Battle reports thread - King of the Romans PBM

[econ21]

The battle of the Alpine Fort, 1154 AD

Henry was glad to be out the Diet and back campaigning in the field. He felt both powerless and useless in the Diet. Powerless because his father had exploited a loophole in the Charter to subvert the will of the Electors and have the Empire excommunicated in the course of an old vendetta against the Pope. Useless because Mandorf, the Chancellor, was intelligent and level-headed enough to do everything that could be done to cope with the resulting crisis. Henry had no role, except perhaps as a stand-in should his father fall in his assault on the Pope at Genoa.

So here Henry was, high in the mountains, west of Milan. A fort stood in front of him, small and squat, commanding the Alpine pass.Under his command was the recently formed Household Army of Swabia. By rights, it should have been commanded by Count Sigismund, but the chivalrous leader’s untimely death at a French assassin’s hand had robbed the men of their beloved leader. It was bitterly ironic - the fort had been built by Sigismund himself and now was being used by the French against men who still mourned him. What is more, Sigismund had done his work too well. The compact wooden fort was solidly made and robustly functional, now crammed with over 700 French soldiers.

Henry had over 1100 in the Swabian army, but no obvious way of leveraging his advantage. The walls and density of the defenders neutralised the potential edge that could be provided by the many German cavalry and crossbowmen. That left only the German infantry to be relied upon. Henry did have at his command the Empire’s first regiment of dismounted Feudal knights, but otherwise his men were an undistinguished lot. Henry wondered if he had made a mistake when governing Staufen in not prioritising building barracks to train armoured spearmen. Still his early emphasis on improving the lands had paid off and his home was now the first and only fortress in the Empire.

The Chancellor had ordered three rams to be prepared. Consequently, Henry divided his army into three groups - south, west and east - each with their own ram, as well as a regiment of crossbows, spears and of knights. Henry himself would lead the eastern force, marching north to the rear gate in the hope of enticing the defenders to leave the safety of the fort - as had happened before at Metz. The dismounted knights would support the first assault on the main southern gate. The eastern attack would breach a wall in the hope of overloading the enemy defence.

Unfortunately, the French could not be persuaded to sally out of the fort. Indeed, they retired to the centre of the fort - out of range of the besiegers’ crossbows. The Germans were able to breach the fort in three spots and to enter unopposed, but that still left much bitter fighting before the defenders could be overwhelmed.

The worst of the struggle was in the south, where a regiment of German spearmen was ordered to engage the regiment of mounted French knights garrisoning the fort.

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A mass of French infantry moved to attack the rear of the Germans and soon the spearmen were in danger of being overwhelmed. Belatedly, the Germans committed their dismount feudal knights to confront the mass of French infantry. In a bitter frontal struggle, the German knights fought well - losing a third of their number but killing three times as many as they lost.

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Nonetheless, the dismounted knights were not able to reach the German spearmen engaging the mounted French knights. The mass of French infantry opposed them was simply too great. Caught between that mass and the fine French knights, the German regiment of spearman was gradually whittled down. Eventually, only a handful of survivors remained. They broke and ran, but not before they had left a great pile of dead horses before them.

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As this first regiment of German spears ran, a second - sent from the north gate by Henry arrived to finish off the French knights and their unfortunate Captain.

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Henry himself led his escort through the north gate to support the third breach of the fort - in the east. The French had sent a regiment of spearmen to try to stem the breach, so Henry ordered his bodyguard to attack the rear of this force. Unable to charge, it was a risky tactic to use cavalry against spears, but the alternative was to allow the battle to degenerate into frontal attrition. The armour and experience of the German royal knights gradually told.

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The remainder of the German cavalry, Henry managed to direct into the centre of the fort. The French had moved all of their melee capable infantry out of the centre, into the south or east. Only two regiments of French archers remained. Soon the centre fell, as did the spearmen fighting Henry, leaving only the mass of the French infantry still locked in combat to the south with the dismounted knights. Leaderless, without a central refuge and with a couple of hundred cavalry to their rear, the French infantry soon lost heart.

Henry decided to halt the slaughter - the French had nowhere to run and the new Household Army of Swabia would need every man it could get if it were to continue to avenge Sigismund. Henry ordered the prisoners and wounded well looked after, then road back to meet with the Chancellor who was en route to Milan. Under the principle of a rotating command Henry had outlined for the Swabian army, Count von Salza would be the one to lead it onwards to Rheims. Quite what task the Chancellor would assign Henry, the Prinz was unsure. But in truth, his mind was not on that question. It was focussed to the south, on Genoa, where Henry’s father had trapped the Holy Father and was preparing to kill him without mercy.

The butcher’s bill:

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[Kagemusha]

Placeholder for Battle on Reinhards crossing.

[Ituralde]

Fall of Zagreb

"Well, if you're not going to join the battle, then let me at least explain to you what I'm planning to do, so that you get it right. This will be our first victory over the Venetian foe that has troubled us for so long. It will be an important victory and I want you to give it the glory it deserves!"

A young blonde scribe was sitting across from Leopold in his tent. The young man had approached him earlier in Vienna and told him that he was a biographer and planned to write down the story of Leopold's live. Leopold had been flattered by the offer at first and taken the young man with him. How he was to write everything that happened while refusing to join him on the battlefield was beyond him though. A little frustrated he leaned over the maps panned out in front of him and beckoned the biographer closer.

"Look, we have been encamped here in the East of the city for the past months. We outnumber the garrison under Gerrardo Selvo, here. There is another small Venetian Militia force somewhere to the South of the city. So far our troops were able to keep them from joining their comrades, but once we attack they'll surely attempt to attack our backs. It could get nasty if we don't breach the walls quick enough and are caught between the two forces. We have a superiority in training and men, but that's no excuse for wasting lives. If we want to move on Venice the next season we have to make sure that the taking of Zagreb will be nice and clean."

He looks at the Scribe who has been nodding and scribbling down notes for the whole time. Leopold wasn't entirely sure the man understood what he was telling him though.

"What we do to minimize our losses is a ruse my friend. Gerrardo Selvo is expecting us to attack from the East, where our main army is camped. The South gate he believes covered by his reinforcements outside the city. Tonight, under the cover of darkness I will move the majority of my army to the South gate, including a ram, and leave a small force in the East. Once we succeed in bypassing the reinforcements I will give the signal and the remaining forces in the East will light their torches, advance on the city and make a clamour that Selvo will fear an attack. They won't attack though just bind the defender's forces while I move our main forces up the South gate, knock it down and enter the city unopposed. That's the plan, that's how it will pan out."

And so it did. The reinforcements did not detect the Austrian movement and were too far away and unprepared to take a role in the oncoming fight.

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The Venetian Militia had manned the Eastern walls, where Austrian Mercenary Spearmen and one unit of Sergeant Spearmen had taken up ladders in feigned preparation of an assault.

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In the South Leopold had led his army up to the South gate unopposed and now ordered the ram to advance. Soon it hat reached the gate and began its work on the woodwork. This had not gone entirely unnoticed by Gerrardo Selvo who left the Town square with his retinue to repel the invaders. Once the gate was breached Selvo immediately charged the Spearmen that had taken the ram up to the gates.

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The Spearmen pushed forward and were able to enter the city, but Selvos bodyguard extracted a heavy toll.

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Meanwhile news of the breached South gate had reached the defenders on the Eastern wall and the first regiment began hurrying South.

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The situation at the gate became worse as more and more Spearmen fell to Selvos bodyguard. Leopold ordered his Mailed Knights to charge into the melee and push Selvo back. With the punch of the Knights behind them the Spearmen were able to turn the tide. Gerrardo Selvo fell to a German spear and his retinue soon fled. The road to the Town Square was open and Leopold urged his cavalry forward to take possession.

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Once Leopold had taken up position in the Town square the remaining Militia left the Eastern wall to attack the intruders. With the Eastern wall clear the Spearman began scaling the walls and soon the Eastern wall was under Imperial control.

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The Militia sent to the South were quickly dispatched by the Austrian infantry and now also made their way back to the Town square, where the other Militia unit had locked in combat with the Austrian cavalry.

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Although their general had died the Venetians put up a fierce fight in their town square and it took a long struggle to crush the last resistance. The fleeing troops from the South gate were able to reform, before they were crushed by Leopold's cavalry in their back.

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Finally the last pockets of resistance were crushed and the city was under Imperial control. Not many Venetians had been taken alive, many of them preferring to fight to the last man. Three nobles of Gerrardo Selvo's bodyguard were under them and Leopold advanced on the men.

"This has only been the first step in righting the wrongs your people have caused Austria and the Reich! Many more victories will follow and many more of your nobility will kneel before me. I only ask one thing of you: Lie down and ask forgiveness for the sins you have committed against my countrymen and I will forgive you!"

"NEVER! We will.." a young heated nobleman cried out before he could be silenced by one of his older comrades "My lord he meant no disrespect, of course we.." But Leopold had already turned away from the men.

"You know what to do Rainer!" he nodded at his battle-hardened companion, who ordered the remaining prisoners to be quartered and executed to serve as an example against disobedience. Smiling to himself the Duke of Austria surveyed the carnage. 'I wonder what the biographer will make of this'

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It was a clear victory and once the reinforcements realized that the city had switched sides during the last night they fled to the countryside.

[Dutch_guy]

The icy wind blew mercilessly into Günther’s face as he rode to the field on which he had deployed his force. A host of 1400 German troops had assembled, mostly German spearmen and a handful of knights and peasant archers. They were waiting, waiting for him, his orders, and the enemy. They knew their situation, were they to survive this day of hard fighting they’d probably be in Thorn living the good life by the end of the day. This fact was the only thing keeping them standing in the icy gale blowing from the north.

