. "You have exposed your secret to the world. Congratulations."

Wilhelm jumped in. "You've got to stop taking this stuff, Conrad. You barely survived this time, and I mean that both physically and career-wise. You're lucky that the Diet doesn't know more about this hashish or otherwise Kaiser Henry would have stripped you of your title and given it to Fredricus."

Conrad was now fully awake, but wished he wasn't. He could tell that this was going to be a massive argument with three of his friends. Not pleasant in any circumstances. "I can't stop taking it," he pleaded. "I see things in there. Visions. I can use the knowledge."

"You can't use the knowledge if you're dead, Conrad." Everybody jumped. That was Hugo Bresch speaking for the first time. They had forgotten that he was even present.

"It's just God testing my strength," Conrad said. "What will this say about my character if I quit?"

"It will say that you are a smart man who made the wiser choice," said Frederick patiently. "Conrad, you must realize what this is doing to you. For God's sake, for our sakes, stop taking this hashish!"

"NO!" Conrad roared, surprising everyone. "If I sacrifice myself for the sake of the Reich, so be it. But I will not consciously allow this gift of foresight that I have been granted to fade away. I am not deluding myself. I know what I am doing, and you will realize that if you wish to continue working with me."

"You say that because you-"

"Enough. Get out of here, all of you. I need some time to rest."

Silently, Conrad's three friends shuffled out of the room, exchanging looks of despair. They had failed."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Some time later, Conrad heard a knocking sound coming from his door.

"Enter."

The door opened, and a wizened old man, older than even Kaiser Henry, stepped into the room. Despite his age, he clearly did not look German. His ethnicity (Greek) was confirmed when he spoke.

"King Salier," the man said in a thick accent, "How is your recovery progressing?" Conrad was immediately suspicious. While this old Greek was far too aged to be an assassin, he wondered if it was another attempt at an intervention.

"Who are you and what are you doing in my room?"

The old man smiled. "Greetings to you too," he said in a sarcastic voice. There was a time when Conrad would have recognized his error and apologized, but that time was long gone now. The man continued as if he didn't expect an apology. "I am the official Byzantine ambassador to Rome, and also a historian of our great Empire, stretching back to the days when Constantinople was not even included in it and there was no Christianity to be divided over. I simply wished to liaise with the King of Outremer before he departed back East."

Conrad was still in a foul mood and cared little for diplomatic procedure at the moment. "Liaise with me then, and be done with it."

"Very well," said the old man, slightly taken aback. "The Byzantine Empire officially requests that the Kingdom of Outremer illegalize hashish. Before you can throw me out, I assure you that this request is official. Due to your lack of prosecution, deliveries of the plant have made it all the way to Constantinople, causing our citizens grief."

"I must respectfully disagree with your Emperor's assessment of the properties of the plant," said Conrad, gaining some diplomatic tactics back. “While under its influence I have seen many useful things.”

“But you do not deny that you have seen… upsetting things? Like, for instance, ‘Satan standing triumphant on Palatine Hill?’”

Conrad stared. “Is that what I said at the Diet? Wow…”

The ancient Greek continued on, business-like. I have with me here several transcripts of men speaking while on the hashish, their lives after they had been taking the plant for some time, and comments of their friends and family members. You will notice that many of them are, in fact, suicides.”

Horrified at the casualness of this man’s tone, Conrad took the first paper from the stack. It had already been translated into German.

“Strange things,” he read to himself, mumbling, “he thought he could see the future… started to scare him, eventually poisoned himself…”

“This next one is from our former Minister of Finance,” said the Greek pleasantly, handing Conrad another paper.

“Former?”

“Well, he apparently swallowed some Greek fire while under the influence. It burned right through him, poor man.” He was shaking his head sadly, but continued to rifle through the papers. “Here’s one visitor from your Outremer; he’s still living but thinks he’s Pope Gregory, poor chap… hey, what’s this one doing in here?”

“What? Is it actually a piece of good news?”

“Unfortunately, it is completely the wrong subject. Well, maybe not entirely off-topic, depending on the way you look at it.”

Conrad was mildly intrigued. “What is it?”

“It is a piece of the diary of your Marcellus Aemilius. It’s quite interesting, actually, not counting the fact that we Byzantines have a more complete record of the early Roman Republic than you Romans do. This one was written in 247 BC, in the second year of his shortened co-Consulship with Numerius Aureolus.”

“What does it say?”

“I’m getting to that, young fellow, hold on.” The Greek seemed amused. “The history behind it is interesting, actually. Most of you Germans and Italians consider Marcellus to be a hero, the one who saved the Republic from the evil Servius, right?” Conrad nodded. Everyone knew. “Do you know what happened to him after that little battle of his? This time, Conrad shook his head. Details were always murky after the Civil War. The Greek continued. “Well, it seemed as if the Hero was shirking some of his Consular duties in order to pursue Servius. Apparently, the night before that final day of battle, Marcellus had intercepted a message from Servius to his brother, Oppius. The message detailed Servius’s plans for his wife and legacy after the war. After there was a lack of activity in the Senate Session of 249, an official investigation was not permitted so Marcellus decided to go off on his own.

“Anyways, he grew obsessed with finding his nephew and bringing Servius to justice. In that letter that he had intercepted, it said that Servius’s wife, Eutropia, I think, was with child. Obviously, this was the ultimate bargaining chip to get Servius to come out of hiding and Marcellus knew it. So he tracked Eutropia and the kid down, leaving his army and any semblance of Roman decency behind, and basically made a public statement. Either Servius was to show himself or his wife and the kid were going to buy it. Sad, really.”

Conrad was intrigued. “Did he finally get Servius?”

“That’s not important. What’s important is that Marcellus was completely consumed by his obsession. This diary entry is him lamenting on what he had done and how he wishes that he had been more focused on the things that mattered – namely, rebuilding the Republic. It’s quite interesting, maybe you could learn something from it.” He absentmindedly tossed the old paper to Conrad, and glanced out the window. The sun was rather low in the sky. “Look at the time, I had best be leaving. An old man needs his rest, you know. Do think about illegalizing this hashish, will you? The Emperor would thank you very much if you did.”

He slowly got up to depart, leaving Conrad with the ability only to nod. Finally, Conrad obtained the vocal skills necessary to ask a question.

“I’m sorry, I never got your name?”

The old man turned and smiled.

“Iannis,” he said. “Have a safe trip back to the East.”

[Ituralde]

Prague, 1228:

Willellda sat in front of the large fireplace, a crumbled piece of parchment in her hand, tears were rolling down her cheeks as she watched the flickering flames in front of her. Gunhilde, her trusted midwife was standing behind her and had laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

"I am sorry, mistress! It seems there is no end to the suffering of our family. First Ehrhart dies, then your husband leaves you and now this grim news from the East."

Willellda shakes herself out of her reverie, takes a final look at the parchment in her hand and then defiantly throws it into the flames. It takes her some time to tear away her gaze from the flames licking at the letter, which had told her of Leopold's demise.

"These are dark times Gunhilde. Very dark. Send for my son will you. He has to know, I will tell him everything. Hurry!"

"Are you sure this is wise, mistress? After all he has done for us?"

"He deserves to know, now go and bring him here, and send for Contzel and Niesenn too!"

____________________________________

This is a coop story between Ituralde and Cecil XIX


Thunder rolled overhead as Sigismund von Mahren entered the Council Chambers in Prague. His mother Willellda had wanted him to come and as he entered the Great Hall he could see three women clad in black huddled around the sole fireplace, the fire banked so that the warmth hardly penetrated the large room and the light was subdued. There were his two sisters Contzel and Niesenn along with his mother Willellda. His mother's eyes were red from tears while his sisters wore a glum determination on their faces. As soon as Willellda lays her eyes on Sigismund she storms forward and grasps him in her arms.

"Oh you have come, my son! You have come, what grief has befallen our family! Why do the Gods curse us so?" She clings on to her son, silently sobbing.

Sigismund returned his mother's embrace, and let her cry in his arms. His brother's death had been a terrible blow to the family, but with his mother in hysterics and his fathers descent into drink he felt an obligation to keep a stiff upper lip.

"There there, mother. Ehrhart's in a better place now. I'm sure he wouldn't want you to cry like this, and neither would I or father."

At the mention of Sigismund's father Willellda lets out another stifled moan. "It's just not... it's just not right. First your brother dies and then they take away your father!" She manages inbetween sobs, still clinging on to Sigismund's shoulder.

Contzel and Niesenn share embarrassed looks as they see their mother reduced to tears, clinging on to their brother, as though he were the only thing that kept her upright. At the same time, they seem to be casting expectant looks towards Sigismund, as though they knew something he didn't.

"He's a soldier, mother." Sigismund replied. "I too would dearly like for us to all be together again, but he and I have our duties to the Reich."

With a final shudder, Willellda seems to draw herself together, and slightly more composed she moves away from her now eldest son. "A foolish old soldier, he was." she states with contempt on her face. She looks at Sigismund sternly: "Don't you think you can run off and get yourself killed in some foolish battle, my boy!"

Sigismund takes a step back, aghast at the words that have come out of his mother's mouth. "M-mother! There was nothing foolish about that battle! And you can't blame father for Erhart's death, or Erhart himself for that matter! Father is even more distraught than you are, because he blames himself as well!"

Willellda looks at her son with a puzzled expression on her face and slowly the realization dawns on her, she raises her hand to cup his cheek, stroking it slightly. "My poor boy, it's not your brother I was talking about, although he should have known better. I was referring to Leopold, your father." She smiles at him reassuringly.

Should Sigismund look up at his sisters he will see an apologetic look on Contze's face. Niesenn on the other hand shows a mishievous grin, just as if this had been some rather good prank, like the ones she used to play on him in their childhood.

Sigismund's face is blank for a moment, then it explodes. "WHAT?!? Duke Leopold is my father?!?"

She gently strokes his cheek once more: "Oh don't be upset my poor boy, you should have figured it out by now. Why do you think Jonas left us, after Ehrhart died? Why do you think Leopold was so eager to have you become an Austrian noble? His blood runs through your veins. That's why I called you here. Now that he is dead, you deserve to know." She gives him a comforting look, waiting for his next reaction.

"How did this happen?" Sigismund responds. "You were married to father, and Leopold was married as well! And what of Ehrhart? He became part of House Austria as well!"

Willellda chuckles lightly. "You have much to learn, my boy! We were both married, but we were also in love. Why do you think Leopold only fathered two children, stopping after he had his heir? He did his marital duty and nothing more. Your father was away on Crusade anyways, he didn't care. At least Leopold had the decency to take his wife with him to Outremere."

She shakes a little bit once more and stifles a sigh, as the emotions well up in her once again. "As for your brother. He was a fool like Jonas, but he was needed too. To make you an Austrian noble. How would it have looked if only you were to become part of the Austrian nobility." She dabs at her cheeks with a handkerchief where tears have welled up.

"No, he did it for you, for his first son, to serve the House he loved so much, he gave his life for it." She lowers her head and a low sobbing can be heard.

Contze looks slightly ashamed from Sigismund to her mother, while Niesenn still somehow managed to find the whole situation amusing.

For a moment Sigismunds just stands, shoulders slumped and looking at the floor. Then he straightens himself out and turns to leave.

"I can't stay here anymore. I must speak with my father."

Willellda grabs her son by her sleeve and turns him around again as he tries to leave. She looks infuriated: "Haven't you listened to me? Your father is dead! Jonas has left us, he doesn't want anything to do with us! You are Leopolds son, you can't change that by running away now. Don't you realize the implications, my little boy? You are his eldest son, his true heir. That Arnold is nothing against you, nothing!"

Willellda stares at her son exasperated, once again tears are welling up in her eyes.

At this Sigismunds expression suddenly mirrors his mother's earlier rage. "No, this changes nothing! I am Sigismund von Mahren! Even if it is Leopold's blood that flows through my veins, Jonas von Mahren was the one who raised me! Even when he was off saving the Holy Land, he sent Erhart and me letters on how to behave like a true knight! Brother and I cherished those letters dearly, and no son of Leopold could have ever received something so precious. Now you ask me to usurp the man I have sworn fealty to, and call another man my forebear? I will not betray my duke, and I will not abandon my father!"

Sigismund turns around and walks away, muttering to himself. "A trueborn son, not a bastard, deserves to be Duke."

[econ21]

Night time, at camp on the road to Mosul, 1240


“I knew you would come back.” Henry murmured, staring at the black cloaked figure in the shadows. The figure bowed gently.

“Is it time?” Henry asked faintly, but he knew the answer already. The strength was leaving his body. He had a high fever and his bed was drenched with sweat.

“You always were a disappointment, Henry.” said the figure. Henry’s mind felt numbed and in his stupor he could not tell if the harsh voice of the intruder was that of his pagan magician or his father. “You came all this way to the East. You could have established an Empire from the Pyrenees to Alexandria. And what did you do? Gave Jerusalem to a jumped up priest and tried to block all further expansion. This is not the destiny of the Reich. This is a mere interruption. And it must end.”

Henry closed his eyes. “You are wrong, Kolar …” he started, but the words would not come.

The intruder limped out of the shadows and continued vindictively: “You have just lived long enough to see it start to unravel. The true nature of the Reich is re-asserting itself. Ambitious young men are replacing the foolish and dying old guard. They strain at the restraints you seek to impose on them and soon will break free. Ulrich Hummel’s election confirms it. You tried to use all your influence to stop him, but you failed.”

The figure stepped back. “But you do not know the extent of your failure. Do you think I work alone?”

Henry was gasping for breath. “Hashshashins…”

“Yes, yes, I use the Hashshashins on occasion. They were the ones who supplied that nice cake you ate this evening, by the way. That talented Syrian cook you hired?” the figure smiled: “A mean chef by day, but one of their master assassins by night”.

The intruder paused and continued on his aside, as if he had all the time in the world: “You would not believe how hard it was to persuade the Old Man of the Mountains to authorise your assassination. He actually thought he owed you a favour for defeating the Horse Lords. The Mongols have done a more effective job of clamping down on the cult than ever you or the Egyptians did. But now the Horse Lords are back and anyway, I convinced the Old Man that the crusaders were the true long term threat.”

The dark figure reigned himself in and turned back to Henry: “But no, when I referred to my partners, I did not mean the Hashshashins. I no more work with them than I work with my horse or my servant. I use them and in return I pay them their exorbitant fees. No, I speak not of the Hashshashins but rather of my associates - a group of like minded men, who work behind the scenes directing the future of this Reich you so foolishly believe you rule. We have done rather well during your inattentive rule - we have the ear of the future Kaiser and the current Chancellor. There is nothing you or your pathetic Charter Amendments can do to stop us now.”

Henry tried to lift himself out of bed, but succeeded only in temporarily raising himself before he collapsed back down. His eyelids started to flutter, as he saw the dark figure leaning over him. What will they say after am I dead? wondered Henry. When the Reich burns?

The intruder sat down beside Henry’s bed. “You made a mistake letting me go, taking your eye off your opponent.” he whispered. “I won’t make the same mistake. But I will repay your kindness. I will stay with you until the end.”

The dark figure held Henry’s hand. Henry looked at long gnarled fingers clasping his own in revulsion, but was powerless to pull back.

“The toxin used by the Hashshashins is very rare and leaves no traces. As far as the rest of the Reich will know, you passed away peacefully in your sleep. Which, after a fashion, is the truth, I suppose.”

The wry smile on intruder’s face was the last thing Henry ever saw. He closed his eyes, not knowing if the dark figure by his side was real, a fevered hallucination or a demon, come to escort him to the next world.



*****


During the night, Henry’s shieldbearer had slept heavily, with unusually vivid dreams which he could not shake. In one, he saw a tall, black cloaked figure leave the Kaiser’s tent, followed dutifully by Henry’s devoted dog, Ernest. When the shieldbearer awoke in the morning, he found Henry had passed away in the night, but his dog was no where to be seen. Fearful of the appearance of negligence, the shieldbearer told no one of his dream. Ernest the dog was never found.

[GeneralHankerchief]

Eastern Mediterranean Sea, 1240

Three AM. Conrad Salier woke up, sweating, after approximately forty-five minutes of sleep. He groaned. That feeling was back again. He made his way up to the ship's deck, staggering. Silently praising the Lord that he didn't stumble or fall, he leaned over the ship's side and vomited. Not for the first time that night. Seasickness combined with hashish withdrawal did not make for a fun extended sea voyage back to Damascus.

He silently returned to his quarters, feeling only slightly better. The feeling that he needed to vomit was gone (for the moment), but now he had to deal with that unpleasant acidic aftertaste currently present in his mouth. He climbed into bed, at first trying to sleep, and later simply contemplating. It was evident that sleep would not come. Conrad sighed.

While it was still affected by withdrawal and lack of sleep, Conrad found his mind to be clearer than it had been in years. This "awakening" of sorts had led him to discover certain unpleasant details. Firstly, Ulrich Hummel, perennial election loser and Diet pariah (he had one time taken the entire Swabian Household Army and gone through half of France on an unconstitutional rampage) had somehow ascended to the position of Chancellor. Although Hummel was Count of Acre, Conrad would sooner entrust Outremer's security to an Egyptian. At least they would leave everything untouched.

The other problem that Conrad had awoken to was the unfortunate shift of power that was taking place in the Diet. On the out was his greatest ally and fellow lover of religion, Kaiser Henry. The Kaiser, with his increasing authority, had managed almost singlehandedly to continue the implementation of pro-Papal policies with the death of the Old Guard. Taking his place, a dearth of brash, young Electors who grew up under the aftermath of Kaiser Heinrich had risen in the Diet. The incoming Kaiser, Jobst von Salza, was no friend of religion (he had attacked an army on Crusade, no matter what the report had said). And his daughter was reportedly engaged to Lothar Steffin, who openly stated he cared little for Outremer or Kaiser Henry.

When the Kaiser died, the Old Guard would die with him, leaving only Conrad to uphold its principles and beliefs. Sure, Matthias Steffin was promising, but he was overshadowed by his brother. To put it simply, Conrad's faction, for the first time in decades, was outnumbered. The question was, how would he prevent the worst?

It never went through Conrad's mind that he was on the wrong side. Of course I am right, he thought. How can one be wrong when he sides with the Lord? Obviously people would see the wisdom in time. Hummel might be a bumbling Chancellor. With his style of running things, there would be discontent.

Do I point it out? No, he decided. He would still be outnumbered. People knew him, knew his devotion to religion, knew his former hashish problems. They would take it for what it was - deliberately laying the blame on all that might go wrong on the Chancellor in order to recruit more people to his side.

No, he decided. Stay silent, watch, wait, pray. God would see that everything would go right in the end. The values of the Old Guard would remain in the Reich; this was just a relaxed period. Conrad would let events run their course and not endanger them by rocking the boat too much.

Rocking the boat, ugh. At the thought, the feeling to vomit returned and Conrad staggered out of bed once again. It would be a long night, but there was much to do. He was glad to be rid of the hashish so that he could get some actual work done.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Damascus

The headquarters of the hashish cartel was inconspicuously located, probably not a surprising fact. Even though the sale of the drug was legal, the cartel realized that secrecy was always best. The headquarters were in the residential sector of the city, more appropriately under the residential sector. A lone house, indistinguishable from the others aside from the fact that it appeared to be abandoned, was the sole means of entering or exiting the underground complex. Once inside, assuming the person was allowed entry by the sizeable amount of guards, one would be privy to a series of large, connected rooms that contained delivery transcripts, the hashish itself, a large amount of florins, and the offices of the higher-ups in the cartel. It was in one of these offices where Abdullah, the mustachioed man with slick hair and dark eyes was discussing a series of events, both fortunate and unfortunate, to his fellow members of the cartel.

"So, it seems that we are facing a return to illegalization. Is that correct?"

"The Byzantine government has officially requested that Outremer illegalize the drug, yes," said Theofilos, one of the few Greeks represented in the cartel. He was nothing like the ancient, proud Iannis that Conrad met in Rome.

"And, judging by Salier's outburst in the Diet and that old fool's visit, it seems likely that this will occur once he lands in Damascus," said Hamid, the big man with the beard.

Abdullah looked around to Theofilos. "Do you agree?" He was met with a nod. He turned to the only man who did not speak, Achmed, who was a huge bear of a man and a mute. Achmed also nodded. Abdullah sighed.

"Outremer is becoming filled up with dirty Catholics and Germans. We could not take a hit like criminalization. It wouldn't be like last time."

"I agree," Hamid said.

"Then we should take steps to ensure that criminalization does not occur. The time has come to act, gentlemen. I have received word that Kaiser Henry is dead. That fool Jobst will be taking over, he does not care for Outremer. Hummel is Chancellor, but is not fully committed. The rest of the Diet couldn't care less what happens out here. Hamid, Achmed, prepare your men. We strike Salier when he least expects it. Kaiser Jobst places one of his followers as King, allows us to continue sale of hashish, we stay rich."

Hamid looked slightly discontented. "Assassinate Salier? Is that the smartest move? What if they come after us."

Abdullah laughed. "They won't care, Hamid! Haven't you heard? Henry is dead, Hummel's Chancellor. Salier is in the minority now. Nobody will care about him."

The three men nodded and departed, plotting on how to bring Conrad's newly-meaningful life to an abrupt end.

[TinCow]

“Back for more, are ye?” Adelman snorted and spat on the ground. “I hear they call you the ‘Count of Florence’ or something equally ridiculous these days.” He eyed Lothar Steffen coolly. “You still look like a spoiled pup to me. The ‘Count of Flatulence,’ perhaps.”

“I may still be young, but I have learned a great deal since last we trained together. It is unwise of you to underestimate me,” the Bavarian noble deadpanned.

“Underestimate you? For the love of… you go and win yourself a few minor battles and you think yourself a master now? By the Devil’s Tits, I swear I never thought it was possible for you to get even more arrogant than you were before you left.” Adelman popped his jaw; an act that somehow managing to convey immense disdain.

Lothar Steffen paced across the room to a rack of practice swords. He traced his fingers along the hilts of half a dozen, before he found one he liked. With a deft movement he lifted it, feeling the balance. He flipped it back and forth between his hands and swung it in smooth arcs. Satisfied with the results he turned back to face the weapons master. “Perhaps you should give me another lesson in humility.”

Adelman stared at the Bavarian for a moment, then laughed. “Now? You’re not even armored! Even with the dulled edge, you’d take such a drubbing that your father would have my head on a pike!”

Lothar shrugged and lifted a round wooden shield propped against the nearby wall. “Is this better? I would not want to put you at too much of a disadvantage. It would not be… ah, what is that word… chivalrous.” He looked his old trainer in the eye. “Or perhaps you are simply a coward.”

There was no verbal response, but none was needed. Adelman lifted his sword high, bringing the hilt in line with his right shoulder. He held it two-handed, his fingers flexing slightly to achieve the perfect grip. Lothar could see his opponent’s weight shift as he adjusted his stance. Adelman’s body angled backwards, narrowing his exposed front. The shieldless man was preparing for a rush; a brutal direct assault on his opponent that was designed to overwhelm and subdue through sheer force.

In response, Lothar slipped his hand more firmly into the leather straps of the shield. He held it lightly on his left, prepared to bring it up in front of him at a moment’s notice. The training yard was inundated with the silent expectation of combat. Several long moments passed as both men stared into each other’s eyes, in an effort to shake the other’s confidence; victory before the fight had even begun.

Lothar grinned. Adelman charged.

The speed with which the huge man moved was startling. Lothar himself could barely move that fast without armor, and he was half Adelman’s age. The intensity in the man’s eyes was disturbing to behold. Had Lothar not experienced such an expression dozens of times before, he might have broken at the sight. It was a berserker’s charge, being wielded by a man who never yielded to rage. Cold, calculating, and deadly. There was no way to deflect, dodge, or riposte. One could only endure and hope to survive. Lothar braced himself and raised his shield to meet the oncoming blow.

Adelman swung his sword down with every ounce of strength he could summon. Rarely had he put as much effort into a single blow as he did at that moment. It was a stroke that would split a man in two in a real battle, and even with the blunted practice weapon it could seriously maim. The sound of the impact was so slight, the opposition to his blade so weak, that at first he thought he had smashed the eldest son of the Duke to the ground. It took him a moment to realize that Lothar was still standing, unphased by the blow. A loud clattering sound came from his right. It took him a moment to realize that his blade had sheered cleanly from the hilt. A moment after that he noticed the sharpened dagger at his throat.

“You taught me well, Adelman.” Lothar cocked his head, the tip of his dagger drawing a drop of blood from his opponent’s throat. “Never fight a battle that you cannot win. Those are your words, not mine. I will never best you in even combat, so I will not engage in even combat.” He nodded towards the hilt still clutched in Adelman’s hand. There, clearly visible in the afternoon light, were fine marks spanning three-quarters of the width of the blade. The tool used to file through the hardened steel must have been incredibly narrow, to keep the split imperceptible to casual inspection. “I have learned a new lesson since the last time you trained me; Exitus acta probat.”

Adelman smiled broadly, then let out a hearty laugh. “Perhaps you are not the dummkopf you were when last we met. Very well, then…” He touched the dagger gently, moving it away from his throat, and bowed deeply. “I yield, my Lord.”

Triumph glittered in Lothar’s eyes. “Do not forget it.” In a flash, his dagger whipped out and sliced deeply into Adelman’s cheek. Blood poured in sheets down the side of the man’s face. He raised his hand to the gash, but was greeted with a boot to the chest. Adelman fell backwards in a sprawl. “That is for your many years of disrespect. If you ever fail to address me in the proper manner again, I’ll have your head.” The Count of Florence bowed.

[GeneralHankerchief]

Damascus, 1242

The Cathedral of the Virgin Mary located in the city was not part of the new, rapid re-Christianization movement taking place. A great number of smaller places of worship had popped up since Damascus changed hands some years ago, but none could match the splendor or grandeur of what had been there for a millennium. Built by the Romans in the Second Century AD, the Cathedral had seen its share of history over the years. It currently housed the Crown of Thorns, Conrad Salier having lent it to the Diocese prior to his departure to Rome.

Today, however, seemed like just another ordinary day inside the Cathedral. Mass was taking place; the usual Gospel passages (Romans 20, others) were posted for all to see, and Communion was being administered.

Conrad and his aides having taken Communion first (being King of Outremer did have its benefits), they silently returned to their pews, and, after prayer, observed the rest of the congregation.

"Lots of Arabs getting Communion today," whispered Wilhelm de Lannoy.

"Good," Conrad whispered back. "The Word of the Lord is spreading."

"I don't like it," said Hugo Bresch, Conrad's veteran warrior. "It seems like the number jumped at once. Unless a priest gave a particularly powerful sermon a few days ago, I suspect foul play is involved."

“Rubbish,” said Frederick Weinmuth, Conrad’s chief of staff. “You’re paranoid and need to get to church more often, Bresch.”

Conrad was annoyed. “Can we be silent? In case you haven’t noticed, a holy ritual *is* taking place.” Hugo muttered something under his breath but the matter was not pursued further. The remainder of Mass continued without incident.

Following the priest’s exit from the main hall, the congregation rose to depart, as did Conrad’s staff. He, however, motioned for them to sit, saying that he wished to observe the Crown of Thorns before leaving. The three men, especially Hugo, reluctantly returned to their seats. They all knew better than to annoy Conrad while he was in church.

Conrad, however, was focused on other matters. He could not help but linger on what Hugo had said, and noticed how many of the Arabs present were taking their time leaving the church. Perhaps one of them would try to kill him, after all. Conrad had brought no weapon to church, but put his senses on high alert as he silently prayed for peace. Which one would attack? Was it the one lingering by the altar who had badly fumbled an easy song in the hymnal? The one currently ambling down the aisle, about to pass their pew, who had turned east during the reading of the Apostle’s Creed? The one behind them, who had arrived late? The one diagonally in front and to the left of them, who had held up the Communion line? The one still in his pew off to the side, who kept his face hidden?

As it turned out, the answer was all of them. After the last people had departed the cathedral, those five Arabs plus three more drew knives out as one and charged at Conrad’s group.

They were badly outnumbered and out-armed. The only member of Conrad’s group with a weapon of any kind was Hugo, who drew out a longsword. Conrad saw with displeasure that one of them was the mountain of a man, Achmed, the mute one. Another, the one with his face hidden, was the also-powerful Hamid. He was suddenly giving orders in Arabic. This assassination attempt was obviously not designed to fail.

“HELP! ATTACK! IN THE CATHEDRAL!” Frederick screamed shortly before the tussle began. It was not out of cowardice; he was just trying to even the odds.

The attack came. Hugo was able to hold off three of the potential assailants by holding out his sword; they could not compete with his reach. That still left five. Wilhelm ducked behind the pew; if the attackers were to come for him they would have to go over the top. Frederick was desperately fighting off one trying to plunge his knife in. Most were going for Conrad, however. The King of Outremer, thinking quick, had counter-rushed three men coming at him from the side, surprising the men and spilling the fight out into the center aisle of the Cathedral.

Elated at his success, Conrad tried to wrestle the knife from the closest man, but he wasn’t giving it up easily and now the other two were up and closing in on him. Realizing that this was a battle he could not win, he kicked the first man in his privates and retreated a few steps back. The man was hunched over in pain, blocking the aisle and impeding the other two’s momentum. Conrad had earned a brief respite.

Back in the main pew, a series of wrestling matches were occurring. Somebody had decided to climb over a pew and try for Wilhelm, who was still hunched and ready. However, the pew had slipped and gone askew, causing the man to lose his footing and trip onto Wilhelm. Both were now on the ground, fighting for the knife. Frederick now had Hamid gunning for his throat and it was taking the full strength of both of his arms to try to push the knife away. Despite this, he was still losing.

However, it was Hugo who drew first blood. One of the men he was fending off feinted, paused, and threw his knife at Hugo’s neck. Hugo easily parried it aside and quickly lunged at the now-unarmed thrower, stabbing him in the chest. He went down, moaning, and blood spilled on the stone floor and pews. Hugo turned to the other two men, who were now more cautious.

The three men chasing Conrad were now all up again and closing in on him. Conrad turned and ran down a pew aisle. He reached the other side with the men in about the middle. He gripped the end of the pew and with all his might swung the side. The pew moved, crashing into Conrad’s pursuers, buying him more time. He needed to find a weapon. He found some in the vigil candles (God forgive me, but this is a time of great need), and rushed over to them, grabbing a handful. He only had a split second of grace before he could fire them (Achmed was one of the men chasing him and had recovered instantly). Tossing all the candles in his right hand, he watched as they found their target. Achmed slowed, emitting a wordless scream.

Wilhelm had finally succeeded in wrenching the knife from his attacker’s grip and had managed to stab him in the throat. He turned around and locked blades for a second with a surprised Hamid, who had just overcome Frederick. Wilhelm quickly withdrew, his feet splashing in the blood created by three separate stab wounds. Six to three.

One of the men pursuing Conrad broke off from the chase and ran towards the altar, more specifically the Tabernacle off to the side. Grunting, he picked up the heavy golden box and staggered over to Hugo, chucking it over the heads of the two men he was holding off right at him. Hugo ducked, and the two men rushed him. One managed to implant his knife in Hugo’s back. Hugo, screaming, swung his sword wildly, lopping off the arm of his attacker. The man retreated back to the cathedral’s wall, groaning, and sat down. He was out of the fight, simply waiting to die. Meanwhile, the other two men still on Hugo were pushing him back little by little. Eventually he was back-to-back with Wilhelm, who was being marked by Hamid. The two men were surrounded by pews and attackers. Hamid grinned.

Finally, someone ran back into the church. It was the priest who presided over Mass that day, his white robes flailing as he ran. He couldn’t have been younger than fifty. Nevertheless, he did what was required of him. Hamid, who was completely focused on Wilhelm, never saw him coming. The priest began to choke him from behind. Hamid, surprised, flailed his arms for a minute, allowing Wilhelm to stab him in the stomach. Hamid went down but not before his knife found the priest’s shoulder. Both men went down, Wilhelm’s knife still implanted in Hamid as he fell, causing a large incision to be made. Wilhelm looked ready to vomit, but somehow managed to turn away and face Hugo’s attackers.

Three to four. Conrad ran over to the main action, eager to finally get a knife. As always, he was closely pursued by Achmed and the other man. In one fluid movement, he bounded over the bodies, picked up Hamid’s knife, and slashed, making contact with Achmed’s knee. Good. Maybe that will take some of the speed out of him. Achmed turned around to the other man and gestured rapidly. They switched positions, but Conrad struck as the other man was off-balance. The second that Conrad’s knife was in the other man’s groin, he was vulnerable. As he went down, the other man slashed, making a deep cut in Conrad’s arm. Conrad groaned, staring at Achmed. Both men were injured. After a second, Achmed charged but tripped over all of the corpses. He fell face-first to the ground, the blood splashing up onto Conrad’s shirt. Conrad switched the knife to his uninjured arm and quickly put the knife into the back of Achmed’s neck before he got up. Achmed did not rise.

“Exit’s clear!” Conrad yelled. “Watch for the bodies!”

The three men turned and ran for the exit doors. They were about halfway there when suddenly the doors to three confessional rooms opened. Out rushed Abdullah and two bodyguards. The exit was blocked. The two pursuing them blocked them from going out another way. They were trapped.

Abdullah, drawing a dagger along with his bodyguards, grinned. “One way out of this, Salier. You know it as well as I do. If you legalize the hashish, I might just let you live.”

“Ha!” Conrad spat back. “I would not allow myself to make your ‘generous offer’ be used as a crutch for me so soon.”

“So be it,” Abdullah said simply. He jerked his head in the slightest of motions. At that instant there were footsteps behind Conrad’s group. Hugo reacted quickest, spinning his sword around and making contact with his two attackers. They both fell in a pool of blood. After about five seconds Hugo joined them, his back wound finally getting the better of him. Hugo Bresch, poor Hugo Bresch, the veteran warrior who was against the hashish from the start, now became a casualty, a victim, of the substance. He died doing what he was supposed to do: protect the King of Outremer.

Conrad had no time to weep. He was bleeding freely from his arm and Wilhelm had taken quite a few bruises. The path to retreat was now open, but then all the deaths would have been meaningless. Abdullah would escape and surely organize another assassination attempt, and the next time Conrad wouldn’t have Hugo to protect him.

Without warning, Abdullah and his men charged, catching Conrad and Wilhelm unprepared for a moment. It was enough. They wrestled the two remaining Germans to the ground, the thin layer of blood between them and the hard ground somewhat dulling the impact.

Knives flew everywhere. Conrad took another slash, this time to the leg. Neither had any time to grab Hugo’s sword, and so they were forced to defend themselves at close range. The fighting soon got dirty. One of Abdullah’s men spat in Wilhelm’s eye, temporarily blinding him. Wilhelm took half a second to wipe the spit away, and his attacker used that short period of time as an opening. He plunged the knife in the German’s throat. Wilhelm, crying out silently, did the same in retaliation.

Conrad did not notice. He was too busy with his own battle. A knife was drawing perilously close to his own throat. In desperation, he bit the man’s hand, for his own weapon was being used to fight off Abdullah. Conrad rolled away, managing to grab a second knife from one of the many corpses on the ground.

He took stock of the situation: He was outnumbered, injured in two places, and facing relatively fresh and unhurt foes.

Jesus, grant me strength, he thought, and for a second, his wish was granted. The pain in his arm seemed to wash away, and with all his might Conrad threw both knives at Abdullah’s remaining bodyguard. The aim was off on one, but by luck (or the will of a higher power) that was the one that was blocked. The second throw’s aim was true and the knife embedded itself right in the man’s heart. He was dead before he hit the ground.

It was down to Conrad and Abdullah. The two men stared at each other, and for the first time in his life Conrad was able to stand Abdullah’s bottomless eyes for more than a second. Abdullah was no longer grinning; his face was the epitome of hatred. He raised his knife and flung it. For a third time Conrad was wounded; this time it was in the shoulder. Moaning, he went down.

He opened his eyes and stared at the cathedral’s elaborate ceiling. It seemed to change before his eyes into a blue sky complete with white puffy clouds and white doves flying across his field of view. Is this a hashish vision, or is my life flashing before my eyes?

Suddenly, the brightness of the vision turned dark, and the ceiling returned. A moment later Abdullah’s face, once again grinning, blocked his view. He had picked up another knife. Conrad somehow found the strength to crawl back to avoid Abdullah’s final blow. Finally, though, he came across a roadblock – a corpse – and could crawl no more. Abdullah’s face came into view once more.

“End of the ro-OOMPH!” Abdullah’s speech was interrupted by Conrad shoving his hand in Abdullah’s face. His other hand was busy groping around for a weapon. He had to work quickly, Abdullah was strong and had position, both of his hands were working to get Conrad’s out of the way…

Abdullah finally did so and recovered his vision. In that brief moment he saw Conrad, tired and bloody but still triumphant, holding a longsword and stabbing it forward. Abdullah screamed and fell, adding his blood to the drenched cathedral floor.

Conrad paused and eventually got himself up with the help of two pews. He did not observe the carnage, and slowly limped out of the Cathedral of the Virgin Mary, seeking medical attention. There would be time to grieve later.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Some time later, before the masses arrived, a dark, hooded figure stepped into the church. A barely-conscious Abdullah was the only person still living to witness it. This figure seemed to know this fact and made his way straight for Abdullah.

“Rise, Abdullah. That wound is nothing.” The man’s accent was indistinguishable, but his voice was that of poison.

Somehow, at these words Abdullah’s wound did not seem to hurt him anymore. He rose slowly but without a grimace.

“Do you wish revenge on the man who did this to you?”

Abdullah nodded, being unable to speak. After all, the man had just saved his life!

“You will not go back to the hashish. You are done with that silly substance and that foolish cartel. You will go to work for my associates. We are much more powerful and influential than any illegal operation that deals in drugs. We work behind the scenes and control the Reich’s affairs from afar. And we… deal with those Electors that do not cooperate. Your Salier is a target. Will you work with us?”

“Yes, of course… my master.” Abdullah did not consciously remember saying that last bit, but it just came out and he did not correct himself. He did not wish to correct himself.

“Good.” The dark figure clapped his hands. “We will begin immediately. Your first assignment is regarding Ulrich Hummel. He is becoming somewhat of a liability…”

Abdullah, fully reinvigorated with life, followed his new employer, his new master, out of the bloody cathedral and into the light of the day.

[Ituralde]

Deep in Imperial territory, 1245:

Siegfried retched a final time, as the stench of his own vomit slowly arrived in his nostrils. He was leaning off his horse, but still couldn't tear his gaze from the lonely eye on the ground, which was staring back at him. A fleshy cord was connecting it to the eye socket of what once had been a hare. The body flattened by a wagon wheel, its intestines squeezed upon the road.

He hadn't felt quite well ever since a messenger had brought him a scroll bearing the Emperor's seal. It had interested him ever since, why the Emperor was interested in him. The fourth son of the Duke of Franconia could count himself lucky not to be sent to some monastery and spend the rest of his life in devout contemplation. But suddenly, Emperor Jobst himself had taken an interest in him and every explanation he had so far come up with had left him a little more nauseated.

Finally, he managed to tear his gaze from the dead animal and focused on the men standing around him. It was a small entourage, but he knew most of the men well enough to recognize their uneasy looks. Straightening up he stared down at them, a feat he had learned long ago, although some of his companions were well larger than him.

"As far as you are concerned this has not happened! Have I made myself clear?" His gaze lingers for a moment, before he continues: "And now get me some water, will you!"

As the first gulp of water washed the vile taste out of his mouth, Siegfrieds thoughts once again turned to the encounter ahead of him. What was it the Emperor saw in him. Was he to be used in an elaborate ploy or another to then be discarded later on, or was this an opportunity for genuine advancement. He hoped for the latter, but believed it to be the former. Still, as the fourth son of the Duke of Franconia he couldn't be too picky, besides, you couldn't deny the Emperor. Not yet, anyway.

[Northnovas]

Governor’s residence Damascus 1242

“Meckle, I think this consulting with the soothsayer is not good for you or the image you are presenting to this family.” Karl was continuing an ongoing topic with his wife about a gentleman that she was consulting on occult matters.

“Karl, I have told you many times that this man is able to see into the future. He has told many things, things I want to know for this family. He said a son will come to us. There are great things ahead for you and my brother Arnold. I was told that he can reach the spirits of the dead. I want to speak with my father. It is unfair what he done to me.”

“Enough! It appears that this person has influenced you somewhat or the ladies of the house. It is nonsense to speak with the spirits. That kind of talk can you into trouble, our faith is much stronger to believe in such things.” Karl toned his voice down and continued.
“Great things will come to a man who trust his faith in God and obeys his Kaiser and Duke. It is with hard work, he is only telling things you want to hear. Of course a son will come that is what we want to carry the Austrian family line. I will have no more talk of this and I want you stop consulting with this magician”

“Gihadji is his name” cried Meckle in frustration. “If you want me to stop seeing him then I only ask one thing that you meet him and see what he says is true or not”

The Count thought for a moment, “Alright I will this afternoon, briefly and then put an end to this nonsense before everyone starts talking.”


Latter that afternoon at the residence

Karl knew this was not a good idea and had no use for such nonsense. However, he loved his wife dearly and this was the only issue that has come out since she has been travelling with in the Outremer. If he did not put an end to this soon there will be talk and embarrassment from the nobility. There has been a few of these individuals “preying” on the his peers and to only accumulate wealth as they leach and telling their clients of good omens and luck. A good opportunity comes along and these magicians fool them to say it was there doing. They only remember the good and not bad misinformation.

Karl came into the parlour where Meckle was talking to a man. It was quick to make the assumption that this was Gihadji the Soothsayer. He was tall and slender looking, he had the look of the Horse Lords but not quite. His skin was more olive colour, and he had very little facial hair except some scarce hair on his chin. He looked to be in his 50’s and his eyes were very dark. He had a calmness about him and almost approachable yet mysterious. His clothing was nothing extravagant, tan coloured robe and a head dress that was unfamiliar.

“My lord, it is a great honour to meet you” Gihadji made a low bowing motion.

“Yes, I am sure it is” said Karl has he went to sit in the main chair.

“Karl this Gihadji, the man I wanted you meet and listen too. I will excuse myself and let the two of you talk.” Meckle curtsied towards her husband and left the room closing the doors.

The soothsayer sat down across for the Count and began to speak.
“My lord, I know that you have some doubts of my abilities but I come from a family that as for many generations been able to see into the future and assist important people like yourself.”

“I am sure you have been of a great service to many let’s get on with this.” the Count already having no patience and regretting that he agreed to this meet.

“Yes, yes my lord, I am only hear to assure you that I come with sincere intentions.”

Gihadji then pulled some cards on the table that looked like playing cards similar to the ones that Karl remembered from his time in Italy. With his long slender hands he laid the cards out and shuffled them around all the time talking to the Count. He also told the Count that he could read the hands of people and advise them of their health and future.

The afternoon wore on as the Gihadji continued to explain the cards and what was in store for the Count. Though the Count kept his doubts to himself he went along with what he was being told. Even though his faith was great there was something tangible about these pagan beliefs. Asking or wishing for something material and not having God involved. Carrying that good luck charm gave a tangible hope.

The meeting finally ended in the late afternoon. It was getting near dinner time and Karl was getting hungry.

The conversation was wrapping up and Gihadji continued,

“.. there will be an heir for you. You will have success in the battlefield however, beware. I must remind you what the cards have told me. Careful who you have into your confidence for there could be a great betrayal the number 64 is not a good omen. Also be very mindful of the letters WITHS.

“Yes, thank you I will. I must leave I have other pressing matters and spent more then enough time with you today. How much?”

“How much!? Nothing my lord I ask nothing I have come on my own good will had the request of the Countess. I only wish to share my knowledge.”

“Alright, grab yourself a meal in the servant’s quarters before you leave. I would not want to have your services go unpaid.” With that Karl got up and left the room. Leaving Gihadji to head for the kitchen to eat.

Meckle saw her husband in the hall and approached him.

“Well?” she asked in anticipation

“Well what, there was nothing I need to know from him” said Karl flatly

A look of disappointment crossed Meckle’s face.

“However.” Continued Karl. “I do find the chap amusing I will let you and your ladies consult with him while we are in the city. But it goes no further he will not be part of our entourage when travelling to Europe. Hopefully you will get tired of the parlour games and see on your own accord that it is just amusement and nothing more and only by then I hope the rest of the nobility doesn’t find out and begin talking about the pagan magician of the Zirn’s.


Later that evening in the courtyard

“Ingo what brings you out tonight?” asked Karl. Who was very pleased to speak with Ingo the Rhinelander. Ingo had joined the Count after the fall of Damascus. He was a little older then Karl but was very wise and battle experienced in these lands. Besides a protector he was also mentor on military matters. The Count found great comfort discussing issues with Ingo since the passing of Duke Leopold. He did not get a chance to really learn from his father in law.

“It is a beautiful clear night and I wished to speak with you My lord if I may be frank?” said Ingo.

“Of course what concerns you?”

“Your meeting today with that magician character. I don’t like the likes of it and it will get people talking. Those kinds of traits are not for a noble of your stature.”

“Yes, you are correct Ingo but do not concern yourself. It is a matter to please the Countess while she is out in this god forsaken land. I wanted to meet him personally and I will see in time that she will grow tired and dismiss him.” Karl gave a pat on the back to his friend and reassured him that there was nothing to be worried about. However, he did not look to convincing.

“Very well my lord I know you know better of these matters. The horses are ready for our ride out tomorrow for some scouting and preparation of our forces in Adanna.” With that Ingo said goodnight and headed to his quarters leaving the Count alone in the courtyard to think things over.

[AussieGiant]

Budapest 1254

Two hulking figures could be seen walking their horses through the battlefield just outside the gates of Budapest. It was early dawn and the first rays of light were breaking the gloom of a moonless night.

The first man was dressed in chain mail and bear skins...and he was huge. At six foot six, he stood as tall as his horse and if it wasn't for the massive double headed ax slung on his back it might have been a comical sight.

The other was covered in night black plate mail from head to foot. Not a single piece of livery, markings or other armour type could be seen. It was an unnatural construction of armour to look at. His helmet completely enclosed his head, and from this came the hollow empty sound of his voice.

“I think you were right my friend. This is a place of death and destruction. We have chosen well it seems.”

The Black Knight was greeted with little more than a grunt in acknowledgment from his hulking companion.

As they approached the massive gates of Budapest, soldiers could be seen carrying bodies out to the mass grave lining one side of the battlefield. Crows and other carrion birds circled above in anticipation of a lucky morning.

Upon approaching the gates the two figures were confronted by a unit of heavy foot knights blocking their path.

“Halt and be identified!!” The unit leader shouted the command with authority.

The Barbarian did as request, the Black Knight however flick the reins of his horse to his companion and walk steadily and silently towards the unit commander.

At this action, the ten man squad immediately drew weapons and prepared themselves for action.

Raising a jet black gauntlet the knight boomed in an unholy and echoing voice; “Calm yourselves children!!”

The men froze instantly, the feeling of cold ice ran through them at hearing the dark knights voice.

Stopping inches from the unit leader the knight continued in a harsh whisper.

“My friend here is the Berserker Grom, and I am called, in some lands, the Dread Knight Bane. WE...WILL...pass, or I will kill you, and your men....”

The unit commander could feel the icy breath of the Dread Knights words not more than a few centimeters from his face.

Time stood still for what seemed like minutes to the Austrian heavy foot knights.

Suddenly, the Dread Knight stepped passed the unit commander, caught the reins of his horse in one motion and proceeded past the Austrian soldiers.

Both figures moved through the gloom filled gates without another word.

------------------------------------------

Arnold stood from the tavern table surrounded by his captains, Sigfried and Sigismund.

Looking at the door in concentration, Arnold suddenly began walking towards it, collected his sword as he went.

Glancing around nervously the captains looked expectedly at Sigismund for an answer. With none forth coming they rose as one and followed the Duke outside.

Once outside the scene before them was both confusing and fearful.

Two of the most imposing figures any of them had ever seen were kneeling at the Duke's feet receiving a field knighting in the dawn gloom.

Turning towards his Captains, Arnold proceeded back inside the tavern. Halfway past them he said; “Men, we have two knew members of my retinue. Make them feel welcome will you.”

Both figures made there way inside the tavern leaving the captains in a state of awe and fear outside the tavern entrance.

Finally one said; “Christ on the cross, who, or what were they?”

One of the grizzled senior captains replied; “I've been around since Leopold was Duke and I've never seen or felt anything more chilling than those two.”

The other replied: “Agreed, but how did Duke Arnold know to meet them outside when he did?”

After some moments with no reply they we collectively left with more concerns than they ever had before.

[Warluster]

Frankfurt, 1252

It was a dark, foggy midnight. A heavy mist was hanging over Frankfurt, the City was asleep. Only the sound of dogs could be heard.

IN one of the dirty, horrible slums, sat a Danish man. A man who'd be hiding for 30 Years. He used to be a Lord of Denmakr, now he was a peasent. A simple peasent in Germany.

A knock could be heard, a knock which sounded through the house. The man jumped, drawing what was his hair from his face. He wore rags. The man grabbed a knife, his eye twicthing, he walked catiously towards the door.

A pistol sounded from behind him. He stopped, and a silence procedded, a silence, of uttermost dread. The man turned around, to find a man cloaked in blakc, his face covered, standing behind him, a small gun aiming at the peasents head.
"Sit" drawled the cloaked man, the peasent sat, but sat as if there was a bomb stuck to the chair. The cloaked man sat. No one spoke, as moonlight lit the room.
"I'm sorry..." started the man, but was stopped by the intruder by a raised hand.
"You did not fufill your promise, I thought you, a Count of Denmark, could at least provide some sort of... service." said the man, his voice like stabbing daggers at the Peasent. The man broke down, and dropped from his chair to the cloaked mans feet.
"I tryed too... It was too hard!" he cried, tears splashing down his face.
"Then how... how did He do it?" asked the man, speaking of some other man.
"He,he... must be working with the Kaiser!" declared the peasent, still sobbing.
"Don't you dare say his name!" hissed the cloaked man, and the peasent backed away fearfully.
"You are no more use... the Kaiser suspects something, though that was 10 years ago. I have new people serving me. I came here, not for your apologies, but to dispose of you." he whispered, drawing in the man.
"NO!! YOU CAN'T!!" screamed the peasent, a bang sounded through the air, and the man dropped dead, hitting the ground. The cloaked man walked over to the peasent, and kneeled. He grabbed the mans arm, and raised it. THen he gave him a knife, and finally the knife in the dead peasents hand, was sticking from the mans head.

The cloaked man whisked away, leaving a man, a man who had been at the forests of Frankfurt, 1218 with the then Prinz Jobst.

His services, were dealed and done.

Kaiser Jobst's encampment

Jobst coughed and heaved, as he lay in his cosy tent. He was sick, very sick. So sick he sometimes fainted. The tent was littered with things marking his status. Seals, notes and letters bearing names.

Dieter entered, a long blakc cloak trailing behind him.
"Sir, are you al right?' he wondered, Jobstvomited into a bucket.
"Of course I am Dieter, just-" he vomited again "great" finished Jobst, his eyes bloodshot.
"What did you summon me for?" asked Dieter, his nose wrinkled from the smell.
"Dieter, I have a important task. You of course, are my most loyal servant" stated Jobst, coughing. Dieter nodded, "I need you to keep a eye on some troublesome men from the Diet. There is one, I think, who knows too much..." finished Jobst, looking Dieter in the eyes.
"Yes,sir. If anyone finds out, I am sure the consequences shall be severe. The Diet, for one, shall spit it out like duck-" The curtain to the tent opened, in came Lucas, eyeing them suspicously.
"Sir, this has gone too far." Lucas stabbed a accusing finger at Dieter.
"He, he is planning something. Yesterday, the Guards told me, he left the camp, and came back some 7 hours later." accused Lucas, speaking directly to Jobst.
"I was observing the Danes"
"I bloody well know you weren't!" roared Lucas, "you went to them, didn't you!? Or maybe Frankfurt!?" he roared,he turned on the spot, and left.

"Sir, I assure you I never went anywhere..." started Dieter,
"I know you didn''t. he is too tired from this whole... mess. All will be fine" finished Jobst, beckoning Dieter too leave.

Dieter stepped outside, the camp was in a fluury. THe two guards stood firm, and saluted. Nodding, Dieter walked away.
But not too soon, a figure loomed in the shadows of a tent. Dieter ignored the person, and soon, was gone.

All, for now. Was well.

[Warluster]

1255, Dijon, Jobst von Salza's Funeral

The air was still, it reflected the feeling in the crowd below.

Slowly, a steady thud of boots could be heard, as the trees waved, as if in mourning for their Kaiser. Germany's Kaiser. A group of heavily armed Knights came marching through the middle of the crowd.

Slowly, but surely, came six men, carrying a large wooden coffin, bearing in golden writing, the name Jobst von Salza. The men, were important Counts and Dukes of the Holy Roman Empire, those who had attended the Kaisers funeral, which was a must.

They were men, men handpicked by Jobst years before he died. Men he believed he owed favours too, or did a special thing for him. Those men were Siegfred, Lothar , Ansehelm, Friedrich, Gunther and Gerhad.

Following behind them, was several of Jobst's retinue. Lucas, Dieter and Jobst's wife, Heidindrudis and there daughters and son, Lyse, Meinburg and Athalwolf.

This group passed through the crowd, they were marching the streets of Dijon, a request made before Jobst was dead. "I want to pass through a crowd I nearly died for, and my friends died for" Jobst had said to Dieter.

The peasents, honored, never forgetting the times Jobst had saved them before he was even Prince. At least 5 times.

Finnally, the group passed up the stairs of the Church, and there was seated a host who had known Jobst, and the nobles of the Holy Roman Empire. The coffin bearers, their heads bowed. They gently placed the coffin on a large stand, and took their places.

A priest went forward, and stood there.
"We are here today, to honor the deceased Jobst von Salza, Kaiser of the Holy Roman Empire...." the man continued on for some minutes, finally, he finished with,
"We shall have speakers, and then a minute silence for the great Jobst von Salza. May Dieter please speak" and he sat down, Dieter walked forward, standing near the back. He stood, back to the crowd, then faced them.

"Mein lords, Jobst von Salza, born 1110, and died 1254, in battle. He was adopted into the Royal Family in the year 1140. Appointed Count of Dijon, he then procedded to fight off more then 4 Sieges by large French armies. He was thus, made Prince.

"Jobst, then, helped the Swabian Dukes to restore peace abroad Swabia, and sometimes Italy. After carefully thinking about accompanying the Crusaders, he stayed. After several peceful years, years when Outremer was established, several dramas happened, and kuch more, he was appointed, by the then Kaiser Henry, the commander of the European Imperial Army.

"The army, was immdediatly in strife. After ambushing a large Danish Army, details which are still mysterious, and many heated discussions started in the Imperial Diet. That, mein friends, is where I joined Jobst, and I still loyally serve his dieing wishes."

"Afterwards, when Kaiser Henry died in the year 1242, Jobst became Kaiser. The years following, were stable. Mainly, he devoted his time to helping the Russian Crusade start off. And of course, commanding his beloved EIA."

"As we all know, Ulrich Hummel became Chancellor, and deposited the Reich into a horrible well. He thus, commited suicide, after the Diet voted him out. Kaiser Jobst assumed his rightful role of Chancellor, and worked to restore order. He did, and when all was well, he retired from the position."

"And thats where he leaves you my friends, he grew up in a time, when Kaiser Heinrich reigned, when the Empire a mere seedling. And he died, Kaiser, ruler of what is today a world superpower. My friends, I hope you remember him. He of course, left me, and a few others, things to do. He left a letter, written shortly before the tragic battle, where he was struck...
I shall read out to you this letter...

"
I write this to all mourners, all those I leave behind. But things are left behind, things I want done.

Firstly, I write to dear Anshelm. I leave you, probably under siege in Thorn. You may not know, but I devoted these last years of my life to helping you with this Crusade. I wished to accompany you with the Crusade, but I say one thing, do not hear the words of others. The Crusade, you must complete, to lands unknown. You were, what I consider, supportive, and I wish you good health, and good luck.

Secondly, I write to Lothar. I owe you much, you may not know it as well, but you have done many,many favors, showing unwavering support. I leave you, Steward of Bavaria, with a newly captured Castle. I always said i would repay you. I offer you the hand of my daughter, Lyse von Salza. THis is one of my final wishes.

Fourthly, and lastly, Siegfred. You have been with me for only a few monthes, in this year of 1253, but I know great things await you. And I have several wishes. First off, please, if Lothar wishes it, to let Lyse marry Lothar. And lastly, you are now Commander of the EIA, which is to now be called the KIA. Kaiser's Imperial Army. It shall of course, pass owndership with every Kaiser. I leave you with a Empire, look after it.

And one more thing, Dieter. I say, remeber the mission. of uttrmost importance, it is!

I never publicly announced, but Dieter is to be hold a new position. He is now the personal serveant of every Kaiser, and his line of spies shall serve the line of Kaisers. Please uphold this Siegfred, but he has one more mission to perform, before he is yours.

Good luck all, and farewell!

Dieter, crying, bows his head, and a minute silence passes. A minute, to remember all happy and sad moments of Jobst von Salza's life.

And that, that is the end of his reign. As he passes into the true Kingdom of Heaven. Dead, he fades from this earth. Forever gone.

But never truly defeated.

[Ignoramus]

Adana, 1256

Things were taking an ugly turn in the Reich. Who knew what terrible events his actions would now cause?

"Alea jacta est!" shouted Wolfgang, as he raised Kaiser Hans' standard.

Wolfgang addressed his men, "Men, from now on, we serve only Kaiser Hans, the true Kaiser, and declare Siegfried von Kastillien and all who serve him as traitors. War may be forced upon us, but we will not waver in our determination to do right. Gott mitt uns!"

[AussieGiant]

ROME 1256

Coop story between myself and PK

Arnold and his retinue had found exactly where Jan von Hamburg was to take ship back to Outremer. The Duke of Austria was determined to confront the young Franconian and make him take back his insults or die.

They had found an inn near the wharf that would hold the ship taking Jan and his Teuton Knight to sea. Huddled around a table near the fire pit Arnold and his two companions were talking in hushed tones. The sheer size and presence emanating from the three was enough to ward off all other patrons. Every table around them was empty save for the scattered remains of food and drink left by patrons who had made a quick departure once the three figures had sat down.

“This trumped up piece of merde is going to pay for his words!”

Arnold smashed his mailed fist onto the table sending the empty goblets crashing to the floor.

The tavern was immediately still as the patrons glanced nervously to see if the three men would cause trouble.

Grom the barbarian, stole a glance at the Dread Knight and mouthed the word “merde” in confusion. He clearly had no idea what the word meant.

Glancing quickly back at the young Duke, Grom's face fell back into its stoic form as Arnold continued his fuming.

"I want you two to do is keep that Teutonic sack of pig shiet away from me so I can take out Jan myself. If you have to kill him then so be it, the fact he insulted me and refused to apologies means his life is forfeit in my view.”

“My Lord, do you think it wisse to attack another member of the Diet?”. The cold hiss of the Dread Knights voice came through the grill of his great helm. If it seemed strange that he always wore his unnatural suit of black obsidian plate armour, then again no one ever mentioned it, not even Grom who was the only person to be seemingly unaffected by his presence.

“WISE!!! What is not wise my black suited killer is Jan's words to me in the Diet!! THAT WAS NOT WISE!!!”

Moments passed in silence.

“Tonight, when Jan comes to the wharf I will confront him and seek satisfaction. Occupy the Teuton and make sure he allows honour to be had.” Arnold stood, looking at them, his intensity was like a blade running from his eyes to each of his followers.

“Get ready. We leave in half and hour.”

--------------------

The docks were deserted save a few men on odd errands. It was dusk and the ship taking Jan and his Teuton Knight was due to leave in an hour.

Arnold, the Berserker and the Dread Knight stood entirely still waiting in the approaching gloom.

Time passed without any perceptible move from the three figures.

Eventually the sound of hooves could be heard.

Then, into view came the young von Hamburg and the Teutonic Knight, both riding war horses and fitted out in full armour.

“GET OFF THAT HORSE AND PREPARE TO DEFEND YOURSELF JAN!!” Arnold voice cut through the silence like the crack of thunder.

“Are you seriously considering a duel Arnold? Are you mad?” Even in the face of the young Dukes dreaded visage, Jan's voice was steady.

“Mad...I'd say your mad, given I've killed men for less offenses than you have committed.” Arnold drew his father sword and raise his shield as he took a step forward.

“Lord Jan, this is ridiculous, if the Kaiser hears of this you could both be sent to god knows where in punishment.” The Teuton expertly moved his horse between the two nobles. Drawing his sword he pointed it at the Austrian Duke. “I'm sworn to protect him with my life Duke Arnold. I will not allow you to fight him.”

In one sudden movement Grom unhitched his Great Axe and swung it clean through the head of the Teutons horse. Man and beast were sent crashing to the ground is spray of blood and gore. Only years in the saddle allowed the Knight to expertly avoid being crushed by the one tonne animal in full armour.

“That's not going to happen Teuton.” Grom smiled at the sight of the headless horse. Looking back at the Dread Knight, Grom's smiled at the carnage of his huge swing. “Not bad hey!?”

“Ahh Grom, it's not over fella, I think you've annoyed him.” Bane's casual tone was warning enough. Grom snapped his head back and amazingly saw that the Knight was on his feet and charging the Barbarian Berserker. His hand and a half sword raised above his head for a killing stroke.

In the blink of an eye Grom raised his steel axe handle catching the blade inches from his face. Astonished at the strength of the smaller man, Grom quickly gained the upper hand when it came to a straight test of strength.

Sparks flew as the barbarian began exerting his massive frame on the point where the two weapons met. Suddenly the pressure was gone as the Teuton side stepped and put some space between himself and the hulking northern ogre.

Circling they began the dance of death. Speed and technique against sheer strength.

--------------------------

Steel clashed on steel behind the two Germanic Lords as they eyed each other in hatred.

“You're going to regret your words Jan. Now get off that stinking horse and face me like a man.”

Without a word Jan dismounted, hitched his shield and drew his sword.

Calmly Jan looked Arnold in the eyes and said; “Ok you butcher, lets see whether what you did to those Hungarian prisoners, you can do to me!”

Arnold eyes widened in rage.

With a suddenness that defied all reason their blades meet, sparks showering the battle ground in the fading light.

--------------------------

Sweat ran down Grom's spine. He'd never faced someone this skilled. Normally by now a mistake would have been made and at least some part of his opponents body would be lying on the ground completely detached from the rest of his opponent.

That seemed to not be the case tonight. Realising fatigue was setting in Grom knew he had to gamble or the fight would end with him bleeding from some mortal wound.

Sweeping his Axe in slower and slower arcs he knew he had to goad the Teuton into over extending himself.

Finally the Teuton took the opening. With a last burst of speed the Knight began thrusting the point of his hand and a half sword at the Berserker's eyes. Swaying from side to side Grom could feel the point pass within inches of his head each time. Suddenly the point of his opponents blade dropped, too late the Berserker felt the point of the blade pierce his shoulder, sliding through his ring mail and leather jerkin like a hot knife.

Pain exploded through his body, Grom's eyes misted over and he fell back clutching his bleeding shoulder, roaring in agony at the wound he had just taken. It was at that moment he started to feel the familiar pull of the red rage begin to take him.

Raising his sword for the finishing stroke the Teuton's mortal blow was block by the shield of the Dread Knight.

“It's over Teuton. You've done well, but you're finished. Let our masterss fight thiss out.” The Dread Knight was deathly still his sword drawn but held low.

The Teutonic Knight staggered back. The final blow had not fallen and now before him stood the deathly figure of Bane the Dread Knight. In the rapidly approaching gloom the black knight's outline was becoming harder to make out with each passing second.

His thoughts drifted to the stories he had heard of the Dread Knight. Speed was his forte, he was reputedly faster than any man alive and could gut a man in seconds should he need to.

Through his helm he could hear the ringing clash of the two nobles battling it out not more than 10 yards away. The man he was sworn to protect was in mortal combat.

“That's not possible Bane, I must protect my lord or die trying.”

The Dread Knight calmly responded; “If you attack me you know you will die.”

Slumping in feigned exhaustion the Teuton waited for Bane's reaction.

The Dread Knights sword dropped just slightly.

With a sudden movement he leaped at Bane, dropping his sword and reaching for his dagger. With shocking speed the Dark Knight dropped to one knee, bringing the tip of his sword up to catch the Teuton cleanly in the throat.

Blood fountained from the back of the Order Knights neck, and with amazing bravery he pulled himself along the Dread Knights blade to bring his dagger to bear. Bane's eyes widened in shock at this amazing feat, his red rimmed eyes showing fear momentarily.

Then, with a ear splitting roar and the crack of metal on bone, Bane glimpsed Grom's massive double headed ax slicing directly above his own head taking Teutons helm from his shoulders.

The body slumped to the ground. Blood pumping from the gaping wound where a head should be.

“Jesus Mother of Merciful Gods, did you see that Bane?”

The Dread Knight stood from his kneeling position and surveyed the headless corpse.

Glancing at Grom; “Yes I did. It was the most disturbing thing I've seen in some time.” said the Dread Knight quietly.

--------------------------

Some distance away the struggle continued between the two Reich Nobles.

Shield and sword were nicked and scarred from numerous hard blows. In the distance the crash of boots could be heard as the city watch was drawing near.

“I'll have your sanctimonious head on a pole Jan, take back your insult or I'll kill you here and now!!”

Jan knew not to respond. Saving his energy and breath for his own defence was far more important that swapping words with this crazed killer from the east.

He must be tiring thought Jan. The pace of the fighting had been blinding. Faster and more precise that anything he had encountered before.

Arnold was not the strongest, the fastest or the most technical, BUT he was a combination of all three that was something Jan had ever seen before.

And then it came.

As if in slow motion a vicious series of combination attacks began that completely opened up his defence. In one last act of defiance Jan raised his shield edge and caught the Duke under the chin of his helm. The Dukes head snapped back, but not far enough to prevent him from bringing down a terrific blow on the exposed shoulder of Jan's sword arm.

Smashing aside the shoulder plate and slicing through the mail and padding, the young Dukes sword bit deeply into Jan body.

Slumping to the ground in exhaustion Jan's head was swimming in agony. In the distance he thought he could hear shouting and the hammering of metal on metal.

--------------------------

“Goddamn it!!!” roared Arnold.

“Rome would have to have more troops in it that just about any other god forsaken City in Northern Italy wouldn't it?!!” The accusing tone of his voice made it seem as if Grom was at fault.

“To be fair my Lord there was thirty of them, what were we supposed to do? Fight all of them?” Grom's bandaged shoulder was be attended to by a attractive young women and he was only vaguely paying attention to the crazed figure of the Austrian Duke pacing up and down his enormous study.

“We'll find him my Lord.” Bane tried to sound convincing, but the idea of traveling to Outremer when there was perfectly good Hungarian's to kill sound like hard work to the Dark Knight.

“Indeed we will Bane. Indeed we will.” The Dread Duke could be seen gazing into the fire place lost in thought.

His eyes glowing red from the fire...or so it would seem.

[Privateerkev]

This story is a joint venture between myself and GH

On a ship in the Mediterranean:

Jan von Hamburg woke up in a daze. The last day's events were a blur. He remembered being in the Diet and arguing with Duke Arnold over prisoners and protocol. He remembered leaving the Diet and, not being able to find the Duke, heading back to the dock to leave for Outremer. He remembered being ambushed by Arnold and his two minions. He remembered fighting the Duke and getting bested. He remembered seeing his friend Frederick lying on the ground with no head. The Duke was about to kill him as well but soldiers from the local garrison heard the commotion and ran over. The Duke and his men ran off and the soldiers took Jan and put him on his ship. His shoulder hurt. Luckily the armor stopped most of the blow. Nothing to do now but rest and heal. Little did Jan know, that Duke Arnold and his two minions were in a ship a few days behind him.

