The King of England

[Alrowan]

nice story.. i would have spent more time on mine, but i had other pressing factors

i cant wait to hear what my 'weak' son can do next... and oh, ill be looking on, cursing your every victory

[econ21]

My lord, King Stephen, leader of the great English Empire, may I introduce to you, Herodotus, learned scribe from Alexandria proclaimed the herald.

Stephen watched the portly Greek waddle into the Court with bemused affection. Herodotus was famous throughout the West for his worldly travels and outlandish ideas. Some say he taught that life was but a game with a baton being passed from player to player through the generations. Stephen thought it was probably a mistake to grant the curious scholar an audience. He hailed from Egypt, England's main rival for power and undoubtably benefited from the Sultan's patronage. He was even rumoured to be a double agent acting also for the Roman Empire, on account of his Greek blood. But somehow, after the nightmarish apparition of the other night, Stephen felt compelled to give a public account of his first early years. (Herodotus had indicated that the interview would be transmitted throughout the world, although Stephen thought this idea far too fanciful.) Moreover, a conversation was a two-way exchange and Stephen hoped to learn more of the ominous events taking place far in the East.

After the usual formalities and pleasantries, the interview began in earnest.

I wonder how your majesty found the state of the great English Empire, on his ascension to the throne after his sorely missed father, may he rest in peace?, intoned Herodotus solicitously.

Some chance of the old devil resting in peace, thought Stephen remembering the visitation of the previous night. My father is doomed to wander the earth re-fighting conflicts old and new, he had concluded.

I saw the Empire was indeed vast and unrivalled in power, offered Stephen.

But...? queried the presumptuous Greek.

But the people were labouring under the cruellest taxes. Not levied by my dear father, may he rest in peace, possible as long as that incorporeal bottle keeps being refilled, chuckled Stephen, But by his faceless agents - callous calculating machines, automata without care for life or joy, who squeezed the poor until they were at breaking point. I viewed the revolt in Scotland as an omen, a sign that God would punish the Empire and rend it from within unless it turned from greed.

Most far-sighted and generous of you, your majesty commented Herodotus. But surely that left a most inconvenient shortfall in the Royal exchequer?

Watch it, thought Stephen, this information may be useful for the Greek's backers, whoever they may be:

My plan is to sponsor merchants to set up business in our coastal territories and to tax their lucrative trades, rather than the peasants working the soil, Stephen replied, but it was true his gold reserves had fallen precipitously from around 50000 florins to nearer 35000 in three short years.

Now he looked sharply at the rotund scholar, his piercing stare trying to communicate directly with the man's supposed sponsors:

This strategy, of course, depends on the continued goodwill of my friends, the esteemed Egyptian Sultan and the true Roman Emperor. War would be a disaster for all concerned, wrecking all chance of mutual prosperity.

Here Stephen smiled inwardly at the thought of the Egyptian Sultan lauding himself in Constantinople, while the so-called Roman Emperor wandered the steppes of Eastern Europe in a second exile. If it came to war, he would far rather it were the lightly armed Egyptians who were the more powerful, rather than the Romans with their legendary leaders, fearsome kataphractoi and awesome Varangian Guard. The cornerstone of Stephen's diplomacy was to be deterrence - averting war with either the Roman Empire or Egypt in order to allow sufficient trade income to fund the investment needed to develop his vast lands. To that end, he had ordered his long Eastern borders with the Romans to be reinforced and decreed that no trade ship should travel in waters shared by the potentially piratical Egyptians without a precautionary escort.

I have no wish to paint the map of Europe red. continued Stephen, before warning: Although I dare say, it would be well within the capabilities of my successors to do so should they choose. But no, my own rule shall be one of peaceful consolidation.

Most merciful Herodotus nodded unctiously, And wise, from such a legendary warrior. Stephen bristled: by God, this man was insufferable, with his scarcely veiled sarcasm

But the Italians, my Lord, they continue to vex you greatly? Herodotus pursued, recklessly.