About 500 yards to the north, situated on top of a small hill, an array of Polish nobleman were awaiting the coming assault. They had nowhere to run, and had to fight. Their sole comfort being the fact that the Polish nobleman Boleslaw Herman would be arriving soon, bringing his own bodyguard and a few well armed spearmen to the fight at hand. The Polish had no way to go, they’d either be in Thorn by the night, or be dead, knowing their homes would be in German hands. Something they’d die for just to prevent.

Günther was riding hard now, eager to get this thing started. He could, and his soldiers as well, already see the Polish nobleman arriving. Best get this started before he get’s into a position to help the Polish noble cavalry. Their javelins were more than enough to worry about, and the extra heavy cavalry the nobleman would bring along wouldn’t lessen the troubles the battle would bring.

Günther was about to order the troops to move forward when a lone messenger called out for him:

Sir, I have a message I was bidden to bring to you before the battle commenced. It seems I’m just in time then. He finished glancing at the enemy horsemen on top of their hill.

Günther, slightly annoyed, took the thickly rolled piece of parchment, broke the familiar seal and unrolled the parchment.

He immediately recognized the efficient and neat handwriting, he knew where the message came from before even having to check the signature at the end of it.

Günther scanned the message. Surprised by its content, he read it again. And again.

‘This can’t be’ Günther muttered to himself ‘Surely not, why would he wish this in God’s name?’ He was silent for a moment.

He gave you this directly then ? He nodded at the parchment, and then at the messenger.

Yes lord, he did, he most certainly did. The messenger quickly replied.

Günther remained silent, then ordered one of his servants to dispose of the letter. It was best if no one else saw it’s contents, he thought.

A mere moment or two the previous thoughts had been prevalent, before the thought of the battle at hand come to mind again.

The battle begun

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The peasant archers were commanded to proceed into fireing range, carefully screened by the spearmen and cavalry. However, the Polish, realising their danger, quickly moved twenty paces back, attempting move out of range of the archers. It worked, the peasants armed with bows quickly upped the pace, becoming more and more seperated from the more disciplined spearmen supposed to screen and protect them.
The Polish noble horsemen immediately seized their chance, and ran forward. Attempting to catch the archers off guard. Günther, obviously annoyed by the peasant’s lack of discipline, immediately ordered his cavalry to charge the enemy horsemen head on. And ordered the spearmen to follow as fast as the could, whilst watching out for the enemy re-enforcements coming from the right.

The German cavalry quickly engaged the Polish horses, and a fierce battle ensued.

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Both sides took casualties, although the German knights significantly less. Helped by the higher quality of shields and armor, and by a fierce charge by their very general himself.
Not long after the initial fight, the first batch of Poles were routing. This wasn’t as promising as it seemed, as the enemy re enforcements had decided to throw themselves into the fray. They were met head on by the German spearmen.

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The fighting was brutal, and the feared enemy bodyguard took a heavy toll on the spearmen. Even managing to break one of the companies, before help arrived in the form of German Knights and bodygaurds.
The final stage of the battle had begun, and Günther had even ordered his archers to stop shooting and join in the melee taking place around the enemy nobleman’s bodyguard.
Not long after the order, the archers attacked the nobleman’s horses in the back. The enemy general was now completely surrounded. And fighting to death. A good thing, or was it ?

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A few Polish bodyguard did manage to break through the circle, making a run for it. Fanatically persued by the more lightly armoured German knights. Needless to say, he didn’t make it far. He was quickly hunt down and captured.

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The battle was won, the enemy general captured, enemy captain slain, and a score of the Polish cowards were now caught. It did come costly, and the Polish had sold their hides dearly.

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That night in his command tent, Günther finally laid down his stylus. He had completed his letter, and beckoned the messenger, the same one as earlier that day, to take it. Stone faced he handed it over.

Tell your master they have been released, the entire lot of them. Günther spoke to the leaving messenger.

I will Sir, I will. The messenger replied, eager to get out of this tent.

You make sure you do, a little over 260 good men gave their lives for it, and the city isn’t even theirs. Günther finished.

The messenger listened quietly, avoiding the general’s gaze, then quickly turned around and left the tent and went on his way.

Groaning, Günther picked up his stylus again. He had to write his battle report, the Diet would want to know how the battle had gone

Sometimes that man's quite the enigma, Günther thought of the messenger's master. Quite the mystery indeed.

[GeneralHankerchief]

The Diary of Kaiser Heinrich

Genoa, 1154

"Sir? The men are waiting."

I shook myself awake. Captain Ludwig, my second in command and close personal friend, was standing by my bed, uniform already on, prepared for battle. Outside my tent, I could already hear the unmistakable noise of men on the move, gathering what they need, ready to fight. How could I have overslept on this day, the most important of them?

In years past, I would have frantically jumped out of bed and rushed to put on my armour. However, in years past I also would not have arisen so late in the day. I found that the best I could do was a slow, agonizing series of moves to prepare myself which nearly killed my knees. Ludwig, also getting up there in his years but in better shape than me, stood by with a look of sympathy on his face. He knew that he would be facing this eventually, but knew better than to say anything.

Finally, when I was dressed appropriately and had scarfed down a quick meal, I asked Ludwig a question.

"How long have the men been waiting?"

Ludwig looked like he didn't want to answer, but I put a look on my face that made it clear that I wanted to know. Finally, he mumbled "about an hour and a half, Mein Kaiser."

An hour and a half. For me, a man who has lived his entire life based on a schedule, both politically and militarily, this was extemely discomforting. I sighed.

"Sir? Are you feeling all right? We can always fight the battle tomorrow."

I shook my head. "No Ludwig," I said sadly, "We must fight it today, now. Everything is in place. If we wait then my condition will only worsen. The only way it can improve is if we are victorious. Gregory is doing this to me, either through God or Satan. One way or another, it ends here, today. For the health and souls of us all, it must be today."

"Well then, Mein Kaiser, let us get going before we take up too much of the day."

"Not yet," I said with a touch of finality, "First we must pray." Together we knelt down, in our battle armour, facing the figure of Christ on the crucifix in my opulent tent.

"O my God, I am heartily sorry
for having offended Thee,
and I detest all my sins,
because I dread the loss of Heaven
and the pains of Hell,
but most of all because they
offend Thee, my God,
Who art all-good and deserving
of all my love.
I firmly resolve, with the help
of Thy grace to confess my sins,
to do penance
and to amend my life. Amen."

Finally we exited the tent, mounted our horses, and made our way to the battle line, which was still in magnificent order despite the two commanding officers not being present. I looked them over for a minute, admiring these men who served under me. They were loyal, and they were ready to do what their Kaiser asked them. They believed I was right and would follow me to the gates of Hell. Ironically enough, that is where some members of the Diet wished I would go.

So it ends here, I thought. How appropriate. The city that stood before me, Genoa, had been so intertwined with my long conflict with the Papacy that it had almost as much significance as Rome itself. Genoa was quite close to Canossa, that infamous castle that I walked to and stood outside for three days, wearing nothing but a hairshirt, begging for forgiveness from Pope Gregory. Since the quest to redeem myself began, Genoa had been a large military obstacle, almost ending my long journey in life thanks to a few dedicated Milanese spearmen. And of course, Genoa had been the key to legally declaring war on Rome. I had gifted it to the new Duke of Bavaria Otto von Kassel, who had promptly exercised his Ducal powers and declared that the Pope's army was unlawfully trespassing on his land. War followed, and now the man that represented all of my failures in life held the city.

For a little while longer, anyway.

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The official commander of the Papal Army was one Falcone Olearius, but everyone present knew that the true objective was the Pope, and most likely he would have a larger escort of heavy cavalry than Falcone.

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"The hour of judgment has arrived, Hildebrand!", I shouted aloud, more to the men that to the Pope. "By the end of this day the Investiture Controversy will be over and we shall see whom God truly favors! I hope that you have had Last Rites prepared to make your passing easier!"

I doubted that last part, of course. It was starting to become common knowledge that the Pope was actually quite irreligious.

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However, it didn't really matter what his exact beliefs were. He had still managed to put most of Catholic Europe under his spell, claiming divine right to appoint all church officials, not to mention thoroughly humiliating me and putting the Reich in mortal danger. For years I had been chasing him, plotting against him, even meeting with him once. When the moment to strike finally arrived, he had poisoned the Diet so much that one Elector had threatened to kill me!

But now, he was here. And he was trapped. This day would right all wrongs once and for all.

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I was not alone in this fight. My faithful Duke of Bavaria, Otto von Kassel, and his subject Gerhard Steffin had brought the entire Bavarian Household Army and were assaulting the eastern side of the city. I hoped that their intervention would be decisive. I also hoped that Otto would survive this encounter. He had helped me through much of this, and I knew how much this crisis was harming him internally.

The plan for this battle would be simple - divide and overwhelm. Pope Gregory had with him a frighteningly large amount of Italian Militia and pavise crossbowmen, but if that number were to be split in half then their effect would be quite a bit less devastating.

Just as I was about to begin the assault, a courier approached me from the east.

"Mein Kaiser, Duke Otto's men are in position. Shall we begin the assault?"

I shook my head. "Not yet," I told the young man, "We must be methodical in this action. Tell him to wait for me to wheel the ballistae around. When they finish breaking down the eastern gate, tell him to signal me. We go in together."

The young man nodded and took off back to the eastern position. I sighed. He was full of youth, of vitality. Evidently this was his first action. By tomorrow he would be a hardened man, perhaps incapable of any other emotion other than weariness.

This has to end.