A few days later:

Jan awoke in his family home in Aleppo and traveled to Antioch to visit the King. He had rested up enough and was eager to get back into action. His shoulder still ached but he needed to get out of the house and get moving again. Jan got caught up in the latest news in regards to Outremer. His father had attacked the tail end of the Mongol army as it forded the river north of Edessa. If only the King and others had listened to him as he recommended placing Elberhard on the river days beforehand. But, what was done was done. What was important, was that Jan get back into action and lend a hand. And for that, he had to see the King and get permission to rejoin the army. After all the arguing in the Diet and the subsequent fight with Duke Arnold, Jan was not looking forward to seeing the King for he feared a scolding. But, better to get it over with.

King's chambers in Antioch:

King Salier looked up when Jan walked into the room. Do I tell him what I know? the King thought. Before the King stood what was going to be, the next generation of Crusaders. Young, eager, and capable, Jan represented both promise and headaches.

"Welcome back, Jan," the King began. "I trust that you have healed up nicely after your little stint with Duke Arnold and his men." King Salier's tone was as acid as anyone had ever heard. "I have read the transcripts of the Diet and there were a few specific points where you could have let the matter drop. But you instead chose to push the issue. Why?"

Jan quickly replied, "My king, out here in the Outremer, we talk a lot about chivalry and faith. And some of us even practice it. But, everyday back home there are members of the Diet who commit unspeakable acts. What are our convictions if we do not speak out? You heard what Duke Arnold had done and you said nothing!"

The King impatiently cut Jan off. "I said nothing because nothing could be done. Duke Arnold had already made up his mind before he gave the order to kill all of those people. It would have been a waste of time and breath." He continued. "Executions of populations have been rare in the Reich's history. I can only think of three cases. Ulrich Hummel at Metz, Lothar Steffin at Ajaccio, and now Arnold at Budapest. In case you haven't noticed, none have such a great reputation in the Diet. It is simply an unwritten rule that those who do exterminate are frowned upon. But you do not press the issue! You work within the system. You pass legislation. You elect like-minded folk, folk who share your views about slaughter. What you did was just provocative."

Jan hastily replied, "So you sit here in Outremer and do nothing!? Meanwhile, our fellow nobles are butchering people for the fun of it! Do we just sit all safe out here in Outremer and try to make this an island of faith while we let the rest of the Reich rot to its core!?"

The King sits and pondered what to say next, "Jan, I do not doubt your faith or your convictions... but I wonder if part of what is driving you is an attempt to get your father's attention and win his approval."

Jan looked punched in the eyes and just stood there quiet. The King continued, "I know you've been disappointed at your last few assignments. But Outremer needs defending on all fronts and I will send soldiers where I think they are needed. Your father and I will discuss your next assignment and we will get word to you. Dismissed."

Jan, obviously disappointed, stood up straight, turned around, and left the chambers. The King sat back and ponders what to do. For spies in Outremer had given the King news that Jan would very much want to hear. So much promise, yet so impatient, the King thought. The King knew that if he told Jan the news, something bad would happen. But, if he didn't tell him, Jan wouldn't stand a chance. While Jan probably would not handle the situation the right way, the King very much wanted Jan to stay alive long enough to learn the right way. Plus, the King never cared much for that Duke and his ways anyways...

He took out a slip of parchment and began writing.

"Hermann!" the King barked. "Take care of this for me."

The next day:

Jan sat around at home waiting for word on his assignment. Getting bored, Jan went into town and sat in a local market munching on dates and watching the people go by. A man Jan never saw before sat down at his table. "Greetings young Hamburg", said the robed figure.

"Who are you?", inquired Jan. Without saying another word, the man reached into his robe, pulled out a letter and pushed it across the table. With that done, the man got up and left. Curious, Jan took the letter and unfolded it.

The letter read:

Duke Arnold and two companions made landfall at Acre yesterday. They are taking the mountain pass and avoiding the main road on their way towards Aleppo. God go with you.

Stunned, Jan sat motionless. "The Duke is here?", thought Jan. He had to be planning on finishing the job. Jan knew he had to do something but he knew he couldn't take the three of them alone. Who to tell? Jan didn't want to tell his father. His father had enough going on in Edessa. Plus, Jan wanted to prove himself and it wouldn't do well to run to his dad every time things got rough. The King probably would be a bad idea as well. Jan got the distinct impression that the King was disappointed in him for his part in this mess. Plus, the King probably wouldn't sanction bloodshed against the Duke while he was in Outremer anyways. The other crusaders probably wouldn't be good to go to either. Elberhard was busy fighting the Mongols. Count Zirn would not be sympathetic to the idea of attacking his Duke. Hummel was busy trying to lead a revolution and Hummel's younger brother was too inexperienced. Matthias and Hans had not arrived yet. Jan knew that his brother-in-law Dieter would lend a hand but Jan did not want to ruin Dieter's political future. Who could he go to? Suddenly, Jan had a thought and headed to the local Chapter House.

The local Teutonic Knight Chapter House:

Jan walked up to an impressive concrete structure with a cross emblazoned on the door and a flag waving from the front. Before he could knock, the two massive doors opened. Puzzled, Jan walked in. "Jan von Hamburg! We have been expecting you!", a voice boomed from inside. Jan walked into a long great hall with swords and shields hanging off the wall. At a large wooden table sat many knights fully armored but un-helmeted. Jan walked down the length of the hall to the head of the table where an old grizzled knight sat. A knight got up from the seat next to him and Jan took his place. "How did you know it was me?", asked Jan.

The head knight replied, "We know many things. We know that Duke Arnold is on his way here to Aleppo as we speak." Jan looks shocked that they could know that and the knight quickly continues, "Jan, if something is ever going on in Outremer that we don't know about, be worried." The knight continued, "We heard about Frederick. Since this was his chapter house, we were all especially close to him here. His loss deeply saddens us. And we do not want you to grieve too much for Frederick did his duty. That and he actually liked you which is not something we can always say about our charges."

Jan quickly stated, "I am deeply sorry about what happened. We were outnumbered and Frederick died trying to protect me. He is a credit to your Order and he was a trusted servant and a good dear friend. I too am grieving over his loss. But, while I am grieving, I still have business to attend to and I am in need of company. As a crusader, I am entitled to be accompanied by a knight from your Order."

The knight looked around the table where there was at least a dozen knights seated and said, "Of course! We're all ready to leave when you are!" Jan was stunned. The head knight continued, "You are planning on confronting Duke Arnold before he kills you. But you need someone to hold off his two goons. We need your help as well. The Grand Master has made it very clear that it would be politically unwise for us to attack a Duke. We profit quite well from our arrangement with the Reich. But, Dane and Grom killed our brother and honor demands that we get satisfaction. You on the other hand have clearly no regard for the political consequences back home so you could get away with attacking the Duke. He did try to kill you. And I suspect that there are those in the Diet that secretly wish him dead anyways but wouldn't dare say it. You take care of the Duke, and we will ensure that his two men will not interfere." Jan was so stunned, all he could do was nod.

Two days later in a mountain pass in the Acre region:

The sand and wind whipped around Jan as he squinted in the sun. Him and twelve Teutonic Knights had rode hard in order to make it to this place in time. For hundreds of years, smugglers had used these routes to avoid the main roads. It was here that the pass narrowed and for a time, there were no forks. Just a narrow crevice. And off in the distance, Jan could barely make out three figures on horse back heading his way. Turning to one of the knights, Jan said, "Captain, I'm going to ride on ahead and take a path that will get me behind them. When they get in the crevice, block off their front. I'll come in from the rear. Remember, the Duke is mine. Just keep those two minions away from me. Good luck and God go with you!"

The knights replied in unison, "God go with you!" as Jan rode off into the dust...

[Warluster]

1257, Rome

Rome, the capital of many things.

It was busy, very busy. The streets were crowded, the air was steamy. Yell and voices echoed. Angry, sad, annoyed.

In one of the windows of the many apartments in Rome, stood a tall, cloaked man. Behind him was a luxirous room, with the finest of many things. There was a finely decorated table and chairs, and sitting at them was a fit man.

"What is it you want?" demanded the man sitting, the cloaked man turned around slowly, and piercing the man with his gaze.
"As you know, all the plots and attempts are useless." stated the cloaked man, the man sitting drained a cup of tea.
"So? There is an never ending supply of Kaisers, we know that. Well, until we're done." he cackled, the cloaked man ripped the cloak from his head. Revealing himself to be Dieter.

He sat, holding his head in his hands.
"I was, was... intent on killing him. I should've done it with the ambush!" he said in a exhausted tone. The man sitting nodded,
"But why, why did you want to kill him?" he asked.
"Because, he should never have been Kaiser. He was adopted!"
"So?"
"I, I am French, okay? And I know for certian, its common knowledge in France, that he isn't German." said Dieter, the man stopped drinking, and looked up curiosly.
"Your French, he not German? Impossible!" he said,
"But he was adopted, wasn't he...? Anyways, I serve Kaiser Siegfred, thoughtlessly now." he muttered, standing up and kicking his chair.

"I sould have been loyal to Jobst. Now I realise my mistakes, I serve the German Monarchy now. The Union shall be shut down. You, my old friend, are a enemy to the Monarch." finished Dieter simply, drawing his pistol. The man bolted, jumping for the door, but armed men appeared, and Dieter fired.

The smoke poured out, engulfing the room. He heard the thud, as bullet hit flesh, and then, the man was dead. Nodding in a satisfied way, Dieter exited the room, slamming the door.

Slamming the door on his 40 Years of trying to Kill one man.

Jobst von Salza.

[Ignoramus]

Adana, 1258

Wolfgang stared at Conrad Hohenburg in disbelief.

"More electors have bowed the knee you say? How can there honour stand such disloyalty to the Salian dynasty?"

Conrad nodded sympathetically as he continued.

"Ja, even King Salier has sworn allegience. Our very existance here puts us in great peril. Mein lord, we must flee the Reich's borders, lest we be seized and executed."

"As much as I hate fleeing, dear Conrad, Kaiser Hans will be served better by living men, not lifeless corpses. We shall ride west to Iconium; the Romans of Constantinople will be kinder masters, methinks, than those of Rome itself."

Buckling on his sword, Wolfgang turned to his page, Hermann Schultz.

"Assemble mein retainers in the stables assigned to me; we ride out at dawn."

[Privateerkev]

This story is a coop between myself and AG. Proofread by GH.

In the mountain pass in Acre:

Duke Arnold rode with his two colleagues down an old mountain pass. How do those do-gooder crusaders stand this heat? the Duke thought. He looked ahead and saw Grom sweating and heaving as his bulk was slumped over on his horse. Further ahead, Bane sat perched up high on his beautiful black stallion looking quiet un-bothered by the heat. They had followed Jan to Outremer and were riding towards Aleppo where the von Hamburgs kept a family home. The Duke was muttering to himself in the heat. "That sanctimonious little brat...does he even realize what built this empire?...his cousin Ansehelm kills captured Poles and no one says a word...Lothar butchers the survivors from the castle on Corsica and everyone cries about his dead brother...but who do they yell at?...boy if Jan even knew half of what has happened...even Kaiser Jobst did that thing at..." Bane interrupted him, "My duke, we are coming to a narrow crevice, let me ride ahead". The Duke waved him ahead and was about to return to his annoyed mutterings when he heard Bane's horse whinny. The Duke looked up and saw a dozen Teutons standing at the far exit of the crevice.

"Stand aside men, do you know who I am!?!" yelled Arnold.

"These two murdered our brother and we demand satisfaction Duke Arnold", said the lead knight.

"Do you have any idea what will happen to your Order should you harm a Duke of the Reich!?!" yelled out Arnold.

Suddenly, a voice came out from behind him. "That's one of the many reasons I have claimed you all for myself!"

Duke Arnold turned his horse around and saw Jan von Hamburg standing at the entrance to the crevice. It's a trap! the Duke thought. He and his two companions were in a narrow crevice with steep walls. A dozen knights were at one end and Jan was at the other. Arnold yelled to his companions, "Keep them busy while I deal with this turd once and for all! Then I will come give you a hand if you have left any for me!"

Bane and Grom got off of their horse and walked towards the knights. "And here I thought I was going to be bored!", exclaimed the barbarian.

"Good evening, ladies," said Bane in an emotionless voice.

Grom turned to Bane while walking forward and said, "You take the two on the right and I'll take the ten on the left." Bane hissed and gurgled what could have been a laugh but no one could be sure.

There was a brief moment of silence and total inaction. It was quickly broken when Grom lowered his head and simply charged the whole group. His yell was deafening in the crevice. Without even swinging, he crashed into bodies and everyone bounces off of him. Taking a breath, Grom noticed his surroundings had changed. He was now in a wider part of the pass. Good, he thought. More room for me to swing my axe.

Meanwhile, on the other side, Bane decided to back up into the narrowest part of the crevice and force the knights to come at him one or at most two at a time. Six men followed Grom out into the wider portion while six line up to face Bane.

Duke Arnold, ignoring the larger melee taking place, dismounted his horse and circled Jan looking for an opening. "You will not be saved by the militia this time!" he shouted.

Jan remained steady. "You made a real mistake coming to Outremer. I grew up here. You're on my land; On my terms my good Duke." All of a sudden both men were startled by a large crashing and crunching sound.

With more room to maneuver, six men rushed Grom at once. Grom simply punched one in his helmeted face, bent down, grabbed him by the ankle, and started swinging him like a giant mace. The other five had to back up as Grom swung their comrade around but two of them were not so lucky and got hit by a few hundred pounds of knight and armor. With one man being swung around and two knocked down, the remaining three rushed Grom again. One went wide and tried to get behind him as the other two attempted to keep Grom distracted.

Meanwhile Bane was keeping the front two people in line busy. With such limited room to swing and maneuver, no one was able to get a real blow in up to that point.

Jan saw all of this when he turned to see what made the crashing noise. Even outnumbering these people 13 to 3 was barely enough. Something had to be done to regain initiative. Jan kicked Arnold's horse and sent him whinnying and galloping into the other horses. All three startled animals ran towards the exit of the crevice sending one dread knight and 6 Teutonic knights scurrying out of the crevice. Now all of them had more room. And it was when Jan was distracted that Arnold struck.

Jan barely ducked in time to avoid Arnold's blade. He tried to parry but the Duke was swinging fast and furious with a barely contained rage. Jan remembered something from his time fighting the Mongols: If your opponent was good at fighting at a distance, get in close. Jan ducked and instead of swinging his body away from the Duke, swung his body inwards driving his knee into the Duke's gut. Not prepared for such close contact, Arnold was disoriented. Jan put his ankle behind the Duke's foot and pushed his weight into the Duke's body tumbling him over onto his back. The Duke fell onto his back with a thud and Jan lept on top of him, dropping his sword. As they struggled, Arnold grabbed his dagger out of its sheath and tried to jab it towards Jan's ribs. Jan was able to grab Arnold's wrist but it put him off balance and the Duke was able to roll Jan over and get on top of him with the dagger in his hand.

Meanwhile, as two knights kept Grom distracted, the third got behind him and tackled the knight being used as a mace, thereby wrenching him from Grom's grasp. Grom saw Bane and the other six knights run out of the crevice because of the horses. Grom lowered his head and charged the two men in front of him who stepped aside. Grom kept running towards the other six knights as they were running out. Luckily, Bane dove to the side before the barbarian crashed into the six men. All seven fell to the ground. The five conscious knights behind Grom ran towards the group but were intercepted by Bane. The dread knight knocked one poor Teuton in the face with his shield and swung his sword at another, clipping him in the arm and sending him spinning. He let the momentum of the swing carry him around in a spin and wedged his sword into a third knights side. Needing to pause to pull his blade out of armor, the other two knights tackled him.

Six knights were crawling on top of Grom as he attempted to stand up under the weight of hundreds of pounds of men and armor. Too close to use their swords, the six knights pulled their daggers and tried to push them into any exposed part of the barbarian they could find. While hurt, his huge bulk and armor prevented any of the wounds from being lethal. Grom sent an elbow into one knight's face, knocking him off. He tried to look towards Bane and saw the dread knight laying on the ground with two knights holding him down. One knight raised his sword to stab Bane through the chest and Grom threw his axe with super-human strength. The axe caught one of the knights on Bane in the side and stayed embedded in his armor. With a groan that knight fell off and Bane was able to knock off the other one. Slitting that knight's throat with his dagger, Bane went to the pile of knights on Grom and grabbed one from behind by the visor and pulled up, exposing that man's throat and allowing Bane to slit that man's throat as well. He moved to the next but two wounded knights were able to get up and run over to Bane, both of them running him through with their swords. Still alive, Bane collapsed with the blades in him. Seven wounded knights then crawled all over Grom and stabbed him until he stopped moving. Also still alive, Grom collapsed in a heap.

I haven't heard any battle-cries from Grom in a while, Arnold thought. Time to kill this little upstart and be done with it. But before he could plunge his dagger down, Jan raised his knee up into Arnold's crotch. With a "woof" Arnold doubled over and fell off of Jan. Jan grabbed his own dagger and stabbed at Arnold as he attempted to roll away, catching Arnold in the thigh. The wounded Duke swung his gauntlet back and caught Jan full in the face. Jan flew back as Arnold slowly and unsteadily got up and grabbed his sword. Jan still had his dagger and got up. Arnold swung his sword but it was slow and unsteady due to his wound. Jan again got inside, slipped his dagger into Arnold's side between armor plates, and knocked Arnold down again. This time, Arnold stayed down. Alive but with a heaving chest, Arnold gasped through the pain with hate still emanating from his face. Jan looked down at him and knelt beside the Duke.

"I'm going to show you the mercy and consideration you refused to show those poor captured Hungarians." The sound of hooves could be heard behind Arnold. "That is a caravan coming through here. Expecting the victory that occurred, I have arranged to have them take you and your companions down to Acre where you will be placed on a ship." Jan tore off part of his tunic and started wrapping the Duke's wounds.

Caravan drivers arrived and helped Jan carry the duke onto the wagon. Jan walked through the crevice to see how the knights fared. Walking out of the crevice Jan saw seven heavily breathing and wounded knights laying around a passed out and bloody barbarian with a dread knight laying next to them, his stomach already bandaged. The barbarian was also already bandaged but his wounds were many and blood was running all over the path floor. "Someone bind him up better!" Jan yelled.

"He is bandaged!" a knight yelled back. "Plus, his wounds are many but shallow. He will live."

Jan looked around and saw two knights with slit throats, one with an axe imbedded in his side, one with a sword imbedded in his side, and a fifth that was completely crumpled and compact inside his armor. "Five dead!?!", asked Jan, in shock. The head knight of the chapter sat there heaving, "Don't despair, young Jan, they knew what they signed up for. While even though they are still alive, we have gotten our satisfaction. Take young Maximillian to be your personal knight. He is the least injured." The last he said with a slight laugh. The caravan drivers came through the crevice and placed Grom's and Bane's injured bandaged frames upon the wagon with Arnold and headed to Acre. Another wagon came, picked up Jan, and the knights, as well as the knights' bodies, and headed home to Aleppo. Sitting on the ledge of the last wagon, Jan watched the other wagon go off in the other direction. For the first time since he could remember, he felt at peace. At last, he was back home and there was much work to be done.

[FactionHeir]

Rome, 1258 AD

"... and make sure this is done with the utmost secrecy. I do not want to appear in the diet with the speakers cold."

Adalberth, Thorsten, Dirk and Marco all nodded and put on their wide cloaks and hoods.

A while later, only Hans remained seated in the backroom of the hideout, scribbling away at a few more letters that wanted to be dispatched this very night still.

----------------------

Dirk strode carefully yet clumsily across the street towards the tavern. His bulky mass and soldier training did not make him a suitable agent, but who was he to question the man he was ordered to guard with his life by the late emperor Henry?
As he entered the large interior, he quickly appraised the men sitting on hard wooden benches around round tables, drinking their beer and sharing gossip. This place was popular with the garrison and Imperial soldiers - one of the members of the late Jobsts bodyguard was not exception.

After standing in the doorway for around a minute, Dirk made out the man sitting lonely in one of the corners, sipping away at his beer. It was quite fortunate that one of Marcos informants had found out about his whereabouts.

Dirk first walked up to the barkeep, and motioned him to come closer. As he did, a small bag of florins changed ownership and the barkeep nodded. Shortly afterwards, Dirk was listening to the soldier who happily and hastily accepted all the beer that was provided to him as well as a good German meal.

"So all those men just started cheering Siegfried after Jobst died you say?"
The soldier nodded quickly and added "Every one of them. The word got out from around young Siegfried and spread quickly"
"I see. So Jobst made him his heir there and then huh?"
"Kind of. Well, thats at least what everyone says." he leaned closer, holding his hand near his lips in secrecy "But I was there, and the emperor, god rest his soul, did not actually name Siegfried. I still remember it as if it were yesterday. Just said My heir... you! Long live Kaiser Guess he might have meant him though." He soldier finished off his mug of beer and looked around for more, which Dirk happily supplied.
"Really. That is most interesting. Say, you want to come with me? I got more beer elsewhere and something else of interest to you as well."
The soldier, drunk and tired, nodded "How could I refuse more beer?"

----------------------------------

Adalberth waited by the docks. There had been a commotion here earlier, but it was relatively quiet now. It was not yet night, but it would not be long. He wondered whether the informant would really come or continue in hiding.

Just at that moment, the door to the fortified hut creaked and a hooded man entered. Throwing back their hoods, Adalberth could make out from the description that this truly was Adolf der Bartige.

"The Chancellor Hans needed my services again?"
Adalberth motioned for Adolf to sit. "Indeed, it seems your report to him some years ago needs your person to back up."
Adolf jumped slightly "Dont you know I might be a dead man if I say this publically? They found people dead, murdered, for finding the truth!"
"You will be safe, worry not. You are still of use and Lord Hans does not believe in betraying those who support him"
"What makes you think I would want to risk my life for him once again?"
Adalberth grinned "Well, either you do, and you live in the knowledge that you did Swabia a great service with the truth, or you might be fished out of the Tiber the next day..."
Adolf cringed "Fine, but you better make sure of my safety!"

----------------------------

Marco and some accomplices had made out the villa one of the council members was residing in. It was said that his wife was out of town and on these nights he tended to invite his adultress over. Funny enough, his wife never found out, but tonight would be different.

While his Marcos men distracted the guards, Marco entered via the main door by picking the lock and made his way straight to the bedroom, easily found by the noises reverberating through the high walls of the entrance hall.

The door flew open and Marco with his henchmen entered, to total surprise of the councilman and his whore, who had been engaging in carnal pleasures.
Marco made it short by saying: "You have the key to the council archives and I can tell your wife of your little affair. What do you prefer?"

"Please dont tell her! Second drawer to the right of my desk"

"And I need a letter from you later. You surely would be happy to help?"

"Anyting you want!"

Marco smirked and left for the council archives.

[FactionHeir]

Rome, 1260

The door swung open and smashed against the wooden wall with a loud bang. In strode a beaming Marco, bearing a note in his hand that he quickly handed over to the somewhat startled Hans, who had not been expecting visitors at this hour.

"My lord, my agents have found out the location of Luka, the alleged pagan magician of Jobsts retinue."
Blinking, Hans replied "Truly? I hope it is within our reach and we may obtain the information before the council meeting?"
Marcos grin became even wider as he spoke "Actually, it is just outside the city walls. I have put men on guard there and we are ready to leave now. The horses and the wagon are ready at your disposal my lord"
Hans rose from his seat and quickly walked toward the door, patting Marco on the shoulder on his way out. "Excellent work Marco, let us see what this night still bears for us."

--------------------------

Rome outskirts, 1260 AD the very same night

The wind of the clear, star-lit night was warm for this time of year. Although the first snow had fallen earlier, there was something homely and comforting about the climate today. Hans did not know exactly why it was so, but he shrugged it off, as he had more urgent matters on his mind - to find the pagan magician and win him over as his witness.

As Hans and his entourage consisting of Marco, Dirk and Thorsten arrived short of the hut, several shapes emerged from the shadows, raising their hands in a calming manner, that stopped their horses. They were Marco's henchmen and had been shadowing the hideout for some time already.
After exchanging a few words, Marco joined his men and stood guard outside, while Hans and his two companions pressed onward.

The hut was unlit with exception of a small candle near the lone window facing the approaching men, its light flickering in the wind, casting eerie shadows onto the footpath ahead. Thorsten -paced faster toward the old wooden door and kicked it open, sending it slamming against the wall, immediately killing the light with the gust of wind.
"Thorsten, could you please try a bit more softly next time? We don't want to be casting the wrong impression..." Hans sighed.
"Oops... will try harder...err..softer.." Thorsten grumbled, visibly embarassed.
Hans waved him off and entered, seeing little in the pitch dark of the hut.
As the men stumbled their way through the narrow place, Thorsten suddenly felt his weight giving away and was sent crashing against a potted plant, sending it in turn crashing to the floor, breaking into countless pieces with a loud bang.
Dirk and Hans instinctively drew their broadswords and hurried over, only to find a trapdoor beneath the carpet Thorsten tripped over.
"Umm sorry again..." Thorsten said immediately, lowering his head
"Thorsten, sometime I admire how you manage to find those hidden places the way you do... in any case, well done, I guess." Hans replied, while Dirk just muffled a hearty laugh.

Dirk lifted the heavy ring on the trapdoor revealing a narrow corridor below, somewhat lit with torches held in place on holding irons against the roughly carved stone walls.
"At least there is some light" spoke Hans as he descended down the creaking ladder and motioned Thorsten to stand guard while Dirk followed.
The two men walked slowly yet steadily through the narrow corridor that did not allow them to walk side-by-side. They would have no room to swing their sowrds around here and would have to rely on their daggers while they searched for traps that may have lined this tunnel.

After several stressful minutes, they reached the end of the corridor that opened into a well lit chamber, featuring reliefs on the walls and various animal hides and bones littered across the floor. In the midst of said chamber, sat peacefully a robed man in front of a brazier, into which he threw herbs that gave off a rather calming smell.

"That must be that Luka then, eh?" whispered Dirk
"That I am indeed" the voice of the man hallowing through the hallway, bouncing off the walls and giving off many echoes.
"We come in peace, Luka. We are in need of information." spoke Hans as he walked up the the entrance of the chamber and waited
"Then enter. I have been expecting you, sooner or later" was the reply

Hans was the first to enter, looking about at the many drawings of pagan deities, while Dirk came in second, more cautiously and not leaving Luka out of his eyes.

After much time had passed - Hans lost count of the hours - Luka left the hideout with them. They had discussed what evidence Hans had and amended the puzzle with Luka's knowledge and a new objective: To find the possibly last link that would solve the mystery of Dieter and Siegfried's ascension. Hugo von Heidelberg. The spy, Hans had sent to Denmark during his chancellorship to find out more about the royal court at Stockholm.
Luka was no less happy about this turn of events, as for his services, he had been rewarded with a prominent position on Hans' retinue.

--------

Frankfurt, 1261 AD

Thorsten hated travels. Especially travels through Imperial lands where he would have no heads to bash. War was his trade, not travel, and he grew weary of the constant diplomatic approach and caution with which Hans progressed. However, this was not to mean that he was disloyal. Just slightly disgruntled as it had been many years since he had last seen a proper fight, and his axe thirsted for blood.

Hans and his retinue had arrived at Frankfurt some hours earlier and were now waiting for nightfall in one of the more noble establishments in the city, the innkeeper of which was known to ignore gossip and heed the privacy of his mainly aristocratic clients. Exactly what was needed for this mission. Marco's agents once again had tracked down their suspect: Hugo von Heidelberg, who had recently travelled to Frankfurt on unknown business.

As night beckoned outside, Hans and his men prepared their weapons and armour that were crafted by the most able smiths of Outremer and Sofia, and the best armourers at Staufen. Hans, Dirk, Adalberth and Luka carried broadswords, Marco a scimitar, and Thorsten two Skrajas - feared battleaxes of the north. Their armour was hidden beneath long, black robes as they made their way through a secret passage below the inn and through the sewers of the city.
While it was not exactly as clean and quiet as the city streets, this path allowed for secret travel and was surprisingly well-kept - that portion of the sewers anyway, to please the visiting nobles.

Marco read off a drawing of the city sewers that was acquired from the local city hall after some florins had exchanged owners and pointed to one of the exits ahead. "There. We must ascend here and make our way east through the outer slums."
"Where is east?" asked Thorsten immediately.
Luka sighed "Just follow us, will you."

Dirk raised the sewer grate and spied out. The street was dark and quiet, there was no visible movement. Yet he was unsure whether it was too quiet. He was a trained bodyguard and it was his duty to ensure the safety of his companions, yet one wrong step could end it all. Was he willing to take that risk? He knew he had to. It did not matter whether he lived or died as long as he fought for a worthy cause, and this was one indeed. Having filed the thought, Dirk slowly slided the grate across the paved road, avoiding any excessive noise from the metal grinding against the stone below. He emerged, slowly, cautiously, and quickly sped towards one of the dark corners of a nearby building before signalling Marco, who had been behind him, to follow.
It did not take much time until all men had taken their positions behind Dirk, with Marco tracing his fingers over the parchment.
"Follow me, slowly. Try to stay in the shadows. Especially you Thorsten." Marcos words were quickly rewarded with a grumble from Thorsten's direction, and he grinned.

Marco drew a light crossbow he had been hiding under his robes and climbed up the side of one of the nearby buildings near the hideout for a better vantage point. Thorsten and Dirk stood on either side of the front door, with Hans and Adalberth to the side of either window. Luka hid in the shadows under the building Marco had settled on.

There were muffled voices that could be heard through the wooden walls, several to be sure. Hans knew immediately that there would be a fight, and Thorsten took a deep sip from his waterskin, that was filled with cheap wine and pagan herbs in expectation.

The sound of shattering glass could be heared throughout the streets, as a bolt struck through it into the neck of a man who had looked out of the window just at that moment. As if one man, the companions immediately stormed the building, Dirk and Thorsten through the front door, Luka following close behind. Hans and Adalberth remained on their positions, making sure no-one escaped and no more fell into the backs of their friends.

The men inside were visibly surprised at the loss of one of their members and were slow enough to draw steel, that two more fell under the blows of the retinue barging through the door. Their resistance was futile however, as their weapons were no match for master smithwork and honed skills of warriors by trade. One tried to flee through a window but was quickly struck down by Adalberth, while Hans bashed the window near him and shouted for the remainder to surrender or fall. Surprisingly, all of the men chose death over surrender, except for one, who cowered in a corner with a dagger drawn, shaking all over.

With the battle dying down, Thorsten took over Hans' position while Hans moved in and quickly disarmed the man, sending his dagger flying against a wall and the man to the floor in fear.
"Please, there is no need to kill me! I can explain everything! Please!" begged the unarmed cowled man.
"And why would I grant you what you speak of? Is there some benefit for me?" asked Hans sharply
"I... I have connections! I have coin! You don't want to kill one such as I!"
"Really, and why would you think that I need more coin?"
The man looked up at Hans in disbelief "You are not out for coin? You are not robbers? Not Danes? But why?"
"Ah, then you must be Hugo, yes? I came looking for you..."
"What? How do you know? I have done nothing! I won't tell you nothing!"
Thorsten grinned, revealing several gaps where normally teeth would be and stepped closer "Maybe you like to talk to my axe then, heh?"
"No! Murderer! Leave me alone!"
Thorsten raised one of his axes high and cut into the shelf next to the man, splitting it into two.
"Wait! I will talk, just let me live! Just tell this barbarian to back off!"
Hans smirked "What do you know about Dieter von Darmstadt?"

[Stig]

Placeholder for the story about Ansehelms preparations for the Teutonic Crusade



btw Overknight, are you still planning on sending some noble with Ansehelm, would be nice to mention him as well

[Privateerkev]

Far west side of Damascus territory, 1262

Jan sat on a rock up on the side of a mountain. Bodies of Imperial Bodyguards and Muslim brigands were strewn about in a rough circle. He was at the mouth of the pass where he had ambushed Duke Arnold up north a few years ago. This pass was proving to be the site of many events in Jan's life. A few days ago he had finally gotten permission to join up with the Crusade that was launched to retake Jerusalem. Leaving Damascus, where he was stationed, Jan made his way down the mountain pass to save time. An Egyptian army was camped out south of Acre and Jan wanted to join the Crusade in time to intercept it. But all not gone according to plan. The army moved north, chased Jan, and blocked off the mouth of the pass. But then the army rebelled from their Sultan and most of the soldiers went home or off to other duties. But, around 30 peasants and 30 mamluke horse archers formed a bandit ring and were camped out right at the entrance to the pass. Not wanting to be delayed on his way to the Crusade, Jan ordered a frontal attack with only his 30 bodyguards. While the peasants had been killed in the initial charge, the horse archers proved to be quite difficult. Jan wanted to disengage and set up another charge but he was afraid that the horse archers would have shot his men in the back and run off. So, Jan had ordered his men to stay close and it became a battle of attrition with his knights pushing uphill while being clubbed to death by the mamlukes. While roughly half of the enemy horsemen died in the initial charge, the remaining ones took roughly 3 of Jan's knights for every mamluke killed. Luckily, numbers had been on Jan's side at that point and a few knights were able to walk off to the side, up the hill and come back down on the mamlukes from above. The mamlukes had fought to the last man and Jan had lost 20 of his bodyguards in the fight.

One of these last bodyguards walked up to Jan with Maximillian beside him. "My lord", said Jan's Teutonic knight, "this man wishes to speak with you."

"Of course. Come forward my good knight."

The knight came forward and said bluntly, "My lord, forgive me, but you screwed up here."

Maximillian stirred and moved to intercept the knight but Jan waved him off.

"You fought well my good knight. I do not recognize you but you have certainly earned the right to speak your mind. Please continue."

"My lord, I am new to your group of bodyguards. I asked to be assigned to you after I heard stories about you. You fight well and you have honor, but you lack military leadership experience. And that came out in todays battle and I am afraid good men are dead because of your misjudgment. You were so eager to get to the Crusade, you refused to wait for the reinforcements that I know Matthias offered you. You charged straight in instead of trying to bait the horse archers out where they could be ambushed. You became obsessed with victory and lost your cool because of it. I humbly offer my services to you as an adviser. I have been involved in military campaigns for the Imperial Army for over 20 years."

Jan mulled over what the knight had said. "You speak truth to power my good knight and I respect that. I am honored to be served by one such as yourself. And I would be doubly honored to have your services as an adviser. You can be my "veteran warrior" and advise me on matters of military tactics. I also want you to keep touch with the men under my command and let me know what they want and need. Would you please give me your name? And I have one request."

The knight straightened up. "I am Gunther my lord. And what is it that you need?"

Jan looked Gunther straight in the eye and said, "If your advice is to be of any use to me, I need it straight. If you hold back, or sugar-coat anything, I will fire you on the spot."

Gunther quickly replied, "My lord, if I did that, then my advice is useless and I would deserve to be fired."

With a smile Jan said, "Alright! Its settled then. Let us get ourselves to the Crusade."

With that, Jan and his much smaller group of bodyguards galloped off to Count Zirn's Crusader army outside of Acre.

[Warluster]

It was a dark, dark night. Nothing could be seen out in the shadows beyond the small village. The small village was the only village within a few good km's.

Several candle lit lights flickered, creating a eerie cold scene. All were asleep, the drunks in the tavern snoring loudly, and the nobleman of the village, a council member from Frankfurt, supposedly there.

But from the shadows emerged a man. Robed in black, and breathing deeply, he walked through the street, walking towards the large house in the middle.

As he approached, he looked up and quietly chuckled. His target was near, a target which would ensure that Kaiser Siegfred encountered nothing more. And most of all, one gone.

He quietly waved his hands, and all lights around the house extinguished. The street plunged into blackness. He had thought with the death of his old buisness partner it would all be fine, but somehow, Hugo found out. The Brotherhood was supposedly finished...

Ge pulled a small picklock from his belt, and picked the lock. THe door creaked open to reveal a lovely home. The man, was obviously drowning in glory. A great couch was planted in a wide living room, glorious paintings hanging on the walls.

Stealthily, he ascended the stairs. The stairs spiralled upwards, and finally opened. A large bed was placed in the middle of a small room, the place opened up to the cold night air. There was hilltops with lights twinkling on them. None could tell the village was there, unless they stumbled into a wall.

The cloaked man silently drew a pistol, and looked around. In the bed was only one figure. Quietly the man approached, and was soon looming over the person.

He pointed the gun and pulled the trigger. It sounded like a angry elephant, the blast echoing around the hills. Soon lights were being lit in the place, and curios voices could be heard, as doors opened to find smoke pouring from the second floor window of the Council Members house.

The cloaked man seemed to fly out the window, pocketing his pistols and drawing a large knife. But he encountered no one, and soon he was fleeing into the hills.


1 Week Later

The large city of Rome was bustling, once again noisy as the Holy Roman Empire's Capital. Amongst the crowd a man walked, he was cooly watching the many fountains, as people brushed past him.

Another man stood nearby, leaning on a railing. He looked over at the other man and nodded, and he came closer.
"Dieter? Have you seen the newspapers?" the man demanding pretending to watch the passing crowd.
"The papers? Where is your brain man? In your arse or your head? Of course I haven't, I was on leave up in Northern Germany near Frankfurt." replied Dieter quietly, still watching the fountain but no longer relying on the railings for support.
"Here" the man slipped Dieter a paper and continued, "I know what happened up there. You weren't on holiday were you?" asked the man suspicously, now watching Dieter intently. DIeter ruffled the paper, and before he read he said,
"Anymore detective work Sergeant and I will ahevt o silence your little meber of life." he replied, then resorted to reading.

The front cover read nothing, but the other man turned the pages until he was quite into th paper, then pointed at a rather large article. Dieter read,

Witness of Count Hans Killed

Yesterday, near the City of Frankfurt, a shocking death occured. The man, known for the famous investigation into the then Prinz Jobst's scandal ambush, and a local council member, has been killed. It occured at the very blackest of the night. The man has also been called forward related to the case made in the Imperial Diet by Count Hans against Kaiser Sigfred's right to be Kaiser.

Dieter looked up.
"Shocking, we are to ensure the rest of the witnesses have great protection. Now, is the man I wish to see ready to speak?" asked Dieter, skipping the discussion of the article whoch was sure to come up.
"Yes sir but-"
"I don't bloody want to discuss this newspaper, it always reports false stuff. Let us meet the man, he is a old friend." continued Dieter, and waved the Sergeant away.

After some time, he returned, accompanied by another taller man. He did not recognise Dieter.
"Let us walk?" suggested Dieter, the tall man nodded. Dieter brushed away the Sergeant. Briskly, they srt off. Slowly winding through the streets, looking at the carts offering things to sell. While they walked, Dieter proposed conversation.
"Well, my old friend, you do not recognise me?" the man shook his head,
"I am Dieter" said Dieter. The man, shortly unfocused as a group of giggling beautiful women passed him, laughing, he quickly turned to Dieter, drawing a sword. Dieter, put a hand on his arm, his grip making the action stop. They cotinued, but now under the nervous and curious watch of others.
"Now, let me make it straight. You provide nothing more to Count Hans, or your life is on the line." Dieter told him, drawing him into a abandoned alley.
"No! You are a evil man! If I knew what you were up to, I wouldn't have helped you! Your poor assa..." Dieter drew a long, curved sword, and pressed it against the mans throat.
"Like my blade I got from Outremer? Now, listen my fri..." But now Dieter was cut off, as someone came barging into the alley, knocking him tot he ground. The glint of a blade flashed, and soon a Longsword was bearing down upon Dieter. Quickly, he parried it and got to his feet, to find the Sergeant and the other man standing with swords drawn.
"Sergeant! What are you doing!?" asked Dieter,
"I shall not let you kill another witness." Quickly he was bearing upon Dieter gain, and they duelled feriouscly. He yelled something, ans quickly the other taller man fled.

Dieter parried, did a fake step to his right, then jumped to his left and stukc at the Sergeant. The curved blade found flesh, and sliced the Sergeant at his waist and then curving upwards to cut his stomach open. The man fell to the dusty ground, gurgling as blood flooded his mouth. Dieter spat on him and leaned down, so he spoke face to face.
"Never, investigate or somehow ruin Dieters plans, or your life is falling from the line." cackling, Dieter rose and spat ont he man. He slashed a clothsline hanging above him, and the clothes fell on the Sergeant, covering him, as they slowly turned red.

And Dieter left, noy a care he had blown out someones ember.

Ember of life.

[FactionHeir]

Rome, 1262 AD

Betrayed!
Betrayed by those I thought I could trust the most!
Hans was furious. He paced up and down the backroom making rude gestures at imaginary individuals.
Steffen and Arnold were supposed to vote for me! They swore it!
...and yet they simply turned their backs on me for a few parcels of land and some alleged efforts to find a wife!
Hans exhaled, his face red in rage.
I had offered them the same and more! Steffen was to gain the holy grail in addition to lands in Italy and Spain and Arnold was to get a wife and support against his foes in Outremer as well as lands in Hungary...how could they accept his offer instead!
Hans struck his arm against the stone wall in anger, but felt felt no pain, no relief.
I should have known. The diet against me with only the Dukes with me, who feared for their houses abandoning them. The council did not even wait a few hours for me to make copies of the final evidence submission but decided to vote for Siegfried immediately.
Emperor Siegfried. Hans spat. I was supposed to become emperor! Not this upstart Franconian who had no hopes of greatness!
And when I presented my plight to the diet, I was called a liar, a corrupt briber! How dare they! All those witnesses were real and impartial. How could anyone prove that any witness was bribed or true? Why did they believe that traitor Dieter instead? What did he have that my witnesses did not?
Hans stopped in his steps and pondered.
Maybe some of the diet plotted with him? Sigismund and Ansehelm seemed to be the most outspoken then. I should investigate them for treason!
Hans walked over to the desk and sat, his arms stretched out before him.
Dieter couldn't have acted alone. Maybe Hugo knows more than he's willing to tell me. Since I cannot become emperor now, maybe I should take some...more drastic measures...
Hans began scribbling on some paper.
This is not over yet. I will not be defeated without a pyrrhic victory.


---------------

South of Aleppo, 1264 AD
"Murdered?! What do you mean by murdered??" Hans bashed his fist against the strategic maps, sending the flags and figures into the air and onto the floor.
"Good lord, please calm! This messenger certainly is not part of it." Adalberth tried to soften Hans.
Hans inhaled deeply as he waited for the messenger to speak.
"Um...well...I..uh.." The messenger was unsure how to explain the turn of events.
"Be quick about it or I will be quick with my blade!" Hans was losing his temper.
"Right...I..the witness...the councilman..got...um...murdered.." Started the messenger once again.
"Yes you already told me that. I want to know more! More!" Hans was growing restless.
Regaining his composure, the messenger continued "It happened on his travels to..uh..Frankfurt..yes..he was resting at a council house when...someone broke in during the night and shot him."
Hans interrupted, with raised eyebrow "Shot you say? And you are certain?"
"Errr, why yes milord, he was...shot..with a pistol it seems. And uhh I heard some rumors on my way here that some other man was assaulted in broad daylight in Rome"
"This is just great! Someone kills my witness and then some other person is attacked in Rome! Come back when you know more about either of them. Best both! I want to know every detail and any other witnesses that saw what happened and who did it!" Hans immediately responded.
The messenger nodded slowly, unsure. "But milord, I am but a messen.."
A bag of florins hit the maps once more.
"Ahh...I will come back as soon as I can! Promise!" The messenger quickly picked up the florins, bowed and left, swiftfooted.
"Are you sure that was wise Hans? To tell him what you need to know and give him payment without knowing more about him?" Adalberth questioned.
"I can use any man in my services right now. I won't be picky. Besides, we got matters to attend to." Hans replied and started picking up the pieces that littered the floor.

[OverKnight]

Near Baghdad, 1266

Lukas Roht was a merchant. While many in the Reich would debate the utility of Outremer, he was not one of them. The Crusades and establishment of the Kingdom may have had spiritual origins, but it had been a boon to Imperial merchants. New markets had opened up and merchants like Lukas had gained access to trade goods previously monopolized by the Greeks, Turks and Egyptians. Before Outremer, heading so far east would have presented many risks, but the presence of Imperial soldiers and cities now mitigated these.

Business was good, Roht had made a fortune trading Spices near Aleppo, though when the Mongols came near the fortress he had to briefly shelter within the walls. Now that they had been destroyed, Roht had decided to head east and see if he could horn in on the silk trade around Baghdad.

Lukas smiled to himself, the Reich's soldiers claimed they were the shield of Christianity and the Empire, but he didn't see any of them travelling through the desert to open a new market. Where would they be without the tariffs he reluctantly paid? They walked around as if they owned the place, telling each other and whatever tavern wench they could grab brave stories, and mostly did nothing. They did occasionally fight, but they were a drain on the finances of the Reich.

Lukas's reverie was interrupted as his small caravan came into sight of Baghdad. Something was wrong, the city was besieged. He should have known by the lack of traffic on the road. Had the Turks or Egyptians moved in to claim the city?

A strong breeze came up over the alluvial plain, and the banners in the siege camps flared to life. Lukas Roht swore loudly and suddenly wished he had some of the same soldiers he just been thinking were superfluous.

They were back.

[FactionHeir]

Jerusalem, 1267 AD
Hans had just received word from the chancellor that his fleet that would take him back to Swabia was ready.
With good spirit, he had left the inn he had been staying in and inspected the fleet and his ever shrinking army before boarding.
Was this the way to treat the empire's greatest army commander? He had thought to himself. Ever since the end of my chancellorship, every chancellor seemed keen to either delay my travels or split my forces. Hans was angry, but he did not show it openly. It would be unwise, now, that he had no support in the diet left after the succession mess and only very few people he could still trust.
Even Salier, who was outwardly welcoming to anyone wanting to come to Outremer, despised him behind his back, Hans was sure. It was one of the reasons why he was leaving Outremer for good, after having pledged his support against the Mongols and then for the crusade earlier.
At least I am a man of my word, Hans thought wryly. The betrayal of the Dukes still stung, like a thorn in the side and the eye.

Hans surveyed the harbor. It was bustling with activity ever since it was retaken and merchants were everywhere, praising their wares. Even whores were about again. Not that Hans planned on using any of their services. It went against his religious beliefs as a pious man to do so.
Just as he was about to turn and give the signal for depature, Hans spotted something unusual.
What are all those men, women and children doing, crowded at that dock? They seem to have brought all their belongings with them too!
Hans watched more intently.
Some of the men seemed to haggle with the captain of one of the larger ships, but the captain seemed to not care much.
There was movement on deck of that other ship!
Now Hans could see why.
There were even more pilgrims or whatever these people were on that other ship already, and on another ship, and yet another!
What is going on? Why are people hastily leaving behind Outremer with all their family and belongings? They can't all be pilgrims wanting to return to Europe?
Hans waved the captain of his ship over.
"What is the commotion there about? All those people trying to leave?"
The captain scratched his chin before replying "Ah milord, t'is just rumors. Some word spread that the horse lords are back. Must be old, they were just recently defeated in the field once more eh?"
"Horse lords you say?" Hans' vision narrowed as he thought critically. "Tell me more of these recent rumors."
"Aye well sire, some merchant be sayin' that the trade route far east is blocked by many an army. And more scavengin' the ruins of Baghdad, wherever that be. Certainly not a port, or I'd know."
Hans couldn't believe it. He had thought that he came to Outremer to late to still see battle, but it seems his fortunes reversed.
"Give the order to disembark immediately."
"Wh..What?" The captain was visibly taken by surprise.
"You heard me. Disembark my men and equipment. I'm going back ashore."
"B..but milord! I was just about to set sail! Everything is ready, why the sudden change of mind?!"
"I have matters to attend to. Those horse lords...it is time I saw them with my own eyes."

[OverKnight]

Adana, 1266

Matthias sat alone in the Imperial Chapel inside the Citadel of Adana. It was the first Church built by the Crusaders in the Holy Land, initiated by Otto von Kassel in 1188 to give thanks for the twin victories nearby. After the death of Maximillian Mandorf, the Chapel had been enlarged and remodeled. A stained glass window showed Maximillian striking down the Turkish General Ali al Hadi with a flaming sword. It was one of the miracles that had led to his canonization, though that had occurred only recently to coincide with the Third Crusade. The Pope had made the architect of the original Crusade on Jerusalem a Saint as an astute move to inspire the retaking of the city.

Now another Bavarian ruled in Adana. Matthias had finally arrived in his County 26 years after he had been assigned it. His path had taken many twist and turns, from rotting in Bologna, to shipwreck and finally sailing to Jerusalem to liberate the city. With that task accomplished and the Mongols dispersed, Matthias had looked forward to at long last establishing his rule in Adana. Events, however, seemed to be working against him as usual.

Matthias's hand shook as he reread the note it held written by an Imperial merchant. The rumors were true, Baghdad was indeed besieged by a new wave of Mongols. One army it seemed, but there were bound to be more out there.

A coughing fit overtook Matthias, echoing through the Chapel, as he could feel a fever run through him. This was not how it supposed to be. The Mongols had been destroyed. Matthias had already begun work reducing the number of soldiers in Outremer to ease the burden on the treasury. What foolhardy or obstinate foes would come back for a third time after being crushed twice? Matthias shivered, what should be done? To be honest with himself, the eradication of the second wave had largely been the work of Fredericus, Conrad and Elberhard. This new threat would be his responsibility. Count von Hamburg had once asked him if he was worthy of being a Crusader. Matthias had given him a flippant answer, but now he wasn't sure if he was worthy, as a Crusader or Chancellor.

Matthias rose from his pew and knelt by the Altar, praying for guidance. Raising his head, he noticed there were words inscribed on the Altar, a quotation from Saint Maximillian before he had entered the second Battle of Adana:


“The Lord is testing us. It is not enough that we bring force of arms to his Great City. We must be worthy of possessing the lands of Christ. I shall give thanks for the hardships we bear, for they serve to purify the souls of those who have taken up the Cross for baser reasons.”


The words struck Matthias and he reeled as if from a blow. He could feel the fever rise in him and his vision swam. It seemed another time of purification was at hand. A test for the Reich and its Chancellor sent by God. As much as Matthias might wish that this cup would pass from him, it was not to be. He would pass the test, emerge from the Crucible a stronger man, a pure soul, or he would be consumed.

Matthias stood. The time for reflection and doubt was over. It was time to act, and decisively. The Reich would be marshalled to face this new threat. Outremer would gird for another attack, and the rest of the Empire would assist. It would take sacrifice, blood and treasure to accomplish this, perhaps more than some were willing to bear, but Matthias had been elected to lead, and lead he would.

The Chancellor strode out of the Chapel.

[GeneralHankerchief]

Baghdad, 1266

A hooded man was making his way through the wreckage of the recently-sacked city, distracted by nothing, noticed by no one. All around him were scenes of destruction – broken windows, buildings on fire, blood and corpses littering the streets, screams of women and children – but he took no notice, instead focusing on his destination.

As he progressed, the scene became more organized, but at the same time more chaotic. The blood grew more numerous and the screams louder, but it became evident that the soldiers who had sacked the city were the cause of this mayhem, and thus had the situation under control. Still the hooded man remained unnoticed. The soldiers’ attention was focused on other areas – mainly carrying out as much looting, carnal pleasure, and destruction as possible.

The man entered the Khan’s command tent, which on the inside looked no different aside from the fact that it was better-kept than the rest of the city. He paused, taking in his surroundings. To his left, five soldiers were counting and exchanging various trinkets taken in the looting of the city. To his right, three more soldiers were busy ripping the clothes off of two terrified-looking women. The man grunted and turned away. Attractive as the women surely were, he was not interested in them. He looked straight ahead and found the reason why he came. The Khan and his generals were sitting in a circle, having a discussion.

He walked closer to the circle, still unnoticed. He leaned in, trying to pick up what was being discussed. The language barrier was not a problem. There were not many things that were ever since that day.

“…do not want a repeat of the last two waves.”

“Nobody does, Mighty Khan, but it will not be easy. The Imperials have proven themselves most proficient in the area we excel at most – open-field battles. A siege assault will be unwise.”

“I agree,” said a third voice. “We must find out the weaknesses of the Westerners and exploit it.”

“Or rid them of their strength,” said the Khan.

“Mighty Khan?”

“Their strength is their generals,” said the Khan, sounding agitated. “I do not know why the soldiers listen to them when they are not feared like I am, but it is what it is. Cut off the head, and the body will die.”

The hooded man and the generals listened in earnest as the Khan continued. “Three men have defied us time and time again. One of them will surely be taken by age before we arrive. The other two are not so lucky. They have killed too many of us for too long, and accordingly will pay for their past actions.

“I want the heads of Salier and Elberhard before this is over.”

The hooded man stepped forward. He was, finally, no longer ignored or unseen. Instead, he was subject to scathing looks from all of the generals present, most notably the Khan.

“Who dares to interrupt this most important discussion? Speak quickly, before you find your head separated from your body.”

The hooded man bowed low. “Greetings, Mighty Khan Kuo Kan,” he said in a smooth, unctuous tone. “I apologize for intruding on your conversation but it appears that we share the same goals. My organization too wants Salier dead.”

The Khan started. “Oh, it does, does it? And tell me, what makes me believe that I can put my trust in this organization of yours? What are they compared to the might of the Mongol Empire?”

“Might?” The hooded man laughed. His hood slipped, briefly revealing a smooth mustache and dark complexion. “I failed to see any might in your prior two attempts at conquering the West.

“But I digress,” the man said quickly, for the Khan and his men looked ready to kill, “We have acted before. The man who eliminated your first invasion, for example. He was... in our way. We removed him.”

“You killed Henry? But Henry died in his sleep.”

“That was what our organization aimed for. Obviously we succeeded.”

“But...” The Khan was taken aback. This was what he had least expected: an offer that could actually help him, that seemed legitimate. “But if you have that kind of power, why do you need our assistance?”

“I have tried assassinating Salier before,” the man said, and bitterness spilled into his smooth voice for the first time. “He proved... difficult to kill.” The man ripped open his cloak to reveal a terrible scar on his chest, the same kind of scar that came from a longsword. “Ever since then he has had a heightened security detail. But in the heat of battle...”

“Enough,” said the Khan. “You will assist with Salier when one of our armies meets with his in battle. What of the other one? Elberhard?”

“My organization has taken an interest in the Prinz but at the moment he is not on our list. We will help you with Salier in return for the right to his body and ten thousand florins.”

“Ten... thousand?” one of the Khan’s generals sputtered. “You are bold to the point of recklessness.”

“If you refuse my offer then of course I am sure you will be able to finish him easily, like you have with the Reich’s other generals. I do not expect the money until after he is dead. Do we have an agreement?”

The Khan looked around, torn between wanting to kill this hooded man and grudgingly respecting him. Finally, he offered his palm. The two shook, and with it the King of Outremer’s final days began counting down.

[AussieGiant]

Ragusa 1268

The great hall of Ragusa was a hive of activity. Since Duke Arnold arrived and turned it into the Austrian Head Quarters, there had been a steady stream of riders coming and going through the normally quiet Citadel. Running the House from the great hall had turned it into a sea of maps, documents and the usual collection of merchants, ambassadors and courtiers.

Striding through the massive doors of the hall the familiar figures of Bane and Grom immediately dominated the attention of all but the Duke and his engineer who were in deep discussion at the end of the great table.

Most people had gotten used to the two figures but no one could be called comfortable around them, especially Duke Arnolds new Priest, who upon seeing them both immediately crossed himself and silently mouthed a pray of some sort.

Somehow Bane caught the moment through his dark helmeted head and nodded towards the Priest in greeting.

Looking up from the maps Arnold grinned at the sight of his two enforcers.

“Report.”

Grinning hugely the barbarian took his helm off his head and ran his fingers through his sweat stained hair. “As you heard yesterday, they’re sitting there doing nothing. There about five miles from this very hall.”

“God damn it!! What the hell do these Sicilians think their doing!!? Surely they realise they are trespassing? Did you tell them what I told you?”

Arnold leaned back in his chair and studied the two men.

“Yes, your Gracce. We explained very clearly to the Captain what his choicess were. He sseemed indifferent to uss. Of coursse it was a front to ensure he didn’t show fear in front of hiss men.” Bane’s voice held the usual hollow, haunting sound it always did.

Arnold saw the Priest cross himself again out of the corner of his eye.

“Priest!!? Will you stop crossing yourself every time Bane talks!! He’s not the devil!!”

Pausing for a moment Arnold continued looking at his latest retinue advisor.

“What would you suggest we do given the situation?”

Grom was half way through his third pitcher of ale when he sprayed the contents of his full mouth over half the table at this question.

“Are you serious Duke Arnold!!?” placing the half empty pitcher on the table he wiped his face with the back of his hand, his face a look of confusion and shock.

“Well? What do you think Priest?”

Reluctantly the Priest sat at the table and looked at the map.

“Well sire I would not attack them…talking would be the best way to resolve this.”

“Talking, that’s the solution Priest?”

“Yes I’m sure of it your Grace. If you simply talk to the young captain I’m sure he will see reason and leave Austrian lands.”

“Well, that’s what we’ll do then. Grom, Bane, get my regiment ready immediately. We leave as soon as possible.”

[AussieGiant]

Ragusa 1268

Standing in his stirrups Arnold shaded his eyes to better look at the Sicilian encampment.

"%&$&ing Hell. They really think this is some type of joke don’t they!!!?

There was complete silence from the Duke’s party and his Bodyguard Captain. All of them knew it was a rhetorical question but designed to have someone answer, and then have the Duke vent on them.

“But your Grace they could be lost.” The Priest voice was full of hope that his explanation would be understood.

And audible groan could be heard from the other members of Arnold’s retinue.

“WHAT THE @#$%^&!!!ING HELL DID YOU JUST @#$%^&!!!ING SAY!!!??”

Before he could respond the Duke continued.

“Did I just hear you say they could be @#$%^&!!!ing lost!!?? LOST!!!?? WHAT @#$%^&!!!ING planet are you ON priest!!?

LOST!!?? What on God’s little green earth gives you the impression they are lost!!? Have you spoken to them!!? Look, they have even set up jakes!!”

“But, your Grace…”

“BUT WHAT?! Do you think men who are lost take the time to dig shiet HOUSES!!??

“Well no your Grace, but…”

“BUT WHAT?! Do you have any idea what you are talking about Priest!!??”

“Well no your Grace, but…”

“Mother of Merciful gods!! Will you just shut up then!!

“Yes your Grace.”

Sitting in silence for sometime the Dukes next order was not forthcoming.

Leaning across his saddle Grom whispered loudly to the Priest.

“That went well...did you actually engage your brain before speaking, or was that some blinding bit of insight sent to you by the Lord Himself?”

Before a response could come out of the priest’s mouth, Arnold yanked his horse’s head around and started off towards the Sicilian encampment.

---------------------

Upon seeing the six riders approach, the Sicilian encampment suddenly looked like a hornet’s nest.

Within minutes a group of 20 riders where galloping out to meet the Duke’s party.

As the two groups approached the Captain and Duke moved slightly forward to speak.

“Duke Arnold, a pleasure to finally meet you” said the Sicilian.

His answer was met with stone silence and a grim stare from the Duke.

The captain’s face slowly betrayed his anger at the lack of response.

Staring at the Duke with increasing offence as no answer was forthcoming, the Captains face began to turn red at the insult being accorded to him.

Finally the Duke responded. “Are you married?”

The confusion on his face evident at the strange question; “What do you mean Lord Arnold?”

“ARE YOU MARRIED CAPTAIN!!?” The fury in Arnold voice cracked over the Captain making him flinch in his armour.

“YES!!”

Reaching into his saddle bag the Duke pulled out a bag of coins.

“Who’s the second in command here??!!!” No one answered. Dropping the bag on the ground in front of the gathered Sicilian’s Arnold turned back to the Captain.

“Defend yourself Captain!!”

“WHAT!!?”

Managing to duck the half speed swipe Arnold took at the Captains head the entire area burst into action.

Swords were drawn en mass, but with a practised move the four members of Arnold’s retinue, minus one horrified priest, quickly moved to block the twenty or so Sicilian’s in the field.

“IF ANY ONE OF YOU SCUM WANTS A PIECE OF ACTION I’LL KILL YOU!!” Grom’s huge frame dominated the gap between the two opposing groups.

Only the barbarians bludgeoning voice and the grim look of the Dread Knight and his two companions forced the Sicilian’s into no action.

Circling each other warily the Duke spoke softly; “You’re a fool Captain, and for that you will die.”

Arnold quickly took the measure of the Sicilian. It was going to be a short fight he thought.

“Your Grace, what are you doing!!??” The priest’s voice cut through the silence as both groups watched the unfolding duel.

With a quick lean in the saddle, a clean miss from the Captain, and a brutally fast counter strike by the Duke, it was all over.

The Captain’s headless corpse remained in the saddle for a few moments before clattering to the ground.

Riding back to the Sicilian’s, Arnold stood in the stirrups as he had done an hour before when observing the encampment.

His voice full of venom and strength it carried to the army some one hundred yards distant; “The money is for his wife and family, make sure it goes to them. If not then I’ll find out and you’ll follow him into the after life.

You’re trespassing!! Get off my land or there will be more bloodshed and it won’t be Austrian!!!”

With that, the Duke turned and rode back towards the Citadel without a backward glance.

[flyd]

Edessa, 1272

It had rained during the night. It usually doesn't, but it had, and everything was wet and slippery. Like every other early morning, Fredericus von Hamburg was up, performing some sort of inspection, review, or other useful task. This morning, it was the walls.

He walked along the eastern wall with some of his most trusted bodyguards (or, as trusted as they could get in the short time, the turnover for his bodyguard group was rather short). The Mongols were the topic of discussion.

"I don't know what they're hoping to accomplish," said one of them, "this wave seems similar to the others, and they didn't stand a chance."

"We should not underestimate them," added another, "the last wave insisted on pressing forward and ended up being surrounded. The leader of this one might be a little smarter."

"And do what exactly?" responded the first, "Not press forward? Stay back, sit in the desert until... what?"

"Until we attack them," Fredericus interrupted.

Everyone looked at him as they reached one of the gates.

"Let's head to ground level to inspect the gate," he added, and then continued, "I made the mistake last time of thinking that the Mongols could be induced into attacking. I guess they thought they could find an easier target somewhere along, but we were prepared. We'll be even better prepared this time, they might end up avoiding us altogether. We have to attack."

"But why? If they avoid us, have we not already succeeded?" said one of the bodyguards as the group approached the stairway in the gatehouse which was wet because the roof was not built to cope with the amount of rain that had fallen.

"Because it is glorious to fall in battle to defend the Outremer. You may have other chances, but I..."

Fredericus von Hamburg (the Brave, the Crusader, the Honorable...), Ex-Chancellor of the Holy Roman Empire, Count of Hamburg, Crusader Count of Aleppo, Grand Crusader and Knight of the Holy Roman Empire, on that day, the twenty-third day of August in the year of our Lord one thousand two hundred and seventy-two, did slip, and being unable to regain his balance, tumbled down the stairway, losing his life.

[Privateerkev]

Edessa 1272

Jan walked into the city. All around him was teeming with activity. Finishing touches were being put on the huge walls. Work had already begun on making the towers tall and strong enough to hold ballistas. Provisions were being stockpiled. Regiments were training in the courtyard. The city was preparing for the Mongol horde that was approaching. But all of that could wait because Jan had something else he had to attend to.

With Maximillian and Gunther in tow, Jan strode through the streets and up to the chapel. By himself, Jan strode inside. It was empty except for the body of Fredericus von Hamburg. Jan walked up to his father and kneeled at the casket. On his knees, Jan thought of his father. He never knew him very well. His father was always distant. Jan knew his father loved him but Fredericus was not one to show it. Well, he showed it in other ways. Like when he was Chancellor he kept Jan from joining him at Edessa during the second Mongol wave. Fredericus had said he did not want the whole Hamburg line to die at once. When he was kept away from the action, Jan was devastated.

All of Jan's adult life, he had been trying to win his father's approval. It was why he was so headstrong. Why he was so outspoken. Why he took risks in the Diet and on the battlefield. Jan thought that if he proved himself, his father would be proud of him and let Jan join him in battle against the Mongols. It was why he had picked a fight with Duke Arnold.

As Jan knelt, he remembered what little his father had taught him. He remembered his fathers plans to become Duke and secede Franconia from the Reich. For some reason though, Dietrich gave the Duchy to Gunther Kastilian. Fredericus had traveled to Outremer to find glory and took a young Jan in tow. But, as many do, Fredericus found God in Outremer and became a changed man. He taught Jan that it was out here in Outremer that one could do good work. He said the Reich was filled with self-serving men back home that would sell out Germany for a handful of florins. Jan grew up learning that the Kastilians were just going to destroy their House with their own selfishness and ineptitude. And that only a couple of men could be trusted to do what was right like the King and Ebelhard. Jan remembered his father's last words to the Diet. He had said that it was time for Outremer to become a house.

His father was right. The people back home had no idea about the Holy mission. All they cared about was expanding their duchies until their borders became impossible to defend. Fools like Lothar questioned the expense of Outremer. In order to secure its future, Outremer needed to be made a fifth house. Crusader Counts needed to be loyal to the cause and the cause only. Otherwise, they are still susceptible to the whims of their Dukes. Only by becoming a house, could Outremer guarantee that its holy mission would be fulfilled. But Jan was not that naive. This would not happen quickly or easily. It might take Jan's whole life. It might not even happen in Jan's lifetime. But, Jan thought, I can start.

He would have to be quiet and he would have to be careful. Ansehelm had become Duke and he was going to drive the duchy into the ground, Jan was sure of it. Jan was already feeling the pressure. Ansehelm had blamed Jan for CA 11.8 and claimed that it was an attempt by Jan to get him killed. The fool, Jan thought, I wasn't trying to get him killed, I just wanted him to stop murdering others. But, Ansehelm was paranoid and power hungry. He assumed the Kaiser would always be his little brother so he could get away with anything he wanted. Ansehelm had already made clear to Jan that he considered him a threat. Jan knew a recall order from his Duke was going to come for him and order him back to Germany. Jan would ignore it as long as he could. Outremer was his home. The Crusaders were his family.

Kneeling at his father's casket thinking all of these thoughts, Jan realized something. He realized that one of the reasons he was sad was because he now would never be able to prove himself to his father. He shouldn't have to prove himself to anyone. He had his God. He had his purpose. And he had a mission. If he wanted to do good work, he had to stop worrying about what others thought. Those that understood, would help. Those that didn't, would not help until they one day understood. Jan had started serving the King because his father had asked him to. Now he did it because he believed it was the right thing to do. Crusading into Jerusalem had changed him. Jan was always a pious man but now he was starting to realize that the mission was bigger than him. And he not only realized it but started, for the first time in his life, to be ok with it.

There was much to do before the Mongols came. For Outremer to become a powerful enough political force to fulfill its Holy mission, it first had to survive. And the Mongols were a threat to that survival. They had to be stopped. And the King had entrusted Jan with Edessa's survival. The Mongols were exterminating every city in their way. Well, they are not going to get this city as long as I am alive, Jan thought. With that sense of urgent purpose, Jan stood up, made the sign of the cross at his father's body, said a prayer for his father to find peace in heaven, and strode out of the chapel.

[Kagemusha]

Rome 1272

Few hours after his seizure in the Diet hall, Jonas Von Mahren sat on his bedside doing absolutely nothing. Just sitting there without any thoughts, emotions or anything. He just couldnt believe what had happened. First Erhart at the battle of Durazzo and now Sigismund at the walls of Bran. He still had daughters, but no sons, atleast men he had thought to be his sons. His wife had told him during an awfull fight after Jonas had came from Holy land that indeed the sons he thought as his were infact bastards of the Late Leopold, Duke of Austria that he had always considered his friend.