It was true, Stephen had not the stomach for his father's ruthless policy of total war. The Pontiff had called Stephen's bluff, threatening him with excommunication unless he desist from his assault on the perfidious Italians. For a moment, Stephen - a man who scarcely pretended to have faith - had considered risking excommunication. For where were the Catholic nations who would heed the Pontiffs calls for crusades to punish the unbeliever? The French? Wiped out by King William III. The Danes and the Aragonese? Now forgotten victims of Edmund III. The Spanish? Gone, at the hands of King Richard. The Germans, Hungarians, Poles and Moors? All hunted down mercilessly by the vengeful King Edmund IV. Stephen shuddered as he considered the remorseless rise of his predecessors and the ruthlessness with which they had wiped out so many royal dynasties. His world somehow seemed emptier and poorer for their passing. Don't lament their passing too much, an inner voice told him, or they too may reappear to haunt you.

For his part, King Stephen had ordered his forces to storm the Italians besieged in Sardinia and Greece. The fortress at Sardinia had fallen at a terrible cost in English lives due to the absence of siege equipment, but the thought of the rebellion in Scotland and similar recurrences elsewhere stayed Stephen's hand from further blows and the prospect of excommunication. Ironically, the Pope had died the year after his excommunication threat - was that my father's doing? Stephen wondered, imagining the reaction of the frail and aged Pontiff to a visitation from the shade of the blasphemous inebriated old English King.

I wish only to separate our forces, to give time for cooler heads to prevail and peace to be restored. pronounced Stephen serenely, inwardly cursing the Italians for launching warships that had sunk an English fleet even as it departed the Italian territorial waters around Sicily.

Your majesty is indeed a pious man chanced Herodotus. Stephen suspected the Greek knew full well the scurrilous rumours that he wished to break from the Church in order to annul both his own marriage to a horse-faced English girl (could not his father have found him an exotic foreign princess?) and the bothersome marriage of his beloved Lady Marianne to Sir Courcy, first cuckold of the English Empire.

I humbly admit I have ordered churches to be erected in every province. Stephen pronounced. Although a man without a shred of piety, Stephen had been shocked by the absence of churches, even in favoured recruiting grounds, on his accession to power. Would not a man fight more bravely, believing in a glorious reward in an afterlife? For himself, after last night's encounter, Stephen heartily wished the dead remained rotting in the earth. But the prospect of further uprisings such as that in Scotland terrified him. If potential rebels could be assuaged with promises of a better life in the hereafter, he was damn well going to see they were so assuaged. Failing that he was going to recruit a legion of spies to pick out the troublemakers. Perhaps he should start by recruiting Herodotus, he mused, watching the cherubic Greek smiling serenely at him.

But Stephen was growing bored of this conversation and now impatiently turned to the Greek with the matter weighing heavier on his mind than even the awful burden of his father's legacy:

Tell me, learned scribe, what news from the East?

It seemed as if a chill wind swept through the old castle, as Herodotus paused to compose his words.

It is true what they say on the streets, your majesty, a terrible horde has descended on the Roman Empire, devouring all its in path.

Yes, yes, any fool knows that Stephen thought crossly. He had even sent Princess Matilda into the eye of the storm in Khazar. She had not been amused, to escape the knife of a Roman assassin only be sent to observe the tens of thousands of barbarians sweeping over the frontier of Christendom. I wonder if I can marry her off to the fellow leading those chaps? Stephen mused before taking pity on his much put upon sister. He stared, silently at Herodotus, as if to demand: tell me something useful, little man, and justify wasting my time.

Herodotus knew that he had to offer something to warrant this precious interview and so sat up self-importantly:

Great king, even now, the terrible Khan sleeps in Kiev.

Stephen also sat up, as if having been lashed again by his harsh father. Kiev? That was only one step from his border in the East. His spies had observed the army of the exiled Roman Empire and revealed it to be a sham, composed mainly of a ragbag of conscripted yokels armed with little more than pitchforks. They would not provide an obstacle for the massed heavy cavalry and horse archers of the Great Khan. What was worse, with its recent losses in battle and the squeeze imposed by the loss of tax revenue, the English army now was considerably smaller than when he had inherited it a mere three years ago.

The wind again wailed through the castle and Stephen thought that perhaps he could again hear his father's scornful laugh echoing around the keep.

I was looking through Simon's post (nice piece of writing) when I noticed that he could only identify Ryttare monarch as William III's son. What was your King's name, Ryttare?

[barocca]

hows goes this campaign??
(i wonder if there will be anything left for me to do when i am king??)