Most of the soldiers, myself included, were lost in our thoughts during the long, slow wait for the ballistae to break down the southern gate, move to the east, and break that gate down too. Mostly, I think, we just wanted something to happen. Death would be a welcome change from this endless waiting, this eternal suffering. Either way, salvation awaited every soldier present wearing Imperial colors, be it earthly or posthumously.

Finally, after what seemed like several days, a faint crack could be heard to the east. About a minute later, I spotted that same courier from earlier heading my way. I waved, indicating I knew what had happened, and turned to my men.

The moment, at last, had arrived.

I pointed to one set of ladders and one siege tower, and indicated that they were to go forward. As harsh as this was, their job was to simply keep the men on the walls busy, to buy time, to die while the bulk of the force made their way into the streets where the confused Papal infantry was still shifting. The walls did not matter. The city and the Pope did. I didn't want to watch as the men scaled the ladders, completing their final task in life, but I couldn't help it. These soldiers were supremely loyal, and were willingly about to die for me. Was it truly for me, though? Was there some higher cause that prompted them to be the shock troops, the side effort?

In the end, their cause, just like their objective, did not matter. They fought and died well.

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Meanwhile, the time for the main push had begun.

"All units TO THE GATE!!!"

For the first time that day, all of my men crossed into crossbow range, but thanks to them busy fighting off two regiments on the walls no harm befell the main body of troops making their way to the gate. Instead, they were met by a fierce, albeit numerically miniscule resistance. The Italians, realizing that they would soon be flanked and annihilated if they continued to fight immediately past the gates, retired slightly until they were on a narrow side street, thus nullifying our numerical advantage. The push to the center of the city would be a long, slow, brutal affair.

Unfortunately, I could do little more than watch as the men did their work and shout the occasional encouragement. I could only imagine that the sight for the infantry in the front lines was a wretched one, with reeking blood and corpses everywhere, and the feeling of sheer exhaustion, yet at the same time the knowledge that, if you rested, you would surely die.

Finally, several minutes and only a few feet later, I couldn't take it anymore. Sounds of battle were being heard to the eastern end of the city. I motioned to the escort to move. We would ride and view the situation personally.

On the way there, I took a look around me. Most of the buildings were boarded up, although there were some people looking out the windows at the carnage, some of them transfixed with a look that wasn't quite terrified, wasn't quite intrigued.

Finally, we arrived at the eastern gate, where a fierce melee was taking place, although it was mostly between cavalry, as the infantry had already been eradicated. Our men joined the fight, rolling over the unsuspecting Papal Mailed Knights. A second later, I saw Otto von Kassel, helmet off, waving me over. I sidled over to him.

"Heil, Mein Kaiser," he said grinning, "And thanks for the help! How goes the fight to the south?"

"Slow," I shouted, because another battle horn had just sounded, "But we're making progress!"

"Incoming!"

We all turned to the streets leading to the city square. For a second, I thought that the Pope himself had joined the battle, but it only turned out to be Falcone Olearius, his escort, and some rallied cavalry. All of our escorts (mine, Otto's, and Gerhard Steffin's), along with a hodgepodge of knights that were still alive, countercharged the Papal cavalry, hacking our way through until only Falcone and a few others remained. They fled back to the city square, leaving the Imperial forces alone again.

"They'll be back. Let's rest for a moment," I ordered the men. After sizing up the condition of my escort's horses, I signalled a man to ride back to the south and give a summary of what was going on over there. There was a series of tense minutes that gave absolutely no relaxation to the men. Oh well, at least the horses were catching their breaths.

We could see the center square from our point of view. Many of the men were watching it intently; hoping to observe Papal infantry running there and rallying. They would not be denied, and a small cheer went up among the men.

This meant nothing, however. The last time we were on the cusp of victory at Genoa, I had nearly died.

Another couple of minutes passed. The rider I had sent to report on the western developments came trotting back, horse clearly in bad shape.

"Mein Kaiser," he huffed, out of breath, "Your men have beaten back the Papal infantry. They were about to give chase but then the men on the walls came down and so our infantry was forced to turn around and engage them. Our infantry's backs are to the city square and are thus extemely vulnerable to a cavalry charge."

There was a pause at this. I believe that Gerhard's loud swearing expressed all of our emotions. Gregory's position was still not accounted for, and 46 heavy cavalry slamming into our men's rear would have quite an impact. We had little time to debate this latest turn of events, however, as Falcone, the remainder of his escort, and the Papal infantry that had just ran into the square came charging back.

"Forward, and this time don't stop!"

A few of our men went down, but more of theirs did. I received a blow to my right knee, and all of the pain from this morning came rushing back. Grimacing, I signalled to charge to the city square, where only Falcone had survived.

The swiftest of our men ran him down and ended his life just as he had reached the square.

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Our men stand over the corpse of Falcone. The main villain, however, had yet to be dispatched.

As the rest of us made our way into the square, there was a brief moment of calm, and then a collective gasp. Coming our way, from the opposite direction, was the Papal Escort. Gregory had declined to strike our infantry, giving up the possibility of a general rout and leaving us stranded. Instead, he had opted to charge straight for us.

Straight for me.

There was no holy radiance coming from this man; no Light of God reflecting off of his uniform. But there was still a great power emanating from the man who called himself Pope. His sword raised in the air, ghostly white horse, and banner he carried all held our men in a stupor for some amount of time. We would all die watching him kill us, in awe.

I was probably the last one to snap out of it, truth be told. I attribute it to my age. All around me I watched as the three escorts of the Reich battled Gregory's cavalry.

The young courier that Otto had sent to me before the battle began was one of the first to fall. He and his horse were still full of reckless abandon and had simply charged too far in. I caught a glimpse of his face, de-helmeted, before he fell. It had a shocked expression of one who clearly did not expect to die, yet was about to do just that. His eyes were already starting to glaze over.

Another second went by. More men went down. The tide of battle was moving me away from my own escort and closer to that of Otto's and Gerhard's. I would have accepted this turn of events and followed the flow, but at that very moment, I saw Gregory angling his horse straight for me. By the time he would reach me, I would not have been turned around and ready to face him. Muttering a quick final prayer, I screwed my eyes shut and braced for the killing blow.

...it never came. I opened my eyes and looked to see what was happening. Captain Ludwig, vigilant Captain Ludwig, who had proposed that devastating cavalry charge in this same city so long ago, had seen what was about to happen and moved to block the Pope. I could only watch as my friend and second did battle with my arch-enemy.

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After the initial block, Captain Ludwig and Pope Gregory duel.

It seemed very fast. Gregory recovered from the block rather quickly and slashed at Ludwig's arm. Ludwig dropped his sword in shock, and then the killing blow had hit. I saw my friend go down, his blood dirtying the Pope's uniform.

I didn't scream Ludwig's name. I couldn't. I was unable to do anything other than look at the man who had killed my friend. I did not comprehend that the Pope had just violated one of the Ten Commandments, or that he had done so at the expense of one so close to me, or that he was now continuing his charge for me. I was simply staring blankly as he did the latter.

I'm not sure what happened next. I felt a vague movement under me. My horse was doing what I was unable to. I only continued to watch as the Pope re-angled his charge based on this movement, which brought him in more dangerous territory. The next thing I knew, he simply fell, speared by an anonymous lance.

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Pope Gregory falls.

Otto, who had seen it happen, rode over to the Pope's body and removed the man's helmet. His eyes were open and he was still breathing. However, Otto ignored this, raising the helmet for all to see.

"The Pope is dead," he cried. "There is nothing to fight for!"

Gregory's escort fought on, although with little intensity. They were quickly dispatched, and once again we had full control of the city square. Otto rode down, alone, to the street where our infantry were bravely putting up a losing fight against the Papal forces. Once again, he held the helmet high.

"The Pope is dead! Gregory is no more! Lay down your arms! This battle is over!"

From what I could see of the Papal infantry, there was a great gasp, and then a grim realization that what Otto said what was correct. The sounds of spear and sword hitting shield ceased. Some men screamed in Italian, others in Latin. Some men cried "NO!" A few just sat down, infinitely weary and disgusted. It was clear that all the fight had been taken out of these men. The battle, for all intensive purposes, was over.

Otto, who had seen Gregory's fall but not Ludwig's death, rode back to me with a look of triumph on his face. Gerhard, too, came to my side, uniform scratched and dirtied. He would be knighted for his bravery.

"Mein Kaiser," Otto said, "Let me congratulate you today, on this day of your ultimate victory."

I nodded, but said nothing. Victory had never felt so horrible. So many people were not around to share it. The brave infantrymen that I had ordered to die in the opening stages of the battle. That young courier who had so much to live for. And of course, my good friend and advisor, Captain Ludwig.

That night I dined with the nobility, toasting the defeat of Gregory and victorious assault of the city, feeling absolutely no emotion. Gregory was still alive, being held prisoner in the city's palace. Tomorrow I would deal with him, as well as inform the necessary people of what had transpired here. But that night, I simply went to sleep, my knees crying out in pain as I dressed for the night. And this time, I had no one to assist me, no one to stand by.

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[OverKnight]

The Third Battle of Genoa 1154

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Looking up at the Milanese forces perched on a hill, Otto swore loudly into the morning air. Beside him Gerhard Steffen, knighted by the Emperor himself after the assault on Genoa, laughed at his Duke's profanity.

"You won't be laughing, Gerhard, when we have to dig those bastards out of that hilltop", Otto said turning to his vassal, "There's only one damn path up that hill, unless we flank out, and they've got bowmen and spears."

"Do you think they'll stay up there mein Duke?", responded Gerhard, "We're between them and their ships, and they've been living off the land for years. Starvation has driven them this close to Genoa. I doubt they will stop now, so close to rescue."