While Jonas had been separated from his family, most of his life, he had always loved his children, even after the claim that they were not his. He had kept contact with his remaining son Sigismund after the reveeak of his wife about the sons being from another seed. Sigismund had swore that whether Jonas was his father in blood or not,he would be his true father always.

Jonas had received an letter from his dead son the same day that he had been informed about the same sons death in battle. Jonas just didnt have any strength left to read the words of his dead son until now. He took the letter on his hand and looked at the Austrian seal of it, touched the rough surface of the scroll and opened it. He started reading slowly:

"Father,

I apologize for not having written to you in so long, but I've been busy with the AHA. Things aren't easy, but I am confident that before the Chancellors term ends the Reich will once again be reminded of the our family's martial prowess.

That being said, I've spoken to Mother and that business I mentioned before. She admits she has no proof, only her word. But what is more troubling is that Duke Arnold has independantly confirmed her story, and has called me brother himself. I did not press the matter further, but I cannot think of a reason for him to think this if it were not true.

It has been deeply troubling, not only that my mother could break the Lord's Seventh Commandment, but also that Leopolds barbarity could reach such heights. But I will not pursue the matter further, as I doubt there is any proof left to be found. I have done this out of a sense of filial obligation to you, an obligation that will not diminish. I am your son. Whatever blood flows through my veins will not change that.

Once Transylvannia is stable, I would very much like to visit you in Stettin. We have spent precious little time face to face.

Your loving son,
Sigismund"

Jonas lifted his eyes from the letter and breathed heavily saying out loud.

" Well son. Next time we will meet. It will be in heaven, or maybe in hell."

The old man stood up and walked to an window,where the midsummer sun of Italy scorched the earth, the hills that were covered with shades of yellow and brown as the wheat fields were starting to be ready for harvest.

"I wish that the harvester man of eternity will soon visit me also. There is no point in living when my sons are dead and my family name will die with me. My God,what i have done to deserve this?"

the old man thought as sun touched his old and wrinkled skin.

[GeneralHankerchief]

Outside of Edessa, 1276

The hooded man made his way through the camp. It was two in the morning, the ideal time for activities of a stealthy nature. The entire army, including its officers, was finally getting some sleep before the engagement the following day. Nobody would be up late, nobody would be awake early.

Perfect.

Of course, there were exceptions to this rule. Most annoyingly for the hooded man, these exceptions happened to be stationed around his target's tent. The King of Outremer took his security seriously. The only more-guarded men in the entire Empire were the current Chancellor and the Kaiser himself. If he was attacking a lesser figure, the hooded man would take his chances but trying to enter Salier's tent would be suicide. Not what his organization wanted.

This would be only a small hinderance to a man of his caliber, however. There were plenty of other ways to get to his target; you just had to know where to look.

In the dark, his nose, not his eyes, guided him. He sniffed away, sifting through the different aromas permeating the camp until he found the one he wanted. Ignoring the all-too-present scents of the dying embers, armor being tinkered with, and urine, he found what he was looking for: the unmistakable scent of meat.

He made his way into the cook's tent where the smell briefly overwhelmed him. He stepped outside, ignoring the urge to cough. Giving in would not have been ideal. He stepped back in, more adjusted, and sorted through the various items of food present.

Eventually he found what he was looking for: The finest cut of bratwurst. This was certainly going to be his target's breakfast. Obviously the King would have the heartiest meal, and being one of the few people in the army who lived in Germany for a significant period he would have time to develop a liking for that disgusting food.

Why risk capture when you can be just as effective by going down a subtle path? the man thought. You're smart, Salier, but not that smart. There are a thousand different ways I can kill you.

He produced a small vial from his cloak. "Iocane", it read. After eyeing it up and taking a sniff, the man sprinkled it on the bratwurst.

Let's see how well you feel tomorrow. Satisfied, the man snuck out of the tent and the camp, undetected.

[econ21]

Acre, 1276

“@#$%^&!!! it.” muttered Elberhard. “@#$%^&!!!ing @#$%^&!!! it. @#$%^&!!! it all to hell”

Jan the Teuton looked at the Prinz with a pained expression. The Order regarded cursing as a sin and there were times when Jan believed Elberhard had been sent by God to try him. Today the Prinz was in a particularly foul mood.

“What ails you, my Lord?” Jan inquired.

Elberhard looked at Jan. “What ails me? You want to know what really @#$%^&!!!ing ails me? What really @#$%^&!!!ing ails me is …”

The Prinz paused and thought, before continuing in a surprised voice. “Well, lots of things really..."

"...This @#$%^&!!!ing place - the heat, the insects, the sand, the smell."

"...The @#$%^&!!!ing food, which tastes so @#$%^&!!!ing fine when coming down but then forces you to spend a week @#$%^&!!!ing on the john afterwards."

"...The fact that the @#$%^&!!!ing beer is always warm and the @#$%^&!!!ing wine tastes like vinegar."

"The @#$%^&!!!ing people! Half are Mohammadans who want to put a knife in your throat, while the other half are sanctimonious crusaders who want to stop you drinking, swearing or otherwise having fun. Sometimes it’s hard to know which of the two are more dangerous.”

Jan looked down at his feet, but Elberhard could not be placated.

“…The fact that I am stuck here in Acre when the rest of @#$%^&!!!ing Outremer is marching against the Horse Lords."

"...The fact that I am stuck here in Outremer when the rest of the @#$%^&!!!ing Reich is battling Poles, Hungarians, Sicilians, Spaniards and God only knows who else.”

Elberhard paused for breath and then continued with a new wind:

“… The fact that @#$%^&!!!ing elephant balls Arnold dominates the Diet with his screaming for a wife and nobody even notices that the heir to the Throne is unwed."

"... The fact that I stand second behind a Kaiser who is a young @#$%^&!!!ing nobody."

"...And that I take orders from a pip squeek Chancellor who is another young @#$%^&!!!ing nobody.”

Jan continued looking at his own feet as if they had become worthy of great study and sustained contemplation.

“…But most of all, what really @#$%^&!!!ing ails me is that is the fact that I am a completely @#$%^&!!!ing useless @#$%^&!!!er that nobody would notice if I dropped down dead.”

Jan looked up. “Sire, might I suggest you speak to old Niklas Gruber, your old mentor, about your discontent? He might be able to advise you?”

Elberhard rubbed his head. “@#$%^&!!! it! You are right! It’s about time that old @#$%^&!!!er started earning his money! I’ll go to him right now!”

As the Prinz left the room, Jan let out an audible sigh of relief.



*****


Niklas looked at the angry young man sitting in front of him.

“You need to go home.”

Elberhard looked up, shocked. “Leave Outremer?”

“Yes.”

“For @#$%^&!!!s sake why? I’ve devoted my life to this @#$%^&!!!ing place!”

“As next in line to the Throne, you cannot devote your life to one part of the Reich. You must broaden your horizons. And your political constituency. Return to the fatherland. Ask the Chancellor to reinstitute the idea of a Prinz’s army. I am sure they will find something for you to do.”

“But what of Outremer?”

“Outremer will survive. It has many able generals. King Salier and Chancellor Steffen have already indicated your services are not required against the Horse Lords. Sire, you are not needed here. But you have your own needs and above all now, you need a change.”

“But what of my commitment to Outremer? I would be seen as abandoning the place!”

“If any say that, tell them - Outremer is not a place; it is an idea and that you will always hold it close to your heart. As your father did.”

Elberhard looked at Niklas. @#$%^&!!! it, the old man was really earning his money today. The Prinz exhaled and smiled. He stood up and patted his mentor on the shoulder.

“Thanks. Really, thanks! Now, that’s that sorted, I am going to get well and truly @#$%^&!!!d.”

And with that the Prinz walked out the door as if he had not a concern in the world.



*****


Niklas Gruber walked cautiously through the tavern. It was in a rough part of town that he seldom frequented. The old man looked at the suspicious faces around him, the furtive glances. Then he saw the person he had come to meet - sat in a corner of the tavern, cloaked in black.

Gingerly, Niklas sat down and muttered nervously.

“It’s done. I have persuaded him to leave Outremer.”

The black cloaked figure did not respond.

“When will you release my grandchildren?” Niklas asked, aggressively.

“Patience, old man.” said the dark figure. “I will keep my word. Your grandchildren will be freed when the Prinz is back in Europe. Now go.”

Niklas stared angrily at the figure, then reluctantly rose and turned to leave the bar.

When the old man had left, the dark figure rubbed an old wound on his leg and muttered to himself.

“Excellent - one down; one more to go.”

And with that, his mind soared to Edessa where King Salier was preparing to challenge the Horse Lords.

[AussieGiant]

Eastern Austria 1276

After dispatching the rebels in less than an hour, the Duke's force has spend the entire afternoon chasing down the deserters and putting them to the sword. Arnold's House Hold regiment was now making its way through a winding track towards the main highway in drizzling rain.

“It tell you he’s pissed”; Grom’s words caused the Priest to flinch in horror at his choice of words.

“Grom, I’d hardly describe the Duke’s mood in that way, it’s more than likely the rain that has causes his unhappiness.”

The Dread Knight had fallen back from riding next to the Duke upon hearing whispering behind him. “Bad mood due to the rain Priesst? Did you ssee the way he ended that poor rebel Captainss’ life?”

Grom snorted in response to the question; “&*% me with a rubber chicken, DID I!!? He nearly took my arm off with that last stroke. The armourer’s been working on Leopold’s sword for hours since then.

I tell you, the messenger came in just after the battle and rumour has it the Mongols have killed King Sailer, butchered the army, plus…and this is what is giving our beloved Duke the shiets… Elberhard’s just gotten married to some English tartlet!!”

The group was quiet for some moments collectively gazing at the back of their Lords black clocked armoured figure.

The rain increased.

Finally the priest rode forward towards the Duke.

Quietly Bane said to the Priest as he rode forward; “I hope you know what you’re doing…”

[Privateerkev]

Edessa 1276

A long line of men snaked into the city. Battered and demoralized survivors of the latest battle. They were joined by refugees from surrounding towns and villages. The word of the defeat had reached the surrounding area and panic had ensued. The horse lords were back and no one wanted to be out on the countryside tonight. In the city, soldiers wandered around looking for others from their unit. Cranes lifted ballistas into the newly completed towers. Crossbowmen climbed up onto the walls and collapsed exhausted. They were ordered to sleep at their posts on the walls in case they were needed. There were not enough survivors to provide a rotating shift so everyone who could stand was still on duty. Among the line of surviving soldiers were carts baring the injured and the dead.

Searching these carts was Jan. His whole unit of bodyguards had been lost in battle, including his Teutonic Knight, Maximillian and his grizzled old veteran, Gunther. Finally, he found a cart with Max lying in it with Gunther walking alongside with a bandaged arm.

"Thank God your alive!", said Jan. "How is Max?"

"He'll live but he will need to rest for awhile. I am sorry that we could not stay with you throughout the battle." Said Gunther with a look of shame on his face.

Jan replied, "Nonsense, I am sorry about what happened to everyone but I had to get to the King to see if he was still alive."

Gunther stood up straight as he could, "Did you get to the King? How was he?"

Jan lowered his head, "He was already gone. I did not have time to try to heft his body onto my horse so I took his box." With that he reached into this cloak and pulled out the box. He still could not believe what was inside it.

Gunther inquired, "What's inside?"

Still with disbelief and awe, Jan said, "Its the crown of thorns Jesus wore. This will have to go to whoever becomes the next King of Outremer. This was King Otto's. He passed it onto King Salier. If Salier gets his wish, it will pass to Count Zirn. I'll write Chancellor Matthias as soon as I am done looking over things here and tell him about it. I will keep it safe until it is decided as to who it goes to." Jan put the box back in his cloak. But Jan's hand stayed on the box as he bowed his head in thought. "I should not have this. This is the King's and the King should still be alive!" Looking around the City Jan said, "Gunther...we have enough men here. Well, we will when the reinforcements arrive from Chancellor Matthias. We need to strike that Mongol general and show him justice! I have already sent word to the Chancellor and his reply should arrive soon."

With that, the leading elements of the reinforcements arrived. One rode up to Jan and delivered a letter baring the seal of the Chancellor. Finally, Jan thought, I have a reply to my request to attack the depleted Mongol army. Jan undid the scroll and read,


Jan,

Your request does you credit, but you are hardly ready for another battle. All your retainers are dead, and it would just take one stray arrow to finish you.

I promise you, you will have your retribution, but not this year. I need you to look to the defense of Edessa. There are three more Mongol Armies out there, and we must conserve what is left of our forces.

King Salier failed, for whatever reason, and we will not compound this failure by striking out without an advantage.

Chancellor Matthias

"Damn it!", exclaimed a very irate Jan. "They are sitting just over that hill!" The line of soldiers filing into the city slowed down to hear their count lose his temper. "This is unacceptable! That pagan scum should not be able to sit there warm and safe in his camp while the King is dead! Gunther! Rally the men! We are going to attack the Mongol camp orders or no orders!"

Jan had taken to pacing up and down the street looking over formations of men who were either standing in line or splayed out in the street exhausted or wounded or both. He was getting worked up to the idea. It might mean being stripped of rank or worse. I don't care. I owe that man everything. This is the least I can do for him.

"Sir!" Jan was interrupted in thought from Gunther. "I share your feelings concerning the King. He was a good man. And that general does deserve justice. But the men are utterly exhausted. They need a good night's sleep. They need to bind their wounds and mourn their dead comrades. They need some hot food in their belly. We need for all of the reinforcements to arrive and for them to be integrated with the older units. If you take these men into battle now, they will shatter against the enemy even though we outnumber them. You told me to give it to you straight and this is as straight as I can give it. This army is combat ineffective."

Jan stood there taking in everything Gunther said. Finally he resigned himself. "Your right Gunther... your right. Its just... I failed him Gunther. He gave me so much and I failed him. If only we got there sooner."

"That is utter bullocks sir!", counciled Gunther. "This army was made up largely of militia. They are not up to a forced march and could not have been pushed harder. There was nothing more you could have done. Sure, you could have run us off by ourselves on our horses or maybe force marched the professional soldiers. But that would have split our army. You kept the unit intact. The King was dead by the time we arrived anyways. You did exactly the right thing in what proved to be an impossible tactical situation. We need to rest and refit. We need to see to the defense of the city. And then we can plan for the general's justice. But first, you need to get some rest."

With that, Jan bid Gunther good night. He clasped Max's hand and bid him a quick recovery. And then he turned around and headed to his quarters to pray and then sob himself to sleep.

[AussieGiant]

Eastern Austria 1276

……

The rain continued to fall, enveloping the Dukes small army in mist as they continued eastwards.

They had pushed on into the night, the Duke not saying a word, his lone figure a steady guide in the darkness.

The torches spat and hissed as there was not quite enough rain to douse them entirely.

Suddenly a muffled thunder of hooves could be heard as the Dukes outriders could be seen in the distant shadows, their torches dancing as they approached.

“Something approaches Duke Arnold!!” the scout, clearly spooked by what he saw or felt.

“Calm yourself man.” The Dukes voice steadied the veteran soldier as the entire column came to a halt. Bunching up, the regiments halted in a clearing as the remaining scouts galloped in to report, each one more distressed than the last.

Finally the last scout arrived, his horse foaming from the mouth after it’s break neck ride through the woods on the other side of the clearing.

“Something approaches my Lord!! It’s nearly upon us, prepare for battle!!” The scout continued riding to the rear, turning his mount only once a few hundred men where between him and the forest.

The moon cast an eerie glow on the men as they stood staring at the wood some hundred yards distant.

Then almost imperceptibly a faint sound could be heard…a moaning…the trees in the distance could be seen bending as if some giant hand was pushing them flat. A feeling of fear crept through the men; gently a wind began to blow into the clearing carrying with it a low moaning of what sounded like dying men.

The priest crossed himself and began to pray.

Hundreds of torches began to flicker and die, casting the area into sudden darkness.

The Duke rode out into the clearing as the wind began to increase, his own torch untouched by the wind; the moaning increased, causing more panic in the assembled men.

“HOLD!!” Arnold voice boomed out across the army, even men at the back could clearly hear their Dukes words. Their fear was replaced by one of horror as for a few brief moments the Duke's torch flared brilliantly revealing a menacing red glow to his eyes.

Then, as fast as it came, the wind and sound stopped.

The clearing was deathly silent, not a sound could be heard.

Moment's passed, then slowly the Duke's party rode up behind him.

Turning to no one, the Duke was gazing at some far off point to the East.

“Something has changed; I can feel a…disturbance.” There was only a chilling silence to his statement as a wave of fear passed over the group. Only the Dread Knight seemed oblivious to the effect it had on everyone around him.

Finally the Duke rode off into the wood, his men following with much trepidation.

[Stig]

Deep Russia, anno 1278

"Little Russians around, hey Sir?"
"Stop calling me Sir Helmut, how many times do I have to tell you?" Ansehelm was looking around while sitting on a rock. The Teutonic Crusade was now well on it's way into Russia, and was ready closing in on Moscow. Ansehelm reckonned it wouldn't take more than 4 maybe 6 years before they would be in Moscow. Moscow would be his, his moment of glory, he himself would be first to storm the walls, he would take the city square. While he had to thought of this he couldn't help thinking about poor Helmut. His cousing came along with him on this lonely mission, Ansehelm never knew why. He would dearly have given Helmut the command in some small, minor battle, but there were so little Russian armies around. Ansehelm hoped on loads of battles, but in reality he only fought 2 really. All Helmut commanded was the detachment of Light Cavalry, the most succesfull part of Ansehelms army, but he would never be able to command an entire army.
"Hah, Helmut can lead the road back to the Reich," Ansehelm thought, "it might be better for me to ride forward, to solve some political matters, Helmut is more than capable of bringing an army home. Or we could attack some Polish castle on our way back, Franconia is safe, but we could drive south and strike against Hungary. The morale is still high, and after we sacked Moscow it will even be higher."

But Ansehelm himself thought about the Reich, about his Heimat, it was now almost 15 years ago since he left, or so he thought, if one goes away as long as this he loses the count. But then, here he was safe from politics, from annoying people, from all that. Well, that isn't true, Ansehelm send scouts ahead, if there wouldn't be many Russian armies he himself would head back to the Diet. There was a route still open to the Reich, it was the one used by messengers, but it was dangerous, it would mean travelling through Polish territory, till he would reach Breslau, but it might also be needed. A Duke should be at the Diet Sessions.



to be continued...

[Ituralde]

Constantinople, 1270:

The air is thick with the scents of smoke and exotic perfumes. Through the gaze the young man is hardly visible, half-sunk in the giant pillows spread across the floor, while two scantily clad female servants try to circulate the air with palm leaves a third is propped beside the man on the cushion. For the imperial messenger it is hard to believe that he is actually standing in front fo the Emperor of the Holy Roman Empire.

"Where is my wife again, young man?" Siegfrieds eyes are glazed over, as he inhales another whiff from the pipe laying in front of him. Why in the world has King Salier ever forbidden the substance? It really made it hard for him to acquire it.

"I believe she is in her chambers. There are more pressing matters to attend to though. As I said, the Imperial Diet is starting and King Salier has fallen against the Mongols."

"King Salier dead?" Slight surprise passes Siegfrieds face. "That makes how many nobles dead? Four, five?"

The messenger can't help but to surpress a sigh: "The Diet, my Lord?"

"Ah yes! The Diet! Send a messenger with my wishes, will you. My wife's secretary will hand them to you. Speaking... speaking..."

"So you won't attend the Diet in person, my Lord?" The messenger can't keep his voice calm anymore.

"Speaking of which. I think I shall see her now! You are dismissed, my boy!"

The messenger opens his mouth again, but is dismissed with a wave of Siegfrieds hand. After the man has left, he tries to rise from his cushion to find his wife. He had some marital duties to fulfill, after all. He raises to fast though, and with his head swimming immediatelly falls down again into the lap of the woman beside him. Chuckling to himself the Emperor of the Holy Roman Empire decides to stay here instead.

[GeneralHankerchief]

Rome, 1280

The entire known world was subject to his gaze. Europe, North Africa, and Asia – nothing escaped his view. For he was all-powerful.

He saw armies marching to the far corners of the world and back. He saw deals being made and just as quickly broken. He saw fathers passing on weapons to sons, loyal subjects mourning the death of their lord, and politicians dictating policy, hoping that what they made was the right choice.

He saw the Pope, in Jerusalem, drawing up a Papal Bull:

“The Reich shall hereby abstain from continuing hostilities with Spain and Denmark until further notice, under penalty of excommunication…”

The nerve of the Pope! He was an Imperial! He was not respecting the Lord of All’s wishes! But the Lord of all laughed, and swept his hand, and the Pope, nay, all of Jerusalem, was no more, swept away. So the Lord of All wished it, so it occurred.

In Rome, Jan von Hamburg laughed at him and dismissed his groundbreaking legal proposals. The Lord of All clenched a giant fist and brought it down upon the Diet building. There would be no more legal obfuscating.

In Constantinople, that usurper of a Kaiser simply existed. He was vacationing, enjoying his little play for the throne, and now not even bothering to take an interest in the Reich while its true leaders like Hans and Elberhard toiled in obscurity. The Lord of All grew angry at this and let forth a mighty bellow.

Seeing this, the Kaiser noticed his opposition and let forth a cry. “Please, My Lord,” he said, petrified, “What have I done to offend you? I shall do anything, anything to get back in your good graces.

The Lord of All laughed. “There will be no second chances for you, mortal.” Amid the Kaiser’s screaming he pronounced and executed his final judgment. Siegfried von Kastillien no longer existed. The Lord of All surveyed his domain once more. In it, he saw frightened respect, terrified awe, and willful submission. This pleased him greatly. He-

The door knocked. Hastily, Jens Hümmel scrambled, scooping up his map of the world and clay figurines and stuffed them into a corner of his room.

“State your name,” he said in a cracking voice, far from the majestic tones of the Lord of All.

“Innkeeper,” said the voice from behind the door. “You owe me a night’s rent.”

“Yes, of c-course I do,” said Jens, stuttering, as he opened the door. “Please, come in, make yourself at home while I get the florins. How much do I owe you? Eleven florins?”

“Twenty,” said the innkeeper. He peered around the room, looking as if he was expecting to find someone else there. Jens tried not to look at the map and clay figurines. “I heard voices,” the innkeeper continued. “You trying to sneak in an extra customer? ‘cause it’s ten extra florins a night if ye are.”

“It’s robbery, is what it is,” Jens said under his breath as he breathed a sigh of relief. “No,” he said, “Nobody here but me. Take a look around if you like.”

“Very well, young sir, I shall do that.” The innkeeper walked around the shabby room, occasionally peering over for a closer look, for a couple of minutes. He glanced over the map and clay figurines but said nothing.

“Satisfied?” said Jens.

“I s’pose that only you are keeping yourself company,” said the innkeeper wearily. “Twenty florins, then, if you please.” Jens reluctantly handed over the money and saw the innkeeper out the door. He shut it and grunted.

“I have got to be the poorest noble that ever did live,” Jens said to himself. “Here I am, sitting in the shabbiest inn in Rome, barely able to pay rent, and yet I am an important member of the House of Swabia.”

Jens blamed his family for his poor position. Being the son of the worst Chancellor in the Reich’s history and the brother of the man who led a failed revolution against the Kaiser did not endear him to the people. He considered himself lucky that they had even allowed him to become an Elector in the first place. Of course, he didn’t help that perception by picking a fight his first day in the Diet with the man who eventually ascended to the post of King of Outremer, but how was he supposed to know that was coming? Von Hamburg was an almighty wart, a political nobody who was only alive because Salier had taken a liking to him.

And so, he was laughed at, brushed off without a second thought. But that would change. Someday, he would be powerful. Someday, he would be important. Someday, he would restore the Hümmel family name and become the most revered figure in the Reich, one way or another.

“So the Lord of All wishes it, so it occurs,” he said to himself as he departed his room, leaving only a black ribbon in the window and his map and clay figurines in the corner.

[Privateerkev]

Rome 1280

Jan was sitting in his small room in Rome exhausted from trying to catch up on reports on Outremer. The Diet was pretty calm at the moment so Jan decided to take the opportunity to rest. So much had happened in the past few days and Jan was still in disbelief. King Salier had died in combat against the Mongols. Jan had almost died in that same battle but was able to make it to the King’s body and retrieve his box which contained the Crown of Thorns. Everyone knew the King favored Karl Zirn to be the successor. Ebelhard had taken over as Steward since Karl was sick and the Kaiser was away. Then all of a sudden, a messenger came into the Diet and proclaimed that the Kaiser had named Jan King of Outremer.

King? Sure Jan had his ambitions. But they were for the long term. Ever since he had become politically active, he had planned on becoming King. It was where he felt he could do the most good. Before the King died, Jan had assumed that he would work his way up and become Salier’s heir. After Salier died, Jan had assumed that he would work his way up and become Karl’s heir. But now? Everyone seemed shocked and suspicious. Jan knew no one would believe him but he had not had contact with the Kaiser since the last Diet. This was entirely the Kaiser’s idea. Why the Kaiser picked him was entirely beyond him. He would like to think that it was because he proved himself to not only be capable, but unattached to house politics. But Jan was not that naive. Jan thought it was more likely that the Kaiser wanted to thumb his nose at those in power and he considered that Jan would be a patsy. Jan chuckled to himself. Everyone who has underestimated me so far has done so at their own risk, Jan thought to himself.

But regardless of the Kaiser’s motives, Jan was King. And all that entailed was weighing heavily on Jan. First off, there was a war to run. The Mongols, Turks, and Egyptians all wanted territory in Outremer and they would all have to be fended off. The Holy City had to be protected. There could be no more embarrassments to give fuel to those that opposed what they were doing out there. Christianity had to be spread throughout the area. Four Crusader Counts had to be led. All capable men, some probably resented being passed over by someone who was younger, less politically experienced, or both. But salving bruised egos was not the King’s job. Political alliances with other houses had to be maintained. This was a part of the job that Jan had not anticipated. While Crusader Count, you just worry about what will be your next assignment. But as King, you have to worry about getting enough resources to fuel the whole venture.

Something about houses had gotten Jan thinking. While Jan was ecstatic that he no longer had to suffer the inept leadership of Ansehelm, his views on houses had been changing as of late. Something in Duke Arnold’s speech had stirred him. Arnold was right. The houses were the ones that sent their nobles and money off to a far away land. Jan had been there in the Second Crusade when Duke Leopold fell. Jan almost lost his father in that same battle. Maybe trying to turn Outremer into a fifth house was the wrong answer to the right question. The right question being, how can we do good work and serve the Lord, thus earning ourselves salvation? If Outremer is to help save the soul of the Reich, should it really be split off from the houses that bled for it? Jan did not think so anymore.

Jan was interrupted by Max knocking on his door. Max and Gunther had both become more paranoid for Jan’s safety since he became King.

Max announced, “My King, a visitor for you.”

Curious, Jan called out, “Let him in”.

A man Jan recognized walked into the room. “My King, my name is Hermann and we have met once before. I was the one that gave you that letter warning you about Duke Arnold’s arrival in Outremer.”

Jan looked puzzled. “I remember now. But how did you get that letter?”

Hermann stated simply, “Because I worked for King Salier. He gave me that letter and ordered me to give it to you. He didn’t want you to know. But, he is gone now and you are King. I thought you should know. Also, with King Salier dead, there is not much for me to do now that his estate is settled and I could use some work.”

Jan was far too deep in thought to consider Hermann’s offer of service and said dismissively, “While my personal staff is full at the moment, I am sure I can find something for you in Antioch. Thank you. Now, if you please, I would like to be alone now.”

Hermann bowed, “Of course my King. Thank you and good day.”

Even back then, the King was protecting me, Jan thought. I always wondered who warned me about the whereabouts of Duke Arnold. He had to have known that he might have been signing the Duke’s death warrant but he warned me anyways.

With these latest thoughts, Jan sat back in his chair. Scenes of that previous battle played out in his head. Swarms of horsemen that came on like locusts. The body of the King lying on the ground surrounded by dozens of Mongol bodies. The box lying next to him.

With this, Jan turned and looked at the box sitting on his desk. He walked over to the box, picked it up, and took it over to his bed which he sat on. He had glanced at the contents before but he had never really looked at it. He had assumed that he would just be a caretaker until Karl was confirmed as King. Only now did it really dawn on him that the Crown of Thorns was his as a badge of office. Jan opened the box, picked it up, and looked at it. It was a bramble of thorny twigs in a circle. It was light in his hand. Jan looked at it up close and thought he could see dried blood on it. It was then that the full realization of what he held dawned on him.

This was worn by Jesus when he was killed…

Suddenly emotions welled up in Jan. I am not worthy of this. This was worn by the son of our Lord. This sat upon his head as he suffered for my sins.

Jan fell over onto the bed careful to keep the crown in his hands.

He started reciting John 19 aloud in a murmur as visions pass by.

Jan starts an argument with Duke Arnold in the Diet in order to impress his father. A fight follows and Jan’s first Teutonic Knight, Fredericus, is killed.

"Then Pilate therefore took Jesus, and scourged him.”

Jan’s pride almost destroys him politically as he starts argument after argument with one powerful noble after another which threatens to suicide his own agenda. King Salier threatens to fire Jan if he can not control himself.

“And the soldiers plaited a crown of thorns, and put it on his head, and they put on him a purple robe, And said, Hail, King of the Jews! and they smote him with their hands.”

Jan’s envy at Ansehelm becoming Duke leads him to attempt to undermine him wherever possible. Relations between the two men sour to such an extent, that every young Franconian starts backing away from Jan.

“Pilate therefore went forth again, and saith unto them, Behold, I bring him forth to you, that ye may know that I find no fault in him.”

Jan’s ambition for becoming King leads his every action. From what he tells fellow nobles. To what he brings up in the Diet. To what letters he writes. Being King becomes more important than anything. Than serving the Lord. Than serving the Kaiser, Than serving the Reich. Jan sees himself sending forward his loyal Crusader Counts to conquer the whole Middle East as Dukes and the Kaiser come bowing to him for his favor. Jan sits on a throne made of the bones of countless German sons that died to fulfill his vision for this part of the world.

“Then came Jesus forth, wearing the crown of thorns, and the purple robe. And Pilate saith unto them, Behold the man!"

With this last, Jan falls off of the bed somehow keeping the crown in his hand. He sits up stunned by all he saw. He is sweating profusely and panting from the exertion. He finally starts to calm down. Funny how his whole adult life was about becoming King. Then he finally becomes King in a way that he had absolutely nothing to do with. And he finds that he is not sure if he wants it anymore. At least not for the same reasons that he used to.

I can not go on living like this. Living with this guilt. It will consume me. Things do not have to be this way. The Lord sent his son to die for my sins. He sent his son because he loved me. This Crown is proof of that. Jesus died for my sins and I need to atone. I can only atone by living a life dedicated to the Lord. But that isn’t enough. I am finally in a position where I can really do good. Through Outremer, I can save the soul of the Reich. Living for Outremer is no longer enough. I need to live for the Reich. It is not enough to just try to save my own sorry soul. I need to help the whole Reich save theirs. And Outremer is the key. Outremer has always been the key. And I…

I am going to turn that key.

Jan just sat there blinking for a few minutes as all of this processed in his head. Then he looked at the Crown sitting in his hand. He placed it back in the box carefully. And then he got up and opened the door where Gunther and Max were standing guard. If they heard Jan earlier, they gave no sign.

“Get ready to leave. We’re heading for the Outremer chambers. There is much work to do.”

Hermann used with permission of GH

[AussieGiant]

ROME 1280

Glancing at the three empty seats that make up the Austrian Chamber, Arnold shook his head in disappointment at the state of his fathers House.

Lord Zirn's seat was covered in dust, he wondered if his brother in law would recover soon. His sister has reassured him that Karl's health would improving but it had now been some years since he had heard from him. Unfortunately his sister didn't realise just how precarious Austria's situation was.

He then glanced at Sigismund’s old chair...now occupied by the as yet unknown von Heidelberg. He hadn't even presented himself since wedding the last von Mahren daughter...a pity...

Lastly there was Becker. The only active member left of House Austria.

Was there any point having this chamber open anymore he thought?

While the other House Chambers bustled with the activity of nobles coming and going, reporting to their Dukes on House matters, he was left sitting here staring at dust and wood.

Suddenly the Duke began speaking

Welcome nobles of Austria. It’s a pleasure to see you all here for the 12th Diet session…we have much to discuss as the state of Austria is hard pressed at the moment.

First item on the agenda, Hungary!!!!

His voice rose steadily in anger as he continued, Groms eye’s widened at the site of his Lord speaking to no one…Bane glanced at the Priest, his dark helm somehow conveying his thoughts that something seemed terribly wrong…

…Arnold continued, his voice reaching levels that he reserved normally for battlefield commands

We must crush them!!! What say you lords of Austria, are you with me!!!???

Silence was the predictable response…

…with a slow but enormous show of strength, the Duke clenched his fists, the pressure so great the metal of his gauntlets groaned in protest. Shockingly, to those that witnessed the spectacle, blood began running through the chain mail and plates dripping onto the bench beneath his hands.

Finally, with a prodigious explosion of energy the Duke slammed his fists into the bench. With a shower of blood and wood it was broken in half.

Stunned silence filled the Chamber…the cold dread of violence filled the room causing everyone to back away from the Dread Duke…Grom raised his eye brows in startled surprise as he witness Bane place a hand on his sword in anticipation of what the Duke might do next.

LEAVE ME!!!

NOW!!!!

[econ21]

A fine romance

First contact


Elberhard waited for the door to open, to see his bride for the first time.

“What’s she look like then?” he muttered to one of the courtiers. “English, eh? All horse-faced and bad teeth?”

The courtier looked mortified: “Oh no, no, no, Sire…”

The door started to open and the gathering fell silent.

Elberhard saw her gliding through the crowd.

“@#$%^&!!!ing ‘ell!” he whispered.

The English Princess had a head not unlike an onion, or so you would think, if you liked onions (as Elberhard did). A beautiful delectable pickled onion: round, small and smooth; contoured and perfectly symmetrical. A pickled onion, Elberhard thought. White skinned, with a sharp and slightly sour taste.

Her eyes flitted briefly across the room and zeroed in on the Prinz. Strangely, it was the fearless Prinz who blushed, as her eyes confidently sized him up. They lingered on his rough hewn body and seemed to scrutinize every manly scar on his face. She smiled and Elberhard fell, pole-axed, helplessly into love and enslavement.



*****


The lure


“So you are the heir to the throne of the great German Reich?” said Linyeve Apperry, sounding not too displeased at the prospect.

“Err, yes.” said Elberhard.

“But the Kaiser is not your father?”

“Err, no. My dad was Kaiser Henry.”

“Ah yes, I have heard much of him. Some say he civilized the enlarged Empire that Kaiser Heinrich carved out of the investiture crisis.”

“Err, yeah, he was all right.”

“And how many provinces does the Empire now span?”

“Oh, errr, quite a few.”

“Not the most eloquent of men, are you?” laughed Linyeve.



*****


The end of the beginning


“That man was the Kaiser?!?” stormed Linyeve.

“Err, yeah love, why?” queried Elberhard.

“But he is so young! The man is thirty if he is a year!”

Elberhard watched and waited, he had dreaded this moment.

“And you must be, God knows, forty at least!” she continued.

Elberhard rubbed his gnarled chin – the sand of Outremer and the rigours of battle had not been kind.

“So basically…” pressed Linyeve, “You may be the Prinz, but you will never inherit! The Kaiser will outlive you.”

Elberhard rubbed his chin harder and then shrugged his shoulders. There was no point denying it. The maths was incontrovertible.

“So what, precisely, does being a Prinz entail if it does not mean you will succeed to the Throne?” demanded Linyeve.

“Well, I am his, err, deputy.” ventured Elberhard. “And he is away a lot.”

Linyeve looked somewhat placated. “I see – so all the Kaiser’s powers devolve to you in his absence?”

“Well, err, that’s how I see it. But Kaiser Siegfried, well err, he does not quite see it like that. I am only supposed to chair the Diet and, err, shout at Electors if they are out of order.”

“I see, so I married a man of no prospects who is great at shouting?”

“Err, well that’s rather the long and short of it, yeah.”

“Wonderful.”

[econ21]

Acre, 1280


“No, you cannot stay in Outremer, you cannot!” pleaded the old man.

Elberhard looked puzzled. His mentor, Niklas Gruber, was normally so composed, so urbane. This desperation was wholly out of character.

“Why the @#$%^&!!! not?” demanded Elberhard. “The boss is dead. Hans is @#$%^&!!!ing off once he has added the latest scalp to his trophies. Even @#$%^&!!!ing Jens Hummel is quitting. I can’t quit now – not now.”

Niklas seemed almost visibly to be grasping for any support. “But you must not! The Diet will not accept an heir to the throne who refuses to come home! Outremer has few friends now and you need friends.”

“Outremer has few friends and that is why she needs me. But seriously, Niklas, why do you care so much? It’s my @#$%^&!!!ing life.”

“Yes, Niklas, that is a question I would like to hear answered.” intervened Linyeve. “If Elberhard asked me – as I should note, he has singularly failed to do – why I desperately wanted to leave Outremer, I am sure I could conjure up a plausible answer. Probably, something involving sand, camels, murderous Mohammedans and the phrase “Get me out of this sinking hell hole, you bastard!” I suppose.”

Elberhard winced, but Linyeve continued – her gaze fixed on Niklas. For once, Elberhard was not her prey and the Prinz could watch with detachment as she circled her latest victim.

“So tell me, Niklas, why does the Prinz’s old mentor demand that he leave Outremer, when it is quite evident that wild horses and even sweet English Princesses could not get him to do that?”

Linyeve moved very close to the old man, her face was almost touching his, and her fingers gently brushed the sweat dripping from his brow.

Niklas crumbled: “Because they will kill them if you don’t…” the old man cried.



*****


Elberhard paced around the room liked a bear in a pit. Betrayed by his old mentor! He cast hostile looks at Niklas, who was sat, a broken man. Periodically, the Prinz approached the old man angrily, fists clenched, before thinking better of it and turning away.

His closest retainers were in attendance. Jan the Teuton, hand on sword hilt – ready to act the instant the Prinz commanded it. Kachig Iskyan, the Armenian mercenary captain, watching Niklas with distaste. Whether it was distaste for the man’s betrayal or distaste at the possibility of having to kill such a helpless old man, Kachig himself did not know.

Linyeve was like an island of calm among the men. She moved to soothe the restless Prinz. She stopped his pacing and forced him to sit, so that both Niklas and Elberhard found themselves looking up at the young woman in front of them.

“Niklas – you said at your last meeting, you sought this man out in a local tavern?” Linyeve inquired.

“Yes.” sniffled Niklas.

“Rather careless of a kidnapper, don’t you think? He really must think he has you.” she commented.

“My grandchildren.” moaned Niklas. “I could not live with myself if they are harmed.”

“Yes, yes.” scolded Linyeve in a businesslike manner, “Blubbing won’t get them back. You must arrange another meeting – do you have a means of contacting this man?”

Niklas nodded. “But he is well protected – I think by Hashashins. If we send men to seize him, he will know and he will be gone.”

Linyeve smiled. “Yes, if we send men.”

Elberhard looked up at his wife, not understanding. And then, as her meaning became apparent, he fell, pole-axed again, just as he had on the first day he had ever set eyes on her.



*****


Why was the old man sweating so much? Something was not right. Dusan looked at the hashashin by the door again, inquiring. The hashashin shrugged again.

“Are you telling me you have failed?” Dusan asked Niklas. “That would be most unfortunate.”

“The Prinz is determined to stay in Outremer, but I think there is still a way to remove him.” said Niklas, talking fast and almost falling over his words. “His wife… she can be very … persuasive. And she is not fond of this place.”

Dusan smiled. “Good, good, the rats are finally leaving the sinking ship. Salier has been removed. Hans will leave once he has had his sport. Matthias cannot be Chancellor forever and soon will be a lame duck. And that joke they made King, soon his Duke will drag him home to Franconia. Who will be left? The Reich will be free to concentrate on its true destiny in Europe, not this Papist obsession”

“You talk too much.”

Dusan looked aghast as a pretty young whore boldly sat down opposite him.

“Go away, whore! This is men’s talk!” Dusan barked.

The whore smiled and drew something under the table. Dusan felt cold metal press against his groin.

“You remember this blade, Kolar?” said Linyeve. “It was a bequest from King Otto to Elberhard. Apparently Otto always regretted that Henry has stopped him from ever wielding it fully. And perhaps Otto suspected that Henry’s son might one day require it.”

Dusan looked up in alarm, seeking out the hashashin by the door.

“Send him and his men away, now, or say goodbye to your manhood.” Linyeve said commandingly. Dusan felt the metal press hard against his clothing, the point pricking his flesh. “I am not messing around. Do it now or regret it forever.”

Dusan jerked his head up to the side. The hashashin looked curious. Go. mouthed Dusan. Reluctantly, the hashashin exited the tavern.

“Now, listen to me, Kolar. My husband, well, you know, he kind of shares King Otto’s view of you. If it were up to him, he would have his men spend the next few months working you over. By the first day was done, you would be screaming for them to kill you. But they wouldn’t. I wonder how long a man could be tortured before dying? My husband would use you as an experiment to find out.”

“But, Kolar, it is your lucky day. Because you are talking to me and not my husband. You see being a frail and gentle woman, I am a very different creature. I would not want you to be tortured for months. The screaming might disturb the guests. And the stains would be hell to get off the floors. No, insect, I do not care about you.”

“As a woman, I care only about Niklas’s brats. Or should we call them grand-brats, Niklas?” Linyeve smiled at Niklas, who turned away in distress. “Yes, I care only about Niklas’s lovely little grand-brats.”

“So this is what we are going to do. You are going to come with me and stay as my guest in the Prinz’s quarters. Oh, your accommodation may not be of the highest class, but you will not be harmed. While there, you will summon the grand-brats to be brought to Outremer and we will make an exchange: you for them. An insect for some grand-brats: a fair exchange. And you must pray that they arrive here in just as pristine a condition as you yourself will be in.”

“I know what you are thinking: why should you surrender to this mad woman? Why should you not make a run for it? Have your hashashin rescue you?”

Linyeve pulled out two stiletto blades, handing one to Niklas. “But you have to think on this. You are talking to a Princess of the Crown – recently wed and expected to produce many offspring for the Reich. How likely do you think it would be for the Prinz to let her face down a kidnapper with only this old fool as my guard? And if by some miracle, you did escape, how long do you think you could stay in the shadows if you struck down a woman of such standing? In such an event, do you not think the Reich could pay the hashashins rather more for your neck than you could afford to pay to save it? No, Kolar – do the smart thing. Come with me and I will spare you. Defy me and I will squash you like the insect you are.”

The other customers noticed nothing out of the ordinary when the tall, dark clothed gentleman left the tavern. It is true, he did look rather discomforted. A young whore seemed to be clinging to him passionately and a nervous older man seemed to be supporting him. But the tall gentlemen did not protest and the watchers in the shadows did not intervene, as the ungainly trio marched up the street.

[Privateerkev]

Antioch, 1280

Jan sat in a large library in Antioch. At a large table, books on law were piled high. Max sat on a stool against the wall. Gunther was coming back with another pile of books. The King was flipping through books while scribbling notes down. Next to them was a fine piece of parchment that had, as of yet, no writing on it except for the words, Charter Amendment 13.x

Gunther plopped down the books and sat across from the King. He eyed the parchment and noticed its exceptionally high quality. "My King, that is one fine piece of paper. Surely you could have used any old piece of paper for a CA."

"Its the piece of parchment that Duke Arnold sent me as repayment. Its a long story. I thought it would be appropriate for what I'm writing," said the King as he was scribbling.

"And if I may ask, what are you writing?" Gunther inquired out of curiosity.

Jan slid the paper he was scribbling on across the table to Gunther and said, "Here is a rough outline of it."

Gunther took it and the old veteran scrutinized it. His face turned to a scowl.

"What? You don't like it?" asked Jan.

Gunther struggled for a respectful way to say what he was thinking. "Um...Sir... what are you doing? Why are you doing this to the Dukes?"

"What? You don't think they'll like it?" inquired Jan.

"Like it? I think they'll love it! But why ever would you do this?" Gunther was starting to wonder if the King had gone a little crazy.

Jan sat up and explained, "Because Gunther, we need to bind the Duchies to Outremer. Its the only way. If the Dukes feel involved, then the mission will survive. If they feel alienated from the land they sacrifice for, then our mission will fail. This will ensure that they will feel more included."

Gunther shook his head, "Sir, its so unbelievable, it just might work. If this doesn't make them feel included, nothing will."

With that, Jan grinned, took the paper back, and started working again on his legislation. A man in a robe, a few tables down, closed his book, got up and left. Max saw him but thought nothing of it.

---------------------

The robed man walked out of the library. After back tracking to make sure he wasn't followed, he went down an alley. Coming to a door, he knocked two up high and three down low on the door. It opened and a large hulking man saw him and let him in. The robed man walked down the hall to a large den where an older man was sitting at a table counting coins. The robed man sat down and immediately said, "I'm worried, about the King. He's working on something that could undo everything."

The older man continued counting until he was done with a stack before replying. "Oh, and what is the boy-king up to?"

"He said something about binding the Duchies to Outremer. If that works, it could be disastrous. Everything depends on getting the Duchies to become fed up with being over here and call for an abandonment of Outremer. I think we need to add him to the list," said the man in robes quickly and insistently.

With that, the older man fully turned away from his counting and looked up before speaking. "The list? Are you joking? King Salier was on the list. Kaiser Henry was on the list. Elberhard is on the list. Powerful and influential men who were a threat to our agenda. You want to add Jan to the list!? We might as well add Dieter to the list. Or Dieter's dog! If we're going to set the bar that low, we might as well add every German in Outremer to the list. Your thinking too much and your not paid to think. Your paid to follow your target and report. Every noble out here is followed by one of us. You follow Jan and report in. We'll do the thinking."

The older man was about to return to his counting when the man in robes pleaded, "But what if he can really pull it off? Getting the Dukes involved in Outremer could set us back years!"

With a sigh, the older gentleman explained, "Look, your making two assumptions. One is that Jan can get anything passed in the Diet. The man is a laughingstock. The boy-Kaiser appointed the boy-King and then abandoned him to the wolves. The Dukes smelled blood and tore him to shreds during the last Diet. Even common electors mock him openly. He's lucky if he will even get re-appointed. The second assumption is that the Dukes will stop being petty, narrow-minded, short-sighted, and provincial. No, the Dukes are far more concerned with their little corner of the Reich than they are of Outremer. Nothing will change that. And when the time is right, the right words will be whispered in the right ears in the Diet and Outremer will be abandoned. In the meantime, just do your job and you'll be fine. Dismissed."

The older man slid a stack of coins to the man in robes. The younger man pocketed the coins, got up, and left.

[GeneralHankerchief]

The Desert, 1282

“Godfrey! How on Earth am I supposed to do this thing?!”

The horsemaster of Hans’s army turned from his present task and faced the voice addressing him. All he saw, however, was a brown horse draped in Imperial colors. What trickery is this? he thought to himself. Horses can’t talk, so unless some dirty ventriloquist or the Lord himself is speaking…

Then he looked down and saw a pair of human legs. He chuckled. Of course. “So, young Hümmel, what can I do for you?”

Jens Hümmel stepped out from behind the horse, fuming. He made wide, bold gestures with his arms and legs, clearly accentuating the size difference between himself and his intended mount. “This is a friggin’ joke. There’s no way I’m supposed to be able to mount this thing and ride it. Can you tell me how to do it?”

Godfrey had to fight hard to prevent himself from laughing. He knew that if he did, the undersized young man in front of him would probably get even angrier and louder, which would probably make him laugh even more. “Do you mean to say that, merely days before this huge battle with the Horse Lords, you don’t know how to properly mount and ride an instrument of cavalry?”

“Of course I haven’t,” he shouted, “that’s why I’m talking to you, isn’t it?!”

“You mean, in all those trips to and back from Outremer, you’ve never gotten on a horse? Ever?”

“No, of course I haven’t!!!” Jens looked ready to explode, but breathed in and calmed down slightly. “I walked,” he said with a faint hint of pride. “Walking is good. It’s better for you. It builds up your stamina.”

“It also makes you a very susceptible target when the fighting comes if you’re a foot soldier,” Godfrey said, getting more serious as Jens got less angry. “I find it extremely hard to believe that a noble of the Reich, an Elector, a Count, a direct descendent of Kaiser Heinrich himself, hasn’t even gotten on a horse once for any kind of purpose.”

“If you mean to say you think I’m rich enough to own a horse, you’re dead wrong,” said Jens soberly. “My father didn’t have that much money to begin with and after he died my fool of a brother spent most of it in that ridiculous revolution of his.”

There was silence after this comment. Godfrey obviously couldn’t think of the right thing to say and didn’t detect the tone in Jens’s voice saying that it was a topic better left unexplored.

“Well, are you going to help me or not?”

Godfrey snapped back to attention and once again began to feel amused. “Well, you try it again, this time so I can see what you’re doing wrong.”

Cursing, Jens walked back to his horse. It was a brown, normal-sized thing with a kind look in its eye, a horse that would have been better suited on a farm back in Europe than at war with the fiercest people in the world. This fact grew clear to Jens and Godfrey as Jens tried to mount it. Totally ignoring the stirrups, Jens instead leaped on, desperate for any kind of grip. It reminded Godfrey of the way a taller person would try to climb onto the roof of a low building.

Taken aback, the horse whinnied and took off at top speed, leaving Jens wildly holding on as he desperately fought not to get thrown off. The horse veered left and tore through the camp, where most of the army got a good laugh at what was happening, Jens screaming and cursing all the way through.

As he grew more concerned with yelling his head off than staying on, Jens slowly lost his grip and eventually tumbled off, landing face-first in a pile of –what else?- horse excrement.

He rolled over slowly and deliberately, refusing to open his eyes. He vaguely heard people laughing at him. When he got up, he would stab the closest man. It didn’t matter if he was much shorter than them, he would still get a shot in at their privates; that would teach ‘em.

“So, young Hümmel, have you learned anything from that little adventure?”

Jens sat up, wiped the crud from his eyes, and screwed up his face in anger. Godfrey was standing in front of him, very obviously biting his tongue.

“I’ve learned not to ride STUPID *#%!ING HORSES on the account that they’re STUPID *#%!ING HORSES!!! Even from the small part of his face that wasn’t covered in crap, Godfrey could see that Jens was as red as a tomato. He stood up, still shrieking. My Lord that man can make a lot of noise coming from such a small body, Godfrey thought.

“That’s it, I’m not riding any horses, I don’t care whether I go on foot, those damned animals are out to kill me, they’re up to no good, I need something to kill now, I don’t care whether it’s Imperial or Mongol, I’m already more of a *#%!ing laughingstock than I used to be because this *#%!ing thing took me for a ride and threw me into a pile of- ACK! Pphbbth!”

He stopped mid-rant in disgust as he felt something wet and slobbery go across his face. Blinking in surprise, he saw that “stupid *#%!ing horse” licking the rest of the excrement off of his face.

“Stupid nag, licking its own crap,” Jens muttered, but then the horse made a distinct spitting noise away from Jens as if to clean its tongue. Then it returned to Jens, looking at him with an expression that almost matched pity.

“Well, I suppose it can’t be that bad,” he said to himself, getting up. The horse whinnied meekly, as if in agreement. Godfrey approached the man and the horse, still grinning.

“So, you ready to learn the real way?”

“Nah,” Jens said, grinning himself, “I think me and this nag understand each other now.” He proceeded to jump onto his horse in the same, awkward way as before. The horse whinnied and took off again, leaving Jens holding on for dear life, screaming and cursing once again. Godfrey just shook his head and chuckled.

[FactionHeir]

Antioch Docks at night, 1282 AD

Everything went by plan.
His men were now boarding the flagship, horses in tow and the many peasants and dockworkers hurried around carrying crates with supplies, ammunition, letters and other paraphernalia meant for his troops or for Europe.
Hans, however, was not among them. He watched from a safe distance, from within a dead alleyway, Dirk guarding his back.
They were quiet, waiting and watching. Hans subconsiously touched the wide robe he was wearing over his newly acquired suit of studded leather, thinking of the letters he had received these past days after the battle at Edessa. Who would warn me of this he kept wondering to himself. And why would someone be coming after me, now that I was leaving for Europe? The answer to the latter was somewhat more clear in his mind, as he was certain it was not because he defeated the Mongols, but because Jens fell. But who would care so much about whether Jens lived or not? and added immediately besides myself. %/"&#167; it. Why did he have to die just then!.

A sudden movement behind him caused Hans to startle and he almost dropped the handgun that he bought at the Edessan bazaar. It was only Dirk though, who shifted. Relieved, Hans let out a sigh and continued to observe. Most the men are aboard now, whoever is after me will likely be as well, or waiting for me to board. Hans smiled to himself. Unless Matthias was the one after him, it would be nigh on impossible for the would-be assassin to catch up with him, for he would not be boarding the flagship, but rather one of the smaller two Holks. The would-be assassin would not know of course, since Hans had ensured that two of the Feudal knights, who the chancellor ordered to stay in Outremer against their will, for they were loyal to Hans alone, would be taking his and Dirk's place on the flagship, each in robes as well, flanked by his usual retinue.
Hans smirked, as he left the shadows and boarded the smaller ship, inconspicuous to anyone.

------------

Later that night
Quite rotten, that ship. Hans surveyed his surroundings, which was the storage bunk, filled with countless crates, sacks and chests, carrying the wealth that Outremer held, besides being a place for pilgrims. As an emperor's son, he was not used to travelling in such run down ships, but rather in one of the cabins designed for noble guests.
Hans paced around, peeking behind crates and dark corners, making sure no one else was down here. Dirk on the other hand stood by the trapdoor, guarding his surroundings carefully, as he was trained to do.
This time, I must have evaded them Hans thought to himself, as he sat himself in a well-lit corner and started reading the letters sent to him again. He shook his head whenever Lothar was mentioned. Why would he be plotting against me, now that we had agreed in secret on a Bavarian-Swabian alliance? Hans decided he would meet that elusive writer and find out.

[Northnovas]

Damascus 1287

“Count Zirn, the Writ has been received and is complete with the Duke’s Seal.” announced the young attendant.

“Excellent! Lets review before we ride out, read what is says” replied the Count has he made his way for another cup of coffee.

“Yes, my lord” the attendant opens the scroll that contains documents bearing Duke Arnold’s Seal from the Austrian House, the Seal of the local magistrate some letters and a special worded information that the attendant reads out loud to the Count.

On or about the 22nd day of June to 25 October in the year 1279 in the year of our Lord, in the City of Damascus, Jedda Region, Outremer Possession of the Austrian House, in the Holy Roman Empire.
One General al Muazzam also known as the accused is charged with the following Criminal Acts against the Holy Roman Empire.

Count 1

On the dates stated in the location stated, the accused is charged with 1 count of murder against one Mr. Aftim, resident of the Damascus, servant of the Governor.

Count 2

On the dates stated in the location stated the accused is charged with 1 count of murder against on Mr. al Jazze resident of Damascus, merchant.

Count 3

On the said dates in the said location stated the accused is charge with 1 count of attempt murder on Count Karl Zirn, Governor of Damascus, representative of the Reich.

“There are several other charges of poisoning causing grievous bodily harm. Do you wish me to go on sire?”

“No, that is enough. I am glad to have the Duke’s approval it would not look fair the Governor signing a warrant when he is the victim. I want this up and above. I really liked this al Muazzam, a young fanatical general he gave me a real go and then the Prince. I would like to have a large battlefield session with him. However, once I found out the swine he really is and what he did. We are no longer talking about chivalry and the art of war. Just review the synopsis with me.”

“Yes sire, the accused in charge of a small Egyptian force contaminated the date supply for the city of Damascus in the month of June 1279. When the supplies had entered the city he systematically cut of the rest of the supply along with the other food supplies allowing the dates to be distributed within city. The siege was maintained and supplies were cut the contaminated food made its way the Governor’s residence where he killed the head servant of the kitchen staff by poison and poisoned the Governor Zirn causing him to be very ill and almost loosing his life.
It was also revealed that a date merchant was poisoned and died and several residence of the city were sick from the poison dates. Should I continue??...

“No that is good have the documentation bundled. I will muster a small detachment from the city and arrest al Muazzam at his location in the desert. Have Peter sent to me at once.” Karl then went to a table and viewed a map of the Jedda Region.


1288 Jedda region

In an isolated desert area southeast of Damascus, at nightfall. A detachment of German soldiers waited while the men on the horses talked in a small group.

Ingo was the first to speak. “Sire, we got word that he is camping 5 miles south of here. They only remain in one location and move on. They are all on horse but haven’t been to a settlement in some time and the horses must be tiring in these conditions.”

Karl listened to his advisor and looked for consensus amongst the other men. “Very well this will be a swift operation and I want him captured and returned to Damascus. He is a very cunning individual and our numbers are great but I still stress caution and be very aware of your surroundings.”

The riders broke and the orders given to the men it was almost midnight and there were no fires burning to keep the men warm.

The troops moved out and Peter could hear the distinct sound of horses there was movement in the distance. “I can’t believe it he is coming at us instead of running. Battle Order all units!” shouted Peter. The warrant was being executed.

https://i201.photobucket.com/albums/aa55/northnovas/Karl%20Battles/1288-1battleorder.jpg

General al Muazzam did not hesitate and charged for Karl’s unit. The spearmen tried to come around the rear to envelope the Egyptians. The crossbowmen kept the small unit of horse archers away.

“Don’t let him get away” shouted Karl. The Egyptians fought viciously they were not going to surrender. Karl had the superior numbers but his men were falling fast it was a battle of attrition. There was no way to stop this crazed man. He truly is a fighter.

Finally the melee broke and Karl was in hot pursuit.

https://i201.photobucket.com/albums/aa55/northnovas/Karl%20Battles/1288-2theprusuit.jpg

https://i201.photobucket.com/albums/aa55/northnovas/Karl%20Battles/1288-3victory.jpg
https://i201.photobucket.com/albums/aa55/northnovas/Karl%20Battles/1288-5capture.jpg

The accused was apprehended and returned to Damascus.

1288 Damascus Court Room

The magistrate listened to closing arguments and then proceeded with his findings.

He began. “General al Muazzam you are found guilty of all counts from this proceeding. Your acts were despicable and you will punished by death for your crime against the Holy Roman Empire.
I therefore sentenced at the time and location specified by this court, to death by beheading and may God have mercy on your soul”
The court proceedings closed and justice had finally been served. The people cheered for their Governor and the law and order that he maintains to keep them safe.

Karl returned to his residence with a new person in his entourage, Randolph the Biographer. He remembered his father in law Leopold had used such a person to share his exploits and now it was time for Karl to have his own history recorded and the dream he has for the city of Damascus.

[Ituralde]

Constantinople

"So the Dukes were already resenting, the young fool was about to give up, and the support was wavering. And then he marches back into the Diet, backs up his choice and promises, promises that he will do anything it takes to let people go there? To support this forlorn cause in the future? You said you had this man in your hand!"

Theodora taps her chin thoughtfully: "It's not as easy as you make it look, father. I have full control over the situation, I assure you. He listens to me, he listens well. But you can't forget that he is an Emperor. He has visions, and plans of his own."

"Well, see to it that they are replaced by yours!" Emperor Comenus snaps indignantly, before snorting in contempt. How could the fool dare to let himself be called an Emperor.

"They will be in time. But until then I need Outremere as the carrot on a stick to guide him. To give him hope. He truly believes that he can make something grand and right now he believes Outremere to be part of this."

The Emperor shakes his head: "This place has to go, you know it. We can't be surrounded by those Christians!"

Theodora smiles slightly: "Oh it will go, father. Eventually it'll cease to exist. The rift between the Crusaders and the Reich is quite deep already. Just trust your daughter, will you? Besides, you should be happy, those vile Mongols give the Empire quite a beating. You would not want to be facing them along with the Turks, now would you?"

Smiling ever broader Empress Theodora leaves her father standing alone in the vast chamber.
She would help build an Empire, no matter which faith!

[OverKnight]

Rome, 1290

His head hurt. The room was no longer spinning, but his mouth was dry and gritty as if he was still on campaign in Anatolia.

"This why I don't drink, usually", croaked the Chancellor of the Reich to himself.

The door to his bed chamber opened, letting in a blinding, to his eyes, stream of light. A figure stood in the door way.

"Leave me in peace," Matthias rasped, "If there are letters, dump them in the pile with the others."

The figure spoke with a familiar voice, "This is not a way for a Chancellor to be conducting himself. Did you learn nothing from me?"

Matthias snorted ruefully, "Ah. . .Elsebeth. I fear you catch me at a. . .poor moment."

The Queen sat on the edge of the bed and surveyed him with a critical eye. The years had been kinder to her than Matthias. The travails of two terms had left him prematurely grey, the unrelenting sun of many campaigns in Outremer had etched lines into his face, and the marks of war had left scars on his body.

Elsebeth gently moved a stray lock of hair from Matthias's face and spoke, "I have heard of your recent outbursts. It was so unlike you, I was concerned. You have ruled with subtlety and vision, until now, what has changed?"

Matthias closed his eyes and sighed, "I have sought to rebuild the Reich in my tenure. I have tried to rule impartially, mostly, and avoid the dramatics of the previous Chancellors. I thought I had succeeded, but. . ."

"But what? Matthias, you have done well. You were the youngest man to be elected Chancellor, much less for two terms. There has been little complaint from the Electors."

Matthias grimaced and sat up to look Elsebeth in the face. He swayed a bit but spoke in steady voice.

"This isn't about me, so much. Yes, the books are balanced, cities have been conquered, old enemies defeated, but there's something lacking. Lately, I've gotten the feeling that I haven't restored the Reich, but merely delayed the inevitable rot."

Elsebeth raised an eyebrow, "Rot? The Empire is more powerful than ever. There are no enemies that can match us. Even the Mongols, whose Empire stretches to Cathay, were defeated."

"No, you're right, but I'm not talking about external enemies. A rot from the inside. We have become complacent and decadent. The Electors seem resigned to squabble about family politics or points of order. Each House seems cut off from the other, turned inward on their own pet causes. Their seems to be no esprit de corps that marked, for example, the First Crusade. The Kaiser. . .the Kaiser provides no focus. He seems to be disinterested in ruling, leaving many tasks to me, the Prinz, or his wife."

Elsebeth smiled slyly, "And you object to this? An active Kaiser can have an interesting effect on the course of the Reich."

Matthias shook his head, "Yes, but the Kaiser should be the hub of the wheel, with the houses as the spokes, and the lords of the realm as the rim. Without any of these components, the wheel collapses, the wagon does not move forward. The Reich isn't moving forward. I studied the proceedings of the Diet before running for Chancellor. The dynamic tension between the Houses and the Kaiser, and the Diet and Chancellor that fueled our progress, that elevated us above the simple monarchies of our neighbors, now seems lacking."

Elsebeth pursed her lips, "The past often seems more ideal than the present Matthias. Memories and histories are kind to our ancestors. Nostalgia can be a trap."

Matthias frowned, "Perhaps. I worry though. I worry that for all I have done, all I have tried to do, it won't be enough. Siegfried will come along and take what I have done, what I have accomplished, and fritter it away. And the Electors, focused on their petty chimeras, won't lift a finger."

Elsebeth chuckled and patted the Chancellor's hand. "Ah, so it is not so much the great tide of history that worries you, but the fact that you will have to give up the power you have held for so long."

The Chancellor grunted and his eyes narrowed.

"Perhaps, but there's more to it than that. Empires rise and Empires fall. I'd rather my term be remembered as the start of a golden age, rather than the last glimmer of light before the darkness."

Elsebeth rose and moved to the door.

"Such grim thoughts for a young man. You do have a few years left in power. Try to enjoy them. And if this is the last glimmer the light, it should be savored, not wasted hung over in the dark."

The Queen paused before leaving the room, her face in profile in the light streaming in behind her.

"Of course, Matthias, this doesn't have to be your last term. A two thirds majority in the Diet would ensure that. Think about it."

She left him to his thoughts.

[Warluster]

The surrounding Dijon, 1292 AD

Athalwolf had his leg propped up on a rock, he let his hair blow in the breeze. His sweat was cooled as a eagle circled overhead, cawing. He was sitting upon the top of a large mountain, a rocky road layed down behind him. At the bottom of it rested his soldiers.

He was standing in the same spot, where his father some 120 Years earlier had stood and talked with Lukas about his happiness of being made Count of Dijon. The place where he devoted half his life to, where he time after time beat back the French. And now the Empire was clawing at the Western Borders of France, the lands of Dijon were beggining to drain of the blood so mercilessly spilt for many,many years.

Athalfwolf sorely wished he now lived in those times, The Diet was more established, there was no Outremer, the lands beyond theres were a threat. Armies were setting out to conquer new places.

Now they lived in a world where one wrong move, all goes wrong. Where they own foreign lands where the very pages of history do not record. They fought with Horse Lords from far away lands, they owned old English Settlements, once even lands in Northern Scotland! He buried his face in his hands, all these things about his Father, being Kaiser, the Defender of Dijon, once even the last general in Swabia! Why had he not travelled the waters and joined the sun burtn lands of Outremer! Not this politicial madhouse.

"Do not worry young Athalwolf." spoke a voice from behind, he started and jumped up from his rock, straying close to the edge. Athalwolf drew his sword, the ring echoing.
"Who goes there?" cried he, more as a warning then quedtion. The man came into the light, revealing his face. It was warm and kind. Athalwolf dropped his sword.
"Would you really kill a old friend of your Fathers?" asked Lukas. He was aged, at least 70 Years old now and showing signs of stress afther the case some years before. He sat, drinking in the sight of the lands before him. Athalwolf stood, and Lukas fought the tears as the exact same image was burnt in his mind from so many years before.
"I have come, my friend, to warn you." muttered Lukas, making sure they were indeed alone. Athalwolf was still staring at Dijon.
"You may know, from your familys past, of a man called Dieter." He nodded, to show he understood. Lukas pressed on, "I believe he was a traitor to your father. He bretrayed him in the thick forests north of Frankfurt, and set up a ambush for him in the plains north of Metz. he is a traitor, and wanted the Kaiser dead. And there is a chance,my friend, you may become the next in line." said Lukas, eyeing him to see his reaction. Athalwolf though, had merely moved his gaze to Staufen.
"Dieter wants you dead. And he is hunting you down." finished Lukas simply, relief etched over his face. he stood next to Athalwolf now, looking at metz instead and murmuring "Ah, the fields of Sigismund..."

"So Dieter, is coming for me, and will kill me for being a von Salza?" asked Athalwolf, his voice strained.
"Yes, that is the basic idea." eplied Lukas, watching the Fields of France beyond the rivers of Dijon.
"Well I will wait for the bastard, won't I? Meanwhile, I shall go to Spain, Yes, I shall propose iot to the Diet..." thought Athalwolf seamlessly. Lukas sighed and closed his eyes.
"I am honored to meet you, Knight to Knight Count Athalwolf. You are everything your Father was, and I know you shall be more. King of COnquering Armies I say. For now, I say goodbye cruel world." And with that, Lukas jumped.

Athalwolf didn't stop him, he knew he meant that the whole time. He knew Lukas owed one last favor to the man he worshipped. And now, he was to join him on his Masters beloved fields. Athalwolf let a few tears follow Lukas, then turned and walk back to camp.

The Second Lot were going.

[Privateerkev]

Antioch 1293

King Jan was back in the library. It was late and near closing time. The robed figure was off around a corner at a table. Far enough to not be noticed but close enough to hear the King talk to Gunther about the legislation he was planning for the next Diet.