[Ryttare]

Let it be known that the third kings name was Edmund III

[econ21]

The chambermaid shuffled into the stuffy marquee. Lady Marianne had told her to get the letters at all costs and the chambermaid had only kept her privileged position at the Royal Court by obeying Lady Marianne in all things.

Even under the cover of the tent, the heat was stifling. No wonder the poor King had seized up and fallen silent so suddenly this eve. Still, she thought that at age 64, King Stephen had no grounds for complaint.

Well, perhaps only one: that he had not had a chance to see his only son grow into honourable manhood. What kind of leader the boy would have made, the chambermaid could not fathom but he must surely surpass the new King, Stephen's brother Henry. Henry was strange, spending his years locked away unmarried in a castle in Toulouse. He was known to engage in animated conversations when no person was around. When questioned, he claimed to be talking to the plants yet there were whispers that he was tormented by the restless spirit of his father, King Edmund IV. But however otherworldly the poor man seemed, it was unlikely that he would act only as Regent and instead was widely expected to reign on until he too left this world.

The chambermaid approached the old King's bed. Despite the suddenness of his death, he lay, eyes closed, oddly calm but sad; like a sombre child who has enjoyed his day but now sees from the darkening skies that it must end.

He had not been a bad sort, the chambermaid mused. Under his reign, taxes had been cut to manageable levels and indeed been ploughed back into the land, rather than fighting pointless wars. Ports throughout the English Empire bustled with the most developed trading network possible, although it was true that there were precious few trading partners left to do business with. Every province had a church and resident priests roomed the highways, passing on the good word from market town to sleepy hamlet. A magnificent builder, a magnificent steward and a trader, they used to call the old King.

The chambermaid spotted the small chest under the King's bed, but as she crouched down, she was startled by the noise of swiftly moving heavy steps. The knight was in the room before she could stand. He eyed her kneeling form suspiciously, but while opening his mouth to utter a challenge or rebuke, he paused. Perhaps the weary warrior recognised that fright on the poor woman's face was lined with duty, not greed. Perhaps he thought the old King unworthy of too much protection in death.

I wanted to see him; said the knight, To be sure.

The chambermaid noted the exhaustion on the man's face.

Sire, were you on the battlefield today? she inquired.

Aye he said, The desert does not need the setting sun to redden it this eve.

Was it as bad as they say? the chambermaid asked, feeling affection for this tired and thoughtful warrior.

Madam, you have never seen a more noble host as England summoned today. Chivalric sergeants who endured the mass of singing arrows of the infidels and marched on stolidly as the enemy's horses swept in and out, cutting up their formations but never breaking them. Who suffered the axes of those mighty warriors from Abyssinia...

He raised his head and looked into her eyes:

They will say the day was won by the charge of the late King and his small escort. Well, I'll not be denying it. I was at his side when we slew the Abyssinians and even took the life of the brave Egyptian general himself. But the price, madam, the price.

The battle of Tunis had been a close run thing. More Englishmen died in the attack than Egyptians. The army had been left exhausted on the field, reduced to half strength. But, by some mercy, the Egyptians had not pressed the battle and none of the many fresh enemy troops available had come to counter-attack. Perhaps it was the death of their general that had broken their spirit. The infidel died well, thought the knight, recalling the lone crescent banner fluttering for what seemed like an eternity amongst a sea of vengeful Englishmen.

The King had chosen to lead the battle himself, despite having delegated earlier defensive engagements in Algeria and the siege of Constantinople to far more able, indeed legendary English commanders. They say he wanted to prove himself to his son; perhaps part of him knew that this battle would be his last opportunity. Well, he had his costly victory and now England had taken the first steps towards finishing this war, begun by reckless Egyptian piracy.

News of the fall of Constantinople had arrived too late to reach the king before he passed away. There was a long road still to travel, but the knight was confident that it was a sure one. Even the Mongol horde, now dominant in the eastern lands beyond the English territories seemed a manageable threat. No doubt they would strike sooner or later, but they had dallied so long and still maintained peaceful relations, the knight felt confident England would rise to their challenge.

For all his passivity and vanity, the dead King had not left a bad inheritance, the knight mused.

Take the letters the knight told the chambermaid. Tell my wife, Lady Marianne, that her secret and the King's dies with him.


[Out of character: save game sent to Herodotus to forward to Muneyoshi; tga screenshot of my realm sent to Barocca to host.]