Otto grunted and fingered the scar on his face while looking up the hill, "You might be right, still we have to prepare for the worst. I'm going to deploy the crossbowmen ahead of the spears. You'll take the cavalry and keep it in column on the left flank. If they come down flank them. If they stay up, circle around the hill and catch them from behind. Remember, you're job is to disrupt them, force their hand, not to get into a pitched battle. Heroics are for dead men. Understand?"

Gerhard nodded and went to gather his forces. Otto watched him go. Was I ever that young and brash? He's a knight, but let's see if he can lead a large force of men. If he can, I can use him. Someone will have to defend Bavaria when I take the Cross.

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The men deployed as Otto ordered. Gerhard began to advance his cavalry. Otto saw motion on the hilltop, I'll be damned, the boy was right.

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By that point, Gerhard had deployed his cavalry in a line perpendicular to the Imperial foot. As missiles began to fly between both armies, Otto heard Gerhard's bugler blow a note. The cavalry charged.

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The bowmen were crushed and dispersed. Yet the cavalry stayed to butcher more. Bindello Columbana with his retainers, Frankish Knights and spearmen quickly advanced to catch the Imperial horse. Gerhard was cutting it very close.

"Get out of there you fool!", yelled Otto, as if his commands could actually be heard.

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As if on cue, Gerhard turned his horsemen around and galloped back to Imperial lines, just ahead of the pursuit. The mercenary Frankish knights broke off and turned to charge the crossbowmen on the right of Otto's line.

"Spearmen forward!", Otto yelled. This command was heard.

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The knights struck the spearmen with a terrible impact. Men were thrown into the air or were trod under shodded hoof. The charge was halted though by the rear ranks. The units from the left and right moved in, stabbing at the horsemen from the flanks. The knights were engulfed, and paid with their lives for charging impetuosly without orders. A few galloped away under a heavy barrage of missiles, leaving their fallen comrades behind.

At this point, trying to take advantage of the disarray of the Imperial line, Columbana charged with his men at the center. This time the spearmen had enough warning to brace themselves, and the assault floundered. Sensing the crisis point approaching, Otto drew his sword.

"Break them!", Otto scream as his retainers galloped into the fray.

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While this was happening, on the left a unit of Italian spearmen had pursued Gerhard's horsemen as they made their way back to the line. Gerhard expertly swung his cavalry behind the protection of his own spearmen. The Italians changed course to engage the foot, and that is when the young knight pivoted his horsemen and bore into their flanks. Panic quickly spread among the Milanese foot.

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Back in the center, the weight of Imperial numbers began to tell. Otto's bodyguard and spearmen wore down Bindello Columbana's escort until he was struck down.

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With their leader dead and their infantry in disarray, the Milanese broke. Having given up the advantage of height and a narrow path, they had to overcome those same obstacles as they tried to escape.

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Otto, his men and the unit of mailed knights pursued the spearmen. The mounted sergeants galloped after the remnants of Columbana's escort. Gerhard Steffen and his retainers rode among the Milanese crossbowmen and gathered a grim harvest. Of the 653 men who had deployed on that hill, only 26 escaped.

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The prisoners were gathered and bound. Sheathing his sword, Otto dismounted and approached the three men who had survived from Columbana's escort. They were haggard and looked half starved. The oldest stared up at him defiantly and spoke, "Von Kassel, you figlio di puttana. One day we'll get Milan and Genoa back. This isn't over!"

Drawing Elsebeth's dagger, Otto toyed with it in his hands while looking down at his captive, "That day may come Signore, but it is not today. You are defeated. You should have accepted the Chancellor's peace offer."

Otto wanted to kill this man, make an example of him and these prisoners. Yet Otto remembered a phrase he had written long ago, 'Some wars are waged on the battlefield and others in the bedroom'. I have won here, but I have lost the other. I will not take up the Cross with more blood on my hands.

Otto reached down and with his wife's blade cut the man's fetters.

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"You and your men are free. Go to your ships and return to your islands. It would be wise if you urged your Duke to make peace, for if I see you on the mainland again, you will be destroyed."

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Returning to Genoa with his army, Otto spoke to Gerhard, "A good day for you, young man, 230 Milanese killed and captured by you and your retainers. Between this and the last battle, you've proven yourself. How would you like to have an army of your own?"


The Butcher's Bill

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[GeneralHankerchief]

Rome, 1160

Prinz Henry, on his way to the Diet for the final day of deliberations, passed by the city's barracks and noticed a strange sight: They were empty.

The Prinz immediately grew nervous at this sight. The entire garrison, over 500 men, should have been out drilling by now. Henry changed course and went inside the barracks, hoping to find someone that was behind. He was not disappointed. A crossbowman with a broken leg was sitting calmly, not at all surprised by the Prinz's entrance.

"Soldier, where are your comrades?"

The crossbowman looked lazily up at the Prinz upon this question. "Why, they've gone to the river northwest of the city."

Henry's blood turned cold. Pope Accattus and his army was currently occupying the bridge on that very river. "On whose orders?!", he demanded, even though he already knew the answer.

"Your father's, Mein Prinz."

Curses. The old man was at it again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The barracks, several hours earlier

Kaiser Heinrich entered the sleeping quarters, making an awful racket by clanging his sword onto a random shield. The poor soldiers awoke to find their Emperor already fully-dressed for battle.

"Arise, soldiers of the Reich! We have some marching to do this morning!"

Some soldiers mumbled (under their breaths of course) that it would not yet be light out for another several hours, but they obediently got out of bed and suited for battle. This would be a brutal nighttime march a few miles outside of the city. Heinrich talked to the soldiers all along the way, describing their target and why they were fighting.

"Pope Accattus has gone behind my back and threatened the entire Reich, good soldiers. He has threatened our capital and he has threatened my life, and now the Diet is about to make sure that his reign is allowed to proceed without consequence. I cannot let this happen, and you are all going to help assert Imperial authority once more!"

Finally, they had arrived at their target - The Tiber Bridge. On the other side was Pope Accattus and his army, completely oblivious to the threat that faced them. While the Imperial Army was preparing for an assault, it seemed as if a shockwave had passed through the Papal camp, followed by frenzied movement to prepare.

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Finally, the Papal forces were ready, just in the nick of time. Their largely mercenary army had no infantry, only crossbowmen and cavalry, and therefore could not make good use of the classic bridge defense that had served many so well.

Instead, upon viewing a massed infantry charge across the bridge, the Pope ordered his Frankish Knights in to break up the disorganized infantry. Unfortunately, in the narrow confines of the bridge, numbers trumped skill and power.

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Next, desperate to break this infantry charge, Pope Accattus threw his own escort into the fray. Immediately he realized the folly that he just committed, but it was too late to turn back. The old Pope desperately fought on, to no avail.

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Pope Accattus faces to the many spearmen of the Reich.

Eventually, along with the rest of his escort, he fell, but at least his death was more honorable than that of his predecessor.

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After the Pope's death, the remaining Papal forces (the majority of the crossbowmen and a handful of cavalry) routed and were chased down by Heinrich's escort.

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Once the clean-up operation had been completed, Heinrich turned his men around and marched them straight back to Rome where they would catch up on his sleep. He, however, was preparing to face an irate Diet, although this didn't faze him much as there had been plenty of practice recently.

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[Ituralde]

Fall of Venice, 1166

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Leopold felt strangely calm as he surveyed the large city sprawled before him. Thin plumes of smoke rose from the chimneys towards the moon that was standing fully visible over the city. It should have filled Leopold with joy, or at least excited him. Finally the captial of his enemy was within his grasp. Soon Imperial banners would fly from every tower in the city and all the riches, all the trade of Venice would belong to him, to the House of Austria. Months ago the mere thought at this prospect had filled him with glee. But since he had taken up the office of Chancellor things had changed. He had more in mind now, more to care about than just Austria. He was responsible for the Holy Roman Empire, and it was beset on all sides by enemies. The taking of Venice, while important, was just another step that had to be taken, to advance the Empire, an important step, with Zagreb under siege and the French and Poles readying for attacks. Not to mention the Portugese and English that had appeared in the north.
He was ready to take this step, calm and composed, one step after the other.

Leopold raised his hand and the columns under his command started the advance. As with Zagreb, Leopold had used the cover of darkness to close in on the defenders. His main army with him, while his Mercenaries would attack the main gate. His ruse did not play out as smooth as in Zagreb though. The gate in front of him was manned and ready to repell the attackers. Slowly the ram moved forward while his Sergeant Spearmen advanced with their ladders, ready to scale the walls.

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It did not take long for his men to close in, taking the arrows sent at them from the towers.

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The defenders were staying behind in the street and luckily weren't occupying the walls. Soon the ram had reached the gate and the wood gave way under the hammering.

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Distant sounds of fighting told him that the Mercenary Spearmen with their siege towers had started their attack as well and were closing in on the walls.

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The Pavise Crossbowmen were retreating at the main gate as well, letting the Mercenaries take the walls without resistance. Within minutes both defensive positions had been overrun by the Austrian Household Army.

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Seeing that the gates were lost the Italian Militia sent to repell Leopold were making a hasty retreat. Immediatelly Mailed Knights and Leopolds own bodyguard rode forward to slaughter the Militia in the street, before they could dig in in the Town Square.

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Soon all defenders were overtaken and Leopold and his men could now set up their men in the town square of Venice.

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The remaining Venetian garrison, commanded by their captain were putting up a fierce fight at the main gate, though. The Mercenary Spearmen were only slowly able to subdue them.

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Finally their commander was slain!

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With their commander dead on the field and the Town Square held by Imperial troops the rest of the garrison surrendered. Venice had been taken!
At last, standing in the Town Square and surveying his troops, Leopold felt a small jolt of joy and happily gave the order for his men to sack and plunder through the rest of the night. Let them enjoy themselves, while Leopolds mind had already turned to more important matters, concerning the defense of the Reich.