"It looks like things are looking good for this CA! I've got the Kaiser's blessing. Arnold is very much for it. Lothar approves of it. I haven't told Ansehelm yet but he is open to talking about it once I get it more polished up which is much more than I expected from him. Since this so obviously favors the Dukes, I just need to get them on board. They'll hopefully make their own people support it. Outremer will become the responsibility of the whole Reich. The Dukes will become real partners in the project. As it should be. Without them, its just a matter of time before people call for us to end this experiment and come home."

The robed figure grew more alarmed at what he was hearing. He thought to himself, I knew my boss was a fool to ignore my warnings about King Jan. If the Dukes are truly this close to getting on board with his plan, our plans are in peril. I need to report in at once! The man got up to leave. As he rounded the corner, he ran straight into Max who stood squarely in his way.

"Ah, our friend took the bait", the robed figure heard behind him. He turned and saw the King standing there with Gunther at his side. He was trapped. The King looked at him and said, "its time you and I had a little chat." The three men led the robed figure around the library and down into the basement. They all arrived in a small room with a table and two chairs. The King sat in one chair and motioned for the robed man to sit in the other. Gunther stood by the door and leaned against it. Max stood behind the King.

"First off, whats your name son?", the King started off.

"R-R-r-robert!", the spy rambled off. He was new and inexperienced. He was caught off-guard with the turn of events.

"Ok, Robert. Here is what is going to happen. I'm going to explain what I know. Then your going to fill me in on what I don't know. Then, your going to leave here alive. Clear?", the King said evenly and with confidence.

"Um...I don't know anything. I was just sitting at the table reading. You must have me mixed up with someone else.", Robert stammered off.

"I'm disappointed in you Robert. Larisa implied you guys were incompetent but I didn't think they would send someone so inexperienced to trail me. It was probably because I am not considered to be much of a threat. Elberhard and Matthias probably have the experienced spies trailing them. Its nice to be underestimated... ," said Jan as he watched carefully for Robert's reaction.

"I don't know anyone named Larisa," shot back Robert but his face had quickly betrayed surprise at the mention of a name he recognized.

"Yes, Larisa. Her and I had a little talk. She told me much about your group. She told me that King Salier was poisoned and your group had a role in it. She knew because she worked for you. She also told me that your group had targeted Hans next but she tipped him off. Since she told me, I have been digging into things. I have researched into Salier's last battle and he behaved quite strangely as a general before he fell. I had Salier's body exhumed in order to look for poison but I couldn't find a trace. I was however able to start noticing that I have been followed where ever I go. So, here we are." The King concluded the story and did not add the rest. But he thought to himself, At the end of that meeting Larisa offered to whore herself to me but got a pistol pointed at her for her troubles. She was partly responsible for Salier's death and I should have killed her then and there. But, that would have been no way to honor Salier's name. Maybe by using her information to catch his killers, I can bring some good out of her evil past.

Through all of this, Robert was silent. "I don't know what your talking about," he said indignantly.

Jan sighed and reached into his cloak. He pulled out a box and set it on the table. He opened the box and Robert saw a bramble of twigs that formed a circle. Being Catholic, Robert knew what he was looking at. "Are you a religious man?", the King asked.

"Um...I haven't been to church in years," stammered Robert as Jan handed the Crown of Thorns off to Max.

"God remembers you," Jan said as Max walked over to Robert. "This belonged to my predecessor. Salier was a good and decent man. I believe you know something about his murder. Salier was also a very holy man. He was better than you or I. But, we get chances in life to atone. To repent our sins. Jesus died for our sins.", with that, Max set the Crown upon Robert's head. Robert just sat there as still as a statue.

Robert thought all about what Jan had just said to him. All about his life. All about what sat on his head. His head itched yet he dared not move. Robert silently started to cry. Tears ran down his cheeks. Jan nodded to Max who carefully took the Crown off of Roberts head and put it back in the box. Robert told the King everything he knew which wasn't much. But, he did give the King the address and details of the den that he reported to.

-------------------------------------------------------------

A few days later

Jan walked down the streets of Antioch with Max, Gunther, and a company of Teutonic Knights. Jan didn't know how much the criminal gang had infiltrated Imperial bureaucracy and didn't want to tip them off by calling up army units. Jan and the Teutonic Knights in this area had a long past and they gladly formed up when Max went to the Order House in Aleppo with the King's request.

The large burly man guarding the door to the gang's den heard the knocks come in the right place in the right order. He opened the door and was knocked aside by large Teutonic Knights.

The same older man from before was sitting in the den counting stacks of money per usual. He heard the knocks and thought that Robert had finally come to report in. Good, I was wondering when he would finally show up. He's late and I think I'll dock him some pay.

In the den, at least a dozen men were sitting at tables drinking and smoking hashish. As they heard the commotion up front, they all clambered up from their tables. The knights ran down the hallway and entered the den. The front rank kneeled and put their shields out as the second rank leveled crossbows over their shoulders. Bolts shot out and found their marks. Five of the criminals fell instantly. As the second rank reloaded, the front rank got up and moved forward as one, slicing through their adversaries. Through the commotion, the older man ran to the secret exit as his men bought him a few precious seconds. He opened the spot in the wall that was really a door and came face to face with the King of Outremer. After taking heavy losses and seeing they were surrounded, the rest of the criminals dropped their weapons. The King looked at the older man and said, "please have a seat. We are going to have a little chat."

The older man gave up. Gunther and Max appeared from behind the King and expertly frisked the older gentleman. After being frisked, he turned around and sat at the table. The King took a seat across from him with Max and Gunther standing behind him. The knights gathered their prisoners and marched them out leaving the four men alone to talk.

"Whats your name?", asked the King. He was met with silence. "Are you a religious man?", the King asked as he took out the box from his cloak.

Finally the older man spoke. "Save your piety for someone who gives a damn Jan. You have my attention. What do you want?"

Jan looked at the man sizing him up. "Well, the Lord cares about you regardless of how you feel. But, your right, lets get to the point. I want information on your group's involvement with the murder of King Salier. You might not care about what God thinks. And you might be gambling that I won't kill you since you undoubtedly know my reputation. But, I imagine that you don't want to spend your remaining years in a cell. If you tell me what you know, and leave Outremer for good, you will walk out of here. If you don't, I will see that you rot in prison for the rest of your life for your crimes. Don't test me on this. Salier was like a father to me."

The older man sat and thought for a moment. "Very well, it seems you have me in a tight spot my King. We're a cell. There are many of us and we're set up to be independent of the other cells. We deal in criminal rackets and what-not. We were tapped to provide support in Antioch for whatever the higher-ups have planned. Having you followed was one example. We also followed Salier. We helped trail him and set up logistical support for a couple of attempts on his life. But, both attacks on him occurred outside of Antioch so we had nothing to do with it beyond what information we gathered here. In the meantime, we busy ourselves with the usual criminal enterprises."

The King sat back as he took everything in. "So, if your all cells, who is coordinating all of this?"

The older man shrugged. "I don't know. Thats why they use cells. The Holy Roman Empire has many enemies. Take your pick. Sure, I know some rumors here and there but I don't really know what is going on."

Jan replied, "Like what rumors? Surely you report your information to someone."

"We use dead-drops. I don't know who acts on our information. I've only heard a name. Supposedly he is one of the people coordinating things in Outremer but I don't think he is in charge. He used to be on Kaiser Henry's staff and they had a falling out," said the older man calmly.

The King stared right at the older man and said with a deadly seriousness, "give me the name."

The older man replied, "Dusan."

Dusan used with Econ's permission.

[econ21]

A Dialogue on the Great Schism, Acre, 1294


“I had a very interesting meeting with Empress Theodora.” declared Linyeve.

“Did you love? How nice.” said Elberhard, distractedly.

“Yes, there is more to her than meets the eye. You could say we hit it off.”

Elberhard looked up, surprised, from his reading (Linyeve noticed with condescension that it was a book with very large illustrations of knights and fantastical creatures).

“Theodora is very knowledgable about scripture, you know.” Linyeve said.

“Oh really, how nice.” said Elberhard, flatly, returning to his book.

“Yes, she told me all about the Orthodox church. And, to be honest, I think she knew more about the Catholic church than I do.”

“Shocking.” said Elberhard. Then he glanced up, with a twinkle in his eye. “Do you have a Catholic church in England? Or do you still dance naked around big @#$%^&!!!ing stones with blue woad painted on your faces?”

Linyeve playfully whacked the Prinz over the ears with her fan: “No, we only dance naked around big stones on the Winter Solstice. And it’s not blue woad, it’s just that it's @#$%^&!!!ing freezing!” she said, playing along.

Elberhard roared with laughter.

“But seriously…” Linyeve persisted

Elberhard groaned, then yawned, scratched his crotch and looked around in an exagerated manner for a means of escape.

Linyeve sat down on the Prinz’s lap. He smiled and she traced a finger over his lips. She had his complete attention.

“You do know about the Great Schism of 1054, don’t you?” Linyeve asked.

“Err, sure, let me see … wasn’t that when Pope Gregory and the Kaiser had a falling out?”

“No, you dolt! That was the Investiture Crisis! That came later.” scolded Linyeve.

“Oh, ok then. No, I don’t have a @#$%^&!!!ing idea what the @#$%^&!!! you are talking about then.” said Elberhard angrily.

“Well, if you are sitting comfortably, then I will begin…” said Linyeve.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/East-West_Schism



*****


“Wake up, you @#$%^&!!!” chided Linyeve.

“Sorry, love, did I nod off?” said Elberhard sheepishly. “You were saying …?”

“Yes, I was saying how ridiculous it is that the Catholic Church remains split from the Orthodox Church. Almost nothing divides us!”

“Almost nothing…?” probed Elberhard sceptically.

“Did you hear anything I said? How long were you out for?” snapped Linyeve. “All that would be required for the Catholic and Orthodox Churches to reunite would be two small things.”

Elberhard stirred in his chair, his wife still draped over his lap. “Do they, err, have to be two small things?” he queried lewdly, staring at his wife’s bosom.

Linyeve elbowed him in the ribs and straightened herself haughtily. “First, get rid of that Filoque clause from the Nicocene Creed.”

“Get rid of the what now?” said Elberhard dumbly.

“You know, the part that says “We believe in the Holy Spirit ... who proceeds from the Father and the Son”. All we have to do is drop the "and the Son” bit."

“@#$%^&!!!, woman you are doing my head in! Three words? - we have to drop three words? Fine, sounds like @#$%^&!!!ing angels on a pin head to me. What’s the other thing?”

“Admit that the Pope is not infallible. The Orthodox Church may accept him as “First Among Equals” and may even accept Rome as a final court of appeal. But The Patriarch of Constantinople must be allowed to be “First Among Equals in the East” A unified Church must be a like a college, not a monolith”.

“Sounds reasonable.” nodded Elberhard, embracing Linyeve. “Now, how’s about the two of us make our own little union…?”

Linyeve rolled her eyes and looked at the clock - 10 minutes of semi-intelligent conversation; that had to be a record.

[GeneralHankerchief]

(OOC: Read this (https://forums.totalwar.org/vb/showpost.php?p=1673237&postcount=149) first.)

Northern France, 1292

"Take me to them," Dietrich von Dassel said.

"Yes, My Lord," said Friedrich, his aide and captain, who was in Dietrich's tent. "Follow me." Dietrich picked up his sword and exited after Friedrich.

The two men walked out of Dietrich's tent, past the army camp where the survivors of the battle were mostly eating and drinking in victory. They walked out to a field where three hundred and four French soldiers, now prisoners, were standing side-by-side, disarmed and guarded by several Imperial knights. Dietrich observed this scene for a moment and then spat on the ground in disgust.

"This is a beautiful field," he said to the French prisoners gathered there, who stared at him. "It is pretty. It is green. It is lush and full of life. It is a testimony to the Lord's brilliance.

"You are not fit to tread on this field."

He walked up close to the man on the far left of the line. Judging by his uniform, the man used to be a Chivalric Knight, a Frenchman of some nobility. Now he was a prisoner and he was about to find out just how unfortunate it was to be a prisoner of Dietrich and not, say, some other nobleman.

"You are French. You are the scum of the earth. You pollute this field and this air by walking here. It is a miracle that this country is not a filthy and diseased wasteland after you have inhabited it for so long. My only explanation is that God has been preserving it for us and our eventual takeover."

The Frenchman, obviously not knowing better, spoke up. "Monsieur, je ne comprends pas; je ne parle pas allemand..."

"Of course you don't," Dietrich said, still in German, apparently understanding what the man said. "You're French. You are too stupid to learn anything of worth. You are overall, unfit to live." Before the Frenchman could say anything, Dietrich flashed his sword. His prisoner crumpled to the ground, a bloody mess.

Three hundred and three.

He sidestepped the mess on the ground, moving over to the next prisoner in line, who was now shaking in fear. This one was a Dismounted Noble Knight.

"Et est-ce que *vous* parlez allemand?" His voice was like ice. The Frenchman nodded furiously.

"Good," Dietrich said. "Maybe I can make you understand why you are inferior to me in every way then."

"Waitaminute," said the Frenchman in German, "You cannot say this. This is simply untrue. We are all the children of Charlemagne, after all..."

"No," said Dietrich calmly. "*We* are the children of Karl the Great and his wife. You are the children of his bastard son, created only because he felt like satisfying an Aquitainian prostitute after one of his many victories, and who only became noted because of the blood that ran through half of his body. That was the cleanest that French royal blood has ever been. I imagine by now that it is dirtier than the water you drink. Let's find out, shall we?"

There was another flash of his sword, and another "thud" as the body crumpled to the ground. Dietrich looked at the blood seeping out in disdain, and stepped to the next person in line.

"Yep," he said, "I was right. Perhaps you could explain something to me," he addressed to his next soon-to-be victim. "For years you build up Caen and make it a halfway decent Citadel, although I'm sure it's the mightiest thing you can do. You produce all kinds of troops and send them into our lands by the thousands. But after all those years, you don't get one city out of it, and then when we come into Caen, equipped with the best defenses you can manage, we take it in a snap. Tell me how that's possible."

The Frenchman tried to reply, but it all came out in a stuttering, gabbering mess.

"I should have known that that's the best you could come with. I admit, I had hoped to get at least one coherent sentence out of you though. You're just completely useless to me." The sword flashed, the body crumpled. Three hundred and one. He stepped to the next person, who began pleading immediately.

"S'il vous pla&#238;t, monsieur... nous sommes catholiques, le m&#234;me que vous..."

"Wrong. Only humans are allowed to be Catholics. You are dirt. You are scum. You would pollute and compromise the Kingdom of Heaven if you were ever allowed in. Your heads are not fit to be interior decorations in the Castle of Dis. I do not know where they put you when you die but I can only hope for the people of the Beyond regions that it is an isolated spot. Let's find out."

Flash. Thud. Three hundred. Next.

"I admire the heathens in Outremer more than you," Dietrich said. "They have history; tradition. They pose a threat to the Reich because of troop quality, not because they mindlessly breed and mistakenly believe that they can crush us with numbers. If I captured them, I would execute them because they posed a threat to me. Not because I believe that the world would be better off without them, as I do with you."

Flash. Thud. Two hundred ninety-nine.

"Dietrich!" Friedrich screamed, watching the whole thing. "Stop this madness! Let us ransom them! Let us get florins out of this! The Chancellor always needs the money, and-"

"No," he said, simply, and that was the end of the discussion. "I am killing the French off to do the world a favor. They plague the Reich, yes, but they plague the Earth with their existence. I do this for the English and the Spanish and the Danes. A world without France is a beautiful world, Friedrich, and I intend to see it happen."

There were two hundred ninety-nine more flashes; two hundred ninety-nine more thuds. And little by little Dietrich saw his goal come closer to realization.

[Privateerkev]

This story is a co-op between myself and econ.

Outside Aleppo: 1294

King Jan sat inside of a farmhouse on the outskirts of Aleppo. Jan's family had owned land around Aleppo for decades. It was as out of the way and secure as you could get. Max and Gunther patrolled outside. They took days getting out here to make sure they weren't followed. Elberhard arrived a few days later because his journey was farther and he also had to back-track in order to throw off possible pursuit.

Jan was sitting at a table thinking about how the meeting was going to go. He was really going out on a limb trusting Elberhard like this. But, he really had no choice. He had to trust someone. He had sent the Prince a simple message requesting a meeting and urging caution. Jan's thoughts were interrupted when Elberhard walked through the door. Both men's retinue stayed outside and secured the perimeter. A whole lot of people would not want this conversation to take place and security was air-tight.
"Elberhard! Glad you could make it. I hope the trip went well. Here, have a seat. Have a beer. Thanks again, for agreeing to meet like this," Jan said as he got up, shook the Prince's hand and showed him his seat.

“My pleasure.” smiled Elberhard. “Your letter was rather mysterious. But I figured it must be important, so I came right away.”

Jan sat back and relaxed: "My how times have changed. I remember when we were both just a couple of crusader counts trying to impress our fathers. Now look at us. Your heir to the throne and have your own personal army. I got picked to administer a kingdom. We got old. We're getting to be the elders now."

“Us the elders?” exclaimed Elberhard. “Then the young ‘uns are well and truly @#$%^&!!! But it’s true - we can’t complain. We’ve done well out of this lark; perhaps too well. I can’t help feeling pride comes before a fall. But what’s this all about, Jan? Why the cloak and dagger stuff?”

"OK. First off, you’re the only one I can trust with what I am about to tell you. Sure I have crusader counts that are polite to me in the Outremer hall and in letters, but they scheme with their Dukes behind my back. The Kaiser certainly is sympathetic, but he is a busy man and quite frankly, I don't really know him at all. The Dukes see me as a useful ally at best and a threat to their power at worst. You on the other hand, keep your distance from everyone but you care about what goes on in the Reich and out here. I'm sure it has to do with the position of Prince. You don't want to get too close to people so you can at least try to be impartial when your Kaiser. But you always have looked out for me. I remember back when you offered me sanctuary years ago when Arnold was after me. My father named you as one of the only people in the Reich worth trusting. He didn't like many people so that meant a lot to me that he vouched for you. So, that is where I am coming from and that is why we are having this conversation."

“Jan, I am flattered.” said Elberhard. “For my part, ever since I saw you - a young whippersnapper - square up to Duke Elephantballs, I knew you were a man after my own heart. To be honest, it was a little comic and even absurd, like watching an uppity terrier goad a tethered bull. But the Reich nowadays seems dominated by dread knights; our reputation for butchering prisoners rivals that of the @#$%^&!!!ing Horse Lords, for @#$%^&!!!s sake. It was like you saw that coming and tried to stop it. You probably went about it all the wrong way and you totally failed to stop it, of course. But you tried. And for that you have my admiration, my friendship and my loyalty.”

Elberhard paused and looked into his beer awkwardly: “Well, now we have got that mutual love-in over with, are you going to tell me what the @#$%^&!!! this is all about?”

"Alright, on to business.” said Jan. “I believe King Salier was murdered. First off, I was at the battle and some thing just didn't feel right. The King was a masterful commander. But, that last battle looked like it was being run by a private. All the regiments were just thrown in hap-hazard. There was no attempt at strategy. No deployment. No units giving each other cohesive support. Just a total free-for-all. "

Elberhard nodded. “Yeah, it just was not right for the boss to go down so easily.”

"But, so much happened so quickly afterwards at the next Diet session that I kind of put it out of my mind” continued Jan “That is, until that new bar-maid, Larisa, started working at the Tavern. She quickly made contact with me and informed me she had information. We exchanged some messages and eventually met in person at my apartment in Rome. This woman is quite a piece of work. She claimed the King was poisoned and she knew who did it because she worked for them by watching his camp. They never paid her for the job so she tipped off Hans when they targeted him next. Then she came to Rome for safety and to further what ever plots and plans she had. After telling me she had a hand in the King's murder, she had the nerve to come on to me. So, I pulled a pistol on her and kicked her out. I haven't seen her around Rome since."

“@#$%^&!!!ing ‘ell! Women! Can you @#$%^&!!!ing believe ‘em?” exclaimed Elberhard. “More deadlier than the male, let me tell you, mate.”

"After that conversation, I started doing some digging, both literally and figuratively.” recounted Jan. “I couldn't find any trace of poison in Salier's body but I did discover I was being followed. I followed a few leads and moved my way up the food chain of this criminal gang in Antioch. They confirmed that they were logistical and intelligence support to a couple plots to assassinate King Salier. I finally got to the mid-level management. And that guy gave me a name. Dusan. And that's where I have hit a wall. The guy said Dusan was on your father's staff. Do you know anything about this guy?"

Elberhard looked like Jan had thumped him in the solar plexus. Slowly, he recovered: “Know anything about him? You might say that. I had the @#$%^&!!!er in my dungeon only a few years ago!”

The Prinz paused and then began to tell the story: “It was just before your boys saw off the last of the Mongols. There was some weird @#$%^&!!! with one of my retinue, an old chap who used to be my mentor. Apparently, this Dusan bloke was blackmailing him to persuade me to leave Outremer. Nasty business. Dusan had my chap’s grandchildren hostage. Still, we got it sorted - caught Dusan and exchanged him for the nippers. I had half a mind to run the @#$%^&!!!er through after the exchange, but that would not have been entirely chivalrous, would it? Although I am not sure chivalry applies to scum like him.”

Jan was wide-eyed with interest, soaking up every detail. “But who was he, this Dusan? What did he want?”

Elberhard sat back. “I’m not sure of the details. He used to hang around my father when he was in Outremer. But they had some kind of falling out. He disappeared not long after I got established here. Linyeve found out more details from King Otto’s widow, Elspeth. Apparently, Otto despised Dusan - I mean, really despised him. Elspeth even gave Linyeve on the sword cane Otto wanted to stick him with. Good judge of character, King Otto.”

Jan tried to hide his dissatisfaction. The vagueness of Elberhard’s replies was not a form of dissembling. The Prinz had never been a details man. It was clear that if Jan was to find out more about Dusan’s aims and affiliation, he would have to take to Elspeth.

“I don’t suppose you have a means of finding Dusan and getting him back into your dungeon?” Jan inquired, more in hope than expectation.

Elberhard shook his head. “If I told you the lengths we had to go to bag him in the first place, you would not ask. He got careless, but he won’t be repeating his mistake any time soon. There might be some people who could help you, though: for a price.”

Jan looked attentively as the Prinz continued: “The hashashins.”

Inwardly, Jan groaned. Why was nothing ever easy?

[Cecil XIX]

Bran, 1296

It was a normal Sunday, like all those previous but with two exceptions. Firstly, Contzel Becker had arrived in Bran with the intent to stay until the second AHA was reformed. Secondly, the Beckers were wearing black to Church that day.

https://img210.imageshack.us/img210/2014/medieval220070916033711do1.jpg

The service itself was not remarkable. After it was over, Edmund spoke to the Priest who had presided over the ceremony. After the exchange of pleasantries and a brief conversation, they parted ways and Edmund guided Contzel to the door that was sequestered towards the back.

The door itself was the entry to a small room that seemed to jut out from the corner. A brief inspection of the stones used showed that the two lesser walls for the room were noticeable younger than the major walls for the building. Edmund opened the door, revealing a well-lit staircase.

As the Beckers descended, Contzel previously emotionless expression began to brake apart, and when they reached the door at the bottom she had started to cry. Becker looked at her with concern before he awkwardly fished a handkerchief from his person and gave it to his wife before opening the door.

The room was small, but rather cozy. There were a few benches on the walls, but otherwise the room was lacking in accoutrements. In the center of the room was a sarcophagus, clearly marked in stone for those who had just entered.

Sigismund von Mahren

1144-1274

"For a true and holy Reich"

At this Edmund quickly made the sign of the Cross. Whilst he was doing that Contzel threw herself onto the coffin and began sobbing hysterically.

“Sigismund! Sigismund, we did you have to leave us too? We all miss you Sigismund! Mother and Niesenn and I were all terribly upset…”

Edmund knelt before his wife, and placed a reassuring hand on her back.

“It’s all right Contzel, Sigismund’s-“

She turned to him with fury in her eyes.

“NO! It is not all right! Sigismund said the same thing when Ehrhart died, so don’t you dare say that it’s all right!”

Edmund stopped, unable to say anything. Ehrhart, Sigismund, and now Wilhelm falling in battle had put them both on edge. As he stared into his wife’s eyes, a look of intense focus entered her features and she began to speak.

“You have to promise me that you will never go to war again. You can’t! This family has been through too much to see you die too!”

Never had he had to refuse something so agreeable.

“I can’t do that Contzel, I’m the only one left. Duke Arnold needs me, and Sigismund would never forgive me if I shirked away from my duty.”

“Don’t you talk to me about duty! That’s what got my brothers killed, and it’s going to get you too!”

“I promise you, I’m not going to die in battle. I will be extremely cautious when I’m on the field.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

“All right then.” She stood up. “I’ve said what I had to say. I’m going to go get some flowers to place here before continuing. Do you want to come with me?”

“I will stay here and converse with the priest. They say he met Sigismund when he was a member of the Theologian’s guild in Budapest and became a member of his retinue.” He stood up to walk with her.

“Ludwig was his name, wasn’t it? I’m sure you'll have much to talk about.”

The walked up the stairs in silence and said their momentary goodbyes when Contzel went to pick flowers. To Edmund’s surprise the priest was exactly where he had left him. With a bit of nervousness he walked up to the vicar.

“Thank you for taking care of the burial chamber. It means a great deal to the Reich, Austria and my family.”

The priest was silent, and seemed to be sizing Edmund up.

"It's remarkable really, I've heard Sigsimund made quite an impression on the people here even though he spent so little time in the castle."

The Priest continued to stay silent. By then Edmund had decided that a staring contest was as good a use of his time as he was going to get, and he attacked the matter whole-heartedly. Eventually Contzel returned and Edmund turned to walk away. That was when the priest spoke.

“Sir Sigismund spared Bran from the wanton death and destruction that surrounds the Reich. Many of the soldiers he spared had families here, and they remembered the mercy he showed to their husbands, fathers, brothers, and sons. We keep the crypt well-maintained as a tribute to him for treating Transylvania with the respect an Imperial province commands before it was even conquered, as well as showing the people mercy even Imperial citizens are occasionally without.” Without another word, the priest walked away leaving Edmund thoughtful.

“Mercy…”

[Privateerkev]

This story is a co-op between myself and Cecil

Bran 1300:

King Jan rode his horse up to the citadel. He had taken a ship to south Austria and headed here on the way to the next Diet session. He had been both dreading and eagerly awaiting this trip for years. But, it was something he had to do. A letter to Count Becker preceded his arrival and Edmund was waiting by the gates for the King.

"Count Becker! Good to finally talk to you. I haven't seen you since we drank at the Tavern," Jan said as he got off of his horse and shook the man's hand.

"It is good to see you again as well, King Jan. I thank you for coming, the people here are eager to get a look at the King of Outremer. This way, if you please"

The two men walked into the church. They were silent until they got down into the tomb. For awhile, Jan just stared at Sigismund's final resting place.

"He was the best of us you know," Jan finally said softly to break the silence.

"I confess I know little about my brother-in-law, though Contzel spoke very highly of him. I know that the two of you were friends and I'd be eager hear something about him."

Jan began, "First off, I'm sorry about the tragedies that have befallen your family. Sigismund was my best friend. We worked closely together to try to steer the Reich in a new direction. You're one of the two last remaining male family members of his. And I don't think Duke Arnold is ready to hear this yet so I'll tell you."

Becker politely listened as Jan continued, "Years ago there was a piece of legislation that attempted to mandate that prisoners could not be executed after battle and that settlements could not be exterminated. It was pretty unpopular among some and it didn't pass. But, it came a lot closer than people thought it would and it gave those of the more dreadful persuasion a good scare."

"People still think that it was my idea. But the secret I have been carrying around for years is that it was Sigismund's. It was him that pushed me to put that legislation forward and it was him that worked behind the scenes to help get it passed. Afterwards, he was instrumental at getting Duke Arnold and I to reconcile. I was simply the public face of the CA. It was decided that Sigismund was in a more precarious political situation. If you've checked the old Diet transcripts, you'll see that I am somewhat more outspoken and not as concerned with the niceties of politics," Jan said the last with a small smile. As Jan was talking about the mercy CA, Becker listened more intently.

"The point of all of this is, Sigismund was a true knight. In the best sense of the word. And I can't even tell anyone. The Reich has gone in the wrong direction. People in the Diet try to one-up each other on suggestions for massacres. Those of us who believe otherwise are dying off. And not enough of the younger ones are following the right path. Those of the more dreadful persuasion hold positions of power and are not encouraging their Counts to be merciful," with that last word, Edmund perked up. Jan noticed the word struck a cord with Edmund.

Edmund spoke up, "Your sentiments confirm my own observations. Though I am not as grand as you or Sigismund in my thoughts about the Reich, I am a religous man and I find casual slaughter to be extremely distasteful."

Jan looked at Becker intently and said, "Edmund, the Lord is saddened to see us deny him souls. It is our job to save people and spread the good word. Murdering them unarmed denies the Lord his Christian soldiers. While we are the vanguard, he needs many soldiers. That is our task." Jan pulled a box out of his cloak and opened it. Becker's eyes widened in amazement as he saw a bramble of twigs in a circle. "This sat upon the Lord's head when he was crucified. When he died for our sins. This is proof that he loved us regardless of how imperfect we were. We have to honor the Lord's sacrifice by atoning for our sins and helping to build a more perfect world. A world ruled by the word of God. And the Reich will be the instrument of the Lord for we are good and just. I will leave you with those thoughts in hope that it will comfort you," Jan said as he closed the box and put it away.

There was silence for a few moments, as Edmund stared at the space the Crown of Thorns had occupied. Eventually he spoke, "I understand. Thank you my King, I will take these words to heart."

Finally Jan said, "if you don't mind, I'd like to be alone for awhile."

Jan waited until he was sure that Becker left. Finally, he knelt in front of the tomb. "I'm sorry old friend, I failed. I tried to continue the work we started together but everything changed when you died. So many of our allies passed on. All of the Dukes are murderers. The Kaiser has even gotten a bit colder. There is only the Prince, myself, and a handful of others left that show mercy on the battlefield. I fear we are facing dark times Sigismund and I wish you were here to help steer us out of them. You were always the brains and heart of our partnership. I was simply the mouthpiece," the King said as his eyes welled up.

Jan knelt in silence for what seemed like an eternity. Alone with his thoughts, Jan knew deep down that Sigismund would want Jan to keep fighting. To never give up. Jan knew that Sigismund always had faith in him. With resolve, Jan stood up and made the sign of the cross across his chest.

"Goodbye my friend. One day, we'll meet again..."

With that, the King walked back up the stairs.

[FactionHeir]

Staufen castle, 1300 AD

The cellar was dark and damp. The few torches that had been lit in the darker corners did little to illuminate the eery athmosphere that lay upon this chamber tonight, as a dark figure entered it, bringing with it some fading beams of light.
It was suitable however, for what was to be discussed between the several men that had gathered here, with none of the usual castle guards in sight.

Hans motioned to the late arrival to have a seat at the lone round table beside the kegs of wine that were lined along the sides of the cellar. The figure hesistated at first, noticing that several other men lay waiting behind some of the pillars, but then seated itself regardless, not without a smirk, hidden by the darkness.

"I see you have brought some lapdogs with you to keep guard. Very good. I prefer dealing with those who trust me as little as I do." was the first sentence that broke the silence

Taking a seat himself, Hans poured some French wine into the two goblets that stood ready, offering one to the shady figure "Indeed. These days are not as safe as they used to be, besides, you know as little of my intentions as I do of yours..."

The figure moved somewhat, releasing from the depth of its hood what sounded like a muffled laugh. Waiting for Hans to drink from his goblet, he exchanged them, and took a sip himself. "Good, I see we understand each other. Do you wish to continue this battle of wits or will you let me in on why you have summoned me here this night?"

Hans was sligtly surprised by the exchange of goblets, but did not show it in his expression. One wrong move could mean the end of this meeting or betrayal. "Very well, let us begin. I have a question and an answer for you, which one will it be?"

The figure seemed startled for the reply did not come after several long seconds of silence. "The answer."

"Ahh, I would have thought you more interested in how the answer is obtained rather than a straight dead-end. Still, I will not count this against you. The answer is 'I cannot trust you to do what I will ask of you, yet neither can you trust me with your reward or support.'"

"Quite. Name your task then."

"I need someone...observed."

"Observation. How boring. Could you not have bothered one of the many apprentices with it?" Was the reply

"Of course. While I do not doubt their ability, I doubt their experience and ... integrity with this most secret mission."

"Really."

"It would also be unfortunate if there were ...problems with the guild if things went awry."

"Interesting. Problems." The figure spoke in a bored tone

"Yet influence in Swabia and possibly the empire might be the other side of the coin."

"You truly believe we lack influence."

"The headquarters certainly is not found in the empire."

The figure once again took a while to respond "Indeed. Very well, speak. You have my ear, but I warn you, if you are wasting my time, there might be...problems as well."

"Good. I see we reached an agreement. Well then. Dietrich von Dassel ring a bell?"

"If it was important, it would."

"I see your men withhold it from you."

"You see quite a lot, no?"

Hans had to chuckle at this remark. His guest was well versed in the art of diplomacy. Still, he did not reply directly to it, instead, simply continuing. "He seems to work for someone influential. Someone who grants him security so that he does not mind going "independent."

"Are you certain you did not wish to talk to the other guild?"

"I do not need him removed...yet. I'd rather strike when the mice are gathered."

A nod was the only reply

"Send your best agents to watch him. I will be putting him to garrison duty and he should be fairly easy to track. Make sure that he does not see your men, and they report in regularly. Every piece of information if to come directly to you and relayed to myself. Any leak and you may find yourself a new home in France. You bring me what I want, and you will gain several ew guild houses."

"And what tells me you will keep your word?"

"What tells me you will keep yours?"

"Good. I like it. Anything else?"

Adalberth passed Hans a heavy purse, which he dropped on the figure's lap "You will find further information inside. Do not disappoint me."

"As long as this is not too disappointing, you will not be" The figure rose, bowed, turned and slowly, like a shade, disappeared to the stairs.

[GeneralHankerchief]

Caen, 1300

"Ragusa?"

"Ragusa."

"Ragusa?!"

"Yes sir, I believe that it says 'Ragusa' on the parchment, yes."

"Cut the crap, Friedrich," Dietrich von Dassel said to his aide. "I'm being shuffled around, which is unlucky for the both of us. At first I thought that the Kaiser would simply be content with putting me in eternal second-in-command of the SHA behind the last Hummel. Kind of an irony considering that he hates me more than the man who tried to violently rebel against him some years ago. But now, not even that's good enough for me! Instead he puts me in Austrian territory overseeing nothing in particular for the best years of my life!"

"Well," said Friedrich thoughtfully, "It is close to the Byzantine border... If the Kaiser screws up negotiations - and considering him, it could happen - then you might be seeing more action than you think."

"No," said Dietrich with a touch of gloom on his face. "That's the brilliance of it all. Not even he can botch these negotiations, at least not to the point of war. He just gave Emperor Isaac two territories that should have been Bavarian right off the bat. I shudder to think what will happen when they get down to business.

"Anyway," he continued, "The whole point of his plan is that I won't even be on the frontier if his plan works. The way he sees it, he puts me right smack-dab in the middle of the new Empire once we re-unify with the Byzantines. I'll be far from anywhere important - exactly what he wants. That's why he picked Ragusa."

"I see," said Friedrich. Now he looked rather depressed. As a commander's career went, so did his aide's, and Friedrich's commander was not on the fast track to greater things at the moment.

"I don't know what went wrong during that Diet session," Dietrich said. It must have been the thousandth time he had said this since the session had ended some weeks ago, and that was only out loud. God knows how many more times he thought it to himself, at night, sleeping, eating, drinking, going over paperwork.

"I thought I really had something going, you know? Power to the people, and all that. I talk bad about the Kaiser, incite popular sentiment, and throw enough carrots to the Houses and I really thought they'd join me. It worked, for a while. I had Fritz, Peter, Athalwolf (although I don't know what happened with him, I was clearly being sarcastic when I insulted him), even Matthias! But what happened after that?"

"Well, sir, the fight with Duke Ansehelm got pretty ugly."

"Bah!" Dietrich spat, remembering the insults that had been traded and the political pressure placed on him to apologize. "I meant every word I said to him. The stupid idiot agrees with me but won't vote with me just because Kaiser Siegfried is his brother, so that completely absolves him of all wrongdoing. Hans acts like a total Frenchman when the time comes to make a stand, of course. 'I want to preserve the alliance with Franconia,' he says. Bah! The Swabian edicts still passed overwhelmingly. And he deprives his own House of voting influence because of that damned Duke."

There was a slight lull in conversation, which didn't last long due to Dietrich's continued ranting.

"Jesus Christ, Friedrich, I don't know what went wrong. I guess I'm just going to have to suck up to Hans if I want this thing turned around."

"Indeed, sir," Friedrich said. He looked uncomfortable at the mention of Hans but said nothing further to that effect. Dietrich did not notice the expression on his face and the two continued to live their newly-boring lives as normal.

[Northnovas]

Damascus 1300

The stout fellow knocked and waited for permission to enter the Governor’s study. Upon getting permission to enter the middle aged man walked in wiping his face with a hankie to clear the sweat from his eyes before speaking.

“My lord it has been completed. You must come and see immediately.” the man spoke excitedly still wiping sweat from his face and forgetting all manners with his good news.

Zirn looked at his new siege engineer Walter with amusement. He had come highly recommended but there had been no sieges for the Governor for sometime. Wanting to retain his service has insurance the Governor took him on to help complete his Cathedral.

“Excellent, excellent news, Walter! I knew I could put those engineering skills of yours to something more creative then just designing equipment for destruction.” exclaimed Zirn. “Your expertise has put this feat well ahead of schedule. I am truly grateful for your work.”

The man was slightly embarrassed by the Governor’s remarks but had truly believed in the Governor’s mission and felt that his contribution to such a great feat would help balance things out in the eyes of God for some of the work he had done in the past.
“Thank you my lord. It has truly been an honour and I am grateful to have been involved with such a great project. Please hurry! There are some minor details to complete but the major construction is over.” Walter then headed for the door waving the Zirn to follow.

Zirn assembled himself and headed out towards the new Cathedral. He walked to the location instead of the riding and mingled amongst the people as he made his way. Many of the pedestrians not knowing the great feat that had been accomplished. Karl thought to himself they will soon know because they will be the converted. This will be great place of worship that will rival any Cathedral in the known world.

As he got closer he began to slow down and catching the glimpses of the structure in the skyline amongst the lower buildings around it. When he finally got out to the main through way heading towards the building a great emotion overwhelmed him. He had deliberately stayed away the reaming year when he left Walter in charge. He heard many comments but would not go and sneak a peak.

The scaffolding was gone from the front and the last crane was being disassembled. He soaked in the view of the majestic front. The Cathedral face was that of the standard Western architecture with 2 spiraling towers at it front corners and a huge rectangular stain glass mural in the front. However, when he came around to view the sites the building transformed itself taking on the architecture of all the Eastern lands. There were gold domes and spires on its sides and the rear of the building the sanctuary was finished off in an amphitheater shape. The building was alive and seemed to transform from the different views Karl would take. It would almost be difficult for one to readily recognize it's faith if they were not to familair with church architecture.

The interior displayed the workmanship of both Western and Eastern artisans. There was earthly material of fine minerals and diamonds to simple ore. Wood from all reaches of the Reich. This was truly a magnificent house of worship.

When Karl got to the sanctuary he placed the Veil of Veronica in a very ornate box that was part of the centre piece of the sanctuary.

I have truly completed my mission here in the Outremer. I have completed the work the Lord had called to me to do in this land thought Karl the Honourble. Sunday will be the blessing and first service of the First Cathedral of the Outremer.

[OverKnight]

Rome, 1302

"So, I'm curious, why didn't you take my suggestion? Why did you support Dietrich's bid?"

Matthias sighed and glanced across the table at Elsebeth. An invitation to coffee had seemed innocent enough, but the Princess, true to character, was seeking information. Matthias drank a bit of the strong brew to give himself time to think.

"I doubt I would have had the support of the Diet. Defying the will of the Kaiser and a third straight term, I wouldn't have had the votes."

Elsebeth narrowed her eyes and ran her finger along the edge of her cup, "Really? And you thought Sir von Dassel would garner more support? I know you better than that, why not do it yourself? Why risk defying the Kaiser with a proxy?"

Matthias stared down at his cup, "Even if the Diet bent down on their knees and begged me, I would not have served a third term. I doubt that they would have done that anyway. Most of them are like that weasel Hans, half-hearted praise and muttering about how they would have done it better. Even if you do the job well, you wear out your welcome. And Dietrich was not a proxy. . .I supported his Charter Amendment because I felt the Kaiser was out of touch and not qualified to serve as Chancellor. However, I was not willing to run against him, von Dassel was, so I supported his bid."

Elsebeth raised an eyebrow, "But you voted against his Edict in the end, why?"

Matthias grimaced, "Not my finest hour. It was doomed to fail, and von Dassel had made a hash of enlisting support, enraged half the Diet in fact. I got off a sinking ship."

Elsebeth chuckled, "Well at least you still have a County, if not a command. Are you looking forward to your 'missionary' work?"

Matthias rolled his eyes, "Ah, good King Jan, the sanctimonious prig. It wouldn't surprise me if he was in bed with the Kaiser. Those Imperial edicts were rolled out right at the start, and he seconded all of them in a flash. He does owe his position to Siegfried, and it's not like he can expect a warm welcome in Franconia if he loses it."

"So what now? Will you stay in Outremer, return to Bavaria? Perhaps raise your banner in rebellion like Ulrich Hummel? That was at Adana, your Citadel, was it not?"

Laughing ruefully, Matthias drank the dregs of his coffee, "God forbid, things don't look good, with half of Italy gone Purple and the Kaiser gracefully donating a Sicilian territory to us, but rebellion? No."

Matthias paused and thought a bit, "As for what I am going to do? I don't know. I'd been Chancellor so long, I don't know what to do with myself now that I'm just a Count. I'm not really needed in Bavaria, but Outremer is a shadow of its former self. All I do know is that this unification business has to be stopped."

Looking at Matthias quizzically, Elsebeth refilled his cup.

"Why? One of the last acts of your term was to aid the Byzantines near Caesarea, why turn against them now?"

Matthias looked at Elsebeth and his eyes narrowed.

"Caesarea was a. . .peace offering, and not for the Byzantines. It is one thing to aid an ally, to bolster a friendly buffer state, it is another to treat with them as equals. We are an Empire, they are a remnant of one. Without us, they would not have Iconium or Caesarea, and most likely would have been picked off by the Turks or Hungarians by now. If the First Crusade hadn't intercepted those three Jihad armies, the heathens would be in Constantinople, and their 'Empire' would be nothing but a memory."

Elsebeth gave Matthias an appraising gaze over the rim of her cup.

"The Kaiser, the Kaiserin, the Prinz and most of the Electors are behind Unification, it would be unwise of you to oppose it. You did not follow my last suggestion, my dear, I hope you follow this one. Do not get in their way, you will gain nothing by opposing Unification, and could lose a great deal."

Matthias set down his cup with more force than necessary, "This isn't a matter to be bartered for influence. Unification is folly! We grow weaker while the Byzantines feed off our greatness! The Kaiser seems to listen to his wife more than his Electors, and her claws will only dig deeper the further we go with this farce. No good will come of it! What has been split asunder cannot be rejoined. To try, is to invite disaster."

Matthias rose and bowed to the Princess.

"I am sorry Highness, but I have travel arrangements to make. I must supervise the work on the Royal Arsenal at Adana. If I cannot lead men in the field, I will least help arm them. Good day."

After Matthias had left, Elsebeth sat a while deep in thought. Matthias had reached his potential and more, she had chosen wisely, but his star was now in descent. It was time to consider alternatives.

It was time to speak to Kaiserin Theodora.

[econ21]

This is a co-op story written by Privateerkev and econ21.

King Jan goes to the Vatican, 1302


As Jan waited in the antechamber, he saw the inner door open and out slipped a dark haired, regal woman. Her eyes immediately found Jan and she smiled a rich smile, then she approached warmly, almost skipping over to him. Although in her mid-forties, she moved with a zest and freedom that belied her age and station.

“You must be King Jan, I assume? It is such a pleasure to meet you at last. I am Theodora.”

Jan bows to the lady, "My Empress, it is an honor to finally meet you in person."

“I heard you had an audience with his Holiness scheduled for today, so I thought I would catch you first. I have so wanted to meet you. You are one of the Reich’s young rising stars - one of the few to adhere to the old Frankish code of chivalry.”

Jan's cheek's flush, "You do me a great honor my Empress but I fear I have not done as much as you let on. But enough about me. How are you? Have you settled in? How do you like our fair and grand capital?"

“Oh, the city is wonderful. It reminds me of past ages - of what once was and what could be again.” the Empress’s face clouds and she says sadly. “But the people, you will excuse me Jan - I can call you Jan, can’t I? - some of the people are positively beastly! Like that Peter von Kastilien - such a foul mouth! They all hate me and worse, I swear, some of them would see me dead.”

"Of course you can call me Jan my Empress. I apologize that some of my peers get a little... raucous. But, I assure you it is simply the nature of politics. The Diet gets contentious because people feel so much is on the line when they go in there. Any perceived slight, any perceived insult, is seen as a threat to people's agenda and they pounce on it with great ferocity," Jan says in an attempt to convince the Empress.

“King Jan, you are a good man but you are fooling no one. I am a foreigner, a woman past her prime, alone in this hostile city. There may come a day when I call upon you for your protection. Perhaps you will remember this moment if that day comes? But tell me this - I simply do not understand - why I am so hated?”

Jan straightens up and becomes serious, "My Empress, you are married to mein Kaiser. It is my duty to protect you. The Kaiser rules by divine right. Therefore, he is God's chosen ruler for the Reich. I will serve him faithfully until the end of my days. As his wife, that extends to you." Jan's expression softens a little, "Plus, during the Diet when I was first appointed, I had a pretty hard time and was left quite discouraged. Your letter lifted my spirits and I will never forget your words of kindness. As for the current atmosphere in the Diet, I believe that has to do with unification. Many men fear change. They build up their own little fiefdoms and are afraid of anything that could possibly damage that. My best advice would be to not take it personally."

“But why are the German nobility so hostile to reunification? Do they not see they would effectively be gaining a vassal, a powerful servant who could fight with them to guard the east against the Mohammedans and the pagans? Why do they despise a loyal Orthodox ally more than their many Catholic neighbours who daily fight with them? If Byzantium guards your back, you would be free to crush the Poles, the Hungarians, the Danes and the French!”

Jan thinks for a moment and then answers, "many in the Diet fear outsiders. These men are generals who have been fighting their whole adult lives. Many of us have lost dear friends and family. War tends to create an us-versus-them mentality. I have tried, during my whole political career, to combat that idea. I believe that we are all God's children. While I will not hesitate to strike down someone who raises their weapon against me, I will love them and try to save them the moment they put the weapon down. Such is the will of our Lord. Maybe one day we will strive to be better than who we are and live up to what the Lord sees in us. Hope of that eventuality is what gets me through each day. I support unification because I believe it will help bring about a change for good in this world. A unified church can serve more people and spread the Word farther and faster. A unified Roman Empire will be the beacon that will cast the light of the Lord across the land."

“Jan, it seems that my informants were right to commend you so highly. You are indeed wise and kind. While men of your calibre still hold influence in the Reich, the cause of unification will not die. But I must not keep you from your audience with the Holy Father. Afterwards, we shall have lunch, together, yes? I would so much like to learn of your time in Outremer and all the amazing things you have been doing there.”

"My Empress, I am not so optimistic as you regarding how much influence I hold but I do appreciate your kind words. I would be honored to dine with you when I am done meeting the Holy Father." Jan bows to Theodora and walks towards the door.



*****


Jan's heart beat faster as he entered. This is the most important meeting of my life. I better not !@#$ this up, Jan thought to himself.

As Jan entered, a tall knight approached, dress in full plate and wearing the Papal livery. Jan’s face broke into a smile as he recognized the imposing figure as Sir Reinhold Schimdt - a veteran of the crusade which brought Jan to the Holy Land.

“Brother” said Reinhold, “It is a great day to meet you ago in this most holy of places. We must catch up later, but now let me introduce you to the Pontiff.”

Pope Abbate made an unprepossessing figure as he hobbled over to meet King Jan. He was short, plump and stooped. He spoke softly and at times almost seemed to be muttering. But he radiated an inner calm and conviction, so that Jan felt compelled to strain to catch his every word.

“King Jan, I cannot begin to thank you and the Reich for your service to the Papacy. For many years now, your men have fought and died to protect the Holy Land. You have been a Christian bulwark against all Mohammedans and heathens. You even vanquished the fearsome Horse Lords. Truly, it is an honour to have the King of Outremer visit me.”

Jan kneels to the floor and kisses the ring, "Your Holiness, it is I who am honored. All I have done is my duty to the Lord and to my Kaiser."

“But tell me, my son, what brings you to me? You seem concerned and I am guessing this is not just a social visit.”

Jan stands back up, "Your Holiness, there has been talk in the Diet regarding our impending unification with the Eastern Roman Empire. It has been said that there will be a unification of the Church as well. Quite simply, I need to know if you approve of this. You are the successor of Peter and your word on this will be law as far as I am concerned."

The Pope looks childlike and places a chubby hand on Jan’s arm, barely containing his pleasure:

“I can tell you my son - you shall be one of the first to hear! It is done! I will announce it later in the week, but the Patriach of Constantinople has agreed - they will unify with us, the Church will be whole again!”

Jan was a bit shocked that the religious unification went so smoothly, "My Holiness, this is wonderful news, but how did it happen? I didn't expect it to come about so easily."

The Pontiff relaxes and sits back, recounting events in a detached tone.

“To be honest, I believe it was politics. The great schism was never about belief or doctrine. It was merely recognition of the temporal divide of Western Europe from the Eastern Roman Empire. A man cannot have two masters. And nor can a church. But as the politics changes, so can the church. The Kaiser gave up Naples and Palermo. In exchange, Emperor Isaac has given up his church.”

Jan is surprised a bit to hear the issue of religious unification broken down into a matter of politics, "Thats it? This was about land?"

“But Jan, you are a devout man. Can you tell me one point of doctrine on which the Catholic church disagreed with the Orthodox? The Filoque clause? That the Holy Spirit proceeds from the Father and the Son? That is a triviality - it has no bearing on the central message of our Lord or the real work of the church, to save souls. We will drop that clause from the Nicocene Creed - it is the price of religious re-unification. But to bring together the brothers of the faith, it is a trivial price, eminently worth paying.”

"A wise move Holy Father but what about you? As I mentioned before, you are the successor of Peter. As such, you are the Lord's agent here on Earth. How will you rank with regards to the Patriarch?"

“Rome will be the final court of appeal in the united Church, but I will not stand ahead of the Patriarch. He will be master in the east and I in the west. We cannot insist on Papal infallibility. I mean, look at me - a short fat old man! Am I infallible? Was Pope Gregory infallible when he excommunicated Kaiser Heinrich? Papal infallibility is the kind of nonsense men only pretend to believe because they are so blinkered and conforming.”

Jan thinks a bit on what the Pope has said, "His Holiness, it is refreshing to hear a great man be so humble before the Lord. I believe that religious unification would be a good thing for everyone. It would help to spread the Word. As Saint Cyprian of Carthage said, 'Extra Ecclesiam nulla salus'."

OOC: it means, "Outside the Church there is no salvation". That phrase sums up Jan's beliefs better than anything. Also, it is interesting that "Unam Sanctum" came about in 1302. I suggest you "wiki" both terms. Their interesting reads. :yes:

“You know, Jan, God often puts a man into the world for only one purpose. A man may live his entire life, amounting to nothing. But one day, he may pass by a river and in that river he may see a child drowning. That one day may be why he has been put on this earth. After that day, he may drink, womanise and waste away. But on that day, the Holy Spirit may shine through him and in his rescue of that drowning child, may give meaning to the man’s whole life.”

The Pontiff wipes a tear from his eye, caught up in the moment:

“I believe I was put on this earth for one purpose. And it is done. God’s children are reunited again and whatever fate has in store for me, I can die content in knowing that I have been an instrument of the Lord in this great endeavour.”

The Pope comes out of his reverie and turns to Jan:

“But Jan, I feel that you have not yet served your purpose. As I say, I am not infallible - I cannot tell you what your purpose is. But watching your progress through the Diet to the throne of Outremer, I see you have had your own baptism. God has forged you to be a pious man, a man of honour. Whatever trials await you down the road, he has fashioned a mighty instrument that can be relied upon to do what is right. Come to me child and receive my blessing…”

Jan kneels before the Pope full of purpose and hope.

[econ21]

Acre, 1204


“Have you read these?” Linyeve threw the books down in front of Elberhard.

The Prinz squinted, reading was not his forte. Elberhard’s eyes widened as he read the titles:

“Why the Pope and his Recent Book are Burned” by Alexander Luther

”On the Byzantines and their lies” by Alexander Luther

“Against the Papacy Established by the Devil.” by Alexander Luther

The Prinz scratched his head and looked pained: “Who the @#$%^&!!! is Alexander Luther? And what the @#$%^&!!! is his problem?”

Linyeve sat down on a chair opposite Elberhard, her eyes boring into the Prinz: “Luther is a Augustinian monk. He lectures at the University of Wittenberg. He was inspired to enter the monastic life after being hit by a lightning bolt..."

Elberhard interrupted: "Well I suppose something like that might put you off going outside..." he joked feebly.

Linyeve gave the Prinz a withering look: "Well, I suppose the event does explain a lot about the man. ... You weren't also struck by lightning in your youth, were you darling?... But to get back to your question - Alexander Luther's problem, apparently, is that he doesn’t like Byzantines.”

Elberhard picked up one of the books and started to read. His painful and halting delivery made Linyeve stand impatiently and snatch the book from his hands. She enunciated clearly:

“The devil's feces ... which they wallow in like swine”

Elberhard rubbed his chin.

“We are at fault in not slaying them.”

Elberhard scratched his cheek.

“Let not your sword grow cold from blood.”

“All right, all right - I get the idea. He doesn’t like Byzantines.” protested Elberhard.

“And the Papacy, now that it has unified.” added Linyeve.

“He doesn’t like Pope Abbate?” queried the Prinz. “Well, I admit, he’s not the most prepossessing of leaders, but he is a sweet old guy and his heart is in the right place.”

“You don’t get it, do you?” snapped Linyeve. “This has gone far beyond personal likes and dislikes. You think you have been having a rough ride in the Diet? That will be nothing compared to the ride you will get on the streets. This mad monk has followers. Already it is starting in some cities - the smashing of statues and images in churches, and denunciations of the magistracy.”

Elberhard whistled. “@#$%^&!!!ing hell! What can I do?”

“Sharpen your sword.” answered the Princess.

[Northnovas]

A Governor’s Farewell – Acre 1204

The sun was an orange fireball hanging on to the last rays of daylight over the Mediterranean Sea. The reflection of the sun over the water was a shimmering gold as it calmly lapped up to the shore.

On the beach was a great tent filled with many men. The men were there to bid farewell to Karl Zirn the Governor of Damascus. The men came from all walks and faiths from the city and surrounding area. They had formed a large caravan with the Governor’s entourage to see him off. The Governor had created a city of religious tolerance for all the Christians, Jews and Muslims. He was a Crusader and fought many Muslims while in the Outremer but not everyone is a soldier and he knew that men needed a sanctuary. He is considered a living saint amongst the populace and even respected by his enemies like no man before him.

The men sat in a large circle eating fruit and breaking bread. There were refreshments of wine and other drinks for the respective guest. There was no tavern talk even though the occasion was heavy on most there was an air of celebration that a meal can be shared to honour the Governor.

Karl the Honourable was thought by many to be destined a patron saint of knights demonstrating what every Crusader would hope to achieve before God and his peers. The men chatted the evening away and many tributes were made to the Governor.

The loyalty these men showed to Karl was only demonstrated by Karl’s loyalty to his Lord, Kaiser, Duke and men. The locals and peers admire his loyalty and speak far and wide as the epitome of selfless obedience and is universally admired for it.

The evening was coming to a close and Karl bid farewell to each of the guest present.

“Your Kaiser must need you somewhere very important to have you taken from us. You will be missed greatly” said the mayor of the city bidding him farewell. Karl nodded in agreement he had not disclosed his reason for leaving and there were many rumors.

“That priest in Rome must want you back there very much for the good work you have done here with our peoples” spoke a local merchant shaking the Governor’s hand. Karl agreed with the man and continued his farewells.

A local priest from the Byzantine lands approached Karl and gave a blessing. “Thank you for your work here Karl. The churches being united you must have more important work to do for your Kaiser. Godspeed” and he offered a prayer.

Karl thanked him and walked out of the tent to the pier were the boats were moored. The goodbyes continued as he walked along the beach and waved through the darkness to his many friends.

He had time to think and the kind words given to him. He had some doubts about leaving but knew this was no longer his calling that his work was needed home or elsewhere. He had prayed and that was what was spoken to him to leave.

There was much going on and he was confused and concerned. What was the Kaiser really thinking on this unification of not only faith but lands and cultures? It could work as he demonstrated in Damascus but that was one city not an Empire. His loyalty to the Kaiser and the Reich was absolute there was no other way. He gave his life for its cause and work here in the Outremer. No one could take away what he had accomplished no matter how out of touch or outlandish the statements were made towards him.

However, the Kaiser’s actions are suspicious and possible not the Kaiser’s actions at all. Maybe there is some sinister plot behind him and the Reich was in for some very dark time. The nobles must know it wasn’t about one’s allegiance to a man but it must be for the cause the Reich itself that should be fought and defended. Only working has one body in unity.

As Karl walked in the darkness he thought of the darkness that will face the Reich. Though looking up towards the sky he could see the stars making there mark there was no moon but their brightness was piercing the darkness. The light was the answer. There has to be answers to what is darkening the Reich and causing confusion and Karl was determined to find some answers when he returned home.

Well there was a lot of traits in the ole Crusader and thought to point the main ones out in the story.

[Tamur]

Fritz the Populist

Fritz von Kastilien walked briskly past the vendors in the market outside the Diet. It was a clear fall day, the trees had just begun to turn, and the smell of freshly cooked Eisbein filled the air. Ah, the day could not be finer. There was a newness to everything. The mists had cleared, the doubts fled. Time stood still on this day, seeming to turn on a very small point.

The point, in fact, of Alexander Luther's pen.

His attention was captured by a knot of people gathered near one of the fruit vendors. He strolled over, his priest Athelstan following, only near enough to be in earshot.

"...P&#233;ter..."

"...can't believe they would..."

"...how are we supposed to go on..."

Fritz strode closer quickly and used his announcement voice. "Excuse me, I am Fritz von Kastilien, P&#233;ter's brother. You were talking about him?"

Immediately the entire crowd turned and stared. Several of the woman gasped. Fritz tried to smile pleasantly, though he fingered the three scars on the right side of his face self-consciously.

One of the men finally stammered out, "We were just speaking of how brave he is." The others nodded, while Fritz smiled encouragingly.

"Indeed!" piped up a voice from the back. "It was only yesterday we heard the news. P&#233;ter gone off to fight the Byzantines!" A hesitant cheer went up from the crowd. The ones in the front row shrank back a bit.

Fritz looked for a moment at Athelstan, then addressed the crowd. "I am grateful for your encouraging words. Unlike many in the Diet, I and P&#233;ter have read Luther's words. We know what you must feel.

"A new age has awakened, my friends. We have slowly been falling into the dark, and Luther has awakened us to our duty, as Christians. We have been slothful towards God and under the burden of a Papacy who is obviously out of touch with both reality and God's word! If we continue in the same path, then all will be lost.

"I say we, but perhaps you know what I mean."

*Fritz stopped and turned on his heel, then pointed at the Diet building*

"That building. That building houses those who wish to continue on the same dark path to destruction."

*Fritz returned his gaze to look over the group in front of him. The people were plainly hanging on his every word, and he smiled inside*

"Is that what you want, my fellow citizens of the Reich?"

"No!" came a few voices.

"Will we live under the false and Byzantine-owned Papacy?"

"No!" came more voices.

"Will we submit our lives to the will of a dictator in Constantinople?"

"No!" came a surge of sound from the crowd. Others had gathered now, ringing Fritz and Athelstan.

"Then I will remain yours, my friends, and I will accost every one of the electors who walks into that Diet chamber, until they throw me out. And we, all of us, will refuse to back down until the Reich returns to glory!"

A cheer rang through the street.

"Until the Byzantine kingdom has been crushed!"

Another cheer.

"Until Alexander Luther sits on the Papal throne!"

A final, loud and lasting cheer coursed through the street. Men came to slap Fritz on the back, and shake his hand.

[GeneralHankerchief]

Ragusa, 1304

A man on a horse and his small entourage approached the front gates of the citadel. The usual garrison on duty that day was not present. Instead, a handful of men personally selected by the Governor of Ragusa, Dietrich von Dassel, stood ready to let the man in.

Dietrich was there too, ready to personally intervene in case anything went wrong. Nothing did, however, and the man and his entourage entered the citadel with little fanfare or incident. Just as planned. Dietrich made his way up to the man, who dismounted. They shook hands, cautiously.

"So this is the great Alexander Luther who has incited so much recently. I was expecting a bit more. I keep forgetting that you're a monk."

Luther chuckled, about the most anybody could get out of the man. He was rumored to be stern, as the extremely pious usually are. "You will find that we men of the Bible can be as influential as you men of iron and steel. Indeed, I believe you already have."

"Frankly, I was hoping to cause a little bit of popular unrest myself in the Diet when I stood for Chancellor," said Dietrich. "Congratulations on accomplishing what I could not. You have the Reich in full rebellion against the current agenda."

"And thank you," said Luther, "for granting me refuge and asylum in this time of backlash against me. While I admit that the tearing down of the Houses of the Lord was a bit... much... it gets our message heard. Which is where, I believe, that we share common goals."

"You are correct," said Dietrich. "The Kaiser must be stopped, that much is clear. His incompetence and disdain for the Diet has put us in dark times, indeed. So far he has two major goals; completion of which will forever harm the Reich and put the greatest empire in the world under Byzantine control. They are religious re-unification, your bete noire, as my French friends would put it, and political re-unification, which I have been arguing against. The two of these are tightly linked, for a pro-religious Pope would argue for political, and the Kaiser and his lackeys will argue for religious as well. Therefore, I offered you asylum so that we may work together."

"Which I am most grateful for," said Luther. "Travel is too dangerous now. The public can hide me well enough, but the Dukes... well, the Dukes have the military. And right now the military is out to get me, especially that Hans."

"Do not speak to me about Hans," Dietrich said with clear disdain. "It is because of his willingness to abandon me to the wolves that I am here in Ragusa and not fighting the French as I should be.

"Ragusa is your new home for as long as you wish it to be," he continued. "I shall do whatever is in my power to protect you and keep you safe. You will find all of the resources that you need to continue spreading your word."

"And in return?"

"In return, it's rather simple. Don't tear down my church, and don't do anything that would incite sentiment against me. This would be both from Electors and the common people, although I would prefer it if I had the support of the peasants should you be faced with a choice."

"That sounds agreeable," finished Luther. "May your further endeavors be successful, sir Dietrich."

"And yours, Luther." The two men shook and walked to their jobs; two outcasts helping one another out.

[gibsonsg91921]

Somewhere in the wilderness between Franconia and Constantinople, 1304

I have set off. My armies are sufficiently large to do what must be done - to cleanse the world of the Greek menace.

That fool Theodora only fed my rage - clinched the deeds that I plan to do. Fritz may be the only friend I have not in these two armies.

Two armies. I have the Prussian Army - which I hear is no longer the official First Franconian Household Army, no longer the official Prussian Army. Ridiculous, isn't it? I made this army. These men are loyal to me. Loyal to their starving families my brother Siegfried casts aside with his sanctions to the Byzantine Empire. This is the real Prussian Army, no matter what false army they create back home. This army is P&#233;ter's Immortals.

The other army, of course, is from the garrison of Vilnius and is shadowing my force. Tancred von Tyrolia - I knew I could trust that man from the second I laid eyes on him - is at its head, loyally following the cause. The cause of what is right. I will never submit to these Orthodox fools - leeching off of our generosity for years at witless allies while preaching against us in their pathetic churches that the Old Man wants to unite with. Bah! I retch at the thought.

Lars and Ulrich have returned with information. Duke Hans of Swabia, a man who I have had many encounters with, good and bad, is in pursuit of me with the Imperial Army. The fool. I do not intend to kill Germans, but I will not risk the loss of the truth.

P&#233;ter von Kastilien, the last hope for the Reich
Commander of the Immortals

[AussieGiant]

Krakow 1304

Arnold looked on as various elements of the 2nd AHA ran through the streets looting anything they could find. Smoke was pouring from a number of the great Polish houses that had obviously not fared well in the sacking taking place.

As the Duke and his heavily armed retinue made their way towards the Governors House a young girl careened out of a side alley, her skirts hitched up allowing her to run as fast as humanly possible. A moment later the all too familiar sight of some over zealous men appeared.

A quick nod to Grom was more than enough to have the big barbarian knock the two men senseless, his clothes line hit on both men lifted them off their feet and left them reeling on the sodden earth.

Peering at the livery of the half conscious men, Arnold glanced at Szczepanski, his Sword Bearer.

"Tell Jansen his “Two Hander’s” better start showing some discipline or I’ll have one in ten hung to make my point.”

The Sword Bearer’s eyes widened at the order, a moment before he was about to protest, the Dread Knight’s armoured helm turned in his direction…the effect was, as usual a chilling site to behold. Many orders were accompanied by the unnatural gaze of Bane, and many orders were simply followed because of it.

“Ahh, yes my Lord, at once.” With that Szczepanski summoned a nearby horse and quickly galloped off to inform the Regimental captain of the order.

The Duke and his retinue continued their progress towards the governor house. As the group progressed the Duke was clearly lost in thought, oblivious to the looting and destruction occurring around him.

It was finally done. Decades of fighting had finally lead to its fall, now of course the Franconian’s would want it incorporated into their house. #$# it he thought, his life was going to be one long war and with no family to speak of it was all he had, there would simply be more battles to fight and Krakow was just another one.

His spirits lifted as he thought of Karl Zirn and his sister returning to Austria, he had never seen his sister’s children and he was keen to see how they had grown.

And just as it came, his mood swung back to that of dread.

The Reich…it was seemingly on a downward spiral. Rogue nobles, mad ideas of reunification, a Kaiser that seems to have taken his eye of what his true responsibilities are.

Siegfried had clearly failed to consult both his nobles and the people when it came to his grand plan. The Church was clearly having difficulty pulling its own priest and clergymen into line with the agreements being made at the top…something that was simultaneously occurring in the Diet with the Kaisers own nobility.

How could anyone possibly make a power play of such magnitude without having confirmed substantial support before hand…the man was clearly mad or being influenced by outside forces not of the Holy Roman Empire.

Still he thought, unless he was faced with a clear act of treason or a complete break down of the Reich he was a Duke of the Realm and charged with a number of responsibilities and no one was going to ever suggest he didn’t do what he duty bound to do…at least for the moment.

Just then another scream broke his train of thought…at the front of the Governors house was another scene reminiscent of the last. A woman of striking beauty was dashing from the front hallway. Behind her another pair of Two Hander’s in close pursuit.

“Christ!!! Where’s Szczepanski and Jensen!! This is getting out of hand!!”

Drawing his father’s sword the Duke moved to intercept.

“Hold!!” Bane’s hallow voice rasped across the area. The Dukes retinue and personal bodyguard froze as they watched their Duke meat out justice.

Taking his sword in a hand and a half grip, the Duke’s lightning swing took the first “Two Hander’s” helm completely off his shoulders. Only the last second twist of his wrist turned the fatal blow in a crushing one as the flat of the sword did its work.