[barocca]

Simon, you want to email me state of the kingdom piccy and i'll post it,
barocca_x@hotmail.com
(see alowrans pic for size etc.)

also have you sent the save game to Muneyoshi and Herodotus??

[barocca]

Quote[/b] (Simon Appleton @ Feb. 07 2003,20:28)][Out of character: save game sent to Herodotus to forward to Muneyoshi; tga screenshot of my realm sent to Barocca to host.]

great minds think alike, but, then fools seldom differ too..

[barocca]

The Kingdom upon the tragic death of Simon Appleton aka King Stephen of England

[Muneyoshi]

Wow, its going along nicely. I just hope im not the one who lets the empire crumble, lol. Anyways, just realized (with help from Simon) that I forgot to leave my email, well here it is yagyumuneyoshi@hotmail.com

[Herodotus]

Muneyoshi's reign is about to begin

[barocca]

Herodotus - (1087-1101) == ShadesWolf - William III (1101-1131)
==

Ryttare - Edmund III (1131-1171) == chilling - King Richard I (1171-1195)
==

Alrowan - King Edmund IV (1195-1228) == Simon A. - King Stephen I (1228-1248)
==

[barocca]

Muneyoshi,
how goes the campaign?

[eddie0909]

i what to be king

[barocca]

and Muneyoshi,
please make sure i have a couple of assassins lying around, i want to do a little pruning :evil of the family tree and make sure my successor has a vibrant, usefull and young heir to finish the campaign with...

[Demon of Light]

To all kings: What is the story with the Livonians? Are those rebels the same group that has been there since the beginning of the game? Has any faction ever fought them?

[ShadesWolf]

Awesome..........

This will make an excellent story

and a great addition to my web site

[Muneyoshi]

Sorry guys, been sick. Should be able to take over tommorow

[Alrowan]

oopp.. sorry for leaving the large empire behind

[Ryttare]

*bump*

[chilling]

Why bump, it'll come back to the top when he's finished his go.



Ooops, did I just accidentally bump this topic.

[Demon of Light]

Herodotus, ShadesWolf, Ryttare, Chilling, Alrowan, and Simon Appleton: Are those Livonian rebels the same ones that existed at the start of the game. Also, did any of you guys continue to play the game yourselves even after you passed the official reigns of power to your successor. It would be interesting to know what alternate realities are in existence.

[Kraxis]

Interesting point Light.

You could play on as a type of 'What if' for each reign... History unfolding many times over... Ahhhh

[Ryttare]

Muneyoshi>> stil sick?

[chilling]

I didn't touch the Livonians. I've still got the game saved where I stopped. I'm going to play it when I've finished my current campaign. Not that I think I'll get anything like the expansion that Alrowan achieved.

[Alrowan]

lol... the livs are actually tough, theyve got a large stack, and i think no-one really cares abou thier armies at all

[Muneyoshi]

No not still sick, just been a bit busy + lazy when im not busy. Though I did get in a few turns, and I figure I should be dead soon (In my early 60's if im not mistaken)

Anyways, who am I sending this to when im done?

[Siena]

here is some wonderful writing in this thread.
very nice.

[ShadesWolf]

How many players are there left ?

Actually Simon, if the situation persists, you exclusively have the power to skip Muneyoshi. Muneyoshi's monarch is in his early 60's. Can you extrapolate how many turns he has played based on the age of the current king (Henry)when you(Stephen) died? That might give you an idea as to the pace Muneyoshi is playing at. If you still have the saved game file, you can just send it to Barocca.

This should not be interpreted as an attack on Muneyoshi. Being very busy is indeed a very good reason to be doing something other than playing games. If Muneyoshi would indicate that his game is proceeding, the modified coup d'etat I am suggesting becomes unnecessary.

As near as I can tell, the current list of future kings is as follows(based on interest and an actual, listed e-mail to which saved games can be sent):

Muneyoshi (CURRENT???)
Barocca
Efram da King
Keepah

Big King Sanctaphrax and Eddie 0909 indicated they were interested but left no e-mail. The list would be modified if they did so.

P.S: Someone(Cedrik) started a thread titled lets write a story about the ancient times where people are invited to pick up where their predecessor left off and then write your portion of the story (with a successor picking up where you left off) Sound familiar? There are many good writers here (nudging Simon, Alrowan et. al.) who might want to give it a shot.