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[GeneralHankerchief]

Rome, 1168

It was a little after 1:00 AM in the Eternal City. However, despite the ungodly hour, there was still movement going on in the Reich's capital. Kaiser Heinrich, fed up with his prize being under siege and unwilling to die until Rome was free, had roused his soldiers up for a nighttime sally.

The target of Heinrich's aggressions was once again the Papacy. The Kaiser's latest approved choice was Pope Andreas of Denmark. He had been complacent - for a while. However, recently he had made the mistake of besieging Rome. The time had come, as Otto von Kassel would put it, to exercise his veto against Andreas.

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During the march to the northern gate, where the action would take place, an unnamed soldier fell into line with Heinrich's escort, dressed appropriately for the occasion. After seeing the Kaiser stare at him for a minute, this new soldier removed his helmet and his true visage was shown. It was none other than the Fifth Elector of Swabia, one of Heinrich's few remaining allies in the Diet.

Before the Kaiser could say anything, the Swabian Elector spoke.

"With all due respect, Mein Kaiser, you're 62 years old. Someone needs to watch your back."

Heinrich chuckled. "I've gotten into my share of engagements over the years, good sir. Which is more than I can say for this priest that is waiting for me (who also happens to be 62 by the way)."

The discussion turned slightly more serious as the ride continued.

"62 is quite an age to live to in these times. You've survived rebellions, wars, battles, disease, and assassination attempts. Aren't you getting tired?"

"Very," sighed the Kaiser. "The truth is, I think I have willed myself to live for these past couple of years. I do not fear the judgement that awaits me after death. I fear the fact that my plans will not go to fruition if I am not around to see them done. I fear for the Reich's future."

There was a respectful silence as the host marched by a church.

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Then, the Kaiser continued. "But what about you? Why do you risk death when it is not necessary? You realize that should you fall this morning, your position in the Diet will go to Prinz Henry's darling child Hans."

"Hans is replacing me anyway. Why would the Prinz keep me, an ally of his enemy, in the Diet when he can throw his own son in my place?"

"Well, sons don't necessarily mean anything. Look at my two sons and their elevated opinion of me."

The two shared a laugh, but it was short-lived. The host had just passed by the statue of Marcellus Aemilius, signalling that the northern gate, and thus the battle was near. The Kaiser began deploying his men.

"Crossbows on the walls! Everyone else behind the gate! We lure them in!"

"Mein Kaiser?" said a crossbowman who had just climbed the walls. "They're pulling back out of range."

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"No point in seeing if they'll take the bait," Heinrich said to himself. "Spears! Catch 'em while they're retreating! CHARGE!!!"

The spears did as they were told, with Heinrich's escort trailing behind at a walk. The Kaiser's plan wasn't completely effective, but the Papal mercenary crossbowmen did only manage a few volleys before they were forced to fall back.

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The battle was purely an infantry melee for a short amount of time. The Imperial spearmen fought and made gains against the less-numerous Papal spears. Seeing this, Pope Andreas charged his 46-strong escort in to even the tide, but Heinrich did the same with his.

The battle instantly grew less organized. Heinrich was aiming for the Pope, but the way things went, he and Andreas were at opposite ends of the "line." Heinrich wanted to charge his way through, but saw only Papal cavalry. As a matter of fact, that was all he saw, period. He was completely cut off from any support!

Some of Andreas's escort noticed this and circled in for the kill.

So, this is the way I go out. Surrounded by enemies and the Swabian Elector nowhere to be seen. Then let everyone know I go down in a blaze of glory!

Heinrich, King of the Romans, held his sword high in the air and bellowed something that could not be translated in any language other than that of battle-fury. His frail arm started hacking at the first thing he saw.

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The Kaiser's last stand?

Continuing to scream and battle, more akin to the Germanic barbarians of old than the ancient Romans, Heinrich did battle alone with the endless tide of Papal cavalry, preparing for his end. He received his share of blows, but none were strong enough to unhorse him. Meanwhile, he kept slashing away, bringing down horseman after horseman.

This is something that Henry will never understand. You must be strong, always. Even in death.

His body was weakening, his mind clouding. His saddle had turned red with blood. The end had come, he was expecting it, he would fight to the end...

...finally, relief. An Imperial horseman had seen the plight his Emperor was in and had come riding to the rescue. It was, of course, the Fifth Elector of Swabia.

Not bothering to apologize, he immediately took over where Heinrich left off, chopping and hacking at the Papal cavalry. A barely-conscious Heinrich watched with pleasure. However, it was clear that the Swabian Elector was not imbued with the same fury, the same battle lust. He took his share of blows and returned them in spades, but eventually the same event happened to him that would have happened to the Kaiser were it not for his intervention.

Heinrich could only watch in horror as another comrade fell. No one came riding to his rescue. No one rode to save him. The effort to defend his Kaiser, although valiant, had failed. And now, the remaining Papal cavalry had turned their attention back to the weakening Heinrich.

...there was a gasp on the other side of the battle. Heinrich, although hurt and not fully alert anymore, still knew what had happened. He had heard the sound twice before: When Gregory had fallen, and when Accattus had fallen. The same proved true with Andreas.

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The rout on the Papal side was instant. The men about to kill the Kaiser now turned and fled at the sight of him. Heinrich's horse, in a much better state than its mount, turned to pursue the routers, leaving behnd the pile of Papal corpses and the one Imperial body.

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The next thing Heinrich knew, it was day, and he was in bed. An odd light was shining around him.

Am I dead? Is this heaven?

At that instant, the light was blocked. Staring at him from above was a surgeon, not an angel.

"You're lucky to be alive, Mein Kaiser. Rome is safe, but you are hurt. I don't know how you managed to survive all those wounds at your age."

Heinrich mumbled. "And the Swabian?"

The surgeon shook his head. "I'm afraid that he..."

The words trailed off as the Kaiser fell back to sleep. Apparently, there was still work to be done, plans to go to fruition. But now there was one less ally to help him.

Maybe, just maybe... we can get Otterbach in now... and peace...

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[Dutch_guy]

Battle in the cold dense forests of Thorn.

The sound of armour shifting, and heavy boots pounding filled the air as Günther von Kastillien finally finished giving his second in command the final pre battle orders. The battle plan was simple, straight to the point.

The large Polish force had camped in the dense forests, and was awaiting the German force. Both forces were about equal in number, but the German force was of substantial better quality. Both in weaponry, and morale. Plus, the German force was also in possession of a new fighting force, the feudal foot knights. This was the first time they’d see battle, as far as Günther knew, and he was eager to try them out against the bold Poles.

As far as his scouts had told him, the Polish forces were positioned straight in front of the German force, with a small company of Polish nobles on the Polish right flank. Their formation was simple, spearmen were to main fighting force, assisted by weak archers and a few sword armed peasants. That said, they’re were a lot of them, and loss of good German troops was suspected. The Javelin armed Polish nobles always took their toll on our infantry, they were always a feared foe.

The plan was as followed. The archers would be sent to deal with the enemy archers, preferably taking such a heavy toll on them that they’d be unable to thin out our precious feudal knights and sergeant spearmen. The few cavalry that was present at the battle were to deal with the Polish nobles. A charge would probably brake them, and send them running for help. The cavalry would give chase, until positioned sufficiently behind the main bulk of the Polish force. In the mean time the German spearmen would march towards the enemy and take them head on. The feudal knights would act as shock troops, and would flank the enemy’s right side, after contact between the two main bodies was made. The archers would continue their barrage, stopping only to differ their targets from the enemy archers to the enemy infantry – and general. Günther would lead his own bodyguard against the enemy general on the battlefield, if the archers hadn’t taken care of the Polish fool by the time he got there.

Günther had given his orders, time to see if they’d be as effective as he hoped they would.

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The archers moved in range, and immediatley started to take enemy fire. Losses were kept at a minimum by spreading out and returning fire themselves. In the mean time the enemy stood their ground, awaiting the impending onslaught.

The feared Polish nobles, however, were taken completely by surprise by the knights sent after them. They fell in moments, as they didn’t suspect the charge at all. They were hit in their side and they routed almost on contact.

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The German cavalry were just beginning to chase the cowardly Polish nobles, when the first of the german infantry made contact. The right flank was now engaged, the left flank would follow suite as soon as it could.

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The Polish peasants were selling their hides dearly, but they were losing 5 soldiers to each German one. They knew this, and they steadily fell back, leaving their right flank to take on the power of the Reich.

The Polish right, having stood by idlely after the initial contact on the other side, were now facing a dilema. They could help their comrades on their left, or brace themselves against the impeding charge of the feudal knights. They chose the latter option, and moments later they were hit head on by the eager knighst fighting on foot.

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The fight continued, and the Polish slowly lost ground. The Polish right crumbled faster than the Polish left, even though they had been fighting a significantly shorter time than their brothers on the left side. The Feudal knights broke the enemy spearmen, and proceeded to charge the steadfast levy swordsmen, still fighting the German spears on the right, in the back. They didn’t stand a chance and broke as soon as the first German swords were plunged into Polish back.

Günther finally sent in his own bodyguard, and sent orders to the remaining cavalry to chase the routers, and capture them. It seemed, however, that the cowardly enemy captain had fled once the battle had tipped in German favour, and was already many a mile away.

Even though the Poles were soundly defeated the Germans did lose quite some men, 237 as told in the latest report. 237 good men against 1000 + enemy soldiers, not counting those who were captured and eventually killed once the ransom was turned down.

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[Stuperman]

"Conrad, we will attack tomorrow," Gerhard announced just before the evening meal, "and I have something rather odd to ask you, will you carry the banner of the Commander in to thios battle?"

"But of course, Sir" Conrad replied "but why?"

"The Hungarians that we face tomorrow have has superior infintry and equal cavlery to our own forces, we must use the power of surprise, and If I carry the Command Banner I cannot hide with our new Teutonic knights, it will be your job lure the young unskilled Capian into a charge of our line. But enough of that, we will discuss the particulars after we eat, Rally the men, let them eat heartely tonight, WE BATTLE TOMORROW!"



We deployed a long formation with most of the Cavlery hidden on the right flank (facing pic):



The lack of command expierence makes it's self known when the hungarians charge, with thier archers getting cut down in front:



Our Troops counter charge, and the hungarian left desintegrates:



With Panic racing through the hangarian line, there is quickly Chaos:



Conrad (foreground) and Myself (background) meet the Hungarian Prince and show him how real men fight.



Our spearmen circle around from behind and trap the Prince, He's Captured, The Battle Is WON!!




"You fight very well Conrad, " I said to him over drinks back at camp, "Most honourabley taking the prince Himself on, I think Ritter Salier has a nice ring to it doesn't it?"

He stared at me in slight disblief, "Congradulatons you've earned it"

In the morning when I got the official word from Rome that our coffers were pittifully low, I ordered the prisioners to ransomed back to Hungry, alas they are a cheap bunch thosew huingarians and wouldn't even take thier own flesh and bloods back.





Butcher's bill:






Butcher's bill:

[Warluster]

1172, Near Dijon.

Thunder rumbled through the afternoon sky, and the groound shook and ears were pressed hard. Jobst sighed in hgis tent,as he sat by the door, watching soldiers go by readying for battle.

A week before the Chancellor had contacted him to tell Jobst that a French army was nearby, and Jobst was to mop them up.

And here Jobst was. Rain pelted onto the roof of the tent, but softly.
jobst surveyed the surrounding area, looking for weakness in the Frenhc Army set up on the other side of the plains, and the landscape.

The Frenchies they were verusing were 794 strong, compared to Jobst's army of 731, mainly made up of Crossbow Miltia.

While Jobst was surveying the land, someone stood in front of him.Jobst got up quickly, drawing his sword. the person was no threat, it was his Biographer.

'Sorry for startling and disturbing you sir' said his Biographer. Jobst coughed and sat back down.
'Your French aren't you?' asked Jobst,
'Yes sir' said the man, Jobst nodded in a creepy way, and the Biographer spoke again nervoulsy.
'I was wondering if you...' the man was cut short of finishing his sentence by Jobst,
'Would like to say anything more on my biography?' said jobst amuseingly,
'Why, acutally sir that was exactly what I was to say, anyhow, do you sir?'
'No, now leave me in Peace, I need to speak with my Majors' said Jobst. This was a lie, he no logner needed his Major's help, now it was all his thinking. The Biographer hurried off, and Josbt lasped into silent thought again.

Some hours later someone shook him awake.
'Sir,sir, the French are assemblign in battle formation!' said a soldier, Jobst woke up with a start and sprang up.
'Get into Triple line formation! NOW!' yelled Jobst, it had stopped raining, but still no sun. Voices rang across the camp as majors yelled out Jobst's order to their companies. Soon the army was ready, Crossbowmen in front, Infantry behind and Cavarly behind them. And then ti started.

Jobst's Bodyguard rode up behind the Cavarly line, and waited. Trumpets rang across the plains, and a loud voice,
'Give up now you Germans, and we shall give you mercy!' yelled the voice form the French Army, Jobst rode to the front of his army and yelled back,
'When I am walking through your city of garbage then shall you give up froggie, ot do we have to make you hop away every time!?' yelled Jobst, and some of his soldiers laughed. Then silence, and Jobst turned to his army and spoke,
'I say to thou now, do not pray to the almighty god for victory, as we already have victory in our hands, we just have to shut our hand!' said Jobst,
'Now sending them back to the places they stole from us, and remember those killed in Metz, for Swabia, for The EMpire and Reich, for victory!' and Jobst raised his sword and ordered for the barrage of arrows to start.

Josbt rode back to his General unit, and at once the French Army moved forward. Dirt was kicked up as The French Cavlry moved forward, and a twanging sound whipped through the air, and tens of Horsemen fell from their horses.

'Sire, their losses are gettign highed, we have no losses!' siad Jobst's Flag Bearer, Jobst nodded.
'Move the Infantry forward jsut behind the Crossbowmen!' yelled Jobst, and the Indfnatry did that.

And then the armies impacted.

Lots of Crossbowmen were killed at once, but many fought well, killing many.
The Infantry moved forward and they fought. FOr long the armies were locked together, with Jobst's Bodyguard stealthily moving behind the French, but they went to far behind.
'Their behind you, behind you!' yelled a group of French Soldiers who were behind Jobst's unit, Peasent Archers. At once Jobst's unit rode forwrad and attacked the French from behind. And then ti was over. All of the French routed, runnign into traps of Infantry. ABd The Germans rode them down. The Germans went back to camp, and sang victory songs, and drank beer all night. But in the morning a new problem arose. Jobst was shaken awake,
'What now?' he demanded,
'Sorry mein prinz but we have a problem'
'WHich is?' muttered Jobst,
'We captured 200 or so soldiers, now we don't know what to do with them' said The Major. Jobst thought over it,
'Kill them' he said, and so they did, and on that day 461 French died.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Battle Stastictics (sp?) ( I don't have picture of battle victory screen)
Deployed Lost Enemies-Killed
(The Player) Prince Jobst 731 352 461
(French Enemies) Captain Lucas 794 672 122

men remaining for:
Jobst: 379
Captain Lucas:122
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
End of Report

[Ituralde]

The Fall of Budapest, 1174:

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Night had descended upon the Hungarian capital of Budapest so the time was right for the Austrian Household Army to make their move. Leopold had spoken about his plans with Hans several times now and between the two of them it had reached a perfection that would lead this assault to success.

Leopold had hired some Slav Mercenaries and Balkan Archers to bolster his forces. Equipped with one set of ladders they were to attack the main gate of Budapest.

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Leopold himself took the Crossbowmen and Seargant Spearmen with him to the West Gate.

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Hans had taken the Mailed Knights with him to the East gate.

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Both men had one ram with them, ready to knock down the gates, while the defenders were distracted. The Hungarian captain was no fool though and had split his forces equally between the three gates, whether that would help him in the long run, remained to be seen.

Leopold ordered his ram forward, while one of his Spearmen units took up the ladders to scale the walls.

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At the same time the assault on the Southern and Eastern gates began. Seeing the largest host under Leopold approaching from the West, the Magyars abandoned the Southern gate to the oncoming mercenaries.

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The ram on the Western gate had been quick though and were ready to break the gate. On the other side Hungarian Nobles were already waiting for Leopold , once it was breached.

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The Spearmen on the battlements were fighting desperatly against the Hungarian Militia, gaining ground slowly.

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Below Leopold charged his bodyguard through the gate engaging the Hungarian Nobles, who quickly abandoned the battle to flee towards the city square. The Western gate was open and the Imperial soldiers entered the city.

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Meanwhile Hans ram had done a good job in crushing the Eastern gate.

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He immediatelly spurred his large host of cavalry forward towards the Town Square. He was met halfway by the Hungarian cavalry that had not been sent to the Western gate. Fierce fighting ensued in the streets, with both sides fighting vigorously for every inch.

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In the South the Mercenaries had finally scaled the walls surrounding the main gate unopposed and were now making their way forward to the Town Square.

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Finally Hans had broken the resistance of the Hungarian horse and could now pursue them to the Town Square himself.

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The remaining defenders had rallyed in the center of the city and were preparing their defense. It was a desperate choice with Imperial troops closing in on them from three sides. It was Hans with his cavalry that reached them first from the East, soon supported by Slav Mercenaries coming in from the South.

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Duke Leopold was still held back at the Western end of the town square were some units were resisting his attack. Finally he got them to flee and now the path was free for him to charge the remaining enemies!

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The ensuing battle was gruesome and through the mist of battle Leopold could see that young Hans must have taken several hits and his once shiny armor was covered in dark stains. Still both men continued to hack away at their enemies until the last resistance was removed.

Spurring his horse onward Leopold approaches Hans, raising his visor. "You look terrible son!" He bellowed loudly.

Hans who looked relieved had already taken the time to take off his helmet and was grinning in response. "So do you, uncle!"

"Get off that horse boy, now! You think you did well in the battle? Did you?"
Looking a little uncertain Hans obeys, while Leopold leaps from his horse to land on the ground close to him. Walking two steps towards the young man, who slowly bends one knee, Leopold draws his sword again, which is still stained with the blood of his enemies, raising it high he stands in front of Hans, slowly lowering it to hover above his shoulder.

"For your honourable service to the Reich and House of Austria! For bravery shown in the face of the enemy! For fighting were others would have fled! For commanding and inspiring your men to follow you! I hereby declare you an Imperial Knight."

"Now stand up, Knight Hans of Swabia!"

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

[Dutch_guy]

‘Damn them, damn them all’ Günther exclaimed ‘this ‘ll set us back another year’ he continued, scaring the scribe writing down his every word. He had been travelling back to Thorn after the competent scouts of the Reich had detected yet another weak Polish force headed for the castle of Thorn. It seems they even have the manpower to sacrifce their soldiers on suicide missions, whilst the wise thing would of course have been to actually combine those forces. And preserve them...

The inevitable assault on Breslau would have to wait just that bit longer, and Günther never was the man known for his ever lasting patience...

‘We’ll do this the easy way’, Günther thought aloud, ‘our spearmen will engage and our horses will flank’. This will be over in no time. He ended, knowing he was wasting precious time on matters easily done by someone lower in rank.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

As soon as the Poles were seen, Günther sent in the Peasant archers. The battle may not be as large as his ego demanded it to be, yet he still liked to minimise friendly casualties.

The archers were to be guarded by the heavy shields of the friendly spearmen, and would continue to fire into the enemy ranks until the very last moment before impact between the two main lines. Which, Ironially, consited of one Polish battalion.

Two contignents of spearmen where ordered to flank the Polish right and left, and position themselves for the inevitable charge once the lines were engaged, and once the fight would begin in earnest.

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As the spearmen slowly advanced, and the archers continued their shower of arrows on the enemy lines, Günther ordered his personal guard to circumvent the enemy left. Adding yet another hammer used to strike the soon to be engaged Poles.

Once the troops were positioned, the spearmen in front of the enemy were ordered to engage. Walking at first, but steadily increasing their tempo they engaged the enemy; spears raised up high, and shields low. The first men were beginning to fall, on both sides...

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A horn was sounded, and the archers directed their fire over the first line of combatants. Targetting the enemy general. The flankers were now given the order to engage, and were soon followed by the general himself.

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The fighting didn’t last long, and the enemy tried to flee once they noted the fact that they were being attacked from all sides. Few, however, made it through the steadfast Germans.

Their general wasn’t one of the lucky ones; he was cut down by Günthers bodyguard, whilst trying to out run them. Foolish Poles.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

The battle didn’t last long, and the Poles were almost destroyed to the man. The survivors were stripped of their weapons and valuables – but spared. They were to be ransomed, if the Poles wanted their cowardly comrades back that is...

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Another battle won, surely many more would follow.

[flyd]

Hamburg, 1174

It was a very cold morning. A fresh snow had fallen over night, and there was still a heavy cloud cover. It was dark, and it was cold. Normally, the streets of Hamburg would be largely deserted, but this morning quite the opposite was the case. It seems that everyone was in the streets, running in a generally northernly direction, although no one seemed to know why. Upon arriving at the north gate, it became clear why everyone wanted to see it, for it was a very peculiar sight: the gate was wide open! Furthermore, the entire garrison of the city had just marched out. Somebody yelled, "They're abandoning us, the city has been abandoned to the English!" which prompted loud cheers from one part of the assembled mob, and lamentations from the other part. With no governor and no garrison present, order quickly began to degenerate, until someone else yelled, "the English are gone!"

Everyone paused for a moment, and then rushed to the gate. Those who could not gain access to the gate began scaling the wall, entering the towers, and climbing the nearby houses to gain a view. The English camp, which had been there for 8 years, was still just outside of the city, as were the siege works. However, the English army, the entire English army, was most certainly no longer present. Order again began to degenerate as a large-scale argument erupted over what had happened. No one had any real answers, and no one was quite brave enough to ride out. Shortly after, a group of peasants, about 100 in number, approached the city from the north, carrying most of their possessions. As they entered the city, they were quickly surrounded by the mob, and bombarded with questions. Through it all, they managed to relate that they were from a nearby village, and that they were told to take refuge in the city as there was about to be a battle.


North of Hamburg, 1174

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"Put the cavalry on the left. All of it."

Fredericus looked down at the old, worn-out copy of the book he was holding. On Military Tactics, by Tiberius Coruncanius.

He continued to speak quietly, to himself. "Right. We shall use the massed cavalry and the incoming reinforcements to create a 'local superiority' on the left flank, and attack their 'weak point', which are those peasants on the left, and that will create a.. a.. 'chain rout'." He looked unsure. He had never commanded an entire army in battle before, and was now tasked with defeating an enemy army which had a much larger number of infantry, and exactly the same number of cavalry as his.

He tried to reassure himself. "This has been done before. Our sergeants are superior to their militia, they will hold the line for a long time. The cavalry will have plenty of time to strike, the peasants will rout. The line will know what to do, we even practiced the maneuvers at..."

"The English advance!"

Well, it was too late now. There was but time for a short prayer before the lines collided.

The lines did collide, and the cavalry advanced on the left. As planned beforehand, they stopped, they turned around, and they charged.

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English peasants engaging the Germans, blissfully unaware of their impending doom!

The first peasants routed. The cavalry withdrew to perform another charge while the reinforcing spear militia advanced to envelop the right of the English line.

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The Germans prepare to envelop the enemy's right.

As this was executed, the English commander attacked in the center with the remainder of his cavalry. Fredericus moved in personally to prevent the line from being broken.

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Fredericus defends in the center (image left), while the Germans continue to gain superiority on the left (image right).

This action caused the death of the English commander, and a subsequent rout, from left to right, of the entire English line.

Well, it worked, but the casualties were heavy. The spearmen took many casualties while the lines were engaged with each other, and the cavalry and others did as well while they flanked. Those old Roman reports must be exaggerated. Either that, or their enemies were far more incompetent than they'd have you believe.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Outside of Hamburg, 1174

A representative from the city, whose name escapes me at the moment, came to the army camp to meet with Fredericus, who inquired about the status of the city.

"There was some disorder," he answered, "but everything is fine now. The people are happy that you are back. They are preparing a large feast in your honor."

"That's wonderful, but I must move on to Frankfurt with no delay, it is being sieged by the Poles."

"But the city has been under siege for eight years. You won't even stop by for a moment?"

"I can't," Fredericus insisted, "there are matters to take care of. Speaking of matters to be taken care of, I need you to take care of the prisoners captured here, about 300 in number. They're just militiamen and peasants. I doubt they wanted to be dragged here and forced to fight their Saxon brothers. Ensure their safe return to England."

The representative nodded and exited. One of the knights complained that they would not stop by Hamburg even for a short time. He was particularly concerned that they would not get to meet any of the women who would be... grateful for the rescue. Fredericus responded:

"The city has been under siege for eight years, while I was a short distance away in Magdeburg. I think they'd much rather want to hang me than to have a feast in my honor. We'd best be moving on, we have other cities to rescue."

[GeneralHankerchief]

Southwest of Florence, 1176

As the rain poured down on what was to be the day's battlefield, Conrad Salier sat alone in his tent. He had already briefed the men about his battle strategy for the day; this was his time to mutter his usual series of prayers. Today, however, there would be a few extra - this was the first time that he had actually led men into battle.

I am but a tool of the Lord, he thought to himself. Today, that tool happens to be a weapon.

His faith had been somewhat shattered in 1160, the year in which he officially joined the Imperial Diet. A meeting with his benefactor, Maximillian Mandorf, had left him shocked and questioning much. However, he had learned to put that all behind him (at least, publicly) and focus on the task at hand. Besides, God was most likely testing him, much like he did to Job.

As he sat in his tent praying, he could hear the patter of the rain get louder, as well as the shifting of his men in armour. It was time to kill the Milanese, in the name of God and the Reich.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

The composition of the two small armies he faced were the oddest that he had ever seen or heard about. The first army immediately in his vicinity was commanded by one Count Augustino, and accordingly had a large heavy cavalry escort with him. Backing him up was only one regiment of infantry, and they were peasants at that. However, there were three well-trained regiments of catapults as well, which would wreak tremendous havoc, even in the rain, if allowed to keep up a sustained barrage.

Despite the presence of the catapults, the second, reinforcement army worried Conrad more. They only numbered 361 men, but for each man a horse was present. He faced six regiments of pure cavalry.

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"Men," cried Conrad, finally ready for battle along with his soldiers, "Be thankful for the weather today! The Lord has provided us with a great opportunity for victory! He makes life difficult for those catapults to fire properly, and He also allows us to rid ourselves of any blood that may dirty our uniforms!"

A few of the more vulgar men chuckled at the last comment. Apparently, it was possible to mix Christianity with the more unpleasant tastes.

"Forwarrrrrrrrd... MARCH!!!"

The soldiers started to walk, as planned. The Milanese facing them did the same, although the catapults stopped as soon they were in firing range. As the remainder of the armies continued marching towards each other, the catapults fired a salvo into Imperial ranks, to little effect. However, that was the signal to end the charade that Conrad was putting on.

"All cavalry CHARGE!"

On cue, the numerous Imperial horsemen accelerated to a run. While less in number than the Milanese reinforcements that were making their way to the battle, they were still significant, and plus, they were heavy. The peasants broke instantly, and Count Augustino's escort was in serious trouble. Things were going well enough to send two regiments towards the catapults.

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Shortly after, Count Augustino fell, a victim of momentum.

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That was it was for the first army. However, as he mopped up the fleeing remnants, Conrad looked at the ridge to the southwest. The second army was closing in.

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This would be close. Conrad fiercely ordered his men to form up, to meet the threat, to face the cavalry. His men did so, and just in time.

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The Milanese cavalry descend the ridge.

The impact was horrendous, for both sides. The Milanese charge stopped dead and a significant fraction of their men dropped. However, it was done so at a terrible cost to the Imperial infantry, who lost more than half of their number. A few of the weaker units broke outright after stopping the initial charge.

At that point though, the relatively-healthy Imperial cavalry swarmed in. After a short period of time, the tide turned, and whoever was commanding the cavalry ordered them to get out.

Conrad and his men pursued, catching some of them.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Most likely they'll go back to their ships to the west of here, he mulled. Perhaps if we get lucky this rain will turn into a storm and sink them.

Satisfied at the results of his first battle as a commander, Conrad made his way back to his tent, drafting a letter informing Chancellor Leopold of what transpired.

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OOC: Much of the casualties resulted in the infantry's defense of the cavalry charge. You wouldn't believe how fast the numbers went down. Other than that the losses were pretty light.

[Ituralde]

Battle near Zagreb, 1176:

Leopold didn't like being here. Chasing some Croatian Rebels while a large Hungarian army led by Banos Gergely was burning his lands near Vienna. He could strike at the Austrian capital at his will or even recapture Budapest. All the while the Venetians had just bypassed Zagreb and were heading for Venice.

Still this was a battle that had to be fought. The rebels had blocked an important Danube crossing, blocking passage and denying Leopold a safe route to Zagreb, and more importantly denying reinforcements from Zagreb to reach him. Reinforcements he desperately needed after the hight casualties sustained in the assault on Budapest. He needed the roads safe for his defensive strategem to work. Constantly travelling between Zagreb and Budapest wherever the next threat would be apparent.

One could almost feel sorry for the Rebels. Only a small number of Croat Axemen ready to fight for their lives in the face of a superior Imperial army outnumbering them vastly. It was an easy task and one Leopold took care to carry out right.
He advanced his crossbows within firing range, backed up by the host of his armiey. Not daring to attack the superior foe the Croats took the beating of the Imperial bolts. They took it well enough, but after their numbers had been halfed a last bolt struck down their Captain that had been holding them together until know.

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Taking this as a signal the Croatians started to flee. Smiling to himself Leopold ordered his Crossbowmen to hold their file. Drawing his sword he spurred his head forward giving his Knights the signal for the attack. The rest of the Rebels were mowed down by Imperial Cavalry.

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Finally the roads were secure again and Leopold could turn his attention to more important matters.

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[/

[Dutch_guy]

The winter had only just begun, however, seeing as every lake in the near proximity was turned into ice one would have thought the winter to be in its prime. Günther couldn’t quite shake of the depression haunting his mind. It always came in the winter, when the days were short and nights long, but it bothered him more this time around. Yet another Polish force had been detected, again heading for Thorn. Under the cover of the winter snow, the Poles had again managed to sneak an army through the German lines. And again, Günther had had to order his army to head back to Thorn, and deal with them. How he hated these uninspiring battles. Even the enemy soldiers knew the outcome beforehand – no challenge whatsoever. And Günther absolutely hated that.

Promises of plunder, woman, and hot food were wasted on the men when they marched back to the castle of Thorn. Knowing they wouldn’t stay in the castle, they wouldn’t even visit it, but merely take care of the Polish threat, and then turn around for Breslau again. The men didn’t like it, but they were Germans, and they didn’t falter.

It was a clear day when the Germans marched up to the Poles, who were outnumbered at least 2 : 1, and commanded by the anonymous captain who went by the name of Vaclav. The enemy captain had positioned his forces as far away from the Germans as he could, and awaited the inevitable German assault.

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Günther, finally being able to vent his frustration on yet another poor Polish captain, ordered his archers to engage, and his large force of cavalry to make a large flanking movement. Ideally to attack the Polish rear, or at least cut of the Polish nobles from the main force.

Once the archers started their deadly barrage, the Polish missle cavalry were sent in to deal with the archer attack. Spears were thrown at the German archers, and some hit home. However, the Polish hadn’t counted on the German cavalry, approaching from behind.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Captain Vaclav had not even thrown his first javalin, or issued his first order, when the superior German cavalry charged in from behind. Decimating the Polish force, and spearing the unfortunate captain.

Immediately after the death of the enemy captain, Günther ordered his archers to shoot fire arrows at the demoralized enemy. Chaos ensued when the Polish spearmen were hit with the dreaded fire, and they weren’t able to turn the vicious cavalry charge. Let alone the impetuous feudal foot knigts, eager to get up close and personal with the fearful Polish spears.

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The routing Polish were hunted down, many falling to the persuing cavalry, and or surrendering to the feudal knights.

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The battle didn’t last long, and the sun wasn’t even setting when the last Poles were rounded up, stripped, and were ordered to dig the graves of their worthy German overlords and unlucky comrades.

All in all, about three hundred graves had to be dug, forty German ones and a little over 250 Polish graves.

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When the sun had completely set, and the Germans on their way to main camp, another 150 bodies were littered on the frozen battlefield. Polish soldiers not considered worthy enough to be bought back. What a barbarous tribe it is, will they ever learn ?

If not, we’ll have to make them.

[FactionHeir]

Battle of Thessalonica plains, December 1178

The Hungarians had been pursuing them into Venetian lands ever since one of the men Adalberth had brought along to the escape from Budapest was spotted while collecting wood in the sparsely covered mountains west of Sofia. Hans had hoped that the Magyars would have stopped at the border not wanting to offend the Venetians, but luck was not with him today, nor any of his men, for they would all have to fight to the last to see the dawn - possibly even in a Hungarian prison camp. There was no route for retreat. They had been surrounded by a host of over a thousand, maybe two thousand Barbarians and he, as the commander, would have to find a way to break through one of these lines. If he was lucky, they'd be able to escape into Byzantine lands. If not, god would have mercy on their souls.
With the sound of hooves and boots approaching, Hans raised his sword to inspire his men.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

He even felt that a light hearted joke would raise the poor morale among his entourage that numbered only 25 men and himself.

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He was glad that he knew Hungarian tactics from his battle at Budapest and knew it would be bloody. A fact he did not intend to keep from his men.

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Hans placed his bodyguard behind a snowy hill, hoping to exhaust the Hungarians as they marched towards him. To his surprise, the enemy lines of crossbows numbering in the thousands ran in front of the main army with a single magyar cavalry regiment leading the charge towards his position. Feeling that this was the time, Hans called for his men to ride proudly into battle and charged the cavalry, hoping it would be a good shield against the enemy crossbows. He was right.
Many of the enemy horses fell as their brethren unleashed a host of bolts that darkened the horizon without regard for their presence. Only few managed to hit Hans' men.

Seeing that several regiments of nobles were approaching from both flanks attempting to encircle him, Hans forced his men backward, breaking from the melee and charging up against the similarly eager nobles. Again, the Hungarians were foolish enough to let their men be caught between him and their own missiles and took heavy losses. Maybe soon they would be able to find a breach in the enemy lines? Hans wondered, but right at this moment the enemy captain approached on his horse attempting to thrust a sword into the absentminded young man. With quick reflexes, Hans managed at the last moment to avert the blade and in turn stab his through the side of the captain, dismounting him. In horror, he noticed that the Hungarians did not break as their commander lay dead.

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Without much hope of surviving in his current situation, Hans again forced his men to break from melee and allow him to reassess the situation. His bodyguard was down to some 10 men now and all of them were injured, including him. A few more fell as the Hungarians restlessly pelted them with bolts from afar. Morale was terrible, but Hans knew they would be able to break through the enemy lines soon. With the vigor of youth, he ordered several charges into the enemy infantry in an attempt to break them. His men took heavy losses but ran their lances through over a hundred magyar bodies.

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Alas, with one of the spear units routing, Hans finally saw an opportunity to escape from the vast horde of Magyars, but he would have to be quick about it. He had several bolts sticking out of his armour and blood was seeping through, coloring the proud Imperial eagle red. Adalberth was heavily wounded and Hans had to bind him to his own horse while another soldier tried to cover their retreat. That man soon fell, hundreds of arrows and bolts piercing his body, but his death allows Hans and Adalberth to break through the last resistance of the routing spears and escape certain death

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

[Ituralde]

Northern Croatia, 1180:

It was a warm day in the north of Croatia. The Hungarians had been visible for days now by the large columns of dust risen by their Horses. It was those same horses Leopold was afraid of. His own army was a decent mix. Good Spears, some Crossbow support and close to 100 Mailed Knights. His enemy was led by Banos Gergely and although he had to fill his army with Slav Mercenaries and Balkan Archers to equal their numbers he could rely on Feudal Knights both Dismounted and on horse along with Hungarian Nobles.

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It was a lush forrested valley where Leopold had finally caught up with his enemies. They had bypassed him earlier and avoided him, trying to sneak towards Zagreb. The enemy had avoided him. It has reached his enemiey that they were facing one of the Reichs best generals. And one who was not known for his kindness towards his enemies.
Now they had set up a defensive position on a hillside overlooking the valley. Leopold marched his troops over the left flank of the valley coming at the Hungarians on equal ground.

Trying to repell the attacker Banos sent his Foot Missile units forward, too far though. Immediatelly the Imperial Mailed Knights rode forward and charged the Missiles unopposed.

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They fled soon, while the Hungarian main army came forward to meet the Attackers. This was the signal for the Mailed Knights to retreat to their own lines closely followed by the Hungarian host.

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The Hungarian counter-attack was swift and brutal. While Leopolds right was showered with arrows the Slav Mercenaries advanced on the left. Wanting to push the Horse Archers further away Leopold advanced. This was the moment the Hungarians chose to send in their cavalry. The Feudal Knights wrought havoc amongst the Sergeant Spearmen anihilating about one hundred of them in their initial charge. Leopold ordered his own bodyguard into the fray while the Mailed Knights charged the left flank where Banos Gergely was leading the attack.

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The decisivness of the Imperial charge was shaking the enemy troops. The Mercenaries were the first to succumb and soon after the Mailed Knights managed to slay Banos Gergely.

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With their leader only some Dismounted Feudal Knights continued fighting while the rest left the field.

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Leading his men personally Leopold made sure to let none of the Hungarians escape, before ordering their execution. His enemy had rightfully feared and avoided the confrontation with him and now they were all dead. Leopold knew that those would not have been the last Hungarians he would face in the future.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

[Stuperman]

placeholder for X-th battle of Vencie.

[Kagemusha]

Battle of Nicae 1184

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Dietrich sat on his horse on the hills East from Nicae. The day of battle had arrived. He was facing a large army of Egyptians led by Al Amir Nasir,who were trying to attack the Bysantian lands. The Battlefied was set so that the Egyptians were North from the Vanguard of the German crusader army. A small contingent