The second man skidded to a halt only a few short yards from his fallen comrade. His faced turned from cruel intent towards the women to complete horror at suddenly facing his Duke in a less than forgiving mood. Not knowing what the Dread Dukes next move was the Two Hander readied his weapon...the Dukes eyes widened in surprise.

"You defend yourself against me?

Your Liege Lord?!

Stand down now!!"

A slow but deliberate shake of the head was the soldiers’ only response.

A moment of shock passed over the Duke face.

“You sack of #%#$ing shiet. What’s this god forsaken Empire become!!!”

With a brutally fast and terribly crushing blow the Dukes sword smashed down on the half raised two handed sword of the solider. Amazingly the power of the strike smashed the weapon in two pieces, the momentum not enough to prevent the Dukes sword from striking with still considerable force on the top of the soldier’s helm. The blow knocked the soldier back but he remained standing but only long enough to have his face meet a straight right hook from the Obsidian encased right hand of Duke Arnold. The soldiers’ nose turned to a pulp and blood showered the front steps of the Governors house.

Grabbing the near unconscious soldier by his breast plate, Arnold heaved him bodily over his shoulder to land five feet away directly in front of Grom.

“String him up!! He’ll hang for that!!

Turning to Bane.

"Find Lorenz and his cavalry regiment and tell him to meet me here. He's more than earned his Knighthood after his performance this evening."

Half and hour later, and with a few more hangings, order was restored, turning a potentially out of control situation into a more normal sacking of the former Polish province of Krakow.

[econ21]

This story was written by Ituralde

Constantinople, 1304


Siegfried felt weary, way beyond his years. He hadn't slept enough in the past weeks. The negotiations had taken up much of his time. Had he enjoyed the luxury of the Bzyantine protocol at first, it slowly began to get on his nerve. He wanted to do things, not be stuck with empty gestures. And after spending such a long time within the Byzantine Palace with strong scents hanging everywhere, he felt an unknown longing for the fresh and clean mountain air on a cold Winter morning deep within Prussia.

Sighing audibly Siegfried reviews the letter in front of him. He felt like a traitor. The very thing he had been fighting to preserve, was now given on a plate to Emperor Isaac. The whole Diet would cry for his head. King Jan would hate him for this. After all the trouble he has put him through, all the efforts he has made, it looked as though it would lead to nothing.

Looking up he gazes at the starlit sky outside. Had his predecessors ever felt like this. He couldn't help but think of Emperor Heinrich. From all he had read he had been a strong man, who had spent most his life fighting against the Diet. He had gotten his will in the end though. Rome was now the capital of the Reich. All those years ago Heinrich had laid the foundation for Siegfried's work. He knew that this was a once in a lifetime chance to change the future forever.

He could not afford to let it pass. In the long run the investment would pay off tenfold. Wouldn't they celebrate him in the future as the founder of the new Roman Empire, once his son ruled after him. Much like Emperor Heinrich is now respected for his conquest and dominance against the Pope. He had been shunned by his contemporates. Just like Siegfried.

With a final sigh he pushes his signet ring into the hot wax in front of him. The letter was ready to be sent. Now the only thing left to do was to bring Emperor Isaac the good news and then travel back to Rome and face the wrath of the Diet. Had Emperor Heinrich ever felt this fear? It was too late to ask him...

[Tamur]

Mourning a Priest, the Stettin Way

Fritz had seen enough of the Diet. There was too much at stake, too much to lose, sitting there day after day, haggling over air. Air. That's what he wanted.

With a kick he moved his horse into a gallop. His retinue followed behind, onward to Stettin.

The battle with the Danes had almost been nostalgic. It would be the last in which he would meet the despicable scum of the north for a long while. P&#233;ter's attack on Constantinople had left the Franconian eastern front empty for the Poles to march into. And, as always, there were swarms of them.

But today he would not be troubled by war.

They came into sight of the outlying farms in a few minutes, and then the city walls. Fritz dismounted as he came to the gate, where a group of well-dressed figures waited.

"Olbrecht!" Fritz called out. "Good to see you. How is your family?"

"Berchtold, I heard about the shipment. You must invite me to dinner sometime!"

"Trutwin, I've brought something for your daughter's dowry."

And so on. Fritz did not have many soft spots in his heart, but the people of Stettin were one of them. The party was joined by Fritz' retinue, and they all wandered through the gate.

Though he had seen many cities sacked and buildings crumble, the sight which greeted him still was a shock. The church which had stood so proudly at the main gate of Stettin, a centrepiece of the city, still smouldered. Blackened pieces of stone lay on the grass, and half-burned timbers stood at strange angles all around. The walls still held for the most part, but large pieces had fallen from the top.

The group paused in silence. Fritz turned to the man Berchtold, who stood at his side.

"What happened to Regibald?" he asked quietly.

"Regibald." Berchtold winced. "Ah, he tried to stop it, even though we had given him warnings. I'm afraid..." Berchtold's voice fell away as he nodded in the direction of the grave field outside the walls.

Fritz stood still for a moment. "Anyone else?"

"A few cuts and breaks when some boys got too close and were hit by falling mortar. But nothing that won't heal."

Fritz nodded, then cleared his throat and smiled up at the gathered group.

"Regibald was a good priest for us," Fritz said. The group nodded.

"He had many fine qualities that we should all strive to achieve in ourselves," Fritz continued. The group made sad smiles.

Fritz's eyes narrowed to near invisibility. "And he was a papist. Let us not mourn unduly." A man in the back spat in the direction of the grave field.

"So," Fritz said to happy agreement, "let's go eat! I'm starving."

[Tamur]

Lex Saxonum

In the quiet of a dark night in Stettin, the fire crackled in Fritz' hearth. A few friends sat closeby, sipping beers and talking quietly. Berchtold, at Fritz's right before the fire, spoke up.

"What is wrong with the Empire, that it cannot stand alone?"

Fritz shook his head and looked into the fire for a moment. He chucked. "Such a small question, Berchtold."

He sighed and his glass dropped to his lap. "The Empire, if it were whole, would be strong enough to stand against any power in the world."

"You know the Saxons, and their laws. Your father ten generations back may have helped uphold them. Probably did, come to think of it. We should be following the same laws."

"Should, there's the rub. Saxon kings existed because they gave something to their followers. Gold, land, slaves, women -- whatever the king could spare without making himself poor. They would break rings in half and cut coins into tiny pieces to make sure each of their subjects had a fair share."

Berchtold broke in. "Yes, and followers gave their sword arms in return, I know this all Fritz."

Fritz laughed. "Just a minute! I'm making a point here." He took a swig of beer and contemplated a moment.

"If a king wished to go to war," Fritz continued, "he would go to the chiefs who owed him allegiance, and they in turn would go to those who were under them, and so on. And so a mighty army could be raised simply because kings gave to dukes, dukes gave to counts, counts gave to landed men under them."

A voice at his left interrupted. "What if an underling was a man of God, and did not wish to fight?"

Fritz turned to see Athelstan. "If he accepted his lord's gifts, he was bound to fight. If he did not, word would get round and that man would be outlawed. No king wished to have a faithless vassal."

"The Reich was founded on these principles. But it has existed for so long, now the Emperor expects abject obedience whilst giving nothing but empty titles to his Dukes. His Dukes, in turn, have little to give to their Counts, and so we Counts have little or no reason to remain loyal. To anyone except our friends." He smiled at Berchtold and Athelstan.

"And so the Holy Roman Empire will disintegrate into nothing," said Berchtold, grimacing.

Fritz returned his gaze to the fire, where the logs were crumbling under the dancing blue flames at its heart.

[OverKnight]

Matthias Adrift, 1308

Even now, years later, apprehension filled Matthias when he sailed, particularly along the coast of southern Anatolia. In 1258 the fleet bringing him to the Holy Land had been attacked by Saracen ships, and he was forced to land on a remote beach south of Smyrna. It was not so much the battle that had unnerved Matthias, but the lack of control. He was no sailor, and the best he could do was repel a few boarders while the ships swirled about him, titans outside his control that could end his life in an instant. Only by blind luck did he survive that day. Oddly enough it had been that loss, that feeling of helplessness that compelled him, among other reasons, to run for Chancellor. With that position he would be in control, as much as any mortal could be. He would rise and fall by his own hand, not by chance or fate.

Now, sailing those waters again, Matthias felt the same loss of control, of helplessness. Of course there was no physical threat to the ship he was on, no ill wind or pirates, yet he still felt adrift. The seas might be calm, but a storm had taken hold of the Reich, and it threatened to consume his life and all he had built up. Forty years in power, forty years of adversity and triumph, Khans killed, Cathedrals built, Popes elevated, Wars won and Peace gained and it had only taken eight years for it dissipate. Just eight years and he felt as powerless and lost as that whey faced boy puking on the shore of a strange land.

I hate ships, thought Matthias, I'd rather be on solid ground. But the Reich itself was adrift, no one seemed to be at the helm, everyone wanted to sail in a different direction and the Corsairs were closing in.

All that he could do, all that he had left, was to repel boarders.

[TinCow]

The Italian nobles had been referring to the Florentine Pleasure Palace as ‘The Cathedral of Sin,’ even before its construction had finished. It was a nickname popular with both critics and patrons, though for different reasons. One thing all men agreed on was that it was a magnificent structure, with four floors above ground, two below, and an eight story tower crowning the edifice. All of it laced with fine woodwork and carved stone moldings. It was no simple drinking house; it was vice made art.

The first thing that struck Lothar Steffen as he entered was the relative lack of noise. There were easily two hundred men drinking and carousing inside its walls on an average day, but none were visible, or even audible, unless they wanted to be. The only sounds that pervaded the entryway were those that came from the large public drinking hall off to the left. Even there, the usual mayhem of an inn or tavern was absent. Only men of wealth and breeding were permitted access to the Cathedral of Sin, and they behaved like saints out of respect, and possibly fear, of its proprietor. Lothar considered it a high compliment. I have achieved greater civility amongst men in a brothel than most priests see in their own Churches.

Katharina, the Palace greeter, approached the Duke of Bavaria. She was charming and intelligent, but her firm and voluptuous figure had been specifically chosen as one of Lothar’s finishing touches to his grand work. “Shall I show you to your private suite, m’Lord?” Lothar nodded to her slightly and proceeded to follow her through the twisting, candlelit hallways.

“What ‘specials’ do we have today, Katharina?”

“There are two new arrivals worthy of your notice, m’Lord. There is a Russian girl of some decent upbringing. Apparently the daughter of a minor noble family that did not fare well during the Teutonic Crusade, and fared even more poorly under the Tsar’s wrath afterwards. She is smart, well-spoken, very beautiful, and has impeccable manners. The second girl is a Moor that was sold to us via a Sicilian merchant. Apparently the girl is mute, but she is highly talented in all areas and quite eager to please. A rumor has been circulating amongst the patrons that she was trained in a Moorish harem. Whether true or not, I have encouraged it. It increases her… allure, and her price.”

Lothar snorted. “I have no wish to taste the spoils of Duke Ansehelm’s campaigns or some Mohammedan castoff. No, send me Engeltrud. I desire a proper Bavarian woman this evening.”

“As you wish, m’Lord.” A minute later, Katharina stopped in front of a dark doorway. “If there is aught else, I will take my leave now, m’Lord. Engeltrud will be along shortly.”

Lothar nodded and stepped into his private chambers. From the outside, the door appeared like any other in the Palace; polished oak planks with pleasing, but simple, carvings and inlay work. On the inside, though, the chambers were unique. A long, narrow hallway opened up into a vast sitting room with an immense fireplace. It was so large it could easily accommodate a man and would not have looked out of place in the banquet hall of the Duke’s own manor. A writing desk, chairs, and a few small bookcases served as furnishings. Thick tapestries depicting Bavarian battle scenes adorned the walls and the floors were covered with lush furs of an immense variety. Off to the left lay a private bedroom and dressing room, outfitted in a manner that would suit nearly any man except the Kaiser himself. It was, in truth, more of a small manor house than a brothel suite.

Lothar walked over to the fireplace and looked up at the tapestry that adorned its face. It was an elaborate piece showing Kaiser Heinrich’s assault on Genoa. Lothar’s own father, Duke Gerhard Steffen, had been present that day. He was displayed prominently on the walls of the city, a sword in hand and Bavarian spearmen all around him. Buildings at the center of the tapestry framed a scene showing Kaiser Heinrich cutting off Pope Gregory’s head. Perhaps historically inaccurate, but inspiring and true in essence, if not it detail. Dark times call for dark measures.

A knock at the door broke Lothar’s reverie. “Enter.”

The diminutive figure of Engeltrud appeared in the doorway. Her head was bowed, but her manner was slight and respectful. She closed and locked the door behind her, then turned and curtsied to the Duke of Bavaria. “I am pleased m’Lord wishes to see me.”

Lothar let his eyes drift over the girl’s body. She was beautiful, to be sure, and attired in a manner befitting the daughter of a wealthy merchant, if not a minor noble. Well-dressed whores were always so much more pleasing, and profitable, than the common street rabble. “I expect I will take quite a while this evening, so you had best save your stamina. You may begin now.”

The girl nodded and shuffled quickly over to the bedroom. When she was out of sight of the Duke, she began to giggle and moan. Lothar waited and listened for a few moments, then turned and walked over the fireplace. He picked up an iron poker and began to shove the burning logs to one side. When they were moved well to the left, he ducked his head slightly and stepped into the right side. He pulled a thick cloth from his pocket, wrapped it around his hand, and grasped a metal bar that protruded from the stone hearth wall. Lothar lifted and pulled; the warmth from the heated iron growing steadily fiercer in his hand. With a shudder, part of the wall split and pushed back, sliding along hinges hidden from view to those on this side of the door. As he passed through the yawning gap into the blackness beyond, he heard Engeltrud gasp and call his name. He knew she would continue in that manner for as long as he was gone. Though eavesdroppers were unlikely, Lothar Steffen never took chances. I hope she saves some of that for later.

The Duke of Bavaria shut the door behind him, then turned and blinked into the darkness. It took a moment for his eyes to adapt to the change from the bright fireplace to the dim staircase beyond. To his left was a hook from which was suspended a long, black robe. Lothar gathered it about him, tied the thick silken cord around his waist, and pulled the hood over his head. He took a moment to adjust his clothing under the garment, and then removed the single lit sconce from the wall to his right. Brandishing it before him like a cross, he moved into the darkness below.

The stairs and hallways twisted and turned for some time, but he never made a sound. The floor was entirely coated with thick bearskins to prevent the echoing of footsteps that would otherwise have made it a noisy passage. Lothar couldn’t help but grin as he walked. The secret passages and chambers pervaded the Pleasure Palace; a design of his own making. Men could move unseen from several of the most private rooms through this network of stone and timber. Outside the Brotherhood, only a few loyal and obedient Bavarian servants even knew they existed. The slaves and prisoners of war who had laid the foundations of the Pleasure Palace had taken its secrets to their untimely graves.

After a few minutes, he turned a corner and a brighter light poured towards him. A large, circular chamber with a low ceiling opened out from the mouth of the hallway. In the middle was a triangular table, surrounded by ebony chairs set with gold leaf. The table itself was inlaid to look like a pyramid with a huge, open eye at the pinnacle. There was no spot in the entire chamber that was out of its line of sight. Lothar sat in the seat closest to the hallway from which he had entered. The other chairs were all full; their corresponding passageways leading back into the inky blackness to the private chambers from which their occupants had arrived, unseen.

The dark figure on the opposite side of the circle spoke first. “Welcome, Voice. You are late.”

Lothar bowed his head. “Apologies, Grand Master. I was meeting with our agent in the Byzantine Court. I wanted to hear the news from him directly; one can never trust second hand information and idle rumors.”

“So, is it true then? Does Siegfried really intend to give all of Outremer to the Byzantine Emperor?”

Lothar paused, feeling the weight of the statement he was about to make. “It is true.”

Shouts and cries came from every figure in the circle. “Outrageous!” “Treason!” “He’s in league with the Devil!” The commotion continued on, breaking down into several small conversations as the Brothers digested the information. A single voice on Lothar’s right finally broke through the commotion. “First Naples and Palermo, then a unification of the Churches, which caused mass rioting across the Reich, and now the loss of all of Outremer. This is an abomination!” A response came from the left. “Even worse, all of this is done without consultation with us and without our permission! Our alliance with the Kaiser was meant to produce the exact opposite result! There is no controlling this man, no reasoning with him.”

“Quiet… quiet… my Brothers,” said the Grand Master. Slowly, orderly silence was restored to the chamber, though several of the black cloaks continued to twitch in obvious irritation. “So what are we to do about this treason?”

“We cannot permit it to pass,” the man to Lothar’s immediate left said.

“But we cannot stop it while Siegfried sits the Imperial Throne,” a figure across the circle responded.

A heavy silence fell over the stone chamber. Eventually, Lothar spoke. “We all know what must be done. We have suspected it would come to this for some time, ever since he gave Palermo and Naples to the Byzantines. I can no longer see any alternative.”

“I agree,” said the man to Lothar’s right.

“And I,” said another. Every voice spoke in turn, giving their consent without disagreement.

“It is unanimous then,” the Grand Master said. He stood and walked a few paces to the head of the pyramid. “I hereby proclaim Kaiser Siegfried to be a traitor to the Reich and an enemy of the Divine Order of the Illuminati. His sentence is death, to be carried out immediately.” He looked back at Lothar. “I trust you will see to this matter, Voice?”

Lothar stood and bowed deeply. “The road from Constantinople to Rome is long and treacherous. Even the Kaiser’s own bodyguards could find themselves overwhelmed by an unexpected foe. It will be easy to find Poles, Hungarians, or even brigands to do the deed, if enough coin is devoted to the matter. In this case, I will spare no expense.”

As one, the remaining Brothers stood and approached the table; forming a pyramid around the pyramid, with the Grand Master as the eye. All voices spoke in unison. “Re acre accipemus, cuncti pro bono terrae, finorumqu'et regni.”

When it was done, Lothar turned and walked back into the darkness from which he came. Eventually, he knew, he would emerge once again into the warmth and light of the world above. Soon, though, Kaiser Siegfried would not.

[Privateerkev]

The King's apartment in Rome: 1308

Jan sat at his desk working on a large piece of paper. He was in town to attend the Diet and retired to his apartment to work on something. A knock came at the door. Jan barked "Enter" and Gunther opened it and called in, "My King, sorry for bothering you, but a man is here to see you."

"Send him in," Jan called out. He pulled a large tarp over his whole desk and turned his chair around. A non-descript man walked in, sat on the couch, and put his feet up. Jan's eyebrow rose at the man's complete lack of tact. "Who are you?"

"My King, I represent the men who you contacted some time ago. The old man of the mountain finally decided to see what your query was about," said the stranger.

Jan was surprised, "Hashashins? What are you doing in Rome?"

The man chuckled, "Why my King, some of our best customers are in Rome! We would be quite remiss if we failed to have a liaison set up here. So, why did you contact us? We were quite surprised when your contacts reached out to us. Your not exactly known for dealing with our kind."

"I want to know if you know of a Dusan Kolar. I believe he works with your group."

The man's face betrayed no emotion, "and what if we did?"

"I want to know what the price would be to have him turned over to me. As you know, I have been re-appointed as King and am in a position to reward your group heavily."

The stranger told the King the Hashashins's price for turning over Dusan. The King reacted with shock. "That is absurd! I should lock you up for even suggesting it!"

The man chuckled, "And how long do you think I would sit in jail my King? No, others run this Reich behind the scenes and it would be good if you figured that out. And I know from your reputation that you won't kill me. And even if you did, your family would suffer. If I don't return from your apartment to check in, your young niece is going to die. It is well known that you don't fear for your own life but I don't think you would be so cavalier with someone else's. So, if we don't have a deal, it is time I bid you farewell." Before the King could reply, the man got up and left.

After the man left, Gunther walked in. "How did that go?" he asked. Jan filled Gunther in on what the man said.

"He was right about one thing. A group of men are trying to run the Reich from behind the scenes. Here, it is time I show you something," the King said as he lifted the tarp off of his desk. Gunther saw a giant poster with elector's names circled. From these circles, lines branched out to connect the names of other electors. On these lines, were descriptions written out of political acts and votes that the electors had in common. Gunther noticed that the elector names spanned across every house and the recorded acts went back at least three Diet sessions.

"My King, this poster is quite something. I even see Dukes on the list. But what does this all mean?"

"Gunther, this last Diet was quite strange in many ways. Some things happened that confirmed suspicions I have held for quite some time. I believe that there is a cabal of men who are attempting to run the Reich behind the scenes. The events during the last Diet were not some spontaneous expression of rage. It was a carefully crafted plot to usurp the Kaiser's prerogative for Chancellor and to take the reins of power for themselves. It almost worked too but a few of us banded together and formed a bloc powerful enough to block CA 13.3. When this cabal saw their CA would fail, many of them jumped ship in order to avoid being in the embarrassing position of voting for a failed piece of legislation that would only anger the Kaiser."

Gunther nodded, "yeah Max and I have been talking about that. Things did seem strange in the last Diet. During the first day, a whole bunch of men immediately acted out in great rage and frustration. The second day, some things quited down, almost as if they were waiting to see what would happen. Then the third day was eerily quiet. Except for Dassel."

The King chuckled at Dassel's name being mentioned, "ah yes, our young rebellious populist. Or at least that's what he wants people to think. I believe he is this group's mouthpiece. He says what others are too afraid to say. I took up a similar role years ago. And I know from experience that he can not get away with what he has without having a patron quietly supporting him. But as to your observations, I think you and Max were spot on. The group in the Diet was quite disciplined with their lack of discipline. I believe the first day was to test the waters and see how far they could push. The second day was to evaluate the situation and count their votes. And on the third day they abandoned their plan and went back underground. Except for those tasked to keep stirring up trouble."

Gunther looked at Jan's poster, "I see every person who was raucous at the Diet is on this list. Looking at these connections, it does look like these men had been working together all along. Some of these relationships go back years. However, there is one name on this list that was not raucous at the Diet. How do you know he was part of it?"

Jan smiled, "Him? Oh I am convinced he is in charge of the whole thing. Yes, that man was uncharacteristically quiet through most of the whole Diet session. Pretty smart if you ask me. He directs an attempt to overthrow the Kaiser's Chancellorship but comes out of this relatively squeaky clean."

"So my King, what are you going to do with this information?"

"Gunther, I have served the Reich loyally my whole life. I refuse to sit by and let some secret cabal take over. When the Kaiser returns to Rome, I plan on giving him a full report. I will let him deal with them."

Gunther nodded, "I expected no less from you my King. As always, it is an honor to serve you. But what do we do now about Dusan?"

Jan shook his head, "I don't know. It looks like we just hit another dead end. But we keep trying. Salier deserves to have his killers brought to justice."

Gunther left the room and Jan returned to working on his report for the Kaiser.

[Tamur]

The Road to Magdeburg

Horses galloped onward, their hooded riders flat against the horses' backs and necks. The thunder of hooves startled deer along the forested sides of the road. Voles scattered into the brush.

Fritz was not sure the secrecy was all that important. After all, he was known in Rome, Thorn and perhaps Hamburg, and there was where his reputation stopped.

But Berchtold had insisted they come this way, and so they sprinted on southward. The cloud-covered but bright fall sky peeked through branches overhead in rapid succession. Finally they broke through tree cover into a wide open plain, dotted with well-tilled fields. A tiny peasant village stood some way off, to the east. Ah, just a bit farther.

Suddenly the lead horse reined in. Fritz had to swerve to miss the horse in front of him and they all came to a sudden halt.

"Who goes there?" a voice yelled. A muffled curse sounded from one of the hoods. Fritz was on the back side of a small hill, and could not tell what transpired.

But Athelstan's voice reached Fritz's ears as a hood was pulled back. "Only a few travelers on God's holy errand, friends." As he spoke, he pulled back his hood to reveal the tonsure and, Fritz assumed, the small cross he wore around his neck. Fritz sighed with relief.

Athelstan continued. "I have a meeting with Brother Ulf in Magdeburg this very afternoon."

A pike appeared above the crest of the hill, then the shaft, then a soldier's helm. Nine more followed. The soldier looked over the group of riders, then looked up at Athelstan for a moment. Athelstan stayed still and gazed back directly at the soldier.

"Very well, carry on."

Five minutes later, they reined in their horses again, near the walls of the city. Fritz maneuvered to Athelstan.

"You likely saved my life," said Fritz. "And that sort of debt is not one I will forget."

Athelstan's hands were shaking. "Find me some good ale, and I'll consider it repaid. And this meeting with the magistrates had better not be a waste of time!"

Fritz grinned, fingering a scar at the corner of his mouth. "Oh, I'm told they'll be very receptive."

[econ21]

Rome, 1308


Quietly, Elberhard entered the room. His eyes lighted on the striking figure of Theodora, dressed in black. She rose, her face etched with stress and grief.

“They killed him. They murdered my poor Siegfried.”

Elberhard watched stony faced, emotionless.

Tears fell down Theodora’s face and she ran at Elberhard, then began beating on his chest.

“Why did you let them? Why didn’t you protect him? He was your King! You should have protected him!”

Elberhard stood motionless as the blows continued to rain down upon him. He could give no answer.

Theodora crumpled and fell to the floor. Elberhard caught her and gently seated her on a chair.

“You must find them - find the men who did this! And kill them all!”

Elberhard sat down opposite Theodora and looked at her calmly.

“Who did it?” said Elberhard, softly. “Someone who wanted to frustrate unification or the gifting of Outremer. Thanks to Matthias Steffen’s vote of no-confidence, we have a clear list of suspects.”

Theodora’s eyes lit up but then she despaired as Elberhard brutally crushed her hopes:

“But you must know, my lady, that list is virtually the entire Diet.”

Elberhard kept quiet about the note he had received in the last Diet - the one from “the Order”, advising him on its preferred choices for King of Outremer and Duke of Swabia. Since Siegfried’s death the thought of that polite, anonymous note had weighed increasingly on Elberhard’s mind, becoming more and more sinister.

Still thinking of the note, Elberhard continued: “There are two men I trust, my brother and King Jan. We will do our best to root out the assassins, but quite frankly, I do not envisage much success.”

“Then the assassins will have won.” said Theodora flatly.

“No.” said Elberhard, stubbornly. “I have failed Siegfried and I have failed you, but he will not have died in vain. We will continue on, as before. His death changes nothing.”

Theodora looked puzzled at Elberhard.

“We will continue to rule together, as we did when Siegfried was in Constantinople. That way Emperor Isaac will know that nothing has changed. We will oversee the gift of Outremer as Siegfried promised. At the end of this Chancellorship, we will present the issue of unification to the Diet.”

Theodora smiled irresistibly and kissed Elberhard lightly on the cheek.

Elberhard took his leave. Almost as soon as he closed the door, he felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. @#$%^&!!! it, thought Elberhard, I wish I had not said that.

[FactionHeir]

Somewhere between Ragusa and Zagreb, 1308 AD

"Hold position here and await orders. Ehrhart, you take your footknight regiments to secure the perimeter and make sure we are not being watched. Rudolf, you stand ready to sound the alarm if you notice anything suspicious. Peter, you take over if Rudolf is unable. To your posts men, we have much to do this day!"

Hans walked over to the scene of battle.
The attackers, whoever they were, did not bother cleaning up the mess they left behind, leaving men and horse alike rotting on the ground. Walking to each corpse, and there were few besides Siegfried's retinue, Hans half-heartedly checked for signs of life, as he was not expecting any after several days of travel to this site.

"How many men were with Siegfried when he left Constantinople, Adalberth?"
"I am not sure lord, but reports indicate around fifty cavalry."
"I wish that would do, but I need the exact count to ascertain none ran from battle or was escaped."
Adalberth shrugged and Hans returned to investigate the scene, with his retinue close-by

Of the few dead attackers, most wore no special livery that would have given hints of their origins and of those that did, they wore stitched rags of counties that had long changed hands and thus their coat of arms.

"Mercenaries"
"Mercenaries?"
"Yes m'lord, their attire suggests they came from all around the empire and were hired to attack Siegfried." spoke Ulrich, Hans' recent addition to his retinue as infantry commander.
"What makes you think that they are not mere assassins?" questioned Hans
"Assassins tend to be professionals. They do not wear random pieces of clothing, especially not a whole group of them, and they would have cleaned up the scene of battle eventually, even if chased."
"You have a point. But what about brigands?" asked Adalberth, who became interested in the discussion
"Possible, but what is the likelihood of sufficient well armed brigands Ulrich pointed at the masterwork swords and spears scattered around the field that knew the road the emperor was travelling on and had the skill to overcome fifty elite horsemen?"
"Quite low. Brigands usually cannot afford such weapons and armor and there have not been reports of convoys being waylaid recently" replied Hans

"Still, it would be difficult to track them down, although judging from the Danish incident, we might just find them at a nearby tavern, bragging about their feat" Hans continued and chuckled. It had been a while since he led that investigation and the one into Siegfried's ascension, but either had been successful eventually, yet the results not quite accepted, he added grimly to his thoughts
"To the taverns around this place then? I could use a drink." exclaimed Dirk
"Not yet. Let us wait for the patrols to return. For the moment, set up camp over there and keep guards posted in the bushes. Maybe someone witnessed the events and would speak to us if we made ourselves noticed."

Before the camp was even properly set up, two of the perimeter guards returned to the camp, prisoner in tow.
"My Duke, we found this man hiding in the bushes to the west of here. Sir Ruppel sends his regards." the soldier saluted.
"Very well. Release him from his shackles and bring him to the fire."
As the guards took the man away, Hans studied his features and attire closely. He wore the outfit of a hunter and the rags suggested that he unlikely was one of the attackers, yet Hans could not be sure. "Regardless however, this man saw something, and he will tell us what he knows." Hans added in his thoughts.

Hours passed interrogating the man, with Hans and his retinue asking poignant questions, questioning his intentions and answers, and turning words against him in an attempt to confuse him if he were lying. After they had the information they wanted, Hans threw the man a pouch of florins and offered him some of the rations from the supply train. Then he wrote a quick note of passage, sealed it, and handed it to the man, instructing him to meet him in Rome by the winter.
As the man left the camp, Hans took a regiment of footknights under Ehrhart and his retinue north. Either him or the attackers would not see the dawn.

*****

The road-side tavern was run down and its name was no more inviting either, being called "Zum trüben Ritter". It would be suitable however once the attackers inside were slain, if they still resided here of course.
Hans had Ehrhart surround the location with the footknight regiment, all bearing make-shift torches and in the sparse moonlit night, it almost seemed as if the knights were an angry mob being led by the Duke of Swabia in a revolt. The scene of course was far from the truth, although talks of Hans' attempt to force Siegfried's abdication still made the round in taverns around the empire, with riots taking place in many of its major cities.
Hans himself however, did not stand behind the circle of knights to command them, but rather was the lone man who moved towards the entrance of the establishment. Those men of the Imperial army who had not served long under him were surprised at his valor or foolishness, yet those in his retinue knew that Hans was certain of his actions and that he was always found at the frontline of battle.
When Hans pushed open the creaking door, he had his sword sheathed to not draw too much unwanted attention and surveyed the attendees. The barroom was crowded as the man had foretold and the rugged and ragged men were dressed not unsimilar to those dead that he had found earlier in the day, and their weapons were no worse than the ones his own retinue carried. It seemed he was in luck.

Hans stomped his boot on the floor to announce himself. Immediately, the entire room stared at him, some warily, some almost to invite him to the round. Very few others yet drew steel and rose. Calmly, Hans raised his arm and through his sheer authority, all fell quiet and those armed lowered their weapons.

"Hail, warriors. It seems you are having a grand celebration in here. Care if I join you and learn what it is that deserves raising a cup to the Lord?" Hans spoke loudly and clearly, with a taunting undertone.

Some of the gathered started to whisper to each other, while others became even warier of his presence. One of the men, quite red-faced and clearly drunk, rose.
"We've killed tha' scum o' Siegfridd tha'as b'en a turncoat t' the B'zzant'ns. Ischn't tha' righ' m' fellows? Eh? Give me mo' ale ey!"
"Jonas you idiot, do you have to tell that to everyone?" shouted another immediately after the drunkard had finished. "Now we have to kill him to make sure he won't tell argh!"

Several more of the men drew steel and walked closer to Hans, who still stoof with his arm raised, calmly observing the mercenaries. Hans suddenly felt a presence behind him, but it was only Ehrhart.

"Drop your weapons! Before you stands Duke Hans the Mighty of Swabia, Grand Marshall of the Imperial armies and Chief-Investigator in service of Emperor Elberhard the Champion. You are all under arrest!" were the words that came from behind him and Hans immediately cursed under his breath. Did this upstart really have to ruin his plan to peacefully subdue the mercenaries? Now there surely would be bloodshed.

"We are so dead, what should we do?"
"Damn it, they got us, they are at the windows!"
"I surrender!"
Yet most loudly to Hans' despair "Attack! They will not get us alive!"

Ehrhart ran out to rally the men as the tavern rose as one armed man and started erecting barricades inside. Hans still stood in his place, in anger at both Ehrhart and the mercenaries who dared raise their weapons against him. Hans drew his sword and backed slowly from the tavern door, while taunting the mercenaries to come out to attack him with his other hand.
As he stood outside the door, Hans bellowed orders to lay fire to the tavern to smoke out the mercenaries.

After a short while, that seemed as if an eternity, men started running out of the tavern or jumping through the windows even from the upper floor, coughing and holding rags over their faces to cover themselves. Few were able to raise their weapons in their condition and all were subdued with exception of eight who had to be struck down.

"Chain them and assign guards. We return to camp men. Good work."
A cheer rung through the night as the victorious knights bounds their prisoners and celebrated not losing a single man. As they walked back to camp, Hans had a word with Ehrhart who eventually agreed that he should have been more considerate rather than exposing their agenda.

*****

Very late that night, Hans sat by a make-shift desk in his tent, scribbling words to his brother, who was now emperor. Some men in the diet would not like this turn of events, but justice had to be done. Besides, his agents had brought quite intriguing intelligence on Dassel's intentions at Ragusa that needed to be taken care of.

[gibsonsg91921]

The Prison of Rome, 1310

Peter receives the grave news.

"That isn't what I wanted..."

He weeps quietly.

[OverKnight]

North of Adana, 1310

Matthias had returned to Adana. The news of the planned handover of Outremer to the Greeks had galvanized him and he had taken the first ship back to the Levant. The Diet was in chaos, half of them seemed mired in rebellion, the other half, denial. There seemed little point arguing there anymore, but here in Outremer he could hold onto something tangible. Make sure the Byzantines never laid their hands on Adana, the site of the First Crusade's greatest triumphs and the first settlement of Outremer. If the Greeks couldn't take the Citadel, they would have a hell of a time occupying the rest of Outremer, unless they felt like going through Turk territory.

The death of the Kaiser changed nothing, Matthias hadn't returned for the funeral or the coronation of the new Kaiser. He didn't feel it was safe to leave Adana. His suspicions were confirmed when Elberhard had foolishly sought to continue with Siegfried's plan. This very year Adana was supposed to be handed over to the Greeks. That wasn't going to happen, not if he could help it.

"My Lord, Kurt thinks he has found their camp, what should we do?"

A question from one of his men brought Matthias back to the present. He and his escort were in the mountains north of Adana trying to track down a band of Turkish bandits. Pleas for assistance had been pouring into Adana from the local villages, and Matthias, pleased to have something to do, had personally seen to it. Best to see to the concerns of the small folk lest they revolt as they had in other parts of the Reich.

Matthias peered through the moonlit darkness, as if trying to spy the camp himself.

"He's sure, Jurgen? The bandits are there?"

"Aye Lord, the sentries didn't see him, the rest are abed and they match the description given to us."

Matthias thought a moment, twirling the Seal of Solomon on his ring finger, and then made up his mind. Placing his gauntlets on, he spoke.

"We'll ride in, kill the sentries and the rest when they wake. I don't feel like being subtle tonight."

Matthias's retinue charged into the small mountain glade that contained the bandit's hideout. The sentries died first, followed by half-dressed bandits roused from their tents. They were slaughtered by the light of a rather large camp fire, a mistake Matthias wouldn't have made.

Soon enough, the Imperial Horsemen were milling about the camp looking for survivors. It had been easy, Matthias thought, the glade provided some cover but it was in a depression of the forest. It was too easy to be caught in it, ringed by trees and high ground. Despite their nasty reputation, the Turks had chosen a poor site.

It was then that Matthias saw Kurt, his scout, galloping out of the camp. Terror and guilt were splashed across his features as he looked back. A feeling of dread suddenly rose in the Count.

"Scheisse! It's an ambush! Get out!"

As soon as the words we spoken, bowstrings sung and arrows flew out of the darkness. Half his escort were down in an instant. An arrow glanced off his armor, while three took his Charger in the flank and neck. The animal screamed in pain, bucked, reared and collapsed. Matthias tired to leap free, but the dead animal crashed to the ground, crushing and pinning his left leg. Matthias cried out as the world turned white and then seemed to recede. Around him he could hear the screams of his men and the sound of battle.

Trapped, Matthias could only watch half conscious as shadows came forth from the darkness clutching spears and axes as arrows continued to fly. Now his men were slaughtered. Jurgen managed to gallop out of the clearing, two arrows in him, but horsemen, with bows aloft, emerged from the trees and rode after him. Soon after, a single scream echoed through the the night as the camp itself became hushed, except for the moans of wounded men.

The shadows became Turks, moving in among the wounded, ending their cries. A few circled Matthias, laughing, one roughly removed his helm. His vision began to swim, but Matthias could hear them talking in their foul language, all he could make out was his own name.

A man strode towards Matthias through the Turks, who were now busy looting the dead. He, oddly enough, appeared to be a Greek, a military man by his bearing and dress. Standing over him, the eyes of the Greek danced with fire light. A small cold smile broke his features as he looked down on his prey.

Matthias struggled to speak.

"Why?"

The Greek's boot lashed out, catching him in the temple. The world went black.


Later

Water splashed into Matthias's face, bringing him back to consciousness. A fire burned in his left leg.

"Welcome to Caesarea, Matthias. I'm glad you could finally join us in the Citadel you claimed to help liberate."

Sputtering, Matthias groggily looked up. He was in a dank room, most likely in the dungeon of Caesarea, if that was to be believed. The Greek stood before him holding a bucket. Looking down, his left leg was splinted, blood seeping through the bandages that covered it. He was bound to a chair. Torches on the walls cast a flickering red light across the cell.

The light cast shadows along the Greek's face. Matthias could see scars and the grim set to his features.

"Alvanites told me of the assistance you provided, but also the arrogant manner in which you conveyed yourself. Still, the damned fool allow himself to be used. Now that I am in command, such inequities will not occur. A new day is coming in the relationship between the Empire and you Germans. The Wheel turns."

Matthias looked up at the Greek.

"Have we met? I would like to know the name of my captor, the man who betrays an alliance."

Swearing in Greek, the Greek viciously swung the bucket down onto his wounded leg. Matthias, despite his best efforts, howled in agony.

"You are a piece of offal. My name is Strategos Nikeforos Argyrus, some call me 'the Mean'. And what exactly were you doing in Adana, dear ally? Preparing for the handover? Your sedition in the Diet is well known, as is your hatred of our Empire. No doubt you cheered when your Kaiser perished. Our intelligence also suggests you are one of those Lutherites, who opposes the true Orthodox Church. Do not speak to me of our alliance."

Despite himself Matthias could not help but laugh, a manic gasp tinged with pain. "I do not follow Luther. I don't hate your Empire, I only wanted the Kaiser to give up this mad idea of Unification. Keep everything the way it was, that's all I wanted."

Dropping the broken bucket, Nikeforos casually backhanded Matthias. His head snapped back.

"It does not matter, you German pig, you are here for other reasons. Tell me, how many men garrison Adana?"

Matthias looked up sharply, blood seeping from his mouth, "What!?"

A blow to the stomach, "How many men?"

It got worse from there. Questions about Adana, the defenses, the walls and passwords. Questions about the Prinz and King. Questions about the Armies of Outremer. And Pain, pain with the questions, pain by fist, pain by fire, pain by blade, over and over in a red haze until Matthias wasn't sure what he was saying or even if it was him screaming.

At the end he fell into a merciful oblivion.

Nikeforos looked down coldly at his victim, holding a red blade glowing in the torch light. Who knew if the information was reliable, but it did not matter too much. The garrison of Adana would be in a panic, looking for their commander. They would be disheartened when they found his bodyguard killed, the victim of a Turk ambush, and their Count gone, most likely dead. It was good sometimes that the Empire employed mercenaries, even those of the old enemy.

Adana would be leaderless. The foolish German Kaiser and King of Outremer had ordered its transfer to the true Roman Empire. With Count Matthias out of the way, the crusaders would have to march out of Adana without a fight, and Nikeforos could march in unopposed. The Wheel would turn.

[Cecil XIX]

Southwest of Bucharest, 1310

Mine Kaiser,

The situation is grim. If I were just taking the city, holding it against the Huns, or doing both with a few years in between it would not be a problem. But I cannot take the city without tearing down those walls, I cannot repair those walls before the Hungarians attack, and I cannot hold out against the Hungarians without the walls intact. It is my suggestion as acting commander of the 2nd AHA that the army be withdrawn south, so that Karl Zirn may take control. By the time he is able to march back to Bucharest the city should be held by a weakened Hungarian host and more soldiers can be trained in Bran. If we have to wait for the Papal Bull calling for peace to expire, than that also favors us. The Hungarians seem to prefer keeping their armies in the field rather than defending their settlements.
Regards,
Edmund Becker

Edmund sighed as he finished writing the letter before continuing on his own personal copy.

“If I had known that it would take so much work and war just to be left alone to govern my county in peace I would have though long and hard about marrying into this family.”

“Woe is you,” replied Karl, never one to recognize when someone was speaking rhetorically.

“Yes, I was being overly dramatic.” Edmund continued bitterly. “At least my family life has been rewarding. When I have time for it.” He sighed once more, but this time it seemed to improve his spirits considerably.

“But soon, all that will be over. I’ve redeemed myself as a General and my capture of Peter has given me an ample time to resign. Soon I will be in Prague, where I can live in peace and enjoy myself for the rest of my days.”

“Look at you.” stated Karl. “Here you are with a nice, big army at your command and you’re working hard to just give it away. What is it with you and governing anyway?”

By now Becker had finished copying his letter, and turned to Karl.

“I know it’s not your way to stay in one place for too long, but listen to me. Too many of the electors see counties as stepping stones for greater things. To them, a county is just a sign of adulthood and their Duke’s trust. They don’t spend any time with their people and when they do it’s just so they can get them to serve in Imperial armies, this despite the fact that Counts wield extraordinary power in their own right. That is why I want to live with and rule the people of my county, so I can give them the attention they deserve. No one has more authority over Bohemia than I. I set the build queues, I set the tax levels. And just as I am Duke Arnold’s men before I am Emperor Elberhard’s, so are the soldiers of Bohemia my men before they are Duke Arnold’s. It’s time I start taking this authority seriously.”

“So you get to Prague. Then what? You spend the rest of your life in one place?”

“Ideally. There is much to be down to further Bohemia’s greatness. Although it was the first province taken during the Reich’s resurgence, it is now a rather unimportant place compared to the other territories under our control. I will change that and make Prague one of the most important cities in the Empire. It will be a constant struggle, one that will probably outlive me, but I need to see it through and I need to put my plan into action from within Prague’s walls. That is the best way to govern Prague and the only way to secure my legacy.” Becker paused, collecting his thoughts.

“And the only way I can do Sigismund justice is by building up his homeland into something happy and prosperous.”

Karl sat forward. “You were a newlywed when Sigismund died. You never even met him. Why do you care what he’d think of you?”

“You don’t have to pretend with me Karl. I heard what they said about Sigismund when he heard Contzel was to marry me.”

https://img186.imageshack.us/img186/6460/swifttojudgetj2.png

“…Let’s just say I have something to prove.”

[GeneralHankerchief]

Ragusa, 1312

"You summoned me, von Dassel?"

"Yes I did, Luther." Dietrich von Dassel sat behind a desk in his study, barely visible over a mountain of papers, looking grim. Alexander Luther had no idea how much pressure the man was under, how much he had gone through to keep him safe. "Duke Hans is closing in. I cannot protect you forever. A move will have to be made."

"Closing in? Please explain."

Dietrich sighed. "While you have been out preaching that the Byzantines and the Pope are evil, I have been facing political pressure. The army I recruited to keep this Citadel - and you - safe has been discovered. I have come under suspicion. I have been called a traitor and a rogue. I have been forced to temporarily renounce my loyalties to Swabia in protest. Duke Hans and his army are coming to kill you and arrest me."

"I see," Luther said with far too much calm. "What are our options?"

"Option A is to give in and let Hans pass. I cannot let that happen. I have not fought against re-unification and tarnished my reputation for this long to give up and turn you in."

"And I thank you many times over for that," said Luther.

"Spare me," said Dietrich with a wave of his hand. "I have little time. The second option is to hunker down, quarantine the city, and refuse to let Hans in. It will be his move, but I believe that he will besiege us and start a full-blown civil war. I am confident that I can defeat him but I would rather not escalate that conflict to that level.

"Another option is to let you escape," Dietrich continued. "I do not believe this would be prudent. You are as safe as you can possibly be with me. Any journey to another Elector's protection - Fritz von Kastilien comes to mind - would be filled with danger and peril. I do not believe that you would get to sanctuary elsewhere, and even if you did you wouldn't be safe for long."

"So what is left?" asked Luther, this time with a tone of exasperation.

"March out with the army. Other Electors have been mentioning it for so long, so I might as well do it. You will come with me, we will take Durazzo, and replace Pope Abbate with a Pope who is not so pro-reunification."

Luther's eyes glowed. "Open war with the Papacy?"

"Yes. Times have changed since the Second Investiture Controversy. The College of Cardinals is under our control. The Pope has lost much influence. Excommunication does not mean as much, and it will be shorter-lived. And, as much as I hate the Byzantines, I do not want to fight a war with them. They are too powerful (thanks to Siegfried and Elberhard, damn them) and we are not as strong as we used to be. Deposing Abbate will accomplish our goals while still keeping the Reich intact."

"So," said Luther, rubbing his hands together in anticipation, "When do we leave?"

"Immediately. It is time to take matters into our own hands."

[Ignoramus]

Flanders, 1312

"I have had enough! No longer will I be a lowly Swabian, under the thumb of the Kaiser's brother.

I served him well, I supported him when he made his bid to become Kaiser, I bore disgrace for him, and how does he repay me? He sends me off to assault a city smitten with the plague! Surely he must have desired mein end and no less!"

After venting out his feelings, Wolfgang buckled on his sword.

"Assemble the men, Conrad!" he barked to his captain, "We are marching to Staufen!"

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

Paris, 1312

A large throng of townsmen were busy in the centre square, reading the message that had been nailed to the Cathedral's doors.

"Swabians, how long do you languish under the thumb of one who seeks to flatter a Roman puppet? He has put the interests of the Kaiser and the Pope above that of Swabia. He is the son of Henry, once Kaiser of the Reich. He has shamed the memory of his father with his Papal inclinations.

Why is our Reich in turmoil? Is not his brother Kaiser? Why is he in Austria at such a time like this when he should be in Swabia maintaining order?

We have no future in the Reich of Elberhard, but we do in the Principality of Swabia, which bows to no one save Gott!

I do declare myself Prinz of Swabia, and renounce Kaiser Elberhard, Duke Hans, and their Greek and Papal conspirators altogether! Let us fight for Swabia!

Wolfgang Hummel, Prinz of Swabia."

[Warmaster Horus]

Outside of Thessalonica.

The City is under siege, and has been for the past two years. The Venetian town is attacked by the Bavarian Household Army Otto, led by Count Friedrich Karolinger.

The Count has received word that von Dassel was to attack the Pope. He has also received a copy of the Chancellor's report, which detailed the chaos in which the Reich is. And finally, Duke Steffen's missive [OOC:See TC's post in the Bavarian thread for more info] rests in Friedrich's hands. His aide, Jonas, stands by the Count's side in the Command Tent while he reads the letters. After, Friedrich speaks.

"Have you read this?" he asks, sighing.

"No, my Lord. But may I suppose that it is not good news?"

"This says that there is a traitor in the Reich" he explains, pointing to the first message. "That letter says that Hell has come for the Reich", pointing to the appropriate missive. "And that one instructs me to return to Bavaria as soon as possible", after showing his Duke's letter. "Dark days have come for us."

"Is there anything for us to do, my Lord?, Jonas asks. "Do you have a plan?"

"A plan? Oh yes, I do. The first step is easy: take Thessalonica. We will sack that town, bringing some apparently much-needed Florins in the Reich's coffers. Although I'm sure the fools in the Administration who managed to empty the Reich's coffers in the first place will only squander the money we bring back. Is nothing ever simple in life?"

"And then, if I may?"

"Then, we'll follow the Duke's orders, of course. After all, we are loyal soldiers of the Reich. But maybe..." Friedrich trails off, and then shakes his head, laughing.

"What is the matter?" says Jonas, ever the worrier for his Liege.

"I've got a new ending for my plan. But just wait and see, friend. Just wait and see."

"Very well, my Lord."

[Tamur]

Night had closed in around the camp. Fritz sat alone in his tent, occasionally sipping froth off a stein. He gazed down at the parchment sheet in his hand.

Belger butchery - partially destroyed, 30% equipment lost
Kierkeg weaving house - completely destroyed, all equipment lost
Town hall - light smoke damage
Volger tannery - no structural damage, product loss

The list went on down the page. Fritz sighed. All that work for nothing. All those magistrates bought off or coddled into complaisance. The Saxon Army was not meant to be a peace-keeping force!

Fritz threw the list on the ground, sat back in his chair, and glared at the spectre of Stettin's gates closed against him.

[Stig]

Ansehelm looked out of the window of Thorn Castle, he heard that everywhere in the Reich people were revolting, but would you walk through Thorn you would not believe that to be true.
Thorn was living, blooming. Merchants were coming into the city selling their goods, citizens were happy and even tournaments between local hero's were held as if nothing was happening.
In other cities churches had been burned, or people had simply spoken against the church, but in Thorn this wasn't even seen, people went to the little chapel with smiles on their faces.

Yes Thorn really seemed like the only city where people were still able to think clearly.

But deep inside himself Ansehelm knew better, yes Thorn was a happy place, and yes little was happening here, but in the last 2 years many men resigned from the armies, as they would rather tend to their families. While Ansehelm allowed this, this did mean that he now had far less troops, and there were still two large Polish armies near, he would have to split them and fight them in turns.

Next to that Thorn might be happy, but all other parts of Franconia aren't, and Ansehelm was in no position to travel to those cities, as he had no-one to take over command of the Teutonic Army.

Best thing to do might simply be stay in Thorn and defend that to the last men, leaving to fight some foolish Civil War might mean loyalty to the Reich, but loyalty to Thorn is more important than that. Thorn had already once fallen into the hands of the enemy, and since it was Ansehelms city he had no intention having to desert the people again.

Atleast the Teutonic Knights were still with him, mostlikely because Thorn meant much to them, it was the start of the crusade on Moscow.

[FactionHeir]

Hans surveyed the men at the camp.
All of them Imperial troops levied from all across the Empire to defend the emperor and his interests he thought to himself Loyal men who would give their lives to defend the empire against rebellious knaves and heretical villains, even if they were German

The times were grim. Dassel departed Ragusa before he could stop him, Luther in tow. Bavarians and Franconians opposing his suggestion to stop him by helping the Pope defend Durazzo that they had been holding ever since his own chancellorship, which prevented the godfearing Venetians from attacking Austria.

And now this idiot H&#252;mmel is turning against me too
Hans had heard the news from a merchant friend passing through Paris that H&#252;mmel had attached messages calling for rebellion. No doubt his target would be Staufen to control the Ducal seat and the most advanced citadel of Swabia.
Why must all horrors occur at the same time and when I am growing old, too old to defend the empire at all fronts at the same time

Still standing atop a small hill and surveying his men, Hans knew that he would have to return to Swabia and face the rebellion himself, lest he wished to return to a hostile place, seceded from the empire and a lunatic ruling over what Henry, his father, had made prosper.
It was once again time to write letters appealing to the populace' loyalty and hearts and to unsheath the sword.

"Men, it is time we march. These are dark times and the traitor H&#252;mmel is attempting not only to declare himself Duke but also secede Swabia from the Empire. We cannot allow this to happen. For Swabia, for the Emperor, for the Holy Roman Empire!"

[Privateerkev]

On the Adana/Aleppo border: 1312

King Jan sat in his command tent. He had moved his army north from Aleppo and his men needed to rest. While the men sat and slept, the King read through reports. Things did not look good. Dassel was moving an army towards the Holy Father. Constantinople was sacked. The Byzantines and the Reich were on the brink of war. Unrest ran rampant throughout the Holy Roman Empire. Desertion was prevalent even in the King's own army.

And through it all, the King led an army behind what was now hostile lines, on what seemed an impossible mission. Count Matthias had gone missing. While there was little friendship left between the two men, Matthias was one of Jan's Crusaders and a comrade in arms. Jan was the closest to the area so he volunteered to go look for the wayward Count. A letter had just arrived from an old friend with some very important information. If Jan could confirm the facts in that letter with his own investigation, things did not look good for those still left in Outremer.

Gunther came into the tent, "My King, the men are ready to move again. What are you orders?"

Jan sat back and thought for a moment, "We're going to enter Adana. Tell the men to be ready for anything."

Gunther had a look of worry creasing his face, "Sir, there are reports that we are on the verge of open war with the Eastern Roman Empire. Do you think we should go deeper into their territory?"

Jan stood up and started packing away his things in order to get ready to travel. "I have reason to believe Count Matthias needs our help. I might not be able to save the Reich from imploding, but I do have an army command and I am going to put it to good use. We are going to march into Adana whether the Byzantines like it or not. And if we find information that confirms what is in this letter, we will march to Caeserea. Any Byzantine army that gets in our way is to be considered hostile and treated accordingly."

Gunther only nodded and left the tent to carry out the King's orders. The King stood there in thought. Everything we have all fought for is collapsing. Everything is falling apart. All we have left is death and honor. If I must face the former, it will be in service of the latter.

Jan's thoughts traveled to the captive Count and what the young man had to be going through. As he continued to pack, the King said to himself, "Hold on a little while longer Matthias. We're coming for you."

The King said a prayer for Matthias and left the tent as workers came in to collapse it for transport.

[gibsonsg91921]

Roman Prison, 1312:

P&#233;ter von Kastilien receives the news of the fall of Constantinople:

"Aha! Exactly as planned. Tancred shall be rewarded for his loyalty. Those fools - thinking I was giving up and leaving - forgot about Tancred."

He then sees von Dassel is moving to Durazzo.

"Take the city back, for Ehrhart," he says morosely.

[AussieGiant]

Under the Walls of Budapest 1312:

The 2nd Austrian House Army was arrayed before him.

To his right stood the imposing figure of Lorenz Zirn his second in command. To his left stood the Dread Knight Bane, in a semi circle behind him stood Grom, his Priest, Military Engineer and Szcepanski his Sword Bearer.

"I'm a reasonable man..."


The Duke voice carried across the vast field easily. His ability to speak in a normal tone of voice but have it reach hundreds of ranks deep was an art in itself.

"...some of you might scoff at that suggestion but I like to think I am."


The Duke began walking towards the front ranks, unsheathing his fathers sword as he approached. Some of the soldiers flinched at the move, others began sweating in the cool fading light.

"I'm sure you've heard rumors, gossip, reports from friends and family from across the Duchy, so I'm going to set these straight right here and now.."

*Swoosh* In a slow lazy arc the Duke swings his sword in front of himself.

"The Reich is going to shiet in record time. Lord Tancred has attacked Constantinople."

A murmur rang through the ranks at this statement.

"Lord Dietrich is marching on the Pope in Daruzzo."

A louder murmur ran through the ranks at this. Immediately Bane steps forward in an intimidating move, his voice booms across the plain.

"SssILENCE!!!!"

Waiting a moment the Duke continues.

"That means two things men...firstly you can expect a whole horde of pissed off pansies in Purple Trousers coming our way to exact revenge.

Secondly that means we will be excommunicated in a very short period of time."

At this there is a louder murmur from the ranks and some shouts of agreement.

Suddenly Lorenz Zirn surges forward, steps up to a huge Two Handed soldier and screams into his face.

"SILENCE!!!"

The Duke pauses for a moment and in a quiet tone continues.

"Thank you Lorenz

I see there is some agreement on that topic...interesting.

Prague is revolting, Karl Zirn is alone, Lord Becker is in Bucharest and we have large desertion rates in the militia units across the whole Duchy.

Plus, there are riots and religious unrest everywhere.

Essentially men, we are in serious shiet and there seems to be no end in site!!!

Personally I can forgive the clergy, they think a lot and are delicate men to say the least, the citizens of Austria I can also forgive to a certain extent. We as nobles are not providing them with what they should expect of us..."

The Duke is now striding between and through the ranks...every mans head is dead straight, however the eyes of every soldier strain to keep an eye on the Dread Duke as he moves amongst them

"BUT!!!"

Within ten feet every soldier flinches as the Dukes his voice cracks across them like a physical force.

"What I can't stand men, is desertion in Austria's professional soldiers!!!

That pains me, much like my lack of a wife, which also pains me...

Much like the Elephant Balls I receive from the Kaiser sometime ago...

it's like a festering wound that can't heal...

and I don't want to feel this pain..."

There is long silence as Arnold continues to stride through the assembled army.

"Now...

even though I'm in pain and the Reich is crumbling around us there is one thing I can tell you.

I will ensure this Duchy and the people in it survive, I promise you that, but what I need in return is loyalty, I need you to stay loyal to me, so I can stay loyal to your families and the Kaiser. If you do this I promise you we will make it out of this mess alive...well at least some of you.

BUT!!!"

Again the men around the Duke flinch as his voice thunders over them.

"I TELL YOU THIS FROM THE BOTTOM OF MY BLACK HEART...

IF YOU DESERT ME I WILL END YOUR EXISTENCE ON THIS WORLD!!!!"

There is a pause and dead silence.

"For every man that is not present here and every morning from now on, another man will hang for his desertion!!!

AM I CLEAR!!??"

The Duke heared a few words in response.

"AM I CLEAR!!??"

A few more voices are raised but nothing signification.

"Is this a &#163;$%&#163;$ing morgue? Am I surrounded by thousands of the best fighting men in this Empire?

AM....I...CLEAR!!??"

"YES SIR!!!" The thunder of voices in response startles birds and the city watch some half a kilometer distance.

"Right then...I think you've given me a Hard ON...excellent!!!

...Lorenz, dismiss the army."

[OverKnight]

1312, Day 751

Another day, another "interview".

"So you had nothing to do with the attack on Constantinople?"

A blow to the face, Matthias couldn't see out of his right eye anymore. Of course it wasn't like the view had changed much.

"I find that hard to believe," Nikeforos continued.

Matthias let his head hang. Talking usually only brought more pain.

A backhand to the cheek, close to that eye. Sometimes not talking brought just as much.

Matthias looked up, vision swimming, the shadow of the Strategos over him.

"I been here two years, why would I know about Tancred's assault on your capital?"

Nikeforos grunted, "You were Domestikos for two terms. You ran the Reich while that dreamer Siegfried enjoyed the pleasures of Constantinople. You inserted yourself into every aspect of your Kingdom for that long and you're telling me you had nothing to do with his death, the Lutheran rebellion or the sacking? Next you'll say that you had no plans to hold Adana against us."

Matthias spat some blood.

"Oh I was going to hold Adana. I never denied that. I would have made it a killing ground for anyone who tried to take it from me. But the rest. . .no. No."

Nikeforos kicked over his chair, sending Matthias sprawling to the floor. Two kicks into the ribs. Matthias thought he could hear a snap as he screamed. Wheezing, he began to laugh.

"What's so funny you German pig? You did all that didn't you?"

Matthias's laughter became higher pitched and he began hyperventilating. Finally he calmed down enough to speak.

"No, don't you see, it's too sloppy. If I was going to launch a vast conspiracy against your Empire, I wouldn't have given you southern Italy and Outremer before I stabbed you in the back. I certainly wouldn't have used religious extremists, their faith gives them strength, but they can't be controlled. As for the sacking of Constantinople, if I was going to break the alliance, I would have set it up to make it seem that you betrayed us. That way, the world would see the Reich as the aggrieved party. Oh no, I. . .I would have done it much better."

Nikeforos seethed.

"You arrogant bastard!"

Another kick, it caught him in that eye. Pain again, worse. Blackness.

Nikeforos turned from Matthias. He wished he could just kill him. But some in the Court still hoped for reconciliation, if word got out that he had a prisoner, one who then died in his custody, it would be bad for him. They were fools, but they outranked him. The latest German atrocities would turn that tide, and when Imperial opinion switched, Matthias Steffen would die.

[gibsonsg91921]

Roman Prison, 1313:

Peter bursts out laughing, hearing of Wolfgang's rebellion against Hans and Elberhard. He hears that Matthias has gone missing, and begins to taunt the prison guard.

"You fools! You can't leave me in this prison forever! Do you know why?"

"Because you need me. The Reich is falling apart. Elberhard is sending it to hell, Tancred sacked Constantinople successfully, and we are both heroes of the Lutherans! The majority favors me!"

"It won't be long until the riots come to Rome and set me free. And when they do, I'll set things straight. I wish to personally shake Dietrich von Dassel's and Wolfgang Hummel's (his dad had a hard time for a bad Chancellorship, that's all) hands."

"Ha! Hans. Thinks he can hold me behind these bars for long. The sad thing is, I admired Hans and Elberhard before all of this. They lost a friend, and a powerful one at that."

"By my reckoning, it won't take a riot to let me out. Kaiser Elberhard is going to walk into Rome and set me free himself. The Reich needs me, and he knows it. And Papa Peter will set things straight."

Peter sighs, and sits back down.

"It won't be long now," he thinks.

[OverKnight]

This is a coop story between Privateerkev and myself.


Caesarea: 1314

"My King, the guard is rotating on the walls like your source said. The men are ready."

Jan nodded to Max and looked around. Two dozen men we're laying down on a sand dune overlooking the castle. It was night and Jan could barely make out the figures around him. Dressed in dark robes, the men were all hand-picked. Veterans of the many wars in Outremer, men who fought the Mongols, senior NCO's of the regiments in AoO North, these men were the best the Reich had. All volunteers and all unmarried. Gunther was back at Aleppo with the rest of the army quite unhappy at being left behind. Someone had to command the army though.

A robed figure ran out of the darkness to the King's position. "My King, my men are ready to start a diversion." The man was a newcomer to Jan's retinue. He was a mercenary captain by the name of Azim. Impressed with the King's reputation, Azim sought Jan out in order to join. Bringing Azim with was partly to test his effectiveness and his loyalty. He had brought a band of twenty Turcoman mercenaries from Aleppo. They would stir up trouble at the front gate while Jan and his party would sneak in around the other side at a sewer grate. Jan looked at a map that his contact had given him. He mentally drew a path from the sewer, to where prisoners were kept.

"Alright Azim, get your men ready. We go on your signal."


Day 1420

Days, if the passing time could be called such in this hole, went in a blur now. "Interviews", fever and monotony had taken their toll. Still Matthias kept track of their number. Even in this place there were patterns, patterns that could be discerned if one had time, and of course time was the one thing he did have.

Black bread and soup marked a new day, if the soup had a bit of meat in it, that meant it was the seventh day, the Sabbath. No matter how bad it got, he made the mark on the wall. A thumbnail scratch for each day, a new group for each week. There were patterns.

Nikeforos, however, was hard to predict. His interviews could be months apart when he was out in the field, or only days when he was in the Citadel. Matthias never saw anyone else, the food was pushed in through a slot. Patterns there too, yes, Nikeforos wanted his imprisonment kept secret. That most likely meant he had taken Matthias without sanction from the Basileus. Both Empires, it seemed, had their independent nobility.

Matthias laughed, a manic rasp that rose from a huddled figure on the floor. Matted hair and beard covered an emaciated face. A dirty strip of linen was wound over his right eye. The maggots had been at it, it didn't hurt anymore.

The door opened suddenly, and the man himself walked in holding the new day's meal.

"Do you realize, Matthias, that you were talking to yourself?"

The former Chancellor scampered back to the rear of the cell. Looking up he rasped, "Best conversation I could get."

The Strategos dropped a bowl on the floor. A heel of bread and half the soup spilled onto the dank, fetid straw.

"I suppose I should have altered the feeding times. No matter, you're quite right. The Basileus does not know you're here. Nor does your beloved Empress. They can't be trusted with the information. I serve the Empire, the true interests of the Empire. Some matters are best left in the hands of enlightened subordinates."

Nikeforos coughed, wrinkled his nose and brought a scented cloth to his face. Replacing it he continued speaking.

"At first I kept you for information, then amusement, and finally, I thought I could use you as a bargaining chip. I envisioned influencing events in your Kingdom, but it seems your fellow Germans have self-destructed quite nicely on their own."

Nikeforos looked down at his prisoner.

"The risk of keeping you now outweighs the benefits. Enjoy your meal Matthias, it will be your last."

A knock could be heard at the door, and a muffled voice spoke, "My Lord! There is a disturbance at the front gate and the stables are on fire!"

Nikeforos turned and unleashed a string of profanities in Greek.

"Tell the men to form a bucket brigade and man the walls. Wait! I have to see to this myself, you stay. Guard the prisoner with your life, I wish to send him to hell myself."

Nikeforos exited and the door slammed shut behind him. Matthias could hear the bolt slide home. He stared into space, the new day forgotten.

A scuffle could be heard outside as well as muffled voices speaking what sounded like German. The door opened.

Matthias blinked, a combination of the light pouring into the cell and the sudden appearance of the man before him.

"King Jan, I wasn't expecting you. Have you come to arrest me?"

Jan, obviously appalled at the condition he found his comrade in, answered, "My Lord, what did those monsters do to you?" The King bent down to the Count's aid. "Can you move? We don't have a lot of time."

As men stood guard out in the hallway, Jan and Max lifted Matthias up on his feet. The emaciated condition of the Count made the job far too easy.

Matthias threw off their support, the prospect of escape had given him a last reserve of energy. Pausing he turned to the wall of his cell. Carefully he scraped his thumbnail across it, a mark to join the others. It was Day 1421, and the last.

"Let's go."

The party make their way down the hallway to the manhole cover they arrived in. After a trip through the sewers, the group make it outside the walls without anyone noticing. Azim and his men had done their job well and retreated without casualties. With the stables burnt down, the Byzantine pursuit would take some time to organize.


Later

Matthias sat in front of the camp fire. He had washed and changed, but he could still feel the lice on his scalp. The hair and beard would have to go, he began hacking at them with a dagger, a small looking glass in front of him.

While the Count methodically chopped through four year's of growth, he spoke to the King seated next to him.

"Nikeforos told me that Tancred sacked Constantinople, is that true?"

Jan grimaced, "I'm afraid so. Becker caught up with Peter and he surrendered without a struggle. But it looks like he was just a diversion for Tancred."

Matthias sighed and dropped a tangled length of hair into the fire. Lice sizzled and popped in the flames. The smell was terrible.

"So we're at war?"

"The Kaiser is trying to hold things together. Don't know how long that will last though. He just authorized me to retake Aleppo. The Byzantines left it nearly empty and it fell easy. Looks like he is preparing for the peace to end. This raid to get you won't help matters much either."

Matthias grunted, "Would you believe me if I told you that's not what I wanted? Peter and Tancred are fools, I wanted unification ended without violence, without losing the alliance."

Jan sighed, "I know Matthias, I know. I saw what you went through in order to fill out two terms as Chancellor. I know this isn't what you wanted."

The Count unbound the dirty linen over his right eye to get at the hair underneath. It was still somewhat intact, but the scar tissue and trauma ensured he would never see out of it again. The linen went into the flames as well. Matthias turned his blind eye to Jan.

"How goes the Reich? I heard a few rumours but I couldn't believe them."

Jan took a swig from his mug before replying, "First off, Dassel marches on Durazzo as we speak. It might even be over by now. News from Europe is getting more sporadic and hard to come by. That mad man is going to get us excommunicated. The whole thing is coming undone. Cities are rebelling. Soldiers are deserting. Nobles are going their own way. The Dukes are trying to restore some order in their area but their job is only going to get harder."

Matthias bowed his head. His face and scalp were cut close now. He sharpened his blade a few times before dipping it into a crock of soapy water. He began shaving, running the edge along scalp and cheek.

"It's all falling apart. I should have died four years ago rather than come back to this. Greed, hubris, envy, ignorance and all the other petty sins of man are unleashed on the Reich. If only Siegfried had known what he was letting loose when he called for reunification, when he opened Pandora's box."

Jan shook his head, "You can't put all of this on Kaiser Siegfried. A whole lot of people took advantage of the situation. Maybe we were naive to think political and religious unification could happen, but we never could have anticipated this."

Matthias scowled. He was completely shaved now. With the hair and beard gone and the emaciation of his imprisonment, the flickering fire game him the appearance of a Death's head.

"What of Outremer, King Jan? What of your Kingdom?"

Jan only shrugged, "Mine? It never was mine. All I have ever done is serve the Charter and the Kaiser. Even as a count. I have devoted my life to this place. And I will continue that work no matter the circumstances. Because it is out here that we can do some good. This is where we can serve God. And this is where we can earn the Reich salvation. It was why Mandorf, Henry, Otto, and the others brought us here in the first place. Sure I didn't want Outremer to be given away, but if we could have continued their legacy without it, then that was good enough."

Shaking his head, Matthias responded, "I tried to stop the exchange. It was stupid of me, and I paid for it. I was a fool, but I am in good company."

"Yeah, I think I've had my head in the clouds for too long. I wanted religious unification so bad I didn't think of the cost. Or how hard it would be to ask millions of people to suddenly accept a change to the core values of their belief system. Now I just want to do what I can to fix it."

Taking a fresh strip of linen, Matthias wound it around his head, shielding his blind eye. He spoke grimly, "I wasn't referring to you specifically. We've all made a hash of it. There's not much left. I am in your debt, but I must ask another favor. The man who took me, Nikeforos Argyrus, I must kill him, and I'll need an army. Maybe not today, but if God grants it, I will have my vengeance. 'You shall give life for life, eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot, burn for burn, wound for wound, stripe for stripe.'"

The King grimaced at the Lord's book being used to justify such a thing, "That isn't what the Lord meant. But I don't blame you for feeling the way you do. What I saw in your cell disgusted me. You don't owe me anything though. I did what I thought was right. Like I always have. I'm not always right but it has served me pretty well so far. Quite simply, we need you. Dieter left to take the bribe Ansehelm offered. You, me, and the Kaiser are all that is left out here. I know we have our differences but I trust you to do what you think is right. Right now, I need someone like that even if we don't always agree. Army of Outremer South is yours to command if you want it."

Matthias stared into the flames, "Thank you, King Jan, I will do my part to rally the remaining Crusaders, but these are dark times. 'I shall give thanks for the hardships we bear, for they serve to purify the soul.' I don't know if the Reich can recover, but I will try. We have much to do."

The King held out his hand, "It's good to have you aboard Count Matthias, there is indeed much to do."

Matthias nodded and shook Jan's hand.

"God save the Reich."

[Tamur]

Fritz von Kastilien slapped his gloves into the palm of his left hand, over and over and over again. His gaze seemed to be focused on nothing but air. Then he smiled suddenly, crookedly and laughed.

"White flag. Jonas, go see to it."

A young man who had been standing nearby ran to a golden stallion and galloped quickly down the road and towards the walls of Stettin which lay across the valley from them.

"The rest of you!" Fritz yelled, turning to his assembled commanders, "Get your soldiers in order. We show them today that a white flag means nothing after disobeying a master. I hope your weapons are sharp. We march on the city in five minutes."

Commanders scrambled this way and that, leaving Fritz alone, except for his dog which lay panting at his feet. He turned again and watched as the small figure of Jonas and his horse draw closer to the city. He began slapping his gloves in the palm of his hand again, over and over and...

Fritz stopped. Jonas had toppled from the saddle. His horse reared up and then its legs too buckled under it. Fritz looked on with his gloves held in mid-swing as the horse rolled over Jonas, and lay still.

A distant cheer was carried to him on the wind, and the white flag disappeared.

Gloves fell to the ground. Eyes narrowed to slits. Face reddened to near scarlet. Then Fritz let out an explosive curse, a howl of rage, and yelled for his horse to be brought.

Oh how those whoresons will pay...

[econ21]

Rome, 1316

“How many of us are there, brother?” Jan the Teuton inquired.

“A score, brother Captain.” answered the veteran gruffly.

Jan inspected the men crammed into the cellar - a core of retired Teutons, aged but still hardened. The rest were a mix of retainers, servants and youths.

“Who’s this?” asked Jan, facing a red faced innocent looking young man.

“Helmut Grubner, Sire” supplied the veteran, adding with scarcely concealed embarrassment. “He’s my gardener.”

Jan raised an eyebrow: “Can he wield a blade?”

Helmut Grubner held up a lethal looking glaive and proceeded to whirl it effortlessly around the crowded cellar.

Jan smiled at the display of skill. “Any other man and I reckon he’d have taken off a few heads!” he said with admiration.

“Aye, I dare say, he could take them all off, if you’d asked.” said the veteran proudly.

Jan looked around the room, at the eager faces. The retired Teutons had seen too much of violence, but it was as if they missed its absence. The others - well they seemed eager and fresh enough. It was not ideal, but it would do.

“What’s the quest, brother Captain?” the veteran Teuton inquired.

Inwardly, Jan sighed. The things the Kaiser had got him to do in Rome! Release the traitor Peter von Kastilien. Negotiate with the officious fools running the Imperial civil service. And now this.

“We must rescue a lady in distress.” said Jan, in a clipped voice.

The men in the room, young and old, seemed to come to attention at these words, straightening their backs and clasping their weapons more firmly.

“And may I inquire who is the lady in question?” probed the veteran.

“The Empress Dowager Theodora.” announced Jan.

There was a collective gasp around the room and, not for the last time, Jan was grateful he was working with a band of brother Teutons whose loyalty to him was unquestioned.



*****


Captain Jan’s motley band of volunteers arrived at the Empress Dowager’s Palace to find the gates unguarded and signs of looting everywhere.

Even the fine gardens had not been spared, with bare patches of earth exposed where once there had been beautiful and rare shrubs and statues.

“Draw swords.” muttered Jan, as his men picked their way through the debris and moved towards the front steps to the palace.

A few figures scampered around the periphery, keen to avoid a confrontation with what they took to be armed authorities. Jan viewed the looters with disgust. One of the bigger specimens cried out a Lutheran curse as he took to his heels.

A tired, bowed old man appeared at the window of the palace and then hobbled out to greet Jan on the steps. He was dishevelled and covered in dust:

“I am Posca, servant of the Empress Dowager Theodora.”

Jan bowed slightly at the dignified, but worn figure standing bravely in front of him. How did the Greek know that Jan was not a Lutheran, keen to put to the sword any residual vestige of Byzantine influence?

“I am Captain Jan, of Kaiser Elberhard’s retinue. I come at my master’s orders to escort your mistress to safety. But I fear I am too late.”

“Captain Jan, the Teuton, yes, I have heard of you.” said Posca.

Jan looked stunned - how could this old man have heard of him?

Posca patted the Captain on the shoulder: “Don’t look so surprised, my mistress knows who her friends are, and her enemies. She is well, but in hiding. She would very much like to see you. Come with me and I will take you to her. But you must come alone. To travel with your men would attract unwelcome attention.”

The Greek looked at Jan’s band of aged Teutons and civilians: “And, with all respect, Captain, I am not sure your band could handle that attention.”

Jan acquiesced. He was used to taking orders and there was something about the shrewd old Greek that commanded deference.



****


Posca and Jan began their journey at night. The darkness shielded them from curious eyes, but it also revealed the lawlessness of the capital. Gangs of men roamed the streets and the calm of the night was interrupted by screams. The old Greek took Jan on a route through back streets and alleys, successfully evading the Lutheran mobs, until suddenly their luck ran out. They emerged into a small square that was home to an armed gang of several dozen disreputable looking men. The thugs approached the two travellers menacingly.

Jan stepped in front of Posca. For the old man to speak a word in his thick Greek accent would doom them both.

“Well, well, well - what we got here, boys?” said one of the thugs, a large man carrying an axe which he toyed with in his hands.

Before Jan knew it, they were surrounded. Flight was impossible; fighting amid so many grappling hands equally futile. Still, the Captain had a mission and he would not fail his Kaiser.

“I am on Imperial business, by order of Kaiser Elberhard.” he declared, trying to summon every ounce of his natural authority.

“That useless @#$%^&!!!er!” spat the ringleader of the thugs. “What the @#$%^&!!! does he want you to do? Surrender Rome to the Greeks?” The ringleader turned to his gang, basking in their admiration for his great wit.

Jan flushed. One of the other gang members pushed aside Jan’s cloak, as if to begin to disarm him. He saw the black cross of the Teutons on Jan’s coat of arms.

“Wait a minute, boys, he’s one of them Teutons.” said the man.

“So what?” said the ringleader.

“Well, didn’t they all desert from the Kaiser’s army after that @#$%^&!!!er gifted away Outremer?”

“That’s right!” “Yeah!” muttered other gang members.

The gang leader smiled. “Oh, I get it - you are one of us, Teuton: a deserter!”

Jan’s face was a bright pink, but the night hid his fury from the gang.

“Imperial errand my arse! Who sends out one soldier and an old man into these streets on an Imperial errand anyway?” reasoned the gang leader.

He stuck his face close to Jan’s and revelled in his superiority over the helpless knight.

“Don’t worry, son. We forgive you. And God, well if Luther’s right, he may even forgive you too.” the gang leader stood aside and waved Jan on. “Proceed unmolested.”



****


When he finally arrived at the safe house, Jan was surprised to see it was an undistinguished town house. It was the sort of place that might belong to a lawyer or senior civil servant. It was affluent enough to be strongly built and in a well protected neighbourhood, but not lavish enough to attract special attention from looters. An old woman opened a slit in the door and looked at Jan warily. Posca induced her to open the many locks and bars on the front door then led Jan deep into the house. It was deserted. No courtiers, no guards, no servants. It seemed to Jan closer to a morgue than a palace.

They arrived at a rear room and Posca ushered Jan into the presence of the Empress.

The Empress was sitting in a dark corner of the windowless room, staring emptily into space. Her hair was unkept and she showed no interest in her visitor.

“This is Captain Jan, your Highness” said Posca. “He has been sent by Kaiser Elberhard to take you to safety.”

The Empress did not react, so Jan strode forward into the dimly lit room and spoke boldly:

“Your Highness, at this moment, the Pope-killer Dietrich von Dassel sails for Italy. He is bringing his Lutherans here. They are frenzied by blood. You are not safe. Kaiser Elberhard instructed me to take you north for your protection.”

“Kaiser Elberhard?” said the Empress Dowager vacantly. “I rather hoped it would be King Jan who came to rescue me. He was such a sweetie.”

Captain Jan looked alarmed. The Empress Dowager raised her eyes and took in his embarrassment. Jan stuttered: “King Jan was rather preoccupied, your Highness - what with the rescue of Matthias Steffen and all.”

Warmth and energy seemed almost visibly to enter the Empress Dowager’s body: “Ah yes, I heard about that. Nasty business. I trust Matthias is well? No limbs missing? I rather feared Nikeforos would start hacking off bits and throwing them to the Diet.”

After listening to Captain Jan’s reassurances, Theodora silenced him and returned to the matter at hand. She smiled, archly:

“So, Elberhard wants to keep me safe? Like he kept my husband safe? Like he protected Constantinople? As safe as poor Abbate? Tell me, Captain, don’t you think I would be better off without your Master’s “protection”?”

The Teuton tried to stammer out a response, but Theodora rose and fixed him with her eyes.

“Captain Jan, forgive my foolish jests. I am not worthy of your protection. I was merely a beast to be used for breeding. I was to give birth to a boy who would be both Caesar and Augustus, who would rule the world. But poor Siegfried is dead, the Pope is dead, the alliance is dead and I … I am finished. I have no more role to play on this earth.”

Jan opened his mouth to protest, but Theodora was in front of him and placed a finger over his mouth, shaking her head.

“No, listen. I am not worth your protection. But there is something in this city that is far more valuable to your master than I. You must secure that, not protect me.”

Jan looked puzzled and Theodora laughed.

“Oh, men of chivalry such as you and your master are so adorable! In a time of chaos, they dutifully stride forth to protect some worn out old woman. And give no thought to the florins that must fund their future. Simply adorable.”

The Teuton’s mouth opened.

“You have the Kaiser’s seal?” Theodora demanded.

Jan nodded and the Empress gave him a letter.

“Take your men to the Imperial Treasury. When the guards see your seal and this letter, they will let you empty the Treasury. I have some merchant wagons you can load up. Do it tonight and your visit may go unobserved by onlookers. When you leave the Treasury, you will travel as merchants under escort heading to market. If challenged by the mob, cut through them. If they think you are only protecting market goods, they will not risk their lives to stop you.”

Jan’s heart was beating, though whether it was from the thought of smuggling out the Imperial Treasury or the close proximity of the striking widow in front of him, he could not tell.

“Posca will meet you outside the city and take the caravan north. You will return to this house.” the Empress Dowager concluded: “Then you can fulfil your quest for the Kaiser and bring me out to safety.”

“I will do as you command, your Highness.”

Theodora clasped Jan on the arm and smiled appreciatively. Then, as if recalling something, her gaze became clouded and she turned away. She returned to the isolated seat she had been sitting on when Jan arrived and gazed at the wall, as if addressing no one.

“After your quest is done, you will return to Outremer, Captain?”

“Yes, your Highness, the Kaiser will need every blade out there.”

Theodora stroked her chin with her hand: “Yes, these are terrible times. I fear you will end up walking in the blood of those I used to call my countrymen. It will be hard on the Kaiser. I believe, like Siegfried, he came to regard the Eastern Romans as brothers. You must tell him - in such times, a person must do from duty some things that others would see as a betrayal. Are you listening to me, Captain? You must tell your Master that. You promise? When you think of me, remember those words and tell them to the Kaiser. You swear?”

Jan was puzzled, but made an oath. Satisfied, the Empress Dowager dismissed him.



*****


As the caravan left the city, Captain Jan felt exultant. It had all gone exactly as the Empress had said. The Treasury guards had reluctantly surrendered their charge. Whatever their inner loyalties, they could not dispute the authority of the Kaiser’s seal and the word of the Empress Dowager. Jan had made sure the florins were well hidden beneath miscellaneous market goods in the merchant wagons Theodora had provided. His motley band looked every inch a merchant escort, but with weapons drawn the Lutheran mobs showed little interest in accosting them.

Now Jan could make out the aged figure of Posca, waiting outside the city gates with a band of horsemen.

“No problems, Captain?” said Posca, urbanely.

“No problems, Posca.” said Jan, happily.

“Good. You have done well, Captain. I will take the caravan north from here. You do not need worry - these riders will protect me. They are not as brave as your band, but they do not know the nature of our cargo and they are being handsomely paid for their services.”

Jan tried to make out the mounted escort which lurked in the darkness behind Posca, but could see little. Once again, the old Greek inspired confidence and Jan did not worry.

Posca continued: “You must go back now. You see the fires burning in the city? Who knows when the mob may learn of my Mistress’s hiding place? You must bring her back … whatever the cost.”

Jan nodded: “You can count on me.”

Posca smiled. “I know.”

Jan turned and began the journey back into the city.



*****


When Jan and his band arrived back at the safe house, it was deserted. Frantically, the Teuton searched the corridors, until at last he arrived in the room where he had met the Empress Dowager earlier in the evening. Gingerly, half fearing to find a bloody corpse on the floor, he entered the chamber.

He looked around. It was deserted. Then he saw a note on the desk. It was written in an elegant feminine script:


Captain Jan,


Tell the Kaiser what I told you to say:

In these terrible times, a person must do from duty some things that others would see as a betrayal.


And tell the good citizens of Rome:

I will be back shortly.


Empress Theodora



*****


Outside the city, Posca’s caravan turned south. Once into the countryside, Vardariotai stripped the wagons and loaded the gold onto their fast moving horses, then began the ride towards Naples.

In that city, many columns of Byzantine soldiers were already forming up and beginning the long march north.

[Warmaster Horus]

Outside of Thessalonica.

The City is still under siege. But...

"My Lord? We're abandonning the siege?", asked Jonas to the Commander of the Bavarian Household Army Otto.

"Yes, indeed."

"But, why? We've waited so long for the battle, it makes no sense."

"We are needed elsewhere, that's all there is to say. Now, make preparations for departure. I want to be left alone for awhile. I'm not to be disturbed. Of course, if von Dassel pops up, or another kind of major matter, then call. But not otherwise. Clear?" says Friedrich, choler rising.

"Yes, my Lord. If I may, you had a plan before?" risks Jonas.

"Before. But not anymore. We leave for Bavaria tomorrow, so you'd best hurry. Let it be known that any who is late will be left behind. Even you." Jonas then departs.

'What a lad', thinks Friedrich. 'Of course, I'm in a good position to talk about lateness... Ah, well.'

[Privateerkev]

River crossing at the Antioch/Aleppo border: 1318

Refugees were streaming across the river. The war between the Byzantines and the Reich was heating up now. Count Matthias had just won a major victory on the bridge to Antioch and now Antioch itself was surrounded by three Imperial Armies. Ordinary citizens were fleeing the region to escape the bloodshed.

King Jan strolled among the refugee column overseeing the vast movement of people. He had deployed his army to assist the refugees. Some soldiers stood guard so the refugee column would not be preyed upon by bandits. Others passed out food from their own limited supply. Another group set up an aid station to help the injured. It was towards this last, that the King strode towards.

This particular refugee column was from Antioch. They had fled when the city was handed over to the Byzantines. There were rumors that the Byzantines had not exactly been kind in their rule over their new city. The groups of injured gave those rumors some substance. Among the healers and nuns tending to the injured, was one woman clearly in civilian clothing. Middle aged and a little heavyset, she tended to a child's bandaged arm. The child was clearly in pain and struggled.

Jan ran over and held onto the child as the woman bandaged him. The child calmed down a little and the woman was able to finish tending to him. She looked up and noticed the King for the first time. "Thank you my King, he was getting restless."

"Please, call me Jan. And your name?"

The woman smiled in a way that melted Jan's heart, "Alfgarda. Pleased to meet you Jan, I have heard so much about you." She got up and curtsied. While hardly graceful, to Jan the movement was the very picture of litheness.

The group of injured were being tended to at the moment and all were resting. The two people got up and went for a walk as Jan's retinue followed respectfully at a distance.

"Alfgarda, that is a beautiful name. Are you from 'up north'?" Jan asked in the universal question that meant Franconia.

She grinned, "Ah, very astute of you. I am originally from Hamburg. Aren't you from there?"

Jan chuckled, "I haven't been there since I was a child. My father took myself and my two sisters with him when he went on the Second Crusade. I came of age on the way to Damascus. I have been out here ever since."

Alfgarda lit up, "The Crusades? That sounds amazing. I've read everything I could get my hands on about them. Weren't you on the Third Crusade as well?"

Jan answered with pride, "Yup, we retook Jerusalem from the Saracens. But enough about me, what brought you out here?"

Alfgarda brushed a lock of blond hair from her face and replied, "My family came here years ago to start up a business. My parents died a while ago and I have been running it ever since by myself."

"Don't you have a husband to help you with that?" Jan asked in a not-so-subtle attempt to see if she was married.

Alfgarda laughed a little, "No, I have never been married. I'm not a nun or anything. I just have always been busy working. That and I never met the right man." She said this last as she looked at Jan with a twinkle in her eye.

Jan blushed. But he returned her look with one of his own that told her all she needed to know. The two walked off into the desert blissfully enjoying each other's company in silence.

Max and Gunther looked at each other and smiled. They had always hoped that the King would find a companion. They believed he deserved to be happy. The small group stayed farther behind to give the new couple some privacy. Azim didn't know what was going on but was polite enough to be quiet.

[GeneralHankerchief]

Eastern Italy, 1318

Four large ships were docked off a deserted coast. Slowly, movement could be seen from the ships, movement in the form of rowboats approaching the coast. The first one to reach the shore was a lonely boat, filled mostly with Balkan Archers who had never seen the other side of the Adriatic sea. They got off their boat, looked around, started peering through the bushes and scanning the horizon for movement.

When nothing could be found, they made large, exaggerated movements with their arms and hands. Apparently it was the "all clear" signal as more movement could be seen from the ships. The rest of the men were beginning to depart for dry land, at last.

Eventually, Dietrich von Dassel, Alexander Luther, and the remnants of the Army of Light had reached the shores and waved good-bye to the navy men rowing the boats back to the small fleet. The people on the shore were the hard-core, the meat of the army. Austrians most of them, they had declined to stay behind and defend their homeland from invaders, instead opting to stick with Dietrich and Luther in hopes of furthering the Glorious Cause.

When they left Durazzo, sneaking past the massive Papal army lurking nearby, they had all assumed that the Glorious Cause would take them to Rome where they would depose Theodora, get the city working again, and establish it as a base for defense against the invading Byzantine forces. However, things had changed since they slowly sailed up the Adriatic.

At a distance, a lonely horsemen spotted the fleet and rowboats making their way back. That was his signal, and he spurred his horse on towards the coast, a large bundle of papers tucked under his arm. He made his way to the coast, where he was quickly dismounted and searched by the most fanatical Lutherans. Dietrich, even though he was expecting the man and knew this was the designated meeting place, did nothing to stop them, a sign of the massive need for security in these days.

Once he was searched to the Lutherans' consent, the man was allowed to approach Dietrich with his papers, which he gave to him without a word. Dietrich, motioning Alexander Luther over to a remote part of the beach, sat down and began to read.

"...regret to inform you that the Imperial Treasury has been emptied and the gold is unaccounted for..."

"...Kaiser's men have no knowledge of where the gold is..."

"...Empress Dowager has also disappeared..."

"...Furthermore, Bavaria will not lift a finger to defend Rome..."

"...Madness! Kaiser Elberhard is weak and a fool..."

"...several large columns marching north across the border with Naples..."

"...declare myself Prinz of the Holy Roman Empire, and will be acting as Kaiser until he reveals his spineless self..."

"...much more important things going on..."

"...trust you have a swift journey back to Swabia after you have tied up your affairs in Italy; I will see to it that Northern France is secure before Hans can advance against me..."

"...Count Becker has fallen in battle..."

"...dare use the death of Count Becker to silence political dissent..."

"...shall cast a poll for all electors - they can vote by absentee..."

"...Divine right to rule..."

"...degenerated into a farce..."

"...don't seem to realize the gravity of the situation we face..."

"...most of you traitors already are, I shall kill you..."

"......the fact I refer to her as my former Empress should be enough to tell you what I think of the matter..."

"...reports that a Byzantine army is besieging Bologna..."

"...At the next Diet, the King will urge for strong legislative sanctions to be leveled at Sir Dassel..."

After the last two snippets of Diet transcript and personal communications Dietrich threw the entire stack into the air in disgust. This was what the Reich had come to while he was sailing? Becker dead, the Byzantines turning Italy and Austria into a gauntlet, and still they were all bickering and determinedly sniping at each other? While the Byzantines were besieging Bologna? How far north had they gotten anyway? Dietrich buried his head in his hands.

"Answer me something, Luther," Dietrich mumbled. Luther, realizing Dietrich's thoughts, made a questioning noise but no more. "Are we to blame for all this?"

"This?"

"We, I mean. You. Me. Peter. Tancred. Our kind, the kind that simply stuck by our beliefs and took matters into our hands. Are we to blame for this?"

"I don't know, you still haven't explained what 'this' is."

"The entire mess. The division in the Diet. The rebellion in Swabia. The Byzantines threatening Bavaria, Austria, and what's left of Outremer. Is it our fault?"

Luther looked pensieve for a minute. He simply stared out at the coast, looking at the waves gently lap onto the shores and the fleet offshore preparing to cast off and head to destination unknown. Finally, he answered. "No. Well, not entirely. It's Siegfried's fault, Siegfried and Elberhard and Abbate and Jan and everybody else in the elite crowd who were sure they knew what was best. Re-unification would have turned us all Byzantine, you know that Dietrich. We would have gradually lost everything that was unique to us, everything that made us the Holy Roman Empire in the first place. They would have re-written history to make all those glorious conquests of Heinrich and Leopold and von Saxony and Hans, all of those would have been diminished, even warped into Byzantine intrigue. We would have died and watched from above as the world slowly turned into a sickening shade of purple, and we would be forgotten forever. The Byzantines knew it; they wanted it to happen. And they were so close to doing it the easy way, Dietrich. They had a puppet Kaiser in place and a puppeteer in the form of Theodora. But then we came along. And dammit, we made ourselves heard."

Luther pounded his fist into the fine Italian sand. Only Dietrich watched. The rest of the men were too busy doing their own thing, deep within their own philosophical conversations.

"The Byzantines wanted to wipe us off the map one way or another," Luther continued, with increasing conviction, "Is it a crime if we fight back doing so? If we make it bloody for them? They got the jump on us, sure. It's partially our fault that we're so weak; all of the internal strife. But we can get over that eventually. We can gloriously fight back and overcome this force and reclaim our heritage. It will cost many lives, sure. Becker is sure to be the first of many casualties. But when it's all over, he'll be a hero. We'll be heroes. We'll be known as the group that prevented Byzantine takeover and made it a mess for them."

Dietrich sighed and collapsed in the sand. It was all too much. War with the Byzantines, he never wanted any of that. Armies marching through Austria, deep into Italy, that was exactly what he tried to stop when he was marching for Durazzo. And then he got news about Constantinople about halfway through... and of course he couldn't turn back then, because he had Hans after him and a thousand passionate Lutherans urging him on and so he went on to Durazzo, conquering the place and massacring the inhabitants, and celebrating because it was the final hammer blow for re-unification, but in reality it was the last hurdle before all-out war.

"All I wanted to do was stop re-unification," he mumbled to himself in the sand. Now the very Reich itself was threatened by this Greek menace, a menace that had grown exponentially since 1320 because of those stupid, numerous "gifts" that Siegfried and Elberhard had given Isaac.

And what did he have? He had an army - no, a legion - of loyal followers, followers ready to do anything to advance The Cause.

Followers ready to die for a German Reich.

Dietrich left Luther in silence and crawled over to Friedrich, his aide, who was trying to start a fire.

"The men rest tonight," he said. "Tomorrow we move on Bologna. We've got to set this right."

[Northnovas]

Countryside Eastern Austria 1318



My fellow Austrians, I fear my days are numbered when I look upon the Hungarian host arrayed before me. The primary army numbers five hundred-sixty pavise spearmen, four hundred fifty dismounted feudal knights, four hundred eighty chivalric knights and two catapults with forty artillerists. There is also another army that is able to assist that consists of an assortment of archers, crossbowmen and artillery totaling eight hundred eighteen people led by a member of Hungary's royal family.

It pains to plead like this, but I beg of you to send every available man to assist me. As it stands the destruction of the 1st AHA and my own death seem very likely.

Count of Prague

Karl looked at the letter and dropped into the fire.
“Too late” he muttered to himself just staring into the campfire as the paper burned disappointed and frustrated by the current events. “If I had only been faster...”
“My lord, confirming the preliminary report from Bucharest, it’s not good” said Peter dropping his head and looking into the fire. He looked back at the Count and continued. “Count Becker is missing and the 1st AHA has been annihilated.”
“Damn! No survivors? How many Hungarians are in the area? We must fall back to Bran immediately. Just has the Count was to continue a galloping of a single horse could be heard coming over the hill. He must be one of ours to get past the sentries or a ghost rider.
The rider charged up to the men around the fire and came to an abrupt stop leaping off his horse in one motion and holding the reins with his right hand and presenting a letter with his left hand to Karl. The Count was impressed with this messenger he had not seen riding like that since the races in Damascus. Karl immediately recognized the Seal as that of Duke Arnold’s. He took the message and stepped over by the fire alone to read it.



Karl Greetings,

I have heard of the news at Bucharest and the defenders. There has been a change in plans. Bran is to be abandoned and you must head for Budapest. There is no Austrian House Army to command you must recruit who you what you can from the land. Not only are the Hungarians at our door but the damn Byzantines are waging war against us.
I have spoken with Duke Steffen and he has ordered Count Karolinger to assist with the Bavarian Household Army Otto he has coming from Thessalonica and will meet with you in Budapest.
These are dangerous times for Austria I have my sister and the children with me they are safe. I am doing my best to secure the southern borders.
God speed. I will see you soon.

Signature and Seal of Duke Arnold.

The Count turned to his men “Budapest!”There was a stunned look amongst the men all thinking no Bran is our destination.
“Saddle up, were moving out!” shouted Zirn to his aide. “Hurray things are much worse then we though and we will not miss any action this time. Where is my geographer!!!?”
Ingo the veteran spoke up “We know our way we don’t need a map to Budapest?”
Zirn gave him a stare “Do you know ever village along the way then?”
Peter quizzically asked “Why? I thought we were in a rush?”
Zirn gave an exasperated look and then thought he should inform him of the plan.
“We have no army, no money and little supplies. If I am to prevent another city from falling it will be with an army of Austrian men who are damn ready to defend their country. I will recruit able body men to answer the call of duty to defend their home from the enemies breathing down our necks. I will plead to their honour and duty for the Duke. I will have an Austrian Household Army. Let’s move.”
The two men looked at each other and mounted for the recruiting drive.

The recruiters made their way along the country hitting every hamlet. Karl was almost embarrassed by the awe the locals held for a Crusader Knight returning from foreign lands and here in their hamlet.
The strategy was simple in each community he would meet with the Elders and filled them in on the political landscape. There would be a meal and the younger men would be there. He would offer them service not in the reserve unit or auxiliary home guard but in the regular force with the promise of advancement to those that demonstrate their loyalty to the Duke. Villages that were the best in cooperating would be aided in compensation by the Duke when the Reich is stable and peace is in the land. He appealed to all ages of men and women to convince their men to join.
This continued along the road to Budapest.
The Count did not forget the lesser nobles and would stop and plead his case to them they were much more indifferent and the Count did not receive the same warmth and affection that he felt with the peasants.
However, he needed the nobles and their horses because they could ride they would be the cavalry units that he so desperately wanted to complete his army.
This scenario continued all the way to Budapest. There was some mocking the “old man” and his rag tag soldiers but it was minor many citizens were afraid and having the Count coming through their community with whatever army gave them a sense of security and a willingness to do their part for Austria. They were not the best trained or best looking but they were loyal and determined to defend their homeland, their families.

[Tamur]

Fritz paced back and forth in front of his unit commanders, lips tight and staring at the ground. Then he began speaking.

"Men, we have been together through many battles, many miserable winter campaigns against the Poles and the Danes. But Ansehelm, as you know, has asked that I be stripped of my command."

"We know this, Count," piped up one of the younger commanders. "You told us months ago. Why bring it up again? The men are growing tired of all the talk."

"Talk!" Fritz stopped and shouted, waving his long arms about wildly. "It's no longer talk! Dieter is at Ansehelm's table this very moment asking why he has no army!"

The commander shrank back a bit into the group.

Fritz went on, half to himself. "And you all knows I will not give up my command..."

[econ21]

This story was written by TinCow

Rome, 1318

His legs ached from hours of standing, but he refused to sit. The only rest Johannes Tockler would allow himself to take was a few short minutes of leaning against the stone wall of the gatehouse. In a way, he considered the soreness and fatigue to be the mark of honorable service. Several of the other guards mocked him for it. They would snicker at his unbending vigil and one man, Ladislaus, liked to kick dung on his boots when his shift was over. Johannes did not care; they were slothful cretins and knew nothing of pride.

Figures were moving in the distance. Johannes raised his hand and squinted into the mid-day sun. Purple cloaks flickered around the edges of the men, marking them as Byzantines. The second man in line raised a horn to his lips and blew a long, two-note blast; their typical method of announcing a prominent diplomat on an official visit. Johannes straightened up, his chin held high, in a posture of Roman formality. Grumbles and the scrape of metal sounded from his right, where the other guards were hastily assuming their positions.

In truth, the event was not unusual. The ambassador had taken an immediate liking to the ‘Cathedral of Sin’ in Florence. It was unusual for him not to spend a week there each month. Even the recent unrest had not diminished his taste of Bavarian pleasures. Johannes wondered momentarily whether allof the ambassador’s ‘formal entries’ were announced with a warhorn.

The processional arrived a few moments later. It was easily three times the size of the ambassador’s normal guard. The Byzantine captain, Kostas Philanthropenos, stopped by the gatehouse, while his column filed through. He turned to Johannes and saluted

“Sergeant Tockler, it makes me sad to see you standing such a post,” he said in thickly accented German. “Surely your talents would be better used elsewhere.”

Johannes smiled. Despite the arrogant attitude the Byzantine emitted, he liked Kostas. “I thank you for the compliment, but we are short on manpower these days. The recent… difficulties… with the Imperial Treasury have caused many men to desert their posts.”

Kostas frowned. “Yes, this business with Empress Theodora is most unpleasant. Shameful, really. It is an insult to the honor of Byzantium. We are not a nation of thieves.” The captain shrugged and clapped Johannes on the shoulder. “But at least they have managed to find enough gold to pay you, my friend.”

The German shook his head. “No, I have not been paid for many months. My salary is enough to keep ten more guards employed and a score of hands is worth far more than my pair, no matter what you think about my merits. Besides, food and lodging are still provided by the barracks and I need little else.”

“Ah, an altruist to the core.” Captain Philanthropenos sighed and shook his head. “As I said, you should be elsewhere today.”

“If I were, I would not have had the pleasure of your company; and that would have been a loss I would have sorely missed.” Both men laughed heartily. Johannes was genuinely grateful for the compliment. A life of duty and virtue was a reward in and of itself, there was little enough of either in the Reich in recent years, but knowing that his actions were acknowledged as such by others brought warmth to his heart. He knew his father would have been proud of him.

The Tockler family had been shepherds for generations. They owned a small farm in the northern foothills of the Odenwald and had passed it down from father to son for as long as anyone could remember. Johannes’ own father had been the ninth generation of Tocklers to work the land, and he had talked often of how proud he was to pass on a legacy to his own children. Much of the surrounding land was owned by Baron von Adelmann, who lived in Weinheim, two days ride to the east. Unlike those men, the Tockler land was a freehold, a highly unusual privilege for a peasant family.

The Tockler men had told their children for generations about how that privilege had been bestowed on them by the Kaiser himself. As a boy of 16, the progenitor Tockler had saved Conrad II’s life during the defeat at Vienna in 1030. Three Hungarian knights had cut their way through the Kaiser’s bodyguard. All that stood in their way was a single levied peasant boy with a rusty spear. Instead of fleeing, he stood his ground and held off the knights for several minutes. When the rest of the Kaiser’s guard finally broke through, they found two bloodied Hungarians dragging away a third, who was mortally wounded. The boy himself stood unharmed in front of the Kaiser, his spear broken, but still leveled at the enemy.

In gratitude, Conrad II had bought the title to the Tockler farm from their feudal Baron and bestowed it on the boy. From that day on, the Tocklers had been vassals to no man, and had survived and prospered by the sweat of their brow. Johannes himself had been named after his famous ancestor, and as the eldest son he had been destined to inherit the family land from birth. Yet, the life of a shepherd had never sat well with Johannes. When he was 14, his father had taken him to sell wool in the market in Weinheim. On the road they had been passed by a contingent of Teutonic Knights from nearby Frankfurt. They were riding south, to Venice, where they would take a ship for Outremer.

Johannes never forgot the sight of their white surcoats, shining steel armor, and powerful warhorses. For months afterwards, he could think of nothing else. Yet he was shamed by the thoughts and prayed for forgiveness each night. He knew that his duty was to his family and the farm, but he could not shake the thought that he was destined for something greater, something more important. The guilt he felt over this was unbearable and he cried himself to sleep on more than one occasion.

One night, three months later, his father took him aside after dinner. “Johan, you are a man now. It is time for you to begin your life.” With that, he had handed him a long, wrapped bundle. Inside, Johannes had found a finely crafted sword and scabbard, its polished steel shining in the candlelight. He had been so overwhelmed with emotion that he had simply stared at it, mouth agape. His father simply smiled. “I know you do not want to be a farmer and a shepherd. There is no shame in that. Our family was founded upon the virtuous actions of a soldier. Now it is your turn. Take this sword and go forth into the world. Protect the innocent, punish the wicked, and above all live with pride. God will guide your hand.”

The next morning, a squire in the service of Baron von Adelmann came to take him to Weinheim. He served the Baron for a time, and then made his way to the Frankfurt, the old Imperial capital. In 1261 Johannes joined up with a small group of Teutons who were on their way to Outremer, in response to the Pope’s call for the Third Crusade to recapture Jerusalem. They journeyed over land to Venice, and from there took ship to the citadel at Acre. He was spotted by an Imperial recruiter within moments of disembarking and joined a regiment of armored spearmen in Karl Zirn’s army. After Jerusalem was recaptured, he transferred to a unit under Jan von Hamburg’s command and followed him for many years. Even at such a young age, the future King of Outremer was a shining example of chivalry and duty. Inspired by his example, Johannes quickly gained a reputation for bravery and, above all, honor.

He held the line, unflinching, against the Mongols on the day that King Salier had fallen. His unwavering stance rallied his terrified men and allowed for an orderly withdrawal from what would otherwise have been a complete rout. For his actions that day, he was promoted to Sergeant. He served in King Jan’s armies for the next ten years; never the most skilled fighter, but always the first into battle and the last to leave it. His men loved him for it.

Then, on a trip to Antioch, he met a young girl, fresh off the boat from Venice. She was from Prague and had accompanied her parents on a pilgrimage to Jerusalem. Fate and dysentery had taken them from her off the coast of Cyprus, and she had been abandoned in the streets of the teeming city. Johannes saw her wandering the streets, hungry and dirty. He took her in and, for a time, they were happy. She gave birth to a daughter, the light of his life, but the plague visited the city two years later and neither was spared. Devastated by the loss of his wife and child, Johannes had left Outremer and returned to the Reich. He had gone straight to the Imperial capital of Rome and, with the aid of a letter from King Jan himself, was welcomed into the city guard, where he had been ever since. He found pride in his station and it showed in his work. Rome was the seat of the Kaiser and a Holy City in its own right. There was no better way for him to spend the remaining years of his life than serving in its defense.

Johannes looked at Kostas and his face darkened. “I have heard rumors that Byzantine armies are marching on Bologna. Is there any truth to this?” The Captain’s eyes narrowed, but before he could reply a scream came from up above. Johannes looked up, but his vision was impaired by the bright sun overhead. He raised his hand to block the light, and saw a glimpse of a large object falling through the air in front of him. It was the body of one of the guards on the gate ramparts.

He reached for his sword, the same blade his father had given him so many years before. The scabbard was heavily worn and the grip had been replaced three times, yet Johannes still polished it until the blade gleamed bright. “To arms! To arms!” He cried, and turned towards Kostas. “You must get to safety! There are men inside the…”

The cold steel of a dagger pierced his throat and severed his windpipe, cutting off his words with a bloody gurgle. Johannes grasped at his neck, but his fingers could not stop the surge of blood that spewed forth. As he sank to the ground, he stared wide-eyed into the face of Kostas. “I am sorry, my friend. You should not have been here today.”

It took several minutes for Sergeant Johannes Tockler to bleed to death by the gates of Rome. It was long enough to see the vanguard of the Byzantine armies pass through the open portcullis.

[TinCow]

The echoing sounds of fifty simultaneous conversations mixed together into a low roar. Had it not been for the tapestries hung on every wall of the massive hall, even shouting into a neighbor’s ear would have been futile.

“ORDER! ORDER!”

The Count of Toulouse was vigorously banging a steel gauntlet on the table.

“ORDER! ORDER!”

It took a good two minutes for the din to die down, but he kept pounding until every last voice was silent. The last crash echoed ominously around the room; suddenly out of place in the quiet hall.

“Are we in agreement then?” the Count asked. Several voices rose at once, but the Count raised his gauntlet and the speakers stopped in mid-sentence. “One at a time, please.” He gestured to the Polish delegation to his left. Sicily, Venice, Hungary, Poland, and Denmark had all answered the French call for a diplomatic conference in Toulouse. Only Spain had declined to send a representative. They had lost little to the Holy Roman Empire and were apparently more concerned with the Moors and Africa. Of the remaining Catholic nations of the world, only England, Scotland, and Portugal had not been invited to the meeting. The first remained stubbornly allied to Reich, while the second was essentially powerless. Portugal had simply offended the French too often to allow for reconciliation, even under the present circumstances.

The head Polish diplomat rose and cleared his throat. “Poland agrees. There is no better time to strike at the Reich than now. They are destroying themselves from within. They have murdered their own Kaiser, made enemies of their Byzantine allies, received excommunication from the Pope despite their complete control of the College of Cardinals, and there are even sparks of civil war. With the loss of Rome, they are politically divided and vulnerable in all areas.”

“The Reich’s main strength has always been its centralized government and the Electors reluctance to violate their so-called Charter. They are now burning it like so much kindling. If we strike them hard and fast from all sides, they will not be able to cope.”

A sullen looking man from the Venetian delegation rose. “Venice also agrees, but we must not forget that it is this Lutheran heresy that must be suppressed first and foremost. While the Reich’s armies endanger our lives, their protection of this blasphemous movement risks our very souls! This is an alliance of true Christian nations and it is our duty unto God to see that these heretics are completely destroyed. There is a reason that the Byzantines and Russians were not invited to this meeting, let alone the Mohammedans. We are taking up the Sword of Christ against the enemies of God! Wherever they are encountered, their cities should be burned and their peoples put to death. There is only one way to deal with Lutherans, and that is to send them to meet the Devil they worship!”

At that remark, the room once again exploded into conversation. The Count banged his gauntlet several times before silence was restored. “We are not here to debate the reasons behind the Roman collapse nor the treatment of its conquered peoples. We are here to agree to a Catholic Alliance against the Holy Roman Empire! Where have discussed this for three days, already. There is one question, and one question only, that remains to be agreed upon: Do we agree to a temporary cessation of all hostilities between our nations and focus all of our combined armies against our common enemy?” A murmur of agreement went around the room. In turn, the representatives from Sicily, Hungary, and Denmark stood and proclaimed their agreement to the plan.

“Very well then,” said the Count of Toulouse. “Today marks the formation of the Catholic Alliance. For the next twenty years, all French, Danish, Sicilian, Venetian, Polish, and Hungarian armies will be tasked with the destruction of the Holy Roman Empire and the reclamation of our lost territories. No member of the Catholic Alliance will attack another, even if a state of war exists between them. This we swear unto God.”The hall once again erupted into a chaos of sound. The Count of Toulouse sat down and sighed heavily. One of the French diplomats approached him. “My Lord, do you truly believe this Alliance will hold?”

The Count snorted and shook his head. “Never, just look at them now.” He gestured sarcastically at the room of arguing men. “No, sooner or later blood will be spilt on a field of battle and it will once again be as it always has been. Still, we will be united for a time. Perhaps that will be enough.” He stood and walked towards a window facing east: towards the Reich. “I do not envy any Roman soldier today. The best any of them can hope for is a quick death. Even now their noblemen do not understand the full consequences of their errors. They bicker amongst themselves and scramble to hold on to pieces of a shattered empire. We will teach them what it is to know fear.”

[AussieGiant]

ROME 1320

Arnold's Household Guard were fighting a brutal rear guard action down to the Docks.

The Byzantines knew they had one of the Reich's Dukes in a precarious position and we throwing everything they had at the Austrian Regiment in order to capture or kill their quarry.

Striding through the chaos Duke Arnold could be seen issuing orders and barking at the men to fill a gap here or lend his sword to assist soldiers that needed it.

"It's seems our visit to the Diet was not the best idea Priest"

The Dukes Priest was wide eyed, glancing in every direction he was trying to avoid being struck down or run over by a horse while at the same time stay as close as possible to the Duke who was a clear place of safety.

"My lord, I'm petrified!! We need to get on that ship now!!"

His plea was met with a grunt of acknowledgment from Arnold.

"BANE, where are my orders?"

The Dread Knight was engaged in a fierce dual with a very large Byzantine.

"Grom has them."

Without breaking his concentration at the Duke's question, Bane turned his wrist expertly parrying the blow and counter attacking with a vicious cut which left the Byzantine with no leg below the knee.

Turning to face his Duke now that his opponent was screaming in pain and no longer a danger, Bane scanned the melee.

"Grom!! Where are the Duke's orders?"

The huge Barbarian was on the other side of the street holding a fully armored man above his head. Realising he was being summoned, he swiftly turned and threw the man a clear ten feet down an alley which was about to be overrun. The impact and chaos that followed allowed the Duke's men to dispatch the remaining Byzantines and continue the withdrawal.

Jogging over Grom pulled out a small satchel. Handing them to the Duke he said; "Can I get back to the fight my lord?"

Checking each man's name and the Austrian seal was correct and accounted for, the Duke finally looked up and gave a nod.

With that Grom charged off with a blood curdling screaming.

Shaking his head in amazement Arnold looked at his Priest.

"I really think he enjoys it when the pressure is on and the situation is tense."

Without waiting for an answer Arnold bellowed: "Szcepanski!! Get the messenger riders ready!! I need 10 of them!!"

At that moment there was a rumble rising about the clamour of battle.

From the up the street one of the Duke's men screamed: “Heavy Cavalry!!!”

A moment later the entire company was crushed in a solid wave of horse, armour and purple banners.

“Christ almighty.” The Duke voice was clearly concerned as he drew his sword and charged into the fray.

His first thrust took a horseman clean under his helm, the second stroke cut through a horseman's leg just above the knee, his third swing decapitated an unhorsed rider as he was attempting to stand.

The last Bane saw of his Duke was his black obsidian armour disappearing in a shower of blood, horse flesh and blood soaked purple.

[Warluster]

Normandy,1316, German France.

Athalwolf von Salza was seated in a large tent, he always gave himself to rest after a long battle. Especially when his enemy was a fellow Swabian. The sound of shuffling made him turn around from cleaning his sword. It was a aide from his bodyguard.
"Sir, a man requesting your attendance." Athalwolf stoodbuckling the sword and a pistol, engraved with a tiger streching down its barrel.
Outside the tent, stood the man. He wore blue, and had a strange goatee.
"Mon Count, I am honored to be here. I bring news from afar." said the man, his voice coated in a French accent. Athalwolf cared not, he had a Civil War to deal with, and was busy writing a letter to Duke Hans. He montioned, though, for the man to continue.
"Rome has fallen Monsieour. The Greeks have come from the north, and Northern italy is certian to fall afterwards." said the man quickly, not a glance of care crossing his face.
"What is this blasphemy! Rome, fall? How could the Holy City fall? I shall have you arrested!" declared Athalwolf, some of his Imperial Knights drawing swords.
"Listen mon Count, the Kaiser has declared every man for himself!"
"Is this the only reason you come? Could not I be told by others, not a Frenchmen?" He asked.
"No mon friend, Ibring news from the von Salza family, in Spain." said the man, there was moments of stunned silence, then-
"In Spain, what are my family there for? Are they not in Dijon?" asked Athalwolf, sheathing his sword, a pouzzled look cracked over his face.
"Do you not know sire? Late Emperor Jobst's parents." said the man, he continued,"I come from them, we have heard mcuh of you, and eagerly await your visit."

1318,Toledo, Spain.

Toledo was alive that day, as was every other city in the Spanish Empire. Quite unlike the German Empire. Athawlolf and his entourage were rapidly approaching the walled city, sun scorching them in their full plate armor. Athalwolf was listening to a report read out by one of his aides,
"...and from that point on, the Diet Speaker closed the Diet, and declared every man for himself." finished the aide, looking up at his Count.
No one spoke, but awaited the call.
"Leroy contar?" yelled a man in Spanish, whilst men saluted and peasents bowed. Athalwolf was confused, he was German Nobility, not Spanish or French.
"It is Count von Salza!" roared back a Knight, and flags were raised with a strandard of the von Salza family. Athalwolf entered, with trumpets playing. People milled around the back of his escort, watching closely. But they continued through the city, until they stood before a large mansion, with beautiful gardens surrounding it.
"Wait here." He ordered the escort, entering th place. At the door waited the same French man from Normandy, now known to be a French Musketeer.
"Mon lord, please enter. Count Leroy awaits, with news from his son." Atahwlwolf entered, the room was light and cool, opening up with views of the city. There were stairs in front of him and rooms either side. A very old man hobbled up to Athalwolf, who towered over him.
"Eh? Mon son?" inquired the man, squitned at the German Count.
"No mon Lord, this is Jobst's son, Athalwolf von Salza." The odl man groaned,
"Its le roi you silly bugger, mon family name! What is this german names, von Salza? You come not from Salza! But from our lands of Rheims!" stated the man.
"Non, we come from the Swabian Lands of Dijon. I heard it from the Kaiser himself..." The old man walked away, followed by Athalwolf.
"You are not, mon friend. Do you not know? I am Jobst von Salza's father! He sadly, was adopted into those German lands..." Athalwolf stared in shock, then started to leave.
"Where are you going, mon Count Leroy?" asked the man.
"I am NOT COunt Leroy! I AM COUNT VON SALZA!" roared AThalwolf, he kicked down the door, briskly leaving. He mounted his horse, his appearance suprising his escort.
"Hurry up you buggers! We leave for Swabia!" A man galloped forth from the mansions stables, it was the Frenchman. His company though, was not protested, and the escort of Imperial Knights and Athawolf left the city, sadly watched by Duke Leroy of France. He knew it was to happen, and only hoped his planned actions worked.

[GeneralHankerchief]

1320

Kaiser Elberhard's announcement of the fall of Rome, while the first official mention of the event, was not anywhere near being the first acknowledgement - nor was it the most-talked about.

That honor fell to a voice, a voice that made itself heard throughout the known world, as soon as the Byzantines stormed the city, captured the Imperial Diet and Palace, and declared victory. A loud scream, a yell that was simultaneously in fury and frustration, anguish and agony, boomed throughout the city, the surrounding areas, and most of the world.

In Rome, the citizens being executed mistook it for the cry of their fellow people in pain and for help. The Byzantines doing the killing took the yell as an omen, as in maybe they had crossed holy ground and weren't supposed to go further, or that someone was disapproving of their executions in general. But, when no lightning struck, they continued their spree, although slightly unnerved.

In Florence, it took Dietrich von Dassel and Alexander Luther, who were arguing about the merits of the "Cathedral of Sin" by surprise. Luther, after pausing and looking around, crossed himself and began muttering. Dietrich also looked around, lost in thought, wondering how such a yell could reach the capital of Bavaria and Kaiser Heinrich's former "watchtower over Rome." He looked around some more and excused himself, heading for the Cathedral to take his mind off of the unholy scream.

The yell spread throughout the heartlands of the Reich, both those which were gone and those that still called themselves Imperial. The majority of the people, lacking proper knowledge of what triggered the noise, figured only that something terrible had happened and this was just a very bad omen.

It made its way through the east of Europe, where it similarly unnerved the thousands of Byzantine soldiers, wondering if something had gone terribly wrong in Rome. It crossed over Anatolia, causing a great wave of prayer, and eventually made its way to Outremer.

In Jerusalem, the new Pope, Lambertus, heard the scream and shuddered. It was a familiar voice to all Popes, a one that they all feared, or at least all of them since Gregory. It was a voice back from the dead, a voice that knew something had gone wrong and had expressed its emotions so loudly that it had crossed over into the mortal realm.

Similarly, Kaiser Elberhard heard the voice and recognized it at once, instantly realizing in that moment why his father, Henry, had moved the crown away from his family. After the initial shock, he calmed somewhat, maybe even hopefully thinking that it wasn't his fault, that he never should have been Kaiser in the first place, that his family was cursed.

The majority of the Electors, spread out from Caen to Antioch, from Thorn to Ajaccio, did not know exactly where the voice came from or who owned it. Not even Hans, the oldest of them, knew, for by the time he was old enough to have a memory the owner of the voice had already had a falling-out with his father. Those people that knew people that knew the owner, those that still had a second-degree connection, those that had heard firsthand accounts of the owner, knew where it came from and shuddered, for even in death the voice possessed all of the emotion and force that it did in life, and it was clear to all that the voice was displeased, to say the least.

The scream echoed throughout the world, the very past of the Holy Roman Empire screaming in pain and agony, screaming at the fate that was befalling his precious city, his precious Reich. It was to be a sign of things to come.

[Cecil XIX]

Prague, 1320

Filled with a new sense of purpose, Edmund Becker marches toward the center of Prague. Upon his arrival, he spot a great crowd ready to listen to his speech. Slowly but surely, he begins. It is his first time speaking publically in Czech.

"My fellow Bohemians! Currently, the Reich is in a time of crisis. Our enemies surround us, lawlessness breaks out amongst the people, and electors war amongst themselves instead of working together. Well, none of that will happen here!

Bohemia has been a part of the Reich for nearly one hundred and fifty years. It has always been a peaceful place, a place far away from war where the men and woman have been able to enjoy the protection that the Reich offers. I say to you now that will not change! This county will not fall as long as I am alive, I assure you!

I call upon every able-bodied peasant in Bohemia to report to Prague’s City Watch, and every noble infused with a martial spirit to make himself known in the Council Chambers! Together we need fear no enemy, for when the people from all walks of life unite in the defense of their homelands there is no enemy alive that can stop them!"

After much cheering, he steps down and returns to the Council Chambers thinking to himself.

"With a little luck, we just might pull this off."

[OverKnight]

Antioch, 1320

In the newly rebuilt Church in the newly retaken capital of Outremer a solitary figure knelt in prayer. The Priest had given his blessing an hour ago and the other parishioners had shuffled out, yet Matthias stayed. He was troubled and he sought solace in this place, it reminded him of another Shrine he had prayed in long ago (https://forums.totalwar.org/vb/showpost.php?p=1629800&postcount=124) under similar grim circumstances. But this Church was not consecrated to Saint Maximillian, that Chapel most likely had been pulled down by the Greeks, and this place was not Adana, still under their heel, and this time he had no comfort. If God heard him, he sent no sign.

No doubt there were a few who found Matthias's piety at odds with his reputation. The King, perhaps, or the Kaiser, and only the Lord knew what the smallfolk thought, but he was a religious man and they did not truly know him. Jan was a proponent of the New Testament, a man of mercy and forgiveness, of turning the other cheek. Matthias, well, he took strength and guidance from the Old Testament. The Germans were the new Chosen People, following the Will of God in return for His protection and guidance.

The Reich, however, had fallen out of the Covenant. The mad Kaiser Siegfried had attempted to rebuild the Tower of Babel, to work against God's plan, and the Reich, despite Matthias's attempts to stop it, had been laid low. Matthias had fought on, enduring his time in the Lion's Den and striking where he could at his enemies, but the task before him, of bringing the Reich back to its primacy, or even just its survival, was daunting. The Empire had survived treachery, constant attack, interdiction and Mongols from the Steppe, but it had fallen to the only enemy that could stop it, the Reich itself.

How could Adana be returned to the light, or the Reich restored and brought back to the Grace of God? Matthias did not know, and so he knelt in a strange Church, seeking guidance. His heart fell as the silence encompassed him.

"Chancellor Matthias?"

Matthias looked up, a man stood before him holding a long wooden box. He had seen better days, his clothes were in rags and hung loosely. Despite his bedraggled state, he carried himself as a fighting man, a dagger hung at his hip. He seemed familiar.

"I haven't been Chancellor for twenty years, young man, and I'm barely a Count, but yes I am he. And you are?"

"Adalric, Sir, I was a soldier at Adana, before the. . .transfer. Been bouncing around Outremer since. It's good you made it out of Caesarea, my Lord. We all thought you were dead. Most of the lads left for home. I stayed in Antioch, untill I got booted out by those damned Greeks. Seemed they had a thing against Bavarians, after things went bad. We should have know you were alive. . ."

The soldier trailed off awkwardly. Matthias stood and put a hand on his shoulder.

"It's not your fault Adalric, I got myself captured. I should have stayed in Adana."

The man brightened and spoke up, "Adana, that's just it. That's why I wanted to find you. I've got something from Adana for you. Grabbed it before those damned Greeks took the place. I hid it here, but I only just got back. . ."

Matthias nodded and looked at the box with curiosity.

"These are chaotic times Adalric, we all do the best we can. Why don't you show me what you brought?"

Adalric smiled sheepishly and put the box down on a pew.

"Yeah, as I was saying, I took it from Adana, from St. Maximillian's Chapel, before they could get their hands on it. It felt wrong opening up King Salier's tomb like that but. . .I couldn't let them have it, Unified Church or not."

Matthias opened the box. Wrapped in cloth within it was a sword and scabbard. He gasped, "My God, is this. . .?"

Adalric nodded, happy, "Yes my Lord, Saint Maximillian's sword itself. The sword that cut through metal without a scratch, that killed that heathen General, that King Salier took with him to his last battle, poor bastard."

Matthias unsheathed the sword and raised it with reverence. After he had retrieved King Salier's head from Kitbuqa the Wrathful (https://forums.totalwar.org/vb/showpost.php?p=1641432&postcount=136) he had found his body and looted possessions, including the sword, and interred them in the Chapel of Adana next to his fellow Bavarian Crusader, St. Maximillian. Of course some said there was a stronger relation between them than nationality, but the Church frowned on that particular rumor.

Matthias thought that the sword, along with everything else, had been lost with Adana, but here was the Sword of the Saint delivered to him in his hour of need. Here was a sign, a talisman of hope and an instrument of God's Vengeance upon His enemies.

Matthias ran his thumb along the blade and pulled it back with a exclamation. A bit of blood shone on it. After all those years, the sword was still sharp.

"You have done well, Adalric, I would be honored if you joined my retinue."

The soldier nodded, tears in his eyes, "A Bavarian should have it, my Lord. The Count of Adana should use it."

Matthias raised the sword to the light poring through the windows of the Church. Gazing up at it, there was a grim set to his features, but a new fire burned in his eyes.

"Yes Adalric, you have the right of it. The Sword will be used, for God, St. Maximillian and the Reich. We will have restoration and, the Lord willing, revenge!"

[FactionHeir]

Rheims, 1320 AD

Hans sat in his command tent, flanked by Dirk and Adalberth. A rare smile crossed his face in these dark times as the English King and Prince entered and were announced.
"His Majesty, by the grace of god, King Davy of England and Prince Davy, heir to the throne"

Hans rose from his wooden stool to bow before the visitors who had somehow managed to change into more formal attire, unlike himself, who was still clad in plate armor.

"Your majesty, your highness, it is good to see you safe and well here in my humble tent. May I offer you some herbal tea from the Eastern provinces?"
Without waiting for a reply, Hans motioned for one of the guards to fetch the kettle and serve tea to his guests.

"We thank you, Lord Hans, for your warm reception" after a slight pause the King added "and of course for your swift aid in battle."

"T'is nothing your majesty. It is always good to help an ally in need, especially if they are threatened by some rebellious knaves. Can I offer you something else?"

"Some milk would be nice. But yes indeed, these lands seem more troubled than I remember them when I attended my daughter's wedding to your emperor...your brother no less."

Hans could not help but wonder to himself why someone would want milk in their tea. Those English certainly were an odd people. "Indeed your majesty. Emperor Elberhard is my brother and his absence and the recent uprisings in these lands have caused me much heartache. As you could see first hand, I must make do with a small force gathered around me and can no longer rely on extensive patrols to keep order. The godless French returning with a large host might well threaten the very earth we now rest upon."

"The French you say? We have fought many a battle against these damnable folk and have even been forced to give up our rightful holding of Caen to them."

"Ah, Caen. I would gladly offer to return this mighty citadel to you, your majesty, however I am afraid a rebel has holed himself up there and proclaims himself Prince of Swabia."

"A pity really. England would welcome a foothold on Europe again to aid her worthy allies."

"Ah of course. But you see, no one would mind if the rebel H&#252;mmel and his band were to go amiss and being the Duke of Swabia, you can be assured that Caen will be returned to England as soon as he is taken prisoner or executed."

"Very well Lord Hans, it is reassuring to hear that an attack by our royal forces on Caen would not be seen as an act of war against your people. I am certain we can bring mutual benefit to each other, would you not agree?"

"Definitely your majesty. This proposal would be most wise and worthy. Indeed, I am pleased to agree to a combined offensive against the French thereafter as well, if this would suit you."

"Then it is done, in the name of Jesus Christ our Lord, who shall be witness of this agreement between England and the Holy Roman Empire." King Davy seemed clearly enthusiastic as he rose and concluded "This meeting was fruitful my friend, I look forward to our next meeting and the fruits we shall reap against our common foes. I thank you for the audience, Lord Hans"

"The pleasure is all mine, King Davy. I trust your travels through these lands will be safer soon."

---------------

Later that night, Hans filed through the many letters that he had written in these past years, concerning the Swabian rebellion.

The letter to the governors seemed to have resulted in at least Rheims and Bern staying with Swabia and seen their garrisons bolstered. Hans read through it once again.


overnor,

These are dark times and I have been informed that the son of the traitor Ulrich H&#252;mmel, Wolfgang, has turned one himself and intends to overthrow what little order remains in Swabia and usurp the Duchy.

As Duke, it is my duty and wish that this does not happen, and as governor, it is yours to aid me in this matter while I race back to Swabia with the Imperial Army.

Therefore, you are ordered to recruit as many militia as you can every year with florins being provided by the Ducal treasury that has long been untouched. Taxes are not to be levied during the next few years to calm the populace and the gentry are called to protect the innocent while all guards and men able are to slay any who follow the traitor Wolfgang or the heretic Luther.

You are also to bar your gates to any army except my own until you receive another letter bearing my seal and signature. The traitors are not to be given supplies at all costs and any consequences that this order may have will be born by myself and you will be richly rewarded.

As for the reward, depending on your sacrifice for remaining loyal, you will receive 20,000 florins and I may consider adopting you as a son, thus enabling you to become a Count, or even the next Duke of Swabia as I have no natural sons.

Godspeed and remain steadfast for Swabia and the Empire.

Signed
Duke Hans of Swabia

Post scriptum: Notices warning of H&#252;mmel the traitor are to be posted around your settlement.

He wondered why Metz, Dijon and Paris fell regardless. Metz he could somewhat understand, but the other two were held by his now only remaining loyal Count, Athalwolf. Could it be due to his Lutheran beliefs? He would have to have a serious word with him eventually, if Athalwolf was hoping to become the next Duke.

The next two letters, or rather notices, had been aimed at H&#252;mmel's troops. The first one was read to them shortly after Hans had sent orders to the governors.

Friends, Swabians,

As your Duke, I am most saddened that the man who I thought I could trust has betrayed not only me but Swabia so horribly.

He wished a county and command of an army to take Bruges, yet he now blames me for sending him there and catching the plague.

In the past, his father became chancellor and betrayed the empire, casting it into a deep recession and turmoil, and now the son, Wolfang, himself is attempting to do the same.

As Swabians, it is your duty to defend your Duchy, your homeland, your families. And the only way to do so is to return to them and protect them from harm. Not wage war on your German brothers and cousins who have helped and protected you for so long, and your Duke, who has ensured that you never go to bed with an empty stomach, nor you are denied coin for your kin's ailments.

Be aware that Duke Hans despises traitors and villains and will judge them swiftly and summarily. Think of your families, your wives and children, and what they would think of you if you were hunted as scum and rebel for following a lunatic such as H&#252;mmel.

Friends, Swabians, go home and protect those close to your heart rather than bring shame and god's wrath upon them, your Duke is almost back home to care for you again.

Duke Hans of Swabia


The second right before the battle for Normandy.

Soldiers, Swabians!

This is another message fro your Duke, Hans of Swabia, and you would be wise to listen!

Count Athalwolf von Salza and his full strength second Swabian Household Army lay near and are under orders to arrest the traitor H&#252;mmel for high treason and secession.

Neither Duke Hans, nor Count Athalwolf wish needless spilling of brotherly, Swabian blood and offer amnesty from persecution and execution to any man, save H&#252;mmel himself, who lays down arms and leaves his army.

Any man who raises his arm, weapon, or bow against a member of the Second Swabian Household Army will be cut down or executed, and their families sold into slavery.

Think of your fate and that of your loved ones carefully. Do you wish to die a traitor and be despised by your ancestors and offspring, and be synonymous to the thirteenth disciple of our lord Jesus Christ?

There is no reason for you to stay and fight another man's war. This is about loyalty to your Duke, your Empire, and Swabia, not about blindly following a man who leads you to doom!

H&#252;mmel rides alone, friends, do you truly wish to follow him to eternal damnation to burn in hell?

Yet none of them seemed to have resulted in any loss of men on H&#252;mmel's side. What drove these men forward, Hans wondered. What could H&#252;mmel possibly offer them and bind them with that not a single man would desert him, forsaking even their families, while his own soldiers had been deserting in broad daylight even.

It did not matter any longer though. For even without the loss of men, H&#252;mmel's days were numbered. The English invasion fleet would arrive in droves the next few years and end this rebellion once and for all. The gifting of Caen to them was no great loss to Hans either, as he would rather have the English battle the French than his Swabians taking the full brunt of the French attacks.
Indeed, it was quite a fortunate coincidence that the small English delegation, the King and Prince no less, had been cornered by a large rebel force, only to be saved by him.

[Privateerkev]

Aleppo 1322:

The King of Outremer stood in his bedchamber in the citadel. The normally tough and powerful man was holding something in his arms with the tenderest of care. It was his newborn daughter Clare. Jan, King of Outremer, slayer of Mongols, shining example of piety and chivalry, and staunch political opponent to those of the dreadful persuasion everywhere, had finally met a situation he felt unprepared for. He was a father.

He stood there just looking at her. She was sleeping peacefully wrapped in a soft blanket. She was amazing. She hadn't done anything yet of course, but that didn't matter. To Jan, she was this little bundle of joy that brought light into his life. A voice from the bed said playfully, "staring at her isn't going to do anything. She is still going to be there even if you look away."

Jan turned to look at his wife. She had that radiant smile that Jan noticed on that day at the refugee camp. Jan walked over to her gently. He lowered Clare down to her mother's arms. He then sat down on the bed carefully. Everything was perfect. Except for the large Byzantine army outside the walls of course.

Alfgarda looked up at Jan. "Something tells me your going to stay here." She said this rhetorically knowing full well that her husband would not dream of leaving the settlement behind while it was in danger."

Jan answered, "Gunther did find a tunnel the other day. I won't take it of course. But you and Clare could get out of here."

Jan's wife was adamant. "Oh no you don't. Your not sending us away. The other families trapped here don't get to escape through some tunnel. Besides, we trust you to defend us just like the people in this citadel trust you."

The King simply sighed. He knew better than to argue with his wife when she was being stubborn. They were much alike in that way. Not only stubborn, but selfless. In her position, Jan would do the same thing and they both knew it. No one had ever quite understood Jan like Alfgarda did. Until he met her, no one else had cared as much for their fellow man like he did either. But their shared passion for humanity had brought them together. And it was one of many things that they had in common. And that commonality was one of the many things that kept their marriage strong. Clare's very existence was only the most obvious and recent evidence of their love for each other.

Jan leaned over and held his wife as she held their daughter. Together they both stared at her as she slept. The von Hamburg family sat together in blissful silence. Outside, an army of people prepared to storm the citadel and kill them all.

[Tamur]

There was nothing kind in the way Fritz von Kastilien looked at the woman. She huddled there as far away from Fritz as she could get, with two pike-bearing veterans behind her, barring her way. The wailing coming from the first storey was annoying, but it would stop soon hopefully.

"I'm surprised you haven't warmed to my hospitality, Gunehild. Berchtold must have said many things in praise of the fine accomodations I gave to him and his men when we went to Magdeburg."

The woman simply looked at the floor.

"Oh, come now, isn't there any of this fine food you would like? Here, I know," he said, turning and picking a plate off the table behind him, "grapes, from the vineyards of France. There was a great deal of expense that went to bringing these here to Stettin." Fritz paused and cocked his head. "You should know, of all people."

The woman glanced up for the briefest of moments, her face contorted between sorrow and rage, then shook her head and looked back down.

Fritz frowned. "I'm disappointed, truly. Berchtold appreciated these things a great deal. Surely you enjoyed the same pleasures with him oft..."

The woman began weeping. Fritz shook his head, placed the plate back on the table, and looked at the men. He nodded.

Almost instantly the woman began crying, "No, no!" over and over as the soldiers each took one arm and dragged her to the door. The wails upstairs turned to shrieks, which were silenced quickly. The woman continued to cry out as she was taken across the grass.

Fritz watched until they were at the city gate, then turned and walked back inside the cosy home. He strode around idly, fingering this and that trinket.

"My lord," came a voice from the stairs. "We found the treasury."

"Excellent!" cried Fritz, slapping hands together.

"The children, lord. What do you wish done with them?" There were sounds of scuffling on the upstairs floorboards.

"Let them join their mother." Fritz smiled as the wails began anew, and waited for the three youngsters to be removed before going up to count the coin.

[Tamur]

Fritz von Kastilien paced back and forth across the floor while the other five men in the room waited. They watched him as they fingered engraved pommels, or examined their richly jeweled rings, or sniffed slightly and brought hard-heeled feet down on the floor a bit too heavily.

This was not a time for timidness, and Fritz was well aware of that. His moves had cost him in his own county. But what could the people expect after rebelling against him? That he would be a saintly figure of forgiveness? The loss of the Saxon army had been a blow, but the men who now followed him would be loyal through thick and thin -- so long as he kept the money flowing.

And that was the problem. Stettin had its limits, and they were low. Fritz stopped pacing.

"Very well, then. I agree to your terms, though you will have to work out details with my quartermaster. In reply I can promise you greater plunder than any of you have ever witnessed. But you will need to be patient. The plan I have begun is not an overnight ambition."

One of the men guffawed.

"I've seen more plunder than you can dream of, Count. No disrespect intended, but what you've done is slight pickings compared to the sacking of a great city. In fact..."

"Have no worries, Oswy," cut in Fritz with a deep smile that made his eyes mere slits. "What we have done is only the beginning."

Ah, yes. The chaos around them would be a good mistress.

[OverKnight]

Caesarea, 1322

Nikeforos Argyrus was a troubled man. Seated in his study, he reviewed the latest reports. The seamless seizure of Outremer from the Germans had done much to raise his reputation at the Imperial Court, but lately, the news had turned sour. Matthias Steffen had escaped in a brazen raid by Jan von Hamburg, the so-called King of what was left of the German lands in the Levant. Antioch and Aleppo had been reclaimed by the Crusaders despite strong Roman armies in the area. Regardless of the implosion of the Reich, the Germans in the east still seemed capable of resistance.

Nikeforos's contacts in newly reclaimed Constantinople informed him that the Basileus was displeased with progress in the east. Unfortunate comparisons were being made with the campaign in Italy. This did not bode well for his career or standing in the Empire. New efforts were under way however, Aleppo and Antioch were besieged, and Jan and Matthias were trapped. Those two thorns in his side would soon be removed. Crushing them, reclaiming those cities and hunting down their Kaiser would raise his star again.

A knock sounded at the door, and after the Strategos gave permission, a servant came in bearing a heavy square box. Placing the package on the desk the messenger spoke, "This just came in with Strategos Diogenes's seal, my lord."

Waving the man away, Nikeforos turned his attention to the box. Opening it he pulled out a large class container.

There, floating in brandy, was the head of Demetrios Diogenes. His features were still contorted in agony and surprise. His right eye was missing.

Swearing, Nikeforos searched the box, he found a letter.


Strategos,

Greetings from the Iron Bridge. It seems your man Demetrios underestimated Imperial accuracy at Antioch, and Captain Draganos underestimated Imperial bravery here. I would have sent you his head too, but it was somewhat unrecognizable after he was trampled.

I do wish you would come south so that we could resume our acquaintance, we have much to catch up on. Of course, if you wish to hide in Anatolia, that is your decision. Either way, I will find you.

Matthias

[Tamur]

"Good heavens, of course I know what a canon is!" Fritz strode across the room and flipped open a heavy, leather-bound tome that sat on its stand. "Not only that, but I know what the canon is. This!"

Odred One-Hand coughed politely, then ran his fingers down the corner of his mouth, pulling the smile off his face as he did so.

"Fritz, let me show you what a cannon is," he said, motioning for a quill. He took this in his one good hand, made a few swift movements on a piece of birch parchment, and stood back.

Fritz regarded it for a moment, nodded, then looked at Odred and said flatly, "That's really short."

[Warluster]

Rheims, 1324 AD.

On the walls of Rheims stood a man. The sun shone from behind his back, making him cast a shadow before the forests and plains before him. A arrow would whistle by softly, a Archer hoping for a glorious and lucky shot. THis man stood on the walls, not on the ground behind it. His fingers were grasped behind his back while his steely gaze looked over the ground beneath him. He was Athalwolf von Salza.

He was truely in mourning. This Civil War had to end, Duke Hans had said nothing about the Invasion of the Bavarians. Athalwolf though, was certian he was going to die before the war was over. Wolfgang would want his head, Athalwolf was certian. It was the same with Athalwolf. Athalwolf had counter acted the other man's every move, except the move on Bruges. Behind Athalwolf the town was in movement, the chip of Blakcsmith's hammer rang through the city, constructing and sharpening killing blades. Men were being trained while the trained were guarding the City Wall and Gates. Athalwolf drew his sword, the soud of sword against scabbard ringing a sharp sound across the field. THis provoked several shots from enemy Archer's.

While Athalwolf had worried over the fate of Rheims, and what would happen afterwards, he had forgotten of Toledo. It was minor, had been dealt with, and was now not a problem to Athalwolf. He sheathed his sword, and further arrows glanced about him. One struck his helemt, dinting offwards and falling towards the ground before the City.
"Sir, please come down from there, we have words of enemy gunmen." A Aide told Athalwolf. The COunt grimaced, the best of a smile he could do, then hopped down from the tall edged defenses.
"Leave me, I have things to attend to elsewhere for now." Athalwolf muttered. He would once again write to Hans, find out what to do. Athalwolf downed his head in his hands as he sat on the stone. The Aid was gone, thank god. THe man was as annoying as a pestering fly. He would nag, and nag, and nag. Thank god Athalwolf wasn't married...
"Jobst Leroy?" asked a voice. Athalwolf sighed, that bloody Aide... He looked up, it was a small man. Dressed in rags of a prirest and a questioning look on his face.
"Athalwolf von Salza, and I am trying to bloody defend this town." Replied Athalwolf.
"But you have the distinctive nose and eyes of a Leroy, have monsieour come back to defend the Duchy? Has mon Duke sent you?" asked the priest hopefully. Athalwolf faltered, it was rushing back. Leroy, Rheims, von Salza... Athalwolf backed away into the wall.
"Non, I am von Salza, not Leroy!" Athalwolf yelled, this was impossbile, this myth was finding him everywhere!
"Mon Lord, our DUke has ran away! 'I return with Spanish conqueors, and we retake France from these Germans!' says our Duke Leroy. He goes off to Spain, to Toledo! And where is monsieour now? Now we find ourselves stuck within a German War! But has mon Duke sent his promised help?" asked the Priest hopefully, the ground rumbled from a stone, flung from a catapault, nearby. Athalwolf once again faltered. Denying more would do no help, if it was true? The Priest was walking away though, quite quickly.
"Come mon lord, let us visit the CHurch!" Athalwolf had no wish to go to the church. The German, and possibly French, Count hurrired onwards, following the Priest.

They eventually stopped at a Cementary. The Priest walked towards a gravestone, and Athalwolf reluctantly followed. The man blew off some of the dust, and pointed at it.
Duke Leroy of Champange, Died 1168 AD

Beneath was written several Latin words. Athalwolf smiled.
"Impossible my friend. That is the year when my Father fought..." Athalwolf stopped, wave after wave of shock crashing upon him. The Priest took it for conversation,
"Yes mon lord. The Count, at that time, died while assualting the walls of Dijon." said the Priest. Athalwolf gasped for air, his father had killed his own relatives. Athalwolf remembered a child hood story Jobst had told him, of when he had come face to face with a French Duke while defending Dijon. Did he know that was his family? That he had proabably killed his own brother!? The Priest motioned on, Athalwolf walked on, slightly fearful of what was to be uncovered.
Duke Leroy of Rheims, Died 1136
"This man died in the a small battle in the Italian Alps. Killed by a stray crossbow bolt. THey said he was searching for one man..." Athalwolf stepped backwards, then ran from the graveyard. He stopped, letting a single tear grace his face before wiping it away.
"You see Athalwolf, we knew the whole time. THis is why the late Kaiser defended Dijon so many times. He was not defending Dijon, but from us claiming him again. We have searched for him for so many years, even sending that man Dieter to him. I think the man was secretly pleased at having died in Denmark." Athalwolf looked up, it was the old Duke again.
"You, are a Leroy my son." said the old man, smiling.

After so many years, they'd caught not the man, but his son.

[GeneralHankerchief]

New Jersey, 2007

Four high school seniors were gathered around an empty desk, chatting. The bell signalling the start of class had not rung yet, and plus the teacher was lenient.

"So, I finally finished that Kingdoms Crusades campaign last night," said one of them, Steve.

"Oh really?" answered another, Don. "I thought you said you were pretty much screwed in that one."

"Yeah," said a third, John. Despite being in New Jersey he spoke with a British accent, having lived there for most of his life. He was viewed as something of an interesting specimen by the AP European History class, being one of the few who did not bring an American bias to the discussion. "Didn't you have von Saxony leading the campaign and then he died right before Adana was assaulted?"

"Don't remind me," said Steve. "Yeah, so I decided to take the place with a captain. Bad move. I lost big."

The final student, Stan, laughed. "So how'd you turn it around?"

"Well, it gets better. I finally take Adana with a second army led by Kaiser Henry but he loses so many men in the process he barely has enough guys left to garrison the place. Then suddenly this Egyptian dude comes out of nowhere with this uber-army. He's got ten stars, seven dread, tons of bodyguard, elite units, all that. He catches Otto von Kassel by surprise and slaughters that army."

Don chuckled. "You suck at this, dude. So you lost two of the six guys."

"Three. Jonas von Mahren was the second general in Otto's stack."

"Ouch! So you lost three guys and Henry's in Adana and can't really do anything."

"Yeah, he's building an army but it doesn't look like he'll last because that nasty Egyptian stack is heading right for him. So I'm down to Hans, who's bogged down against the Hungarians, and Max Mandorf. I decide to put Mandorf on a ship and sneak him around to hit Jerusalem from the south but it doesn't work and the Egyptian guys turn around and hit him hard. But then, he's got that special ability."

John groaned. "You didn't. That's so cheap."

"It's not cheap!" said Steve. "They attack, I'm so outnumbered it's not even funny. But then I just maneuver Mandorf's bodyguard around, sic him on the Egyptian general, and bam. Dead general. Huge chain rout, we somehow win with minimal casualties, and good ol' Max Mandorf and his general-killing ability is the Hero of the Crusade. We sneak around, hit Jerusalem from the south, and win."

The bell rang, and the four students sat down, still discussing the cheapness of Mandorf's ability and the merits of the Crusades campaign with Ansehelm von Kastilien's Teutonic campaign.

"All right class, settle down," said the teacher, Mrs. S. "Today we're going to continue our discussion of the Imperial Cataclysm. Going into 1320 and the formation of the Catholic Alliance, what was the Reich's greatest disadvantage?"

"They had a united enemy?" somebody asked.

"Hmm, good guess. But remember that the Reich was able to fight off numerous enemies and expand even before 1300. Anyone else?"

"Political instability," said Stan. "Too many nobles were looking to save their own skin, Luther was still causing problems, and Swabia was too ready to destroy itself before it focused on France."

"Exactly," said Mrs. S. "Too often the Swabian Civil War is left out of the history books as they focus on the greater situation and the French push more. It's a shame, really, as it was a fascinating conflict, as most civil wars are, and we're going to learn more about it.

"Your work for today will be to complete an annotated timeline for the Swabian conflict up to the showdown at Rheims in 1324. I want it to me by the end of class. You may work with each other."

Everybody groaned. Mrs. S loved annotated timelines, but she was the only one. It was only October and already the kids were sick of them. However, being AP students, the grade was more important and they grudingly got down to work.

1312: The Conflict Begins - Wolfgang Hummel, probably mad at his Duke and Kaiser for being ordered to attack a city that had the plague, decides to take his army and march on Staufen, proclaiming himself Prinz of Swabia. Hans is in Austria and unable to crush the rebellion.

"Hey John," said Steve. "Do you think this is an all right length?"

John looked it over and nodded. "Yeah, that's fine. Mine's a bit longer, but I've learned about this before. You should add that this was Hummel's seconds rebellion."

"Oh yeah," said Steve, and scribbled it in. "Next entry..."

1314: Sides are Taken - Athalwolf von Salza, the only other noted commander in Swabia, declared for Hans. Meanwhile, to the south Dietrich von Dassel finished up slaughtering the people of Durazzo and prepared to make the long trip back to Swabia. Everyone knew that he had no love for his Duke. Two cities, Paris and Metz, decided to become independent cities, siding with neither. I don't think they trusted either man to lead them, especially with the frontier being abandoned.

"Mrs. S?" Steve raised his hand. "Is it okay to use first-person commentary in our annotations?"

"Yes, but try to keep it to a minimum. Remember, your opinion as a historian means absolutely nothing until you take the AP test and do well on it."

"Thanks, Mrs. S."

1316: Movement - Wolfgang and Athalwolf neared each other in Normandy. Hans continued to march to Swabia. Dietrich von Dassel landed in Italy. Dijon also became independent. I don't know why this year is significant enough to merit an entry in the timeline.

1318: The War Becomes Hot - Wolfgang and Athalwolf engaged each other in Normandy but neither one is manly enough to take the initiative in the battle the battle is inconclusive. Wolfgang goes back to Caen and Athalwolf to Staufen, where he is joined by Hans. The French finally wake up at what's going on in the land of their mortal enemies and besiege Paris, their former capital. No one in Swabia really blinks. Too much has been said and done to back down and unite now.

"What's with all those crossed out bits?" Don peered over at Steve's paper and saw the deleted comments. "It's a timeline, not a commentary."

"Timelines are a piece of *#%!, dude. I need to amuse myself somehow."

"Steve! What did I say about language in the classroom?!"

"Sorry, Mrs. S."

1320: The Sides Entrench - Wolfgang marched on Bruges, adding it to his lands and making it the new capital of his Principality. It is now clear that he intended to secede from the Reich with as many lands as he could. It seems like Athalwolf was the only one concerned with actually protecting Swabia from the French. Dietrich von Dassel lollygagged in Italy, killing some more Byzantines with Lothar Steffen. For all his hatred of Hans, the guy could have hustled to Swabia a little quicker. Hans, meanwhile, aided the English King Davy in return for a promise of support against the rebellion, but the English, being typical Englishmen

"Hey!" said John. "What's this about Englishmen?"

"All I'm saying is how King Davy didn't really do much in the first part of the war. Relax, dude. It happened over 700 years ago."

John chuckled. "Well, yes, Davy really didn't do that much. But you do forget, we had the Danes to worry about at that time."

"Yeah yeah yeah," said Steve. "This is a timeline about Swabia, not England. Let me get on with it."

1322: More Movement - Wolfgang began the march to Rheims to claim it. Athalwolf began the march to Rheims to defend it from the French. Hans began to besiege Metz, trying to add it back to the Reich. The Frenchies began their siege of Caen.

"One more year," Steve sighed. "Finally."

1324: The War Grows - Dietrich von Dassel came out of nowhere with a huge army and a proclamation that he was claiming Swabia for himself. At that point it was unclear whether he included Wolfgang's Principality in this. He delivered an ultimatum for Hans, which was of course denied. Peter von Kastilien, a Franconian, similarly came out of nowhere to aid Hans in the conquest of Metz, which was surprising considering Hans had tried to arrest Peter earlier. Dietrich was near Bern. At Rheims, Athalwolf and Wolfgang met again, while Caen was still besieged by the French.

Steve sighed. "Finally," he said. "That was long. Stupid Swabians and their egos. I hope Mrs. S doesn't make us do another one for the second part of the war." He took the paper, put it on the teacher's desk, and waited for the bell to ring.

[gibsonsg91921]

Metz, 1324

P&#233;ter von Kastilien was at an interesting crossroads. Having just won a great battle at Metz under the command of Duke Hans of Swabia, who politically he opposed, he knew not what to do next. The self-declared Duke Dietrich von Dassel and Duke Lothar Steffen had suspected him to go fight along with them against Hans. P&#233;ter did not wish to fight in a civil war, however much he disliked Hans. He was too loyal to the Reich to desire the death of fellow Germans. There are foreign enemies abroad, and Swabia is concerned with killing each other.

It was time to return to Franconia.

[econ21]

The Kaiser’s camp at the ford east of Acre, 1326


Kaiser Elberhard looked up from his map at the stranger:

“Kachig says you have a proposition for me.”

The stranger bowed: “Sire, I have spoken to the shipwrights in Antioch. We can assemble a large fleet - large enough to transport all surviving Crusaders and their armies back to the Reich. It will not be quick and it will not be cheap. But it is possible.”

Elberhard frowned: “How not quick and how not cheap, precisely?”

“We could assemble the fleet by 1332. But it will take every resource in Outremer to see it done.”

“@#$%^&!!! it!” swore Elberhard under his breath and looked away. The offer re-opened a tension that had been present ever since the start of the cataclysm: whether to stay to protect Outremer or to return to the Reich to reassert his authority.

The Kaiser looked up at the man again: “Thank you … what is your name again?”

“Gustav Peters, Sire …explorer.”

“Good work, Peters, good work. I need to discuss your proposition. Wait in the camp. It’s going to be a long night.”



*****


Elberhard looked around at his inner circle. At the head was his wife, Linyeve. Next to her stood the veteran English warrior, Sir Charles de Villiers. Sitting relaxed on a stool, was Kachig Iskyan, the Armenian mercenary captain. Jan the Teuton stood upright, as if to attention. Almost in the shadows, lurked Niklas Gruber, his disgraced mentor.

“So, do we stay or do we go?” opened the Kaiser.

All eyes turned to Linyeve.

“We go.” she said simply.

Jan the Teuton turned red: “But to abandon Outremer! It is unthink…”

Linyeve cut him off: “Abandon Outremer or abandon the Reich? Which one is more unthinkable?”

The Empress paused and then began to list the Reich’s current woes. “The Kaiser’s brother is fighting for his life in Swabia. Bavaria has now entered the conflict, using Dietrich as its proxy. The Reich is on the verge of open civil war. With Prague’s secession from Austria, that House may soon also fall into internal warfare. Franconia’s eastern and northern flanks have been ripped open - invading armies of Poles, Danes and Russians are pouring into our heartlands. Byzantium has exterminated Rome and Bologna - the whole of north Italy is open to them. How many more settlements will they wipe out? How can we stay out here, while all that happens in Europe?”

“But Outremer…” protested Jan the Teuton.

The Empress raised her hand demanding for silence. “There is a way we could leave without abandoning Outremer to the Byzantines and the Mohammedans...”

Again, she commanded the attention of all in the room. She nodded at Sir Charles de Villiers and the English veteran warrior spoke hesitantly.

“At the Empress’s request, I made informal soundings to England. It is possible that they would accept the gift of Outremer.”

Linyeve continued: “If my father’s people ruled these lands, perhaps the Byzantines would halt their offensive. Their quarrel is with us for sacking Constantinople. They have no dispute with England. The Mohammedans, well - at the moment, they are killing themselves. The Egyptians are attacking the Turks in the east, so there should be a respite. And we could always return when the Reich is made whole again.”

Elberhard looked frozen with indecision, then broke into a wry smile: “@#$%^&!!! it - I’ve given away Outremer once, why should I blanche at a second time?”

Jan the Teuton looked appalled.

Elberhard turned to him: “Look, we came hear to protect Jerusalem and the Pope. Now Jerusalem and the Pope are trying to kill us! Don’t you think that shows we have outstayed our welcome?”

“About the Papacy, Sire…” a quiet voice spoke up from the shadows.

Heads turned towards Niklas Gruber, the Kaiser’s old mentor.

“While we are still in Outremer, there is one last task that we could perform - one that could only be performed from here.”

Jan the Teuton whistled and swore under his breath, but Niklas continued:

“Regime change: if the Pope were to fall in battle, we still have enough influence in the College of Cardinals to perhaps elect a German as replacement. That may make it easier for the Reich to be reconciled.”

A cold shiver ran through Elberhard and it was as if he could feel the spirit of his grandfather, Heinrich, passing by. He shook his head:

“As usual, there are too many “perhaps” and “maybes” in your advice, Niklas. If we destroy the main Papal army and take Jerusalem, we rob Outremer of a key bastion against the Mohammedans. The Holy City would surely fall when we leave.”

“At least consult Matthias on this.” prompted Linyeve.

The shiver ran through Elberhard again. “Very well.” he said, reluctantly.

“And what of besieged Aleppo?” said Kachig the mercenary Captain, ever practical. “What do we do now?”

Elberhard rubbed his head. Two depleted regiments of sergeants were holding the castle - besieged by two Byzantine armies. A third - an elite Guard army - blocked the path east from the ford. To relieve Aleppo, he would have to cut through all three armies.

“There are scarcely over one hundred men in Aleppo.” said Elberhard firmly. “How many men would we lose to rescue them? And if I lose my army, what is the point of returning to the Reich? I would merely be hostage to the first usurper we encounter on landfall. We cannot save Aleppo.”

Jan the Teuton looked distraught: “Sire, we are abandoning all codes of chivalry! This is not the honourable path!”

“I know, Jan, I know.” Elberhard looked down. ”Perhaps we should challenge the Byzantine Guard army in front of us? We avoided giving battle to them outside Damascus, but now they have put us in an even worse position. Perhaps it was a mistake to let them be? If we survive our encounter with them with sufficient strength, we could continue on to Aleppo and evacuate it.”

Linyeve looked at Elberhard harshly, with disapproval.

The Kaiser caught her glance and started to backtrack: “I must consult with the other Crusader Electors on this. But the principle is decided: we are leaving Outremer.”

[Ignoramus]

Normandy, 1326

Wolfgang wearily mounted his horse as his men prepared for the long march west to Flanders.

"Ah, Herr Hohenburg, what do you think of this latest invasion by the Danes?" he asked his companion.

Sheathing his sword, Conrad sighed before answering, "To be honest, mein prinz, this is becoming draining on the men. We have been marching all over this war ravaged patch of northern France for the last ten years. The men are loyal, but even loyalty begins to be tested at feats like this."

"I am afraid you are right. The men have not seen a battle in years, and one is a soldier to fight, not to see the countryside. However, the Danes ought to provide some action for the men."

Smiling wrly, Conrad replied sarcastically, "Unless they live up to their reputation and sail away."

"I doubt they will do that; they have too much to lose. With von Kastilien's invasion of Sweden, the Danes cannot afford to lose wealthy cities. If they sail away, the way is open to Antwerp. Nein, the Danes will fight, and we must crush them."

"What about von Salza, mein prinz? He may yet prove a thorn in our side."

Wolfgang laughed, "Von Salza's army would crumble against me. Our men are seasoned and blooded, and will not let me down."

Spurring his horse, Wolfgang galloped over to the vanguard, which was led by Gerhard van Ghent, Jan van Ghent's son.

"Heil, Prinz Hummel! It is an honour to see you in such gut spirits." shouted Gerhard.

Wolfgang rode up beside van Ghent, and the two began an earnest discussion.

"Are you serious? Surely that is madness?" exclaimed van Ghent.

"Nein," grinned Wolfgang, "it has the element of suprise, which is vital in times such as these. I think that we might be able to pull it off."

[gibsonsg91921]

Frankfurt, 1326

P&#233;ter lay awake in bed on the eve of battle. Ansehelm has died, he thought. A year after retiring from politics Ansehelm rode off against the Poles and was slain while killing his foes.

This meant P&#233;ter was Duke of Franconia; it was a position he never expected to hold, or if he did, only for a few years before he died.

It was a tremendous responsibility - especially during these years of plague and rebellion. He hoped he would bring glory to his Duchy and the Reich.

His plans were clear - to regain lost territory and protect those in danger. He was in command of the Army of Hamburg, which was going to relieve the siege of Frankfurt and then reconquer the city of its namesake. Jan von Hamburg, former King of Outremer, is returning to take up the county he was born in.

His older brother Fritz was in command of the Army of Prussia, which was now situated at Stockholm, waiting to kill the Danish Prince and take the city for the glory of the Reich.

His cousin-in-law, Dieter Bresch, was commanding the Saxon Army and holding up at Magdeburg - he would soon have to move to strike those invading the eastern front of Franconia. Alas, Franconia's sprawling size is its weakness.

His protege, Tancred von Tyrolia (commanding the Army of Brandenburg), was assisting the Austrians to improve relations with the old allies and Duke Arnold. Plus, a united Reich is a protected Reich - sectionalism will cause a house to crumble.

Count Edmund Becker, separated from the House of Austria and married to P&#233;ter's old friend Niesenn von Mahren, recently won a great victory against the Poles in P&#233;ter's plague-ridden County of Breslau. It was good to know that friends elsewhere can protect you.

P&#233;ter was a bit more at ease, and became anxious for battle. He had never fought the Danes before, and his lust nearly drove him mad. He howled into the night, startling the camp.

Jonas, the veteran warrior, overheard him.

"Are you alright, my lord?"

"Yes, Jonas, for tomorrow we conquer!"

[TinCow]

Preface: I began writing this piece as a fictional narrative with the usual amount of dramatics and bloodshed. However, I found that I had to include a great deal of historical background information which quickly started to dominate the entire story. So, I have instead abandoned the ‘fictional’ account and turned to a purely ‘historical’ one. I am always fond of turning to actual historical events for motivation and inspiration and this is no exception. This story is occurring in KOTR, but it is an exact replica of an event which occurred in the Bavarian town of Donauw&#246;rth in 1606.

In the process of self-edification, I found a very detailed account of the event in an article published in a Cambridge University journal. Rather than butchering the account with my own inferior knowledge, I have instead decided to copy the majority of the factual account from this article. I have changed some of the background information and the dates to correspond with events in KOTR, but the vast majority of the following piece is copied verbatim from the following paper:

Urban Order and Religious Coexistence in the German Imperial City: Augsburg and Donauw&#246;rth, 1548–1608, C. Scott Dixon; Conference Group for Central European History of the American Historical Association, Central European History 40 (2007), 1-33.

The complete paper can be found online here ( http://journals.cambridge.org/production/action/cjoGetFulltext?fulltextid=797996) and I personally find it very interesting. It also includes a narrative of similar conflicts between Lutherans and Catholics which occurred in Augsburg around the same time. I encourage anyone interested in the history of the Reformation in general, and the origins of the Thirty Years War in particular, to read it.

Donauw&#246;rth and the Battle of the Banners

After the fall of Rome in 1318, the greater problems of the Holy Roman Empire began to supersede the growing religious conflict between Catholics and the followers of Alexander Luther. In 1319, many prominent leaders of both groups gathered in the northern Bavarian city of Augsburg to discuss a way to end the civil disorder which was disabling the Reich. After weeks of debate, they eventually agreed to a partitioning of the local lands into Catholic and Lutheran areas. Under the Peace of Augsburg, free practice of both religions was officially sanctioned and local Lords were authorized to divide their lands into Catholic and Lutheran sections, to prevent the conflicts that inevitably resulted when the two groups mixed.

Soon after the signing of the Peace, the religious rioting and disorder that had plagued the Reich for several years began to die down. With the core cities secure and stable, the Duchies were able to resume effective taxation and military recruitment, thus allowing them to put up an effective defense against the coordinated onslaught of the Byzantines and the Catholic Alliance. Yet, despite the official peace between the Catholics and Lutherans, discontent continued to simmer. The events in Swabia in particular continued to fan the embers of the smoldering conflict. Duke Hans was an avowed Catholic, a loyal supporter of Kaiser Siegfried and the Pope, and he had made repeated calls to his fellow believers for support in his war against the rebellious Electors. While Wolfgang H&#252;mmel had not allied himself with either religious group, Dietrich von Dassel was one of the most ardent Lutherans and his entry into the conflict in 1326, with Alexander Luther himself at his side, began to give the Swabian Civil War some less than subtle undertones. Across the Reich, the peace between Catholics and Lutherans continued to hold, but both sides began to complain openly about the abuses and atrocities committed by the other in the fratricidal war in Swabia.

In Donauw&#246;rth, the religious peace of 1319 secured the free exercise of both religions. However, the Catholic community in Donauw&#246;rth was not a powerful presence in the city. Already within a year of the Peace, the Catholics had been forced out of the parish church and consigned to three places of worship—the Benedictine monastery of Holy Cross, a chapel belonging to the Order of the Teutonic Knights, and a small chapel in the residence of the abbots of Kaisheim. As long as the Catholics did not move beyond the borders of these three sacral enclaves, the two communities lived in relative harmony. Surveying Donauw&#246;rth late in 1320, Jacob Maier von Binicken, the neighboring pastor of Berg, claimed that Lutherans and Catholics had achieved a state of equilibrium in the city. Once the balance was tipped, however, or the sacral boundaries overstepped, it quickly led to tensions.

Troubles first surfaced in 1322 when the abbot of Holy Cross began to extend the route of the pilgrimage processions to the village of Auchsesheim, held annually on the Feast of St. Mark, and introduce observances, such as the ringing of bells, the carrying of candles and torches, the use of a stole during burial services, and above all the unfurling of banners, which were seen as “novelties” by the council and in violation of earlier agreements. Tensions increased, reaching a high point in 1324 with the election of a new abbot, and then amplified again in 1325, when, inspired by a miracle reputed to have occurred in an outlying parish, the monks of Holy Cross joined up with hundreds of others and marched through nearby Protestant lands with as many as eighteen banners on show. This was a formula for discord. The council had already issued a mandate against the display of banners outside the limits of Holy Cross, thus when the procession took place one year later and the abbot was equally bold in the choice of route and the use of ceremonial display, the council turned to force. Urban officials stopped the procession in its tracks and confiscated the banners. On getting word of this, the bishop of Augsburg forwarded an appeal to the Imperial Court. In response, the Imperial authorities issued a mandate, forbidding, under threat of ban, any further disturbance of the exercise of the Catholic religion in Donauw&#246;rth.

Relations between Lutherans and Catholics broke down completely the following year, on the day of the St. Mark’s procession (April 25, 1327). Despite Imperial censure, the city councilors continued to warn the abbot of Holy Cross to leave off all “nontraditional ceremonies” (such as the use of unfurled banners) and stick to the street near the grounds of the cloister. In the churches, the Lutheran preachers railed against the impudence of the monks and mocked their claims that they would rather suffer death than march with banners concealed. Disregarding all of these threats, the monks of Holy Cross, led by Prior Georg Beck, preached about the dangers of a Lutheran kingdom being established in Swabia, under the rule of Dietrich von Dassel. Accompanied by a group of young musicians and members of the Donauw&#246;rth Catholic community (including the wife of a Fugger count), they then marched as planned from the monastery to the marketplace, where they were soon surrounded by a hostile Lutheran citizenry shouting abuse and threatening violence. “One should meet these staff-bearing sacrament rogues with staffs,” suggested one of the onlookers, “and serve up some knuckle sandwich.” Against the odds, the procession made it out of the city; but on its return to Donauw&#246;rth, things did not end so well. With the Lutherans still gathered and the magistracy watching on, local men armed with wheat flails and pitchforks, as well as a few swords and spears, let loose on the Catholics as they entered the city. Staffs were ripped from hands, banners were shredded, crosses were smashed to pieces, and Catholic pilgrims were chased through the muddy streets, some making it back to Holy Cross, others taking shelter along the way. It ended quickly, but within days the “Battle of the Banners” had become a celebrated event in Lutheran Germany.

Bavarian and Imperial authorities quickly re-imposed order on the town, but word of the riot spread to all corners of the Reich. Groups gathered in homes, taverns, and public halls, complaining about violations of the laws of God and the Reich. Lutheran and Catholic clergy alike spoke of the event regularly from the pulpit. For the former, it was proof that the Catholics would violate the Peace of Augsburg whenever it pleased them, while for the latter it was evidence that Lutherans were determined to subjugate all Germans to their religious beliefs through force of arms. The only thing both sides could agree on was that vigilance and action would be required in the days ahead.

[GeneralHankerchief]

Bern, 1326

"Sir? The latest pigeon has arrived."

"Thank you, Joseph," said Dietrich von Dassel. "Where has it cooped?"

"The usual spot, sir. It seems to have more to say than usual."

"Excellent, lead on. It appears that this is what we've been waiting for." Dietrich started giving out orders to the people around him. "Friedrich, alert Luther. He might want to know about this. August, come with me. I'm sure Hans knows about this by now and he might be prepared to react at any time. I need you to be ready to alert the troops."

Both men nodded. Friedrich, Dietrich's aide, departed, searching for Luther. August von Bl&#252;cher, a Franconian whose hatred of the French brought him to Swabia, followed his general and Joseph, the man who brought them all the news.

The city had now been under siege for some months, but there were still ways of communication with the outside world. Just hours before Hans's army had arrived to trap his enemy, Dietrich had made contact with a sympathetic farmer who had an odd hobby relating to birds. The man had agreed to send carrier pigeons detailing the news of the outside world, and particularly Swabia, whenever possible. At first Dietrich was skeptical but after his preferred method of communication, a man who knew the secret passages of the city well, was caught and brutally executed by Hans's men in front of the garrison, he had no choice.

The three men arrived to where the pigeon was perched, resting after its flight and graciously accepting some seed, the message still tied to its leg. Dietrich untied it, and without waiting for Friedrich or Luther, read the message out loud.


Hummel is victorious at the Crossroads. He marches on Bruges against the Danes. Von Salza in full retreat towards Rheims, carrying only archers and some cavalry. He has lost all infantry. Hummel still has a decent army. Expected recovery time for von Salza is long.

And then, scrawled at the bottom of the paper:


Can you hurry this siege up? I'd like to be able to sell my crops again.

Dietrich read the first part of the message once more and then discarded it, turning to August von Bl&#252;cher. "What do you make of all this?"

"Too early to tell," said Bl&#252;cher. We don't know whether this victory was Phyrric or not yet. Hummel definitely won, but the question is whether von Salza roughed him up enough to make Bruges difficult. After he fights the Danes his army might be in as bad condition as von Salza's."

Dietrich was about to reply, but then Friedrich and Alexander Luther joined them.

"What'd it say?" Friedrich asked.

"Hummel won," Dietrich said simply, and then continued his discussion with Bl&#252;cher. "August, you have a point about long-term. That's long-term though. What about short-term?"

Here Friedrich piped in. "Well, short-term, it energizes those who do not support the current Swabian regime. This kind of battle result won't convince anybody that Hans has his act together. That means the good Duke is going to have to do some major damage control to salvage the situation."

"Against us," said Luther.

"Very good, Luther," said Dietrich. "That's the thing now, in order to save face and keep Swabia in line Hans is going to need a decisive victory against us, and he's going to need it fast. Preferably one that results in mine and Luther's capture or death. Rebellions that survive the initial effort to put them down become infinitely more dangerous."

"What he needs to do now," said Bl&#252;cher, "is beat us quickly, turn around, and then march on Hummel. If he focuses on us too long, then Hummel gets a free hand in the north and can wreak havoc for quite a while until von Salza gets back on his feet. If he abandons Bern in favor of chasing down Hummel, then we get to stretch our legs a little bit."

"And there's no way he can do either thing," said Luther. "Because the other side would get too dangerous."

All three of them nodded at Luther's words. Even though the man was a professional theologian he had spent a lot of time around armies and garrisons, and was starting to get a good grasp of the military perspective.

"Hans has no choice but to attack us here, and to do it quickly," said Dietrich. "And when he does, we'll be ready for him. By God, we'll be ready for him."

[AussieGiant]

Outside Ragusa 1326

Duke Arnold was sitting in his field tent. As much as a field tent that it was. With multiple rooms, including a council of war table, reception area and small armoury is was in reality a small palace. Lantern’s strewn throughout the massive marquee turned night into day and allowed the Duke and his retinue to work throughout the night, attending to the tasks required to govern a Duchy in a time of crisis.

Sitting at one end of the massive table normally reserved for his briefing sessions Arnold was putting the finishing touches on a fairly long letter.

“My Lord,” Bane knelt briefly before taking a seat and pouring himself a glass of mead.

“Reports indicate Hummel has handed von Salza a fairly decisive defeat.”

“Did either of them get killed?” Arnold looked up as he pressed his Ducal seal into the blood red wax sealing the envelop.

“Unfortunately not my Lord. Both men survived the encounter.”

“God damn Separatists, or Rebel’s or what ever you want to call these bloody Count’s pissing about while our real enemies are smashing down the Reich’s collective doors!! They should be all put against a wall and shot with these new pistol contraptions!!”

Bane paused before continuing. Letting his Duke calm down was always a healthy option he had found, it usually lead to less fatalities in which ever situation they found themselves in. The recent destruction of the Venetian forces being the latest example. In reality the Duke would never have attacked if it wasn’t for the merchants from Prague stealing gold and crops from Vienna.

“Have you heard the rumours?”

The Duke raised an eyebrow at the fully helmed Dread Knight. Bane realised the Duke wanted him to continue.

“Words has reached our scouts south of Daruzzo that a large fleet is being constructed in the Holy Land. The Kaiser is making his way back to the Reich it seems.”

Arnold face betrayed nothing of his feelings on the subject. Even to his most trusted servant, the Duke would not publicly speak his mind about the Kaiser.

“Interesting, his return should impact the general situation.”

Bane could not even read between the lines of that statement so he fell silent.

Handing him the letter Arnold stood and placed his hand on his tall dark armoured companion.

“Take this to Becker. Talk with him, make him see reason Bane. I spoke to you yesterday on this and the Priest has not changed my mind on the matter. What I said still stands. Go, be safe Bane.

Ride to Prague and heal this Duchy my friend.”

Without a word the Dread Knight bowed and left the chamber.

[Privateerkev]

Venice: 1328

Jan von Hamburg walks down the ramp of the ship. The journey had been quite long and he was very happy to be back on dry land. His bodyguards and retinue fanned out and secured the area. There were men out there who would not approve of his presence back in Europe and Jan knew he had to be careful. His wife was behind him and carrying their belongings while some aides carried his children. At the bottom of the ramp a man waited for him.

He was an old grizzled veteran of Outremer. He had fought with Jan in the battle for Damascus during the Second Crusade. He had served Outremer loyaly for years. But, like many men, the call of home finally proved too much. As King, Jan was able to use his position to secure jobs back in Europe for loyal Crusaders. He had done it many times before. While he fought hard to help men stay in Outremer, he would fight to make sure they had a good life afterwards. Such was part of the code and one of the perks of being King. This man in particular was a high level official in the Imperial Messenger Service. Jan walked up to him and firmly shook his hand.

"Conrad! It's good to see you again!"

The veteran smiled as he took Jan's hand, "And it's good to see you too Ki.. , I mean Sir Jan. Sorry, I am still not used to your new circumstances. Is it true that you resigned?"

"Yup. Right at the beginning of 1324. It was hard to do but I have more important things to do here in Europe. Did Azim contact you?"

Jan's mercenary captain was sent to Europe ahead of time in order to prepare things. "Yes, he came bearing your seal. I have done as instructed. I have gathered up clippings of reports of every event in the Reich that has happened while you have been on board ship. A whole lot has happened."

Jan took the reports and browsed through them. A whole lot had indeed happened from 1325 to 1328. He read that Duke Ansehelm had been killed. Jan paused at that part. While they had never gotten along, Jan was struck by a moment of sadness at the news. He saw that Peter had become Duke and had indeed decided to stay out of the Swabian Civil War. Becker had messed up with sending his merchants out to procure supplies but had tried to make things right by aiding Breslau. Wolfgang and Athawolf had finally met again in battle with Wolfgang getting the better of the deal. Jan's eyes went wide when he saw his nephew had killed the Pope. Struck silent for a moment, Jan rationalized to himself that the Reich would be safer and better off being reconciled. Jan saw with amusement that Fritz had called for his arrest. Yes Fritz would indeed not like having Jan around. Jan chuckled at the thought of the next meeting in the Franconian Hall. His eyes burned though when he read about the events in Donauwörth. Lastly, he read that Hans had trapped Dassel and Luther in Bern.

Jan took all of these events in. He stood there thinking for a moment. Then he pulled out a piece of parchment, walked over to a crate, and made some changes to it. He handed the parchment over to Conrad. "Here is what I have been working on. I need this sent to every settlement in the Reich that you can reach. Your the only one I trust to handle this."

"Don't worry sir, you can count on me. I have printers ready to copy this and runners I trust to transport it all over Germany. It will be circulated within the year." Conrad shook Jan's hand again, put the parchment in a pouch, and got on his horse.

Jan watched him leave as Gunther walked up to him. "Sir, we're ready to move. Do you have a destination for us figured out yet?"

Jan looked at Gunther, smiled, and said one word.

"Bern"

[Ignoramus]

Antwerp, 1330

"So this is an arquebus?" asked Wolfgang, "How powerful is it, exactly?"

Wolfgang examined the firelock with interest. He had faced a company of Danes with handguns, but he had never had been in possession of them himself.

The Flemish gunsmith, Willem Tykel, strolled towards his new patron, "It is capable of piercing all but the thickest plate, something that you will need against the French."

"Indeed." remarked Wolfgang drily, "However, you leave the French to me, and I'll leave the production of the firelocks to you."

As the gunsmith left the room, Wolfgang began to think. With these weapons, he could revolutionise warfare as the world knew it.

"Chivalry has been sorely tested these last thirty years," he though out loud, "and the reign of the horsemen is waning. The combination of pike and firelock is a deathblow to any mounted foe. And as the French are especially fond of horsemen, we shall be glad of the changing times."

Collecting his thoughts, Wolfgang left the room.

[Tamur]

Near Stettin, 1330

Fritz von Kastilien paced the floor, his head down, lost in thought. The eviction of the family who had until recently lived here gnawed at his stomach, especially the pleading look of their teenage daughter as she had been dragged out.

Yes, he was back on home ground, and yes he was comforted to see sausage curing in the farmer's smokehouse instead of bread like the Swedes seemed to prefer. But time was drawing down for Fritz, and he knew it. He felt the loss of strength at his core - a weakened desire for the sword at his hip to be in his right hand.

And the mercenary captains, all at least twenty years younger than he... they did not help. All they wished was to line their purses and encrust themselves with jewels.

An image flashed through Fritz's mind, one of the few days when he and his brothers had played peaceably together, out in the courtyard, waving sticks at each other in harmless play.

Siegfried was now dead by an assassin's hand. Ansehelm had been overwhelmed defending his lands. Father had died years ago, old and noble and believing everything would remain so after his passing.

And here Fritz stood, pacing the floor in a house that had just been cleared on his order of its lawful owners, while he contemplated the next bloody foray for wealth alone.

Trapped. Fritz's jaw clamped shut, his eyes darted over internal visions. There must be a way out.

[GeneralHankerchief]

Bern, 1330

It had been quiet.

Sure, there were the constant stream of couriers coming and going, delivering messages, the frenzied redeployments as parts of the Army of Light were twice revealed to be out of position, and the now-constant thudding of the Grand Bombard coupled with the sounds of the city walls crumbling, but really, it had been quiet.

The whole morning was just simple tactical maneuvering, really. The chess pieces that had been placed on the board long ago, probably in 1300 or maybe even before that, depending on if one wanted to view the political emergence of Dietrich von Dassel or Hans's return from Outremer as the start, were being manipulated for the final time. Soon, the time would come to take the plunge.

The quietness was frightful, really. Dietrich wasn't used to it. He relished the heat of battle, the time where little coherence could be made over the clash of metal, sounds of horses trampling, and screams of men, whether it be from anger or pain. This... this was worse. Different. The whole morning had been like it, as if it was waiting too. Everyone was waiting, and for every second they waited the tension would increase and eventually the knowledge came that when things did start to get loud, they would get really loud, as if a giant war god of ancient times bottled up his anger and then finally released it at once, causing a massive frenzy and a whirlwind of destruction that would be terrible for all to behold.

The silence would be broken, that was certain. That time was rapidly approaching, that was also certain. The only thing still in doubt was who would break it?

This was the terrible question that was consuming Dietrich for the moment. For it was the question that would decide the battle.

Hugo Merode, the commander of the Lutheran relief army that had come to Dietrich's aid, and his advance guard had arrived in the north, deploying alarmingly close to Hans. The Duke of Swabia had been demonstrating on the city walls all morning, making especially good use of his Grand Bombard on the area. Dietrich had been content to sit back and wait for Hans to impale himself on his defenses. Now, however, things had changed.

Hugo's army was required if there was to be any hope of victory for that day. Hans currently only had one loyalist army on the battlefield, but Jan von Hamburg still lurked to the south. The old Duke could easily turn north and defeat Hugo in detail, thus ridding himself of one army and making things a lot easier. On the other hand, he could make an attempt on the city.

If I sit back and do nothing then Hugo might very well be destroyed.

If I sally to Hugo's aid there's a chance that Hans could catch me in the open and destroy me.

The uncertainty of it all lasted an eternity and continued to draw out the terrible quietness. Something must be done, and quickly.

"Sir? What are your orders?"

It was August von Blücher, looking at his commander expectantly.

Dietrich sighed.

"We

[Zim]

An introduction: 1330, outside Staufen
Jan von der Pfalz looked over his shoulder. He could still see the castle of Staufen, his home for the past season, through the darkness of night and the branches of trees in the way. He had grown up within a days march of the castle, but had never thought it looked so foreboding. Snap your self out of this, it’s only a castle! he thought, shaking his head furiously as if he could thus cast out the feelings of doubt and shame that coursed through him.

A scant few months ago, Jan had answered the call to arms in service of the Reich. He had left his small family holdings to go to the castle Staufen, where he was charged with whipping men from his hometown into a fit shape for military service. One fateful day he had received the letter from Wolfgang Hummel, prevailing upon him to join the Principality. Raised to be a loyal citizen of the Reich, his first instinct had been to cast the letter into the flames. Perhaps it would have been better if he had.

Instead, he had decided to think about it. He thought about the recent past. While Hans went on a wild goose chase after Peter von Kastilien, a national hero, the Reich had fallen apart, its people divided by political and religious differences. Now Hans continued a religious war against the Lutherans and Wolfgang Hummel, while Franconia was being destroyed by foreigners. This was all done in the name of the Reich. Jan was always a loyal citizen, but perhaps the schismatics had a point. For centuries the Kaisers had worked for centralization. The Empire grew strong and more unified, but dissent also increased. Kaiser Siegfried had seemed a madman, seeking to merge the German Empire with the corrupt Greek Empire, where neither lord nor freeman controlled his own destiny and everyone was a slave. This madness was destroying the Empire, even after the man who initiated it had died.

So Jan had decided to accept Hummel’s invitation. Hummel seemed a man after his own heart, who wanted to see the regions of the Empire regain their former autonomy. Jan hoped he made the right decision, but whatever the case, it was made. Now he was leaving both the castle he had spent these past months in and the lands he had spent his life in to go to a city he had never seen called Antwerp, fleeing in the dark like a brigand. Around him he could see the shadows of his guard and others, soldiers who had trained under him and retained their loyalty to Jan. Common soldiers, low ranking spear and horsemen. He did not know if they numbered enough to make even a single regiment of soldiers, but he hoped so. God knows Hummel would need them.

[Privateerkev]

Bern: 1330

Jan sat in his command tent on the mountainside overlooking the southern wall of Bern. His advance guard was almost ready. His reserve force was arriving and forming up. The former King of Outremer sat at his desk writing out his will and some letters. When he was finished he got up and walked over to another part of the large tent.

His family looked up when he entered. They had joined him on his crusade. Partly for security reasons and partly because he just liked having them around. Alfgarda got up from her chair and walked over to her husband. Jan handed his paperwork over to her.

"Here, send these out if I fall today."

She looked at him for a few seconds, took the letters, and laid them on her desk. "I do think your worrying too much honey. You've lived through so much already. The Lord won't let you die."

Jan grunted and said, "I think I have fulfilled the Lord's purpose. Once this is over, there won't be much left for me except semi-retirement. No, if I live, it won't be because of Him. These letters are to make sure some things are taken care of if I fall. Don't worry. I have no intention of falling but it's best to be prepared."

Alfgarda walked over to her husband and embraced him. They had been quite the happy couple in the few years that they had been married. For some marriages, time was not kind. Such was not true of the von Hamburgs.

Jan let go of his wife and bent down to pick up his two children. Clare and Andreas were the apples of his eye. They were still too young to understand what dad did for a living. Jan looked over at Clare. "I hope you marry well. A young man who treats you well and serves this family." He looked at Andreas. "And I hope you grow up to be a good and righteous man. I still have a few contacts among the nobles and I'll make sure you have the opportunity to serve the Reich and the Lord with honor."

Jan handed the children over to his wife. Alfgarda took them up in her arms and held them. "I need you to do something for me if I fall. It's asking a lot."

She smiled, "If I can do it I will."

-------------------------------------------

Jan walked out of his tent where Max, Gunther, and Azim were waiting for him.

Gunther nodded and said, "The men are ready sir."

"Good good, we need to get going. Hans needs our help. Max, a word with you?" Jan asked of his Teutonic knight.

Max stood at attention, "What do you need my lord?"

"I need you to stay out of the main fight. You are to join your brethren when they are ready."

Max looked like he was punched in the gut. "My lord, but why? My place is at your side!"

"I have a couple of other things I need you to do." Jan pulled a letter out of his tunic and handed it over. "This will explain everything." Jan shook the man's hand. "God be with you Max. Thank you for everything you have done for me my friend."

Max nodded. "It's been an honor my lord. God be with you."

Jan returned to Gunther and Azim and walked down to the rest of his bodyguards.

[GeneralHankerchief]

A parable

Once upon a time there was a young soldier by the name of David of Dunland. David was a fine young leader who had won many great victories in his short time on Earth. He thought to himself, "I am a fine young leader. I want to help out as many people as I can and bring the people of the Grand Kingdom under my peaceful rule."

Horace, the old warrior and Lord of the Western Realm, owed the Grand King a favor. He said to David, "David, you are a fine young leader but do not cross the Grand King. He is a good man and there is time to rule later." But David disagreed with the Grand King's policies. He believed that the Grand King's policies would bring the Grand Kingdom and, by extension, the Western Realm into ruin.

"Horace," he said, "I do this for the people of the Western Realm." And David continued to agitate the Grand King and his followers and failed to see anyone's side of the story but his. He was eventually exiled from the Western Realm, exiled and disgraced.

Time passed. In exile, David saw a threat to the Western Realm in the form of a corrupt extension of the Grand King's policies. "I am going to build a large army and make things right," David said. And he did.

In the Eastern Watchtower, John the Viceroy heard of David's act. "The man that David killed was my friend," John said. "He was a good man and meant nothing wrong. I cannot see why anybody would want to kill him." John decided to confront David about it at the next legislative meeting. He continued to watch as the good Grand King, Steven, was also assassinated. "These times are not good," John mused to himself.

Horace saw what was coming and tried to stop David, but was too late. "David has done an evil act," Horace said. "He is a danger to the Western Realm. He cannot be allowed to rule."

Time passed. David's army was depleted from many battles and it appeared that he was once again powerless. All across the Grand Kingdom, including the Western Realm, people were dying, lands were being taken, plagues wreaking havoc on cities. The Grand Kingdom faced a massive threat and was sorely in need of leadership.

One man, Leonard, Duke of the Southern Plains, saw this and gave a large, powerful army to David after David had assisted in fighting off the Grand Kingdom's mortal enemies, the Violet Empire. "David," he said, "Take this army and use it to free the Western Realm. It needs a ruler like you."

When John the Viceroy heard of this, he was outraged. "How could Duke Leonard do this?" he asked. "David is clearly deranged and is the main contributer to why the Grand Kingdom is in such trouble! For the people's sake, he must not be allowed to rule the Western Realm." And John the Viceroy departed the Eastern Watchtower, leaving behind what he had devoted his life to, in order to raise an army and defeat David, thus saving the Western Realm.

Horace, meanwhile, also saw what happened. "Great, another challenger," he said, for the Western Realm was already strife with civil war, "If the Western Realm has any chance of surviving it must be united. I must defeat this usurper David and save the Western Realm."

Horace and John together trapped David in a city and were about to strike, when another army, led by General Henry, materialized out of nowhere. "Wait," this Henry said, "Do not strike! David saw what was coming long before any of you did! Horace, you are old, and John, you understand only the Eastern Watchtower, which is a totally different place. David is the only one that can save the Western Realm!"

The four parties argued and argued, but alas, no side would budge. And so, the four armies, all soldiers of the Grand Kingdom, fought a terrible battle.

Henry died first, with his inferior army. His final words were "Keep fighting... lads... Only David... can save... Western Realm..."

The three remaining generals continued to see the battle rage on. They fought each other, oblitering each other's armies to no effect. Combat became smaller and smaller until individual fighting prowess had the chance to determine the outcome.

In the Great City, John the Viceroy charged right into a wall of David's soldiers. He fought through them, confident that he was doing the right thing, for David was a cancer to the Western Realm. He eventually fell, his victorious army taking control of the city.

To the North of the Great City, what was left of David's and Horace's armies continued to fight a vicious conbat even though it no longer had any meaning, since their conflict was the longest and most personal. "David," Horace said, "You are destroying the Western Realm! Surely you realize this!"

"No," David said, "It was under your rule that the Western Realm became this threatened. Only I can save the Western Realm!" The two fought a terrible duel, and eventually David's youth prevailed and he slew Horace. However, his triumph was short-lived.

John the Viceroy's cavalry, looking for vengeance, rode out from the Great City to finish the battle. David fought bravely, but was no match for the superior cavalry and eventually he fell. The cavalry members, the only survivors of the horrible bloodbath, looked among themselves.

"David the Devil is slain!" they cried. "The enemy is beaten! We are victorious! Oh, what a grand day this is!"

But then, a particularly smart member of the cavalry spoke up.

"It is a great day indeed," he said, "But who will rule and defend the Western Realm now?"

Nobody had any answer to that.

[Privateerkev]

Bern 1330:

Alfgarda looked up as Max entered the tent. She could hear bells ringing in the city of Bern which was down the mountain. She took one look at Max and knew what he came to say. Before he could say anything, she said, "Take me to him."

They went down the mountain to Bern. She passed four siege towers that were up against the south wall. As she got to the south gate, she could see some fallen members of Jan's bodyguards. She recognized Azim, Jan's mercenary captain, as one of them. She went further into the city.

At the city square, it was chaotic. Bodies were strewn everywhere. A large crowd of Jan's Crusader Army were kneeling in the square praying. Everyone was exhausted and upset from the day's events. Alfgarda went up to the largest pile of bodies where she could tell the fighting was most fierce.

A circle of fallen Gothic knights were strewn about. In the middle of the circle was the body of Gunther, Jan's veteran warrior. He had fought with his lord until the end. Also there was a blank spot in the ground where Jan had fell. Alfgarda looked up at Max who said, "The pilgrims took his body into the church. They thought it was appropriate."

Alfgarda walked off towards the cathedral. She made her way past the throng of visitors who were already gathering to pay their respects. She walked up to the bishop. "You know who my husband was and you know who I am. I want the church cleared for a little while. I wish to spend some time with my husband."

The bishop's adam-apple in his throat went up and down as he tried to think of what to do. He looked over at Max who just stared at him. "uh..uh..of course misses von Hamburg. We would be honored to have the former Queen of Outremer grace our church. Take all the time you need and let me know if you need anything."

He scurried off as Alfgarda turned to Max and nodded. Max turned and left the cathedral to guard the front door. Her husband lay in a coffin in the front of the church. He was still in his armor which was dented and dirty. Nuns had at least wiped the blood off of his face. She reached out and touched her husband's cold face. Finally she started to cry as the enormity of the situation hit her.

"You knew this was going to happen, didn't you?" she asked the corpse.

"I hope Duke Hans and Kaiser Elberhard appreciated your sacrifice and knew what a good friend you were. I hope this was all worth it. Because now I'm a widow and Clare and Andreas have no father!" she yelled. She obviously didn't know what had happened to Hans yet.

She calmed down a little. "I'm sorry... I just don't know what to do right now. I don't want to go through life without you. You were my light. You were one of the best men that has ever walked. And I was lucky to share these few years with you."

The tears started flowing now. "I'll do what you asked. I'll talk to the Kaiser and join the Diet. And I'll mentor our children. I will make sure that your work lives on through them."

Alfgarda stood there for a moment. Then she spoke her last words to her husband. "Sleep well my love. I will see you again one day." She bent down and kissed his forehead and left the cathedral.

[econ21]

The Fox and the Scorpion

There once was a scorpion in Swabia, trying to cross the river Rhine. The poor creature could not cross the deep waters alone and was quite stranded.

Then he saw a fox, approaching the river bank. The fox was strong and a good swimmer, he could cross the river.

"Please, Mr Fox, will you carry me across the river on your back?" asked the scorpion.

The fox was wise and merely laughed:

"No, no, Mr Scorpion - if I let you on my back, you will surely sting me and I will die."

The scorpion was shocked:

"But Mr Fox, if I sting you, I will drown. Why would I sting you when I will die too?"

The fox was persuaded and let the scorpion climb his back. Happily, he started to swim across the river. The scorpion was light and the fox was a strong swimmer, so they made good progress.

Half way across the Rhine, the fox felt a terrible pain in his back.

"Oh no, Mr Scorpion - what have you done? You have stung me and now I will die, but you will surely drown! Why did you do it?"

The scorpion shrugged:

"This is Swabia."

[econ21]

Antioch, 1330


Elberhard look appalled at the messenger and then slammed his fist into the door. The messenger stepped back aghast - the blow had passed within inches of his face.

Elberhard lurched around the room, sweeping objects off surfaces and smashing anything that could be smashed. Linyeve eyed him cooly. He looked not unlike one of his late "Arnolds", when they had become maddened and out of control after the battle with the Byzantine Guard Army.

"They are dead! Both dead!" wailed Elberhard. The cause of Duke Hans had weighed more heavily with the Kaiser than even his own struggles in Outremer. It was clear to Linyeve that the Kaiser would have continued to remit all his wealth to Hans, even if his own army in Outremer had been reduced to a single regiment of peasants.

In his devotion to the loyalist cause in Swabia, the Kaiser had something in common with the late Jan von Hamburg. But Jan had sacrificed much more - abandoning a crown and Outremer, his ward. And Jan had risked much more -landing alone in a Europe full of his enemies. In the end, the risks had become realities and Jan had made a last sacrifice.

And Hans the Mighty, Hans the Mauler, was dead. Elberhard was no fool. He knew his brother's age was catching up on him. Indeed, the Kaiser was becoming all too aware of his own creep towards old age and death. But he had never imagined that Hans would fall before his time - Hans who was so strong and so masterful a tactician.

"I'll kill them!" raged Elberhard. "I'll kill them all!"

Linyeve looked up from reading the message, to reprimand the Kaiser: "Kill who? Dietrich is dead."

Elberhard looked into his wife's cool blue eyes. She was so calm and calculating, it was as if Elberhard could see little clockwork cogs and wheels turning within them.

"You know who..." started Elberhard, as if about to recount a long list of enemies.

But Linyeve stood up and grabbed him by the arms, silencing him with her eyes. Elberhard was red faced and sweating.

"We will not follow your brother into the abyss! You must be be smart! You must think!"

Elberhard looked pitifully into his wife's face. The news was still sinking in. Deprived of an outlet for his aggression, the Kaiser seemed to visibly deflate and tears came into his eyes. Despite the close presence of his wife, Elberhard began to feel completely alone. The two people he trusted, the two people he confided in, were both dead.

"What do I do?" Elberhard asked pitifully.

"You use this."

Linyeve grabbed the scroll with the message about the outcome of the battle of Bern. She thrust the message before Elberhard's face.

"You use this to end this bloody war."

[FactionHeir]

Lifeline

Bern, 1330 AD
Hans surveyed what little of his force remained, after many hours of battle. Half of his bodyguard lay dead in the field, as did most of the army that he had brought to battle. What still stood were a regiment and a half of spearmen, all bloodied and battleweary, the grand bombard crew, armed with mere dagger, and two regiments of cavalry, with dented armor and broken lances. Yet all of the men had the same look on their face - a mixture of grim determination, holy conviction, and the will to overcome the large host of infantry that stood a few meters across of them.
He had decided to give battle here and now, instead of turning and riding south to Jan, and his men, touched by the confidence and optimism he exuded, were willing to make their last stand here before ascending to His garden.

Hans did not have to give many orders this time. All of his men knew what they needed to do, and interplay of each regiment would be vital to succeed this day. Without blinking, all horsemen lowered their visors and lances and as one man, charged forward into the masses of polished steel and flesh that enveloped the few loyalists. Simultaneously, the half spear regiment fanned out and chased the missile regiments before returning to pin the hundreds of two handers with their brethren. Steel clashed upon steel, lances rammed through bodies as if they were rings on a tourney field. The masses of Dietrich's men thinned as the cavalry retreated to prepare for the second charge. No man on either side dared to give ground, each fighting for their leader, their religion, their families, their lives. And then the second impact. Some men flew into the air, others were crushed beneath the hoofs of the horses, and yet others were one again pierced by the few lances that were still intact. And then the unexpected. Upon preparing for the final charge, the few men still left under Dietrich's command managed to unhorse Hans' escort, while Dietrich himself, smiling with a devilish grin, decapitated him. The battle still raged for another few seconds before all went quiet. Loyalists and Rebels alike stopped dead, weapons half swung, stared at the scene that presented itself to them.
Then, the sky darkened and lightning filled the late afternoon scenery of blood. The loyalists, disheartened by the loss of their leader, started to break and flee, while the few rebel infantry that remained were fearful of what had been done and of His wrath. Even the most devout followers of Luther faced a moment of doubt and fled before His ire would strike them. Only Dietrich and a few loyal guards remained on the field, one of them Luther. Yet there was no smile on the face of either man at the change of weather, for with the weather came an unnatural thunder that rolled towards them in the form of Jan's cavalry.

~ *** ~

Adalberth crawled out from under his fallen horse. He noticed the darkened sky had filled with lightning and thunder, yet there was no rain. He looked about and first saw the Swabian flag raised on the abbey of Bern with a smile. It seemed that they had been victorious this day and the Lutherans finally dispersed. But as he turned to look at the men around him, he noticed only bodies of the dead and no living man. Had he been left for dead on the field? It was difficult for him to grasp the scene that unfolded itself with his diminishing eyesight, and the darkness did not help it. Yet one particular body stood out to him, and he gasped as he realized that it was that of Hans, the last of the nobles that partook in the First Crusade and his friend and master, who lay dead, decapitated, in the mud, dozens of bodies around him. Adalberth let out a high pitched cry as the clouds finally opened and rain started to fall, as if He was crying for the loss of two of His most devout servants on earth. Adalberth's face was filled with sorrow and anger as he picked up his broken sword and looked around for Dietrich. That bastard will pay was the only thought that filled him and the only thought that gave him the strength to stand, bleeding out of several wounds. It was then that the horsemen returned, and Max dismounted to tell him that they had delivered His punishment to Dietrich and motioned him to join them in the city to be bandaged. The anger subsided in Adalberth, leaving him with sorrow alone as he collapsed. Yet once again, the call of duty was stronger for Adalberth and he scoured his friend's remains, until he finally found it - the Holy Grail. Today, it would be upon him to pass it around and raise the wounded, and while filled with sorrow still, he would not - and could not - disappoint.

~ *** ~

Staufen, 1330 AD
Adalberth was tired after tending to the wounded and being tended to himself. He wanted to sleep and wake up knowing today's events had only been a horribly bad dream, but he knew that it was not so. He had soon learned that Jan von Hamburg had died as well when taking the city, and that while it was under Loyalist control now, it was at the same time leaderless. The toll of war had been too high on Adalberth however to help lead this county, and so he went on to do what he felt was right: To inform both Jan's and Hans' widows of what had occurred on this dreadful day. Alfgarda, stricken by grief, already knew of Jan's death and only nodded as he told her of the events outside the city walls. The Duchess Adelheidis, who had married Hans only this past year, burst out in tears as she heard of her husband's death, and Adalberth almost felt compelled to stay as her guardian and let her have the grail as heirloom, but a voice inside him disagreed, pushed him onwards to pass the grail to someone more worthy of it. And so he stayed for a mere week, helping her with errands and protecting her from scum. In the end, he knew that he had one last task to complete before he could return and bid her farewell, embarking on a swift ship to Outremer.

~ *** ~

Antioch docks, 1331 AD
The winds had been rough and their ships had only escaped Venetian pirates narrowly over the course of travel. Indeed, Adalberth was glad that they had made it out alive, and that he was not on one of the vessels that were sunk. He crossed himself and prayed to God as he disembarked, thanking him for His guidance to this Holy Land. As he arrived at the docks, he notcied the commotion and men hurrying about to building a large fleet. Was Elberhard leaving Outremer too? he thought to himself. He caught one of the workers and was told that Elberhard was in the captain's cabin of the flagship and quickly made his way over, the desert sun bearing down on his old body, even though he was used to it from his time in Outremer with Hans. How will I tell him of his brother's death? crossed his mind as he was let into the cabin, where Elberhard and Linyeve resided. As he exited the cabin hours later, exhausted from telling his story and announcing that Athalwolf had been pronounced Duke of Swabia, he contemplated his next move. He was old, too old, to still serve in the Imperial army, and there was little left to do for him in this world. He had never thought that he would outlive Hans, who he at first had felt as a protector for. Over the years, they had formed a strong bond of friendship, rode to battle countless times to be the only ones to come out alive. And now that he was dead, there was this emptiness that ate away at him. He would return to Adelheidis and serve out the rest of his time as her guardian. It was the least that he could do for his friend.

[GeneralHankerchief]

Somewhere in the Swiss Alps, 1330

Alexander Luther, cold, hungry, and alone, was continuing his desperate flight from the city of Bern which had begun around a week ago. He had no idea where he was, although he gathered that it was somewhere northeast of the city since that was the direction he had fled in, and he was concerned about putting as many miles as possible between him and that apocalyptic death match he had seen.

It was the first battle he had seen up close, and he was terrified.

Really, he had no choice to see it up close, as there was nowhere for Dietrich von Dassel to put him that was safe. He had requested being hidden in a church, or a nice house, but Dietrich had insisted that Luther ride with him.

"The safest point in the battle will be by my side," he said to Luther before the fighting had begun. "I am not so foolish as to throw this escort's life away, and besides, if all does not go well they will surely find you in the city and kill you. At least you have a chance of fleeing with me."

Luther reluctantly agreed, and became witness to Dietrich riding around desperately, cursing, grinning, cheering, and barking out orders left and right at a rapid-fire pace, becoming more and more agitated as the battle progressed. He was clearly in his element, but Luther could only concentrate on staying on his mount.

He wished he had a mount now. Navigating through the rough forest of the Alps was difficult for a fine soldier in the prime of his life. He was a professional theologian who was well past his best years.

So, mostly, he trusted his faith to see him through this period of trial. How could it not? After all, he had already been spared by the Lord twice at the Battle of Bern. How could he be wrong after twice escaping death?

The first escape was right after Dietrich had made the decision to sally out of the city, the city that he had professed to defend and let Hans impale himself on for years now. He was clearly agitated about it, and was also the most indecisive that Luther had ever seen him. When he finally made the decision though, he followed it through, ordering the northern and western walls abandoned.

After the Sergeants had left, the peasant uprising had sprung, bogging down two full regiments of crossbowmen. Luther had looked at Dietrich, who simply pointed at the peasants, eyes blazing with fury. Before he knew it the escort was charging, himself included, right into the fray. And that was when the terror began.

He found himself, although admittedly in armor, surrounded by enemies, people that wanted to kill him. And one man came close, spotting him, dagger ready, eyes fixed on Luther's horse's soft underbelly...

...and then, out of nowhere, a sword emerged from the man's neck, sending him slumping to the ground instantly. Luther breathed a sigh of relief.

The battle and those peasants were certainly terrifying, but Luther prayed that he would come across one of them now, any friendly farmer or goat herder that would give him a proper meal and a proper bed. He wouldn't even have to give them his name, because helping out a person in need was the good Christian thing to do.

No such peasants could be seen, however, and he simply stumbled on, uphill of course, and there was not a break in the monotony of rocks, trees, and grass anywhere, no sign of humans ever having set their eyes upon this place. Oh sure, there was the occasional wildlife, but he was truly alone.

During his trek, Luther had a lot of time to think. He pondered his life, his career, his teachings, and mostly, the memories of what had happened in the final moments north of the city, which would stay with him forever, for even a week after his numbing journey, they still stood out vividly.

There was Hans's last stand, and although the loyalists north of the city had no hope of winning they were still frightfully successful, charging and charging again, rolling over Dietrich's poor infantry. The rebel commander that he had followed from Ragusa to Durazzo to Bologna to Florence to Innsbruck, and finally to Bern, had watched helplessly as every charge whittled away his chances of winning the battle. He remained calm, however, and watchful, even throwing his helmet to get a better view of the situation.

Suddenly, he saw an opening and roared for his escort to charge, and they did in a last-ditch attempt to win the day and destroy Hans. Luck was with them, for the Duke of Swabia was caught in the open and pulverized by a lance, unhorsing him and knocking him senseless. After that stroke of luck the loyalist infantry had simply given up, and all that remained alive on the field were Hans (now Dietrich's personal prisoner), Luther, and a handful of his escort. There was a brief moment of calm in the terror.

Then, someone pointed out the dreaded sight - two hundred-strong cavalry, out of the western gate, heading directly for the survivors.

"Dietrich," Luther cried, "The battle is lost! We must flee now to save ourselves."

Dietrich said nothing, simply wearing a twisted grin on his face and staring at Hans, who was beginning to come to. "No," he said, "It is a draw." And with that, his eyes now shining brightly, still grinning, he took his sword and quickly decapitated Hans the Mighty, Duke of Swabia, ex-Chancellor of the Reich, last survivor of the First Crusade, Possessor of the Holy Grail, and grandson of Kaiser Heinrich.

"I have done what I set out to do," he said as the enemy cavalry thundered closer. "I have avenged Jens Hummel and killed Hans. Jan von Hamburg and his retinue are nowhere to be found in this charge. My guess is that they all fell to my Gothic Knights in the center of town. That impetuous fool."

The rest of the escort simply stared at him. Dietrich continued talking. "I have done what I set out to do," he said again. "The loyalists are without leaders. Who cares if Bern falls?"

The cavalry drew closer. "Come, let us ride." And they did, but it was hopeless, and Dietrich saw this quickly. Luther could only watch as the rebel commander turned around, faced the incoming charge with his arms open wide, and took the lance blow directly in the chest from the Teuton that had ignored the white flag being raised. Luther could only watch as the Teuton dismounted and bashed Dietrich's helmetless head again and again in a fit of anger, bright red blood pouring out from a thousand different angles.

He took it as his cue to leave as he silently shed his armor and began his trek through the Alps as the rest of Dietrich's comrades and Jan's cavalry ignored him, focusing on the fourth and final fallen leader. This was his second escape.

Although was it a true escape? After all, he had not yet found shelter; he was still a prisoner of the Alps. If he did, it might very well be a Catholic knight waiting for him, a Catholic Knight that knew his face and knew all that Luther and von Dassel were responsible for.

He decided that it was best if he kept on moving and embraced what fate the Lord had in mind for him.

[deguerra]

Ludwig von Böhmen

Somewhere near the Polish-Bohemian Border:

There had been a satisfying look of shock on the Pole’s face, Ludwig reminisced as he tried to clean the sickly sweet blood of his sword and robes. Still, that look burned into his conscience. It was important that the man had been surprised, important that he had not had the chance to scream, important that nobody knew. That did not have to mean it felt right.

Muttering a short prayer for the dead man, perhaps a little for himself too, he made his way back to Heinrich, who was watching the horses a little way up the gentle slope. Despite the short man being some years older than him, Ludwig had always felt better in his presence than in that of the boys his age. Their poorly hidden greed in the presence of a noble’s son sickened him.

It was not as though he had anything to give, any favours to grant, any rewards to dish out. His family’s holdings comprised no more than three villages and a slightly oversized farmhouse which his father chose to label ‘castle’. Ludwig often found himself wondering why the Poles even bothered with them.

“He is dead”. Heinrich seldom asked questions. Where in that Silesian farmer’s skull did he pull such cold hardness from? “You had to do it, Ludwig. He would have warned the others. I would have done it, but you are stronger than I”. That was a lie. The little man had the strength of bear, and the cunning of a viper. And sometimes the tongue too. “Because I am too lazy to walk.” That had been Heinrich’s answer to Ludwig’s father’s question of why he chose to ride with his son. Even the old man had been hard-pressed not to smile at such audacity.

Grinning grimly, he re-mounted. Coming out of the little forest at the top of the hill, he risked a glance over the rim to the Pole’s camp. It was empty. Startled, he spurred his horse on, down into the shadow of the valley, Heinrich yelling something behind him. Where had they gone?

“…a trap!”, he heard Heinrich coming up behind him. “Nonsense my friend, they did not know anyone was there to trap. But where did they go?” Still looking at the trees around him suspiciously, Heinrich dismounted and headed towards the remains of a fire. Kicking at the ashes with one lazy boot, he said: “Judging from this, I’d say they’ve been gone at least…”. A thunderous roar went up in the distance, hitting the valley in a few seconds and bouncing off the walls to grow so deafening that it made the horses rear, with Ludwig struggling to keep from being dismounted. Even before he was in complete control of his mount, he raced off towards the ‘castle’.

He could smell the smoke even before he saw it. His father had insisted on keeping a storage of blackpowder, had insisted it was the way of the future. Arriving at the crest of a little rise, Ludwig saw that the entire complex was ablaze, not individual little fires, but one huge snarling monster. A lone figure was stumbling away from the complex. Ludwig dashed to intercept him, just as he heard Heinrich gasp as he too reached the crest.

It was Tomasz, a stableman in his father’s employ, with a love for horses only matched by a love for drink. He gave a start as Ludwig came into his blurred vision, then recognition marked his face and he slumped into the tall grass. In a firm little voice that belied his outward distress he said: “They are dead, Herr. All of them. Those the Poles did not surprise were torn apart when those fools set fire to the powder storage. I don’t think any of those made it out either. Your father was wounded by a Polish lance. He gave Johann this for you. I took it off Johann’s body. Or what was left of it.”

The sentences came out abruptly and breathlessly. When he finished he held up a charred bit of paper. Ludwig took it, knowing what it was. His father’s prized possession. To him it had represented the reward for years of grovelling, of building up favours and alliances, of bowing his head and doing the will of the mighty. Beside him, Tomasz collapsed into the grass and Heinrich rushed to close his dead eyes.

Ludwig looked back at the burning castle. The shock of the moment had not hit him, would not hit him for a while yet. But a realisation dawned on him, that his future here was over. This land could not be held, not while the Empire was busy fighting itself too much to care about its people. His father had been wrong, and now he had paid the price.

He looked again at the paper in his hand, studying it as if he was seeing it for the first time. Was this his future? Service under a rebel, true, but also under a man who respected his people, who looked out for and cared for his lands. A small bit of his conscience reminded him of his loyalty to the Empire. He told it to burn in hell, and turned his horse towards the west.

[Zim]

Jan looked uncomfortable in the sumptuous working space provided for him, so unlike his training headquarters back in Staufen. He had been in Antwerp a scant few days. Upon his entrance his soldiers had kept the crowds away from him, but he knew he wa unpopular. The Flemish quarters were peaceful enough, but the Danish quarters, the larger of the two, had been brutally sacked when Hummel had first taken it.

"Sir?"

"Huh?" Jan exclaimed, broken out of his revery by the attendant he summoned earlier. "Take all of this down" he said, "Citizens of Antwerp, I know the recent years have been difficult. Especially for our Danish residents. Much ire as been directed rightfully at those of us that conquered the city. Things needed were done, but they were also horrible things. Many of you likely resent me as a symbol of Prinz Hummel. However, circumstances beyond all of our control must drive us together, or they will destroy us."

"The French even now besiege our sister city of Bruges. They command a mighty host. They will easily take it, and then they will then immediately bear down on us. Our only hope is to meet them outside Bruges, or stop them on their way here. However, we lack the troops to face them. This is where I must call on you."

"I need any able bodied man, Flemish or Danish, that possesses training and weaponry to assemble as a volunteer force to defeat the French host. I cannot afford to pay anything beyond what can be scavenged from the bodies of our dead foes, but this is a battle for our very survival. I promise this, that forces raised will only be used to fight this French army. Danish volunteers will not be forced to fight their countrymen, only the French. The volunteer force will be immediately disbanded once Bruges can be secured, or if that is impossible, after any army threatening Antwep is destroyed. Anti-discrimination laws concerning the Danish citizens of the city will be passed, regardless of whether any forces are raised. We are all in this trouble together, and must face it as equals and comrades".

"I know this is a difficult request, but these are difficult times. I have little to offer and know that you owe me no obligation. I can only beg you to do it for the good of the city. I beseech you, in the name of God and all that is holy, join me in the defense of our city!"

"Sign it in the name of Jan von der Pfalz, Count of Antwerp", Jan commanded, "and have it read in every church, every open forum and market place, and every public house in the city".

"Yes, sir", the aid replied, leaving to accomplish the task.

I hope this works, or the Duchy of Flanders might be shortlived, Jan thought. Whatever happened, though, I won't let Antwerp fall without a fight!

[Warluster]

1332, Staufen.

Athalwolf von Salza was in a angry discussion with one of his aides, about the option of 'The Meeting'. The Meeting was that of a lifetime, when two enemies meet each other face-to-face, when all past things are laid to rest. The generals in Athalwolf's army were ready for peace, with the sluaghter at Bern. After the death of Duke Hans, mourned by Swabia, and the death of all other tragic heroes at that battlefield, enough was enough, especially with the Kaiser's proclamation.
"But- But we will be attacked with no army! These useless scum will turn and kil-" Athalwolf crashed his fist down upon the table, furious.
"I hope you do not refer to any of our opponents, man! No General is scum, unless they run like a dog, or bark like one!" roared Athalwolf,
"But sir! I meant the people of Metz! When we go to the bridge they will turn on us and kill the army!" yelled the weak man pitifully back.

Athalwolf and his Army were heading to Metz. On the bridges outside the city, Athalwolf and Wolfgang were meeting to discuss the future of Hummel's Duchy, and Swabia. Thus; The Meeting, that of two old enemies. Athalwolf sat down wearily on a wooden chair, and holding his head, waved the aide away. Discussion over. The man whipped up his head and stalked out, defeated by the mans influence. A Sergeant Guard, in plate armor, poked his head in through the door.
"Sorry mein Duke, but we have a visitor here requesting you here. He, ah, says something strange...” finished the Guard, not wanting to procede.
"What?" stabbed Athalwolf.
"He calls for Athalwolf Leroy." Athalwolf softly swore. Bloody, damned people, Can't they let him live a normal life!? thought Athalwolf.
"Send him in." he sighed, resigning himself to a sitting position which enabled him a look of control of the situation. A man came in, in blue tunic. He bowed,
"Mon lord." He used the French word 'mon'.
"I come here today from Duke Leroy. He sends his heartfelt gratitude for giving him the city." A heart beat skipped, then the blood creeped up Athalwolf's neck. He didn't show his curiosity though.
"Giving him, ah, the city?" asked Athalwolf, I must've been drunk H thought.
"Yes, mon lord. The city of Rheims. Duke Leroy came with some 800 men and marched though the streets, to the cheers of its population, and all that day praised your name. Of course, there was the terrible news of Bern..." He wandered off. Athalwolf covered his eyes with a hand.
“The Duke also says he is very sorry for annoying you. In has accepted an apology for the problem in Toledo. He hopes past deeds, such as Dijon, shall be put to rest, with your passing.” Said the man, drawling now. Athalwolf looked up. The man had a sly look on his face, and he drew a long knife.
“Good bye, Athalwolf Leroy, foe of the Leroy House, and enemy of France.” He spat, and raised the knife to stab. Athalwolf was defenseless, he would not have time to draw his sword, and if he fell over the man would still get him. Nothing was left but death. Athalwolf realized, he was meant to have been led to Toledo, he was meant to know of Dijon. The long point of the dagger slowly, has if wasting time came downwards.

Then stopped.

Athalwolf looked; the man was in the same position. With a long sword protruding from his chest. He gasped for lost air, the last breath rattling in his lungs. He gulped furiously, knowing he was beaten and had failed his Leroy master. The sword withdrew, and the boy collapsed, twitching some final times in a bloody mass on the floor. The Sergeant Guard stood, with a wiped blade at his side, grinning.
“By god man, you just saved my life.” Exclaimed Athalwolf, who stood. He was not shaken, scared of what happened. Just accepting if this man hadn’t been born, he’d be dead.
“No problem sir. I just saw the look on your face at his arrival, and ah, kept an eye to make sure he didn’t try anything. Paid off, I guess sir?” he said, eyes twinkling. Athalwolf let a quick smile slip onto his face, which was worth gold to the Sergeant Guard.
“Promotion, Instantly! I shall notify my aide…” at the mention of him the aide slipped inside and stopped before the man, he then held his mouth and ran for a bathroom.
“…and your promotion to, hm… Bodyguard shall be instant.” Said Athalwolf, sitting down and dismissing the man. The Guard grinned and left cheerfully. Athalwolf went into his private bedchambers, and looked at himself in the mirror. I could, at this moment, be on the floor bleeding to death! Thought Athalwolf. He splashed some water over his face and sat. Why had the Duke Leroy wanted him dead, why Athalwolf, one of the Leroy descendants. He walked into his office, and watched the dead body being dragged away by the other Guard’s, then raised a hand to stop them.
“I want to check the body.” He stated and went over to the dead man, and riffled through he pockets. There was nothing except some gold coins, a gold necklace and a note.
‘Dear Duke von Salza,
You know now. We do not want your existence to continue. You are a threat to France, and a threat to the Leroy family. Your traitorous father, declaring he a von Salza, we shall stop at nothing to kill you. Let it be known, The Guild of Leroy hunts you down, you are a marked man.’ Stated the note, Athalwolf waved away the dead body and Guards, and re read it. They knew this simple man as too die, they also planned it. And the Guild of Leroy… All rang suspicious, all rang clear. Only the last words made sense ‘you are a marked man’ Atholwolf sat for his next appointment. One meeting with an old enemy, one argument with an angry aide, and one assassination attempt, and the uncovering of a deeper plot. He cracked his knuckles,
All in a days work.

[deguerra]

(to be distributed in the County of Bruges)

"AN MEIN VOLK:

People of Bruges,

I have, in these times of trouble, had the honour and trust bestowed in me to rule this County of Bruges for the illustrious Prinz Wolfgang of Swabia. Despite, or perhaps even because of these hard times, I consider myself fortunate to be able to rule such fine, hard-working and god-fearing people.

I would like to remind you, my people, of the kindness shown to you by Prinz Hummel when he first liberated your fine city from the oppressive yoke of your former masters. Despite his own hardship, that of Swabia and of the Empire, Prinz Hummel lavished sums upon your fair city to make it prosper in these dark times. I ask that you remember his kindness.

I would like to remind you, my people, of the strength and glory of the Holy Roman Empire, and of the peace and prosperity it has brought to those under its rule. When faced with the hordes of the thieving French, it is time to put aside internal differences, and fight against a common foe. I ask that you remember Imperial might.

And I would like to remind you, my people, of the power of God and the glory of the Kingdom of Heaven. When you fight against French swines you rise up against pagan scum, whom even the Holy Father has deemed to be so unacceptable as to outlaw the man who boasts the errant title of French King. To kill a man who fights under tha banner of France is no sin under God, nay it is to be rightly rewarded as ridding the world of another sinner. I ask that you remember the glory of God.

And remembering these things, kindness might and glory, I ask that you, people of Bruges, proud and strong, rise against these people who have come to invade your lands, to steal your wealth, to burn your houses, to pillage your towns and to rape your families. Join me and your fellow Flemish in Antwerpen so that we might gather our forces and drive the invaders from our lands. I pledge that I shall not rest until I see that done!

Ludwig von Böhmen, Graf von Brugge"

[AussieGiant]

Ragusa 1332

Grom walked towards the great hall located at the centre of the Austrian Citadel. In his hand were the field reports from Bern detailing the demise of three of the Reich's most well known nobles, including the ex King of Outremer Jan von Hamburg.

As usual the hall was brightly lit with massive chandeliers allowing the Duke to work nearly around the clock.

As the massive barbarian approached the Duke looked up.

Grom noticed the toll this crisis was taking on his Duke. While still physically strong and a true menace on the battle field, the Duke's black hair was streaked with grey now and the lines under his eye's showed how little sleep he was getting.

"My Lord, here are the reports from Bern...Hans, Jan and Dietrich have perished in the battle. Luther is no where to be found and the city is now in the hands of loyalist forces."

Handing the reports to the Duke, Grom stood at ease waiting for orders.

"Here," the Duke handed Grom a letter.

"Send this to the family of von Hamburg. If they require, we will provide lodging and assistance to his family now that he has fallen."

Handing another letter plus glancing at a sack full of money by the great table the Duke continued.

"Lorenz's money arrived this evening. Contact the Quarter Master General and have him outfit the recruited troops as detailed in this order. Then send them immediately to Lorenz Zirn just outside Vienna.

That is all."

Turning on his heal Grom quickly scanned the recruiting order. It was an impressive list of regiments and would give Lorenz a substantial force in order to conduct operations in and around Vienna.

The second order was simply incredible. It detailed an order of march, a personal guard and an estate house on the coast just north of Ragusa for the entire family of the late Jan von Hamburg.

There's no way they will accept thought Grom...but still, it was one of the safest places in the Reich at the moment...the only safer place was within sword strike of the Duke himself.

Strange things are happening thought Grom…the Reich was being torn apart and the old lines of internal conflict are being destroyed just as much as the external one’s. Bane’s going to have a brain aneurysm when he hears about this. Grom smiled at the thought of seeing the Dread Knight finally lose his composure.

[AussieGiant]

Ragusa 1334

The great hall was again lit for a late evening of work. The only figure at the massive table was the Duke himself, the remaining people in the room were servants and assistants running back forth brining the latest reports of how the Duchy was fairing.

Arnold re-read the letter for any sign of hidden meaning. Deciding there wasn’t he cast the letter into the fire.

Jan von Hamburg’s wife and family had decline his offer preferring to stay in Bern with the loyalist forces in the area. He certainly couldn’t blame her for declining an offer from someone who was clearly not an ally of the late and ex-King of Outremer.

So be it, the offer was made the answer given, nice, simple and complete.

Picking up the next piece of correspondence his brow furrowed. This situation, on the other hand, was entirely the opposite.

The Dread Knight Bane had been sending updates on the prolonged and drawn out attempts at resolving the “issue” with Becker in Prague.

The latest round of discussion had been wholly unproductive. At least from what he could read, Bane seemed to have tired of the parry and thrust of negotiations and had attempted to obtain an answer one way or the other. The offer was simple. Becker was asked to state his grievance and then outline what he wanted in return for rejoining the Duchy. Neither question had been answered in any real way.

Leaning back in his chair Arnold cast his thoughts back to the responses he had received from the newly appointed Prinz and that of the Kaiser himself. Both men seemed more than comfortable with having this issue resolved through a Diet vote.

Shaking his head in disbelief the Duke could not fathom how both men could come to the conclusion to allow a vote. This would simply and affectively open the door for any and all nobles to declare independence and be able to request a vote on the matter…no matter how tenuous their issue or problem was.

This tacit acceptance of disloyalty was nearly beyond his understanding. It seemed as if neither men realised the precedent that would be set if this was to occur. The Duke hoped that both men would come to realise, that given this was potentially to their favour in this instance, it could quickly turn against them. If all lines of loyalty or oath giving could be cast aside and circumnavigated politically, the whole structure of the Reich would be in jeopardy. Such a weak approach to the subject of loyalty was anathema to the memory of those early men of the Reich as far as Arnold was concerned. His father was a figure of legend AND loyalty, fighting to the end of his life to further not only the Reich’s heimat but also Outremer.

Christ, he thought…if any of traditional relationships of loyalty should be questioned now, it was the one between the Kaiser and his Dukes. As the first in a string of linear links of bondage and oath giving, the late Kaiser Siegfried and the current Kaiser's actions and words leading up to this crisis were a clear breach of trust and loyalty. Not one of the Dukes were consulted as far as he knew, yet Siegfried had gone ahead and acted without consent or even a discussion with any of his Dukes on the matter. Yet here he was having to negotiate with a disenchanted Count, and neither of his superiors seemed overly concerned.

If anything was to come out of the this crisis it was the current inability of the Diet to control or at least prevent the Kaiser acting on behalf of the Reich without any agreement.

Loyalty he thought, his father was famous for it, his was never in question, but if neither the Prinz or the current Kaiser showed any real opinion or passion on the subject, then why should he. If politics was more important than looking a man in the eyes, hearing his oath and then being able to count on him to the end, then the Reich had changed, and not for the better in his mind. If the breaking of an oath could be voted on, then it was already broken in the Duke's opinion.

Moments passed, Arnold sat as still as a statue, gazing into the fire the red embers caught in his eyes.

With a swift motion he stood in his Obsidian Plate. The attending guards stiffened in response, something was happening, the lethargy and near despair of the past months seemed to wash away in an instant.

From high above, hidden away in an alcove the body language was not missed by the dark figure observing his target. The figure was concerned, having the Dread Duke lacking fire or motivation had been an added bonus to his masters. Seeing the Duke rise so purposefully and begin to bark orders was disconcerting to say the least. He must report this at once.

Far below, the hall burst into activity, at it centre was the Dread Duke, in some moments ghastly and foreboding, the next laughing and joking...

...and somehow, both of his dominant traits managed to cause the same effect...

those who worked for him, or were loyal to him, were equally inspired out of fear, respect or some other motivation to give the utmost to their masters demands, threats or requests.

It was a sight rarely seen in public and amazing to see first hand.

Yes thought the hood figure far above...the Dread Duke was back in "the game" once more and therefore, he was a serious threat to his masters plans.

Something would have to be done...and soon.

[Ramses II CP]

Stettin, 1334

Fritz von Kastilien, Count of Stettin, looked about him at the thin, broken faces of the peasants of his city as they toiled in the broken remnant of their homeland. It galled him to know that Hamburg still stood tall and strong under the Danes while his own lands were so diminished by the war. Stettin had been all but destroyed in the fighting and his men's enforcement of discipline at Fritz's own encouragement had ground the city into little more than an underpopulated town.

Here I won a great victory, he thought, and here my greed and need for control turned that victory to a near defeat. These people cannot afford to pay their taxes and eat, and my army cannot be maintained on what they'd be able to pay anyway. I will not cower here, trapped like a rat! These were my people, but are they still? Is there some way still that they could serve the Reich?

Beckoning to a peasant girl he allowed himself a momentary, grim smile. She hurriedly dropped her load of wet cloth and rushed to his side. Trembling she gazed at her feet and did not speak.

Fritz took her chin in his hand and lifted her face. There, running along the left side of her neck, was the faint but unmistakable scar of a young woman who had not found safe refuge during one sack of the city. Whether it was his men or the Danes who had done this was irrelevant, knowing it was done because of Fritz's own failures haunted him. So many girls of the city had a similar mark from the almost gentle touch of a blade to their throat that some had taken to calling it the Stettin Scar. Some called it the von Kastilien Mark too, though not in Fritz's hearing. Fritz's own blood no longer ran so hot, but though his hand had held no dagger it was his acts that set every one of them in place, including the ones that left a 'smile' instead of a scar.

The girl's eyes were wet, but cold and empty. She had already surrendered to the inevitable. Next time the knife would not be necessary.

Without a word Fritz released the girl, tossed her a florin, and gestured down the street. She fled immediately, pausing only to take up her burden again before vanishing out of sight, in the same direction from which she had approached.

Though they would obey me instantly, these are no longer my people, Fritz thought. They cannot pay me my dues, they do not love me, and rightly so, and there are none here who could serve if I needed to raise an army. Still, there must be some way Stettin can serve!

Now a small contingent of mercenaries swaggered down the street dragging a rough looking man in dark clothes. They tossed him to his knees before Fritz.

'M'Lord! I bring grave news out of the east! The Russians are coming. They've taken my farm and they even now make camp in the eastern wood.'

Waving a hand dismissively at the peasant Fritz turned to his mercenary captain, 'Send scouts to confirm this report, then arrange for an envoy under white flag to meet with their commander. I have an offer to make these Russians. If they accept, we will be marching west within the week. Ask the lads if any of them came through Hamburg since the Danes took it...'

:egypt:

[OverKnight]

Antioch, 1334

As he pored over a map in his study, Matthias remembered the great fleet sailing, watching it go west until all the sails had disappeared beneath the horizon. The Kaiser and Dieter von Kassel had been on those ships, along with two thirds of the fighting men in Outremer. Elberhard had passed the title of King onto him in a perfunctory ceremony held on the docks. Still, the new ruler considered himself lucky that the Kaiser had not cast the Crown into the sea from his ship, like the former Doges of Venice casting a ring into the Adriatic, forcing Matthias to dive in and fetch it. The two men had cooperated in the defense of Outremer, brilliantly at points, but Matthias was left with the impression that if he had the choice, Elberhard would have given Outremer to someone less. . .defiant.

Granted, if Matthias hadn't been so obstinate, there would be no Imperial Outremer, all of it would have gone to the English, instead of just half of it. Matthias grunted, he was King, but of only two counties and he had no vassals. His title was a legacy of the past, of a Kingdom more powerful and far reaching than the one he now ruled. Outremer, through fate and incompetence, was a shadow of its former self. So much had been lost.

His fist crashed down on the map table. One of the reasons he had stayed was to set that right. To restore the Kingdom to its glory. Mere survival would not suffice. Yet even survival was not guaranteed. After the banner year of 1326 it looked as if the Greeks had been crushed in the Levant, but they had only been biding their time. Two massive armies were attempting to flank and surround him at the Iron Bridge. The Turks were restive and who knew the intent of the Egyptians.

Retreat to Acre, some would say, make a stand there. Matthias shook his head. He had not stayed in Outremer to run, to hide behind walls. It would dishonor the legacy of St. Maximillian and the past Kings, and it would betray the citizens of Outremer who had put their faith in him. They had been sold out too many times for him to do it again.

The Greeks must be repulsed, killed, butchered until they came no more, until that which was lost had been reclaimed, until Adana was Imperial once more. Nikeforos might be dead, but they all deserved to die, and he would be their executioner.

Much better to die fighting in a Holy cause, than live a coward.

"Amen," he muttered to himself, a finger tracing the course of the Orontes on the map, "Amen."

[econ21]

Somewhere in the Eastern Med, 1334


Jurgen Zimmler was a strange sort. He was a proficient bosun - strong even for a sailor - and had an ingratiating manner. But there was something not quite right about the man, with his greasy hair and shifty eyes. When suitably inebriated, Zimmler would tell tall tales about his sexual conquests that made the other sailors laugh out loud. But inwardly, the crew were left feeling uneasy about how much of the cruel exploits was false and how much might possibly be true. The younger sailors gave Zimmler a wide berth. More than one boy had left the ship under a cloud after a falling out with the man. The older sailors had learnt not to cross him. His enemies had a strange habit of disappearing from the ship in the night, never to be seen of again. Why the Captain tolerated Zimmler’s dark presence was never understood, but there were whispers that the bosun had some kind of hold over the Captain.

The arrival of the Kaiser’s party on the ship lightened the mood of the crew. Elberhard liked to fraternise with the men so there was never a shortage of wine and his lewd tales from his youth rivalled Zimmler’s in excess, although they lacked the undercurrent of violence. Whether it was because of the presence of so eminent a rival, or because of the knights patrolling the deck, Jurgen Zimmler seemed positively subdued. He moped around the ship, with a distant look and a mind clearly elsewhere.



*****


“What the @#$%^&!!! are we going to do with her? Stuck on this boat with a hundred @#$%^&!!!ing rough men!” exclaimed Elberhard.

Eue listened intently from outside the cabin, sitting on the wooden stairs. She heard her mother’s incisive voice:

“You must assign one of your men to watch over her, to never let her out of his sight. Who do you trust most?”

Not Nikolas, not Nikolas, anyone but Nikolas, prayed Eue. The Kaiser’s old mentor had always struck Eue as a creep - sweaty, pompous and patronising. What her father had ever learnt from the man, Eue could not imagine.

“Well, I would trust Captain Jan with…”

“With the Reich’s Treasury, yes dear, I know. But that did not turn out awfully well for you did it?” cut in Linyeve.

“All right, Mein Herr then.”

Eue gasped - Mein Herr, the Nubian shieldbearer who never spoke? This was intolerable!

“Mein Herr? Are you sure?” she heard her mother sound surprised.

Please, mum, please - stop him!

“Yeah, no one better to watch your back.” said Elberhard emphatically.

“All right, Mein Herr it is.”

NO! Eue screamed in her head.

Her parents turned at a faint sound coming from outside the door, but when Linyeve came out and looked up the stairs, they were empty.



*****


Eue would not look up at Mein Herr. She lay on her bunk, her face buried in a book. Elberhard looked awkwardly at his rude daughter and shuffled. He cast a glance at Mein Herr. The Nubian stood, starting forward, serenely. My God, thought, Elberhard, these two are made for each other.

“All right, love, then … err … I’ll leave you two to get on with it.” The Kaiser made a quick exit.

Eue watched her father leave from the corner of her eye and then risked a glance at his shieldbearer. Mein Herr stood without blinking, standing as if on parade. She kicked the door closed with her foot, leaving the Nubian on guard outside her cabin. She turned back to her book, but as the minutes became hours, the impassive and exotic figure outside her room started to exercise her mind far more than the dull and familiar scripture in front of her.

While walking after lunch, Eue’s curiosity got the better of her.

“Can you talk, Nubian?” she said, acidly.

“Yes, Princess.” said Mein Herr. His voice had a thick accent, deep and rich, as if drenched in molasses.

“Why do they call you Mein Herr?”

“My name is Maina. Perhaps it is their little joke.” Eue swore she could make out the twinkle of a smile in the corner of Mein Herr’s eyes. She could not help but think the joke was on the ignorant Germans.

“But they don’t like you, do they? Is it because you are a schwarzer?” pressed Eue, insensitively.

“Maybe. Or maybe it was the manner of my arrival.” said Mein Herr coolly.

“You were caught in battle - you were one of the enemy.” stated Eue.

“Yes, I was caught in battle. But not before I killed three of your father’s retinue.”

“What?” Eue could not hide her surprise. Yes, Mein Herr was a brute of a figure, but how could such a primitive man slay three of the Reich’s finest knights?

Mein Herr took in her expression: “Yes, the others, they did not believe it either.” he explained: “So I challenged them to a joust.”

“What?!” said Eue, even louder. The idea of a Nubian at a joust seemed even more unlikely than Mein Herr’s previous claim. “You could joust?”

“No, Princess. I was in the Tarbardariyya. I was a foot soldier. I wielded an axe. I could not use a lance nor ride a horse.”

“But you fought a joust?”

“I fought four jousts - to prove that my account of my capture was true.”

“You killed four more of my father’s knights?”

“No, no, Princess.” Mein Herr reassured her. “I only killed three more. The first three jousts.”

“And the fourth joust?” pressed Eue.

“That was against your father.” said Mein Herr, matter of factly.

“WHAT???!!!” Eue was now purple at the latest of these absurd tales.

“Yes. He saw me kill three of his champions in a row. He was not happy. He said some bad words. Then he came onto the jousting field. His guards tried to stop him, but your father is a reckless man. He came on.”

“Hah, and he knocked you down!” said Eue triumphantly.

Mein Herr smiled: “No, Princess. I brought down his horse. And then I put my axe to his neck.”

Eue’s eyes were bulging and Mein Herr smiled.

“Princess, I may be a schwarzer, but I am no fool. I would not kill the Emperor of the Reich in the middle of his army camp. I gave your father my axe. And he gave me this position. There was a vacancy. Sir Paul Mulner - his previous shieldbearer - was one of the six knights I had slain.”

Eue looked cross. “But how - how could you defeat six knights while just on foot with an axe?”

Mein Herr gave an easy smile: “Princess, you know the game “chicken”, right? Two people charge at each other and the one who flinches first, loses? Well, jousting is not unlike that. Yes, a couched lance is a formidable weapon. But once you are past the point, the knight is helpless. And a Tarbardariyya axe can take down the heaviest horse or the heaviest armour. You’ve just got to know when to duck.”

Eue pulled a face at the mental image of the Nubian’s axe striking a fine warhorse or German champion. She sized up Mein Herr. He was staring straightforward again, with a serene expression. Eue smiled.



*****


“Who do you think I will marry?” said Eue.

Mein Herr gave the Princess a withering look. “Princess, it is not my place…”

“Yes, yes, you don’t speak, I forgot.” said Eue lightly. “Except… you do talk, don’t you? Rather a lot, in fact, when it is about your axe wielding exploits. You’ve learnt rather a lot while you have been with my father, haven’t you? You’ve learnt our language, how to ride, how to survive in a court full of prejudice and intrigue? You were always at my father’s side - I suspect you know more about matters of state than most of our Electors.”

Eue paused. “So tell me, I know I am a commodity, a tool, one of the few instruments of power my father still wields in this disloyal and chaotic Reich. Who do you think I will marry?”

Mein Herr remained impassive.

“Do you know that absurd little man, Hummel, had the temerity to ask my father for my hand?!”

Mein Herr looked Eue: “Do not underestimate a man such as him, Princess. Duke Athalwolf underestimated him, your late uncle Hans underestimated him. His ambition is so great, it leads people to dismiss him. But to achieve great things, you first need great ambition.”

“Fine, we’ll put Hummel on the “maybe” list, then shall we? Pros - vast, overweening ambition. Cons - dirty backstabbing little traitor. Fine. Who’s next? Ah yes, Duke Arnold. What do you think of him?”

Mein Herr remained impassive.

“Well, what I think is that the man is so desperate to get hitched, he’d marry one of his pachydermic namesakes if they could bear him offspring.” Eue thought she could see the corners of Mein Herr’s eyes wrinkle at this declaration. “But I think he and my father may have burnt their bridges over Prague.”

Mein Herr seemed to tire and said with a slight air of mischief: “What about Dieter von Kassel, Princess? He is closer to your age and you did get to know him in Outremer.”

“Oh, please!” said Eue crossly, her face going red. “The man does nothing but talk about his horse. Angus this.. Angus that…I must charge these Papists because Angus needs some exercise!”

“Very well” said Mein Herr in his deep, rich voice: “Better put him in the “maybe” pile with Hummel then shall we?”

Eue threw her book at the Nubian, but it was some minutes before the smile left her face.



*****


The ship was dead in the water. There was no wind. But it was fine, warm day, so Elberhard organised a swim in the balmy sea water. After weeks at sail, the passengers were delighted to find a distraction, although their swimming ability meant that more than once proud knights had to suffer the indignity of being rescued by common sailors. After the men had returned from the sea, Linyeve took Eue into the water, watched by Elberhard and Mein Herr. The Nubian taught Eue to float effortlessly on her back and then provided an inflated pigskin to help her learn the rudiments of swimming. The freedom provided by the open sea exhilarated the princess.

As she clambered back on board the ship, Eue gratefully hugged her Nubian swimming instructor but was immediately reprimanded by her mother.

“Eue! What are you thinking? Get back to your cabin, now!”

Red faced, the Princess fled to her cabin while Mein Herr cast his eyes down in front of the wrathful Queen. Amidst the scandal, no one noticed the bosun slink down the stairs towards the Imperial quarters.



*****


Mein Herr’s reputation for being mute protected him from a prolonged tongue lashing from Linyeve and he quickly made his way downstairs to stand guard outside the Princess’s cabin. His heavy physique moved gracefully down the wooden steps and his sharp ears allowed him to pick up muffled sounds coming from inside the Princess’s cabin. His skin prickled and instinctively he knew something was terribly wrong. Without thinking of the potentially fatal consequences that might befall him if he were wrong, Mein Herr slammed his foot against the cabin door - breaking the lock and kicking it open.

Inside, Jurgen Zimmler, the lanky bosun had Eue by the throat. Mein Herr drew a small axe from his belt. The bosun spun round, holding Eue in front of him, a knife now clearly visible, pressing against her neck.

“Stay back! Stay back or I’ll cut her!” Zimmler hissed.

“It’s ok, it’s ok.” said Mein Herr, soothingly, in his soft, treacly voice.

Zimmler was coiled like a spring, breathing heavily. However, Mein Herr was not addressing the bosun, but rather the Princess, whose eyes were wide with fear and whose mouth was covered by Zimmler’s large leathery hand.

“No one is going to get hurt.” purred the Nubian in his rich, gravely accent. He smiled at the Princess and spoke slowly and gently. “Remember what I told you about the joust? It’s like a game of chicken. You’ve just got to know when to … duck.”

Eue used all her strength to bite into the bosun’s hand and throw herself towards the floor. She felt a rush of air above her and then heard a dull clunk. The bosun’s grip seemed to loosen and Mein Herr sprang across the room, grabbing Zimmler’s knife arm with both hands, then snaping the limp sailor’s wrist with a wrathful energy.

“Go!” Mein Herr picked up the bosun’s knife and bundled Eue out of her cabin, shutting her out with what remained of the broken door. The Princess ran, not looking back as, knife in hand, the Nubian advanced on what remained of the bosun.



*****


None of the crew ever knew what happened to Jurgen Zimmler. Like some of their comrades who had crossed the bosun in the past, the man just disappeared from the ship in the night, never to be seen again. But he was a strange sort and no one mourned his departure.

[Ignoramus]

Staufen, 1334

Wolfgang smiled as he went to address his men.

"Men, we are besieged. The loyalist, Erhart Ruppel, has surrounded the citadel and has cut off our escape. However, we are secure in the finest citadel in the Reich, and adequate precautions have been taken to ensure our survival.

Firstly, the walls have been fully repaired and are in ready state of defence. No loyalist will find their way in here without arrows, bolts, and shot tearing through them.

Secondly, the granaries are well stocked with grain; we certainly shall not starve, although rationing will be necessary.

I am confident that soon the loyalists will see the futility of their cause; they have not a leg to stand on.

That is all men; remember your duty to myself and Swabia!'

[Cecil XIX]

The following is a passage from the diary of Edmund Becker, circa 1336 A.D.

At long last, the Poles have besieged Prague. Though it pains me to have the construction of the Gunsmith delayed, the city will be safer if I repel the Poles from the walls. I only hope they attack quickly; the sooner the Gunsmith is completed the sooner I can begin construction of a new City Hall. It is vital to my plan that Prague becomes a huge city as soon as possible, and to do that I will need a skilled corps of civil servants.

***

It has just occurred to me what a waste it will be when the wealth I have accumulated from Prague returns to the Reich upon the Kaiser’s return. It sickens me that money from Bohemia will go to some other corner of the Empire instead of towards improving my county.

Wait… There may be a way. If I can break this insipid siege on my fair city by 1338, I will have enough time to begin construction of a new building before the Diet reconvenes. I can postpone the construction of the gunsmith and focus every resource on constructed the City Hall. Not only that, but attacking that army sooner will allow me to release prisoners sooner. Yes, it is the perfect strategy to hasten Prague’s growth. I just need to be sure that I can win. I shall adjust my recruitment, and see how the Poles conduct themselves before making the final decision.

[Privateerkev]

Bern 1338:

Alfgarda sat at her desk looking over letters. She was tired. Since Jan died, she had done the best she could to handle her husband's estate. Some in the Reich had treated her with respect and had been more than happy to maintain communication. Others had not.

Fritz von Kastilien had singled Alfgarda out. Fearful of what would happen to him when the Diet reconvened, he attempted to blackmail her into supporting him against her brother-in-law, Dieter Bresch. Not expecting such venom, and unable to take up arms, Alfgarda was completely unable to prevent him from taking Hamburg. Later letters made clear that the people of Hamburg would suffer unless she gave in to his demands.

She didn't want her husband's people to be used as pawns in Fritz's power game. That and she was feeling her age. Streaks of gray were starting to come out in her hair. Her breathing had been getting more labored. She didn't know how Jan lived as long as he did in such a hostile political atmosphere.

Jan's Teutonic knight, Max, walked into the room.

"Ready to leave my lady?"

Alfgarda finished a last letter and looked up.

"Yes Max. Just one more thing left for us to do."

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Edessa: 8 months later

Alfgarda and Max rode in on a horse drawn carriage with Jan's body. Since Edessa was under Byzantine control, Alfgarda had to do some lobbying in order to be let in. A nice letter to Empress Theadora had smoothed things over. The Empress had always liked Jan. And what Alfgarda was asking was not much. Jan had always been very pro-unification until the war started. Eventually permission was given to bury Jan in Edessa next to his father, Fredericus.

The plot was already prepared. On the headstone it read simply:


Saint Jan the Merciful

Instrument of the Lord

Loyal servant of the Reich

Loving Husband

Devoted Father

Trusted Friend

Jan's sainthood had been rammed through Papal bureaucracy with great speed. He was gaining official recognition for his part in re-taking Jerusalem in the 3rd Crusade, his support of Pope Abbate during religious re-unification, and his fight against violent Lutheranism that culminated in his death. Approval had been given that these could be seen as "3 miracles" despite the new attitude the Church had taken regarding Pope Abbate's past policies. Finding the 3 miracles was more of a formality anyways. Jan had dedicated his life to defending the Holy Land and the Church so when the idea was first broached, it was just a matter of how to justify it.

Alfgard watched as Jan's casket was lowered. Her children were staying with the Bresch family. While she did not expect trouble, it was best to leave them back in Germany. Max silently stood by her side. When Jan was buried, she turned to Max and said, "Alright, I think we should say our goodbyes now. I'd like to say goodbye to my husband in private."

Max was not happy. He had just received orders informing him of his reassignment. Word had gotten out that he had executed a German noble on the battlefield after that man had surrendered. While the Hochmeister did not grieve for Dassel's death, it was politically inconvenient. Max was not in trouble but it was thought best if he maintain a low profile until some time had passed.

"M'lady, it has been the honor of my life to serve your husband. And I am glad that I was able to continue that a little longer by serving you. May God go with you." Max bowed to Alfgarda. Then he turned to Jan's grave. "Goodbye my friend. May the Lord take care of someone who served him so faithfully." Max made the sign of the cross on his chest, turned around, and headed to his old Chapter House in Aleppo for reassignment.

[Privateerkev]

University Library, 2007:

Kevin walked up to the inter-library loan desk to pick up his order. The clerk looked up from her homework, got up and lazily walked over to a shelf, and picked up a box of microfilm. Scanning Kevin's university card, she handed the box over. Kevin thanked her and took the escalator up to the 2nd floor where the microfilm readers were.

Kevin was doing some primary source research for his upcoming research seminar in gender next semester. On microfilm, were letters from one of the first female politicians in German history. Alfgarda von Hamburg was the wife of Saint Jan, a famous German knight and King of Outremer. She had briefly entered politics after Saint Jan's death against Lutherans. And then she had quickly left.

These letters might give a clue as to why she left. While historians had written whole books on Jan, Alfgarda was largely ignored. But Kevin figured looking at her short political career might shed some light on gender relations in medieval Germany. Plus, as an early female political figure, she was novel in her own right. Loading the film into the reader, Kevin started reading the letters between Alfgarda and Fritz von Kastilien.


I will not pretend we are friends, but if I can compromise with the Russians I can compromise with you. I do not believe you can stop my capture of Hamburg, but you can influence the course of it. Give me your word that you will not foment a rebellion within Franconia as your husband did within Swabia and I will swear to occupy Hamburg as peacefully as possible. Only Danes will suffer so far as I can control the matter.

To be more specific, I want your hands off of Dieter and I want you to make a public appeal for tolerance and conciliation to the non-Lutherans of Franconia.

This is not blackmail, and I am not threatening to sack Hamburg if you disagree, but that option is currently open to me and you, despite your insults, can have some influence in my choice.

Fritz von Kastilien


Sir Fritz,

First I am a "poor widow" and now I have my hands on Dieter? Which is it? Am I a simple "peasant" or do I have the power to sway the minds of great men? You can't have it both ways. Pick one.

While you were off butchering civilians, my husband was trying to do something about the religious unrest that racks this land. An unrest you helped cause. He ended up doing the wrong thing by trying to raise an army using such powerful religious language but his motives were infinitely more pure than yours.

I too could raise an army in this way to "bleed for Franconia" but I fear it would cause more harm than good. I will instead try to calm tensions instead of exacerbating them. I have put out a call to Luther to join me in settling these old religious scores.

But you are a seperate matter. I will not allow the people of Hamburg to be used as blackmail in some sort of political deal. I will not be bullied by a monster. My husband stood up to far scarier men than you and I will honor him by trying to have even half of his courage.

I will again state this plainly. If you so much as set foot in the city of Hamburg, I will leave Franconia. If you sack or exterminate the population, then you will see what this "poor widow" is capable of.

When Kaiser Elberhard passes, Peter will become Kaiser. Which will make Dieter Bresch Duke. You best start thinking how your going to deal with that inevitabilty. It will serve as a better use of your free time than threatening middle aged women.

Lady Alfgarda


I can very well have it both ways since I must, in public, acknowledge your widowhood and in private acknowledge that you have a rudiment of power.

Pure motives don't raise the dead. As far as peasants, surely you can see that your husband's direct actions have led to more deaths than mine. I'm certain that other rational parties can...

If you won't be reasonable, then neither will I. If you attempt to take the von Hamburg heir from Franconia the people of Hamburg, whom you clearly care so much about, will suffer for it. Assure me that you are more faithful to your House than your husband was to his Kingdom, for while I would be greatly pleased to see an end to your line's influence in Franconia, it would doubtless vex Peter to no end and threaten the peace between Dieter and I.

Franconia needs unity now for her Duke and her people and if I must threaten you and yours to accomplish that unity it is a small, pleasant price to pay.

As for Dieter, what care I if he is Duke when Peter is Prinz? If Dieter troubles me he may find ten times that trouble dragged down on his own head.

Fritz von Kastilien


Sir Fritz,

While you claim that you are not worried about Dieter, you are sure trying very hard to make sure I do not aid him. One day you will learn that being a woman does not automatically make you stupid. You will find our conversations much more productive when that day comes.

As for my husband, he is hardly alone in causing this current unrest. The religious strife was caused by Luther, Dassel, my husband, Duke Hans, Duke Lothar, Duke Arnold, and you. And it was also caused by the inaction of just about everyone else.

I have been quite frank with admitting my husbands part in these troubles. It would break his heart if he was still alive to know what he helped cause. It is why I am refusing to add to those trouble by raising an army. Such a move would just drive the wedge between the Catholics and Lutherans even deeper.

As for where my loyalties lie, they lie with the Reich, like my husband's did. And then it lies with the people of Hamburg and the von Hamburg family. I will stay in Franconia if it serves the interest of the people of Hamburg. If the Duke's own brother is going to butcher those people, then there just isn't much left for me in this House.

If people are nothing more than political pawns to you, instead of rational breathing human beings, then there is little you and I can ever see eye to eye on. I will not allow the people of Hamburg to be used as pawns in a blackmail scheme just so you can avoid the consequences of your past actions.

The choice is yours. Hurt those people, and Franconia will become more split. Avoid the city, and Franconia will become more unified.

As for Peter being Kaiser, he is not Kaiser yet. Think about who is Kaiser now. And then think about how close my husband and the current Kaiser were. Then try to convince yourself that this "poor widow" could not possibly hurt the great Fritz von Kastilien.

Lady Alfgarda


So for all your fine words what it comes down to is that you will do nothing, not even something simple and reasonable like agree not to exert undue influence on Dieter and call for peaceable conciliation, to save Hamburg and after I sack it you will run to some other house for protection while hoping 'Duke' Dieter keeps me in check.

Oh yes, you have perfectly mastered your husband's form of 'bravery.' Well done! When the people of Hamburg cry out for succor and ask who sent me I will give them your name.

Fritz von Kastilien, Scourge of Hamburg?


Funny how you try to lay the blame for your own actions on me. You decide what you will do. Then I will react accordingly. Take some responsibility for your own actions.

To me, it is sparing people that is "reasonable". If you can not agree to that, then further dealings with you will not be fruitful.

Goodbye Fritz and may you rot in hell for you what you are about to do.


Dearest Alfgarda,

Where are the kind words, the congratulations, the apologies? I would expect one who was struggling to live up to a noble tradition to be prepared to accept the consequences of her error. Hamburg rests easy under my control, and her citizens were quite shocked that Jan's wife thought she was safer under the barbarian Danes than under a good German.

I suppose, in your husband's tradition, that you are much louder the further you are from your target or the truth.

Fritz von Kastilien, Hero of Hamburg

Letters from Fritz used with Ramses permission

[Zim]

Written as a collaborative effort between Zim and Overknight

1338: A merchant ship approaching Acre

As Andreas von Salzgitter’s ship approached port the Citadel of Acre loomed large on the horizon. It really is as big as Staufen! he thought. With a Citadel this large still firmly in the hands of the Reich, perhaps the situation in Outremer was not quite as dire as my friends had warned.

Andreas began to reflect on the events that brought him here. A native of Salzgitter, his family had left the area for Bruges upon inheriting significant tracts of land in Flanders. They had no history of crusading. Indeed, since the War of the Reformation had begun, most of them came to be suspicious of religious zeal. Not Andreas, however. He used to spend each Sunday afternoon listening to the preaching of an itinerant street preacher, who taught violence against the Lutherans.

The man’s arguments seemed compelling to Andreas, and he came to believe that the Lutherans were the main source of religious violence in the Reich. One day he participated in some minor anti-Lutheran rioting, just breaking a few windows of an outspoken Lutheran’s shop. Little did Andreas know that the rioting had spread to both sides of the conflict, and most of Bruges that day. When he returned home he found that Lutherans had burnt down his families home. His parents escaped, but not his little sister…

Andreas blamed himself for his sister’s death. He decided that he had been punished for participating in violence against an innocent shopkeeper. Against his parents’ protest, he decided to do penance by going on crusade to defend Outremer against the Muslims and Byzantines which threatened it. He had heard its defense had been left in the hands of Matthias the Merciless, a great man. Andreas’s family may not have participated in past Crusades, but they were noble. He knew how to ride, and handle a lance. He had the money to bring a retinue with him to Acre. Hopefully he could be of some use to the King of Outremer.

Suddenly, a loud noise jarred Andreas out of his ponderings. The ship had docked. Among the merchants picking up their wares, and the Outremer soldiers coming to take much needed supplies to Acre, there appeared to be a few men of higher class waiting for his arrival. As he exited the ship via its ramp to the dock, Andreas squinted in an attempt to make out the men waiting for him.

Matthias strode forward down the dock. A rumor had brought him here, it was said that an Imperial nobleman was arriving in Outremer. After the exodus of Jan von Hamburg, Dieter von Kassel and the Kaiser a few years ago, this was welcome news. Unless there was an influx of new Crusaders, the Kingdom would die with him. Of course, the ways things were going it might die anyway.

Matthias growled to himself, such thoughts were unworthy. He was here to defend the legacy of great men, to ensure that God's will for Outremer was carried out. To do that he needed to project strength, to show his soldiers and citizens, and any new Crusaders, that Outremer would be triumphant and her enemies crushed. Any doubts were best left to himself.

Further down the dock, he saw a young man coming down the ramp of a newly arrived cog. A mixture of zeal and disorientation played across the man's face, the mark of a newly arrived crusader. The ruler of Outremer approached him.

"Welcome to the Holy Land, I am Matthias Steffen. You have come to take the Cross?"

“Y-yes…ahem…yes, sir” Andreas stammered. He was shocked to find that Matthias himself had come to greet him at the dock. Hoping to make a good impression, Andreas immediately straightened up to his full height, and tried to hide the queasiness he felt from being at sea so long. He continued “My King, I am Andreas von Salzgitter, newly arrived from the city of Bruges. It is my intention to take the Cross and offer my services to defend Outremer from its enemies”. Having said his due, Andreas squirmed a bit. He wasn’t entirely sure what to do next. Should he kneel, or…?

Matthias surveyed the disconcerted young man with his one good eye. Giants had once walked in Outremer, and now, it seemed, its defense would be left to him and a stripling minor noble. Still, who was he to question providence?

"Your arrival is fortuitous, Andreas, Outremer is in dire need of brave men such as yourself. You see, thanks to the Greeks and the dear departed Siegfried, I am King in name only, there are Counts back in Europe with larger domains than this. The title is a relic of Kaiser Henry's vision, and has little to do with current events. I intend to address that at the next Diet Session."

Matthias's one eye narrowed, "Tell me, Andreas, have you seen battle? How many men have you brought with you?"

Matthias direct approach surprised Andreas a bit. It was so different from the genteel words of the world his parents had tried to bring him into. No doubt, he thought, Matthias’ straightforwardness was one of the traits that had made him so great, and allowed him to get right to the point and accomplish his goals. Putting away his discomfort, Andreas again put forth the effort to straighten up and speak clearly, “Sir, I regret to say that I have only been involved in tournament fighting. I have had some success in tourneys, and I do bring with me a retinue of experienced knights in the employ of my family’s feudal estate. I had heard back in Bruges that Outremer faced difficulties, and hoped that I would be up to the task of defending it. You have my word that I would die to see Outremer restored to its past glory, again as the powerful protector of Jerusalem."


Matthias nodded. The spirit was willing, but only time would tell if the man before him had the iron will needed to survive in Outremer.

"Tourneys, eh? You'll have your fill of real fighting soon enough at Antioch. For, as you say, we do face difficulties. Outremer is a crucible and God tests our faith here. If we are not consumed, all our weaknesses will be burned away, and then no force on earth will be able to defeat us."

Matthias, in a swift change of mood, clapped the young man on the shoulders.

"Welcome indeed! Your arrival and brave words have buoyed my spirits. Together we'll spit in the eye of the Greeks and restore Outremer to greatness. Come, let's get you and your men some quarters."

Andreas walked off with Matthias, feeling somewhat relieved at the King’s change in mood. Still, he couldn’t avoid worrying a bit. What was he getting himself into?

[AussieGiant]

Ragusa 1338

The final words had been written and the letters sealed. They would now be sent via carrier bird to a near by estate where outriders of the Imperial Messenger Service would deliver the Duke’s thoughts to a select few of the Reich’s nobles spread across the known world.

The Duke look out of his window at the sea beyond the Venetian encampment. The siege had certainly begun to take its toll he thought, disease and rationing had begun to kill members of his staff and army.

He hated sieges for that reason alone, but he knew that sallying would lead to a glorious but certain end and that was not something he could do at this time.

He must stay alive and serve the Reich further, that was the burning thought etched in his mind this morning after a disturbed and dream filled sleep. He wondered what the future would bring given the decision that had been made from the embers of those dreams.

As the waves crashed below the only thing that was certain was time. The passing of time would be the only true gauge of success or failure, of service or disservice.

Luckily the burning resolve in the Dukes eyes could only be seen by the passing gulls flying overhead. The Dread Duke’s visage left little doubt that the actions of the next few years would be conducted with all the force of will and resolve he and his father were renowned for. Those characeristics had been unhealthy for some and a boon for others. The eternal question to those around the Duke was always, WHICH, of those two results would visit them.

[flyd]

Portsmouth, 1162

The weather had cleared sooner than expected, and the fleet was to set sail immediately. Instead of reforming the army into regiments first, a general order was given that each soldier board his assigned ship.

The ship docked at Pier 12 was to take the 2nd and 7th regiments. Two walkways led up to the ship, and the First Mate paced back and forth on the pier, yelling "2nd regiment to the left, 7th regiment to the right", as a mass of soldiers shuffled back and forth. In front of each walkway stood a petty officer with a list of names.

"Name?"

"James Carpenter."

"Ok, name?"

"Edward Smith."

"Smith..." the petty officer looked at the next page, "M.. N.." He flipped to the third page, now looking a bit annoyed. "Smith, right. Go on, then. Name?"

"William Godwinson."

The officer looked at the first page again. "Fine. Name?"

"Where are we going?" asked William.

The officer looked up from his papers for the first time. "I can't tell you, keep the line moving."

"I'll give you a Florin." William pulled out a gold coin from his pocket.

The officer hesitated for a moment, then grabbed the coin and quietly said "Saxony."

[flyd]

Hamburg? 13xx?

The late morning sun shined through a stained glass window, casting red, green, yellow, and blue light upon the people inside the church. The window depicted St. Peter.

A brick, an ordinary red brick, came flying through the window at high velocity, shattering it into hundreds of little pieces.

The mob outside got louder.

The door broke open. Run! Run for the other door! She did, but the mob caught up, and...

Nuremburg, 1340

Lukas woke up. He knew what it meant. There would be no further sleep tonight.

[GeneralHankerchief]

Nuremburg, 1340:

A tiny, squashed voice rose up to Herrmann Steffen.

"Herrmann? What's going on?"

"I still can't see. Gimme a boost."

This time a groan rose up. "Come on, I'm already standing as tall as I can get."

"Then the others need to stand on their tip-toes. Come on, guys."

Another groan. There were two other voices now appearing, in the form of moderate laughter. There was a pause, and then three sounds of pain ranging from mild discomfort (near the top) to actual hurt (the bottom). Herrmann, however, being on top, didn't notice. He finally was able to see what was happening.

"Whose stupid idea was it for me to be the guy on the bottom?"

"Quiet, Harold," Herrmann said to his youngest brother, nine. "Luther's talking."

"What's he saying?" This time it came from the person directly below Herrmann on the human totem pole, Wenzel.

"Something about how the Byzantines are all going to Hell and it's our duty as good Christians to help send them there. Come on, what do you expect? It's Luther."

"What about the rest of them?" said a pained voice. This one, coming from the second man from the bottom, belonged to Bernhard, who at 11 was just a few months younger than Wenzel.

"Let's see, a couple guys are writing, - oh, there's Uncle Matthias, he's just listening though - Prince Peter just entered, looks like he just got back from the Tavern, he's talking with Tancred von Tyrolia... oh, wow..."

"What is it? Do you see Father?"

"Yeah, but that's not important. A bunch of young guys are lined up to kiss the Kaiser's butt."

"Seriously?" said Harold. "They're really kissing it? That's disgusting!"

"No, you nitwit," said Herrmann. "It's an expression."

"Then what are they really doing?"

"God, I wish you weren't nine. They're fawning all over the man, shaking when he speaks to them, afraid to stand up and forcefully give an opinion. These are the young military leaders of the Reich. These kids are only a few years older than me. It's disgusting."

"Oh, and I suppose you would make the entire Diet tremble with your words if you were old enough?"

"Shut up, Wenzel. Well, I wouldn't try to set the place on fire like Dietrich von Dassel or Jens Hummel did in their early days, but I wouldn't act like a timid little wuss either. I mean, really. Aside from that young Austrian getting purple in the face at Luther, they're all hopeless."

"Thank God the Diet's going to have us in a few years," said Bernhard.

"Yeah, really. We're highborn. We know how to deal with people. Hells, I wish I was old enough to attend! Just a few more months and I'd be an actual Elector at probably the most important Diet Session since 1080!"

"Well then, Mister Elector, what is your opinion on the issue of the day?" said Wenzel. "What do you think of 14.4?"

"Are you nuts?" said Herrmann. "For, of course! If we go on a sustained campaign against the Byzantines I'll certainly have a part of it! Imagine... Herrmann Steffen, Savior of Italy! Conqueror of Constantinople and Caesaria! We'll all get glory if this thing passes, lads."

"Herrmann?" Harold really sounded in pain. "My shoulders are killing me. Can we do something else now? Please?"

"Yeah yeah yeah, hold on. Fritz von Kastilien's bashing the Kaiser. Like, majorly. Oh, wow, this is awesome. I can't wait to be part of this whole thing. Of course, I'd rather it be in Ro- Oh, Hells, Father's walking out! Get down, quick!"

There were several shouts of agreement and then a giant lurch, and a moment later all four Steffen brothers were on the ground. Harold, having the least distance to fall, got up first and mocked his older brothers, all still on the ground.

"Quiet, Harold, Father will hear!"

"Come on! Let's get back to Theology lessons!"

The four ran off.

[flyd]

North of Hamburg, on the North Sea Coast, 1164

The entire army was assembled, and the commander, Walter Smithe, was addressing the troops.

"Men. In case you are unaware, we are in Saxony. We have come here to wage war against the unHoly Roman Empire." He pauses for laughs, but none are forthcoming. He continues, "well, uh, as you know, they have been excommunicated for waging war against the Church, and killing numerous Popes. So, we are here on a holy mission. But we are also here to secure glory for England, and ourselves. To the south lies the city of Hamburg, full of vast riches and beautiful women, and the Germans have no army that can stop us. We shall wreak havoc for a few years, get the King what he wants from the Germans diplomatically, help the Pope, and then go home rich and happy. How does that sound?"

Loud cheers erupted from the army.

Outside of Hamburg, 1174

A fresh snow had fallen over night, and it was very, very cold. About a third of the English army was manning the set of temporary fortifications around Hamburg. The rest of the soldiers were in the camp, just north of the city, sitting in small groups around fires, trying to stay warm.

"Ten years! Ten !@#$ing years! Ten years and we're still sitting on our butts!"

"Be quiet, William, they'll hear you."

"Who'll hear me!? !@#$ing Walter Smithe? I don't care if he hears me, that incompetent son of a goat. Damnit, James, we've got an army three times the size... three, it was three, right, they said three? Three times the size of their garrison, and enough siege equipment to storm freaking Constantinople."

"Constantinople? Oh, I don't know about that."

"Shut up, James, you've not been down there."

"Well, neither have you!"

"Fine. We'll ask Harold. He's been." William turned to one of the nearby groups of soldiers sitting around their fire. "Hey, Harold! Do you suppose we've got enough siege equipment to storm Constantinople?"

"We've got enough to storm five Constantinoples, William," responded Harold.

"He's been to Constantinople?" asked Edward.

"That's what he claims. Says he was in the Emperor's guard or some such. Claims he..."

The conversation was interrupted to by a call to arms. Those weren't very rare, and were often pointless. The soldiers slowly got up, and carefully put out their fires, when some of the junior officers started running through the camp, yelling, "To arms, you fools! There is a huge German army coming from the south! This is not a drill!"

The army assembled somewhat more quickly.

North of Hamburg, 1174

"Forward!"

William was in the last row of his regiment's formation. Edward was to the left, and some other guy, uh, Simon was it? to the right. Their regiment was in the center of the line.

"Charge!"

Right, they charged. William stood at the back, watching the front rank. Combat was more violent than one might have imagined. At the front, German and English spearmen faced off. Other than the colors of their shields, they looked exactly the same, and yet each put in the greatest effort to spill the guts of the other onto the snow. It was sort of weird.

While the front was very interesting, William's attention soon turned to the right, as the German cavalry charged the English flank. Even though he stood some two hundred feet away, he could feel the ground tremble. The peasants on that flank never saw it coming. Many were trampled, and only a few were fortunate enough to actually be stabbed. William wasn't the only one to notice; some of his comrades were getting nervous too.

Suddenly, however, Walter Smithe's bodyguard charged forward, right through William's regiment. Men shuffled out of the way of Smithe's horses, as the goat-man himself yelled "Onward men! Onward to glory!" On the right, a regiment of English spearmen pivoted to meet the flanking German cavalry, as they were joined by other friendly units. Maybe all is not lost?

The battle continued. William's attention was divided between Smithe in the front, and the increasingly worrisome situation on the right. And then, Smithe was brought down from his horse. William paused for a moment, turned to the right, and saw most of his comrades on the right flank fleeing, and the German cavalry making maneuvers.

"Oh, !@#$ this!" William yelled and ran away! His comrades followed right behind, but the German cavalry arrived. He threw away his spear, and dropped to the ground. Those who did the same were ignored by the cavalry, though some were trampled. Those who fled were cut down, and those who stayed were taken prisoner by the advancing infantry.

Hamburg, 1175

The English prisoners, about 300 survivors from an army of 1500, were kept in the city's main barracks. The German commander had ordered that the prisoners be released, and the arrangements had finally been made. The prisoners left for the ship early in the morning, but no headcount was made, and, well, William was left behind. He was a deep sleeper. The guards in the barracks did not buy his story, and he was kicked out. He made his way to the Governor of Hamburg. Luckily, his German had gotten better as he served as a translator for the survivors.

Office of the Governor of Hamburg, 1175

"Sir, I am William Godwinson. I was supposed to be among the English soldiers who were sent back to England, but I was left behind by accident."

"That ship left this morning," said the Governor.

"Yes, I know. I said I was left behind by accident. I need to get back to England."

"Yes, I see. I suppose we could arrange something. Might take a while, you may understand that there are few ships going to England these days."

"Well... where am I supposed to sleep?"

He was given some money and kicked out of the office.

An Inn in Hamburg, 1175

"Hi, I need a room for the night."

"That'll be a quarter of a Florin," said the young woman.

He handed her a coin, she gave him a key, smiled, and said, "you have a strange accent, where are you from?"

"Huh? Oh, uh, I'm from, uh, out west..."

"Oh, are you Frisian?"

"Err, yes. Right, that's exactly it. Frisian."

She went on, "Cool, I have some cousins who live in Emden. What town are you from?"

"Hum..." He didn't know any towns in Frisia. He couldn't say he was English. But he had to say something! He could not appear awkward or weird in any way! What was that place the army landed near? Was that even in Frisia? Where is Frisia, anyway? It has to be up there, somewhere.

She laughed. "Ok, I'm sorry, I do ask too many questions."

"No, heh, that's ok.."

The Narrator rolls his eyes. Right then, get on with it.

Office of the Governor of Hamburg, 1175

"Ah, Mr. Godwinson. We have arranged your transport back to England."

"Yeah, about that. Uh, I don't really want to go to England. I'd rather stay here."

"That's not an option, Mr. Godwinson. I do not wish to have an English spy in my city."

"You've already had an English 'spy' running around your city for two months, while you took your time in arranging that transport. I don't think that would look very good, indeed. It's best for both of us if we keep a low profile about this while our nations are at war.

Hamburg, 1242

"How about Lukas?" she said.

"I like it. In English, he can be Luke," said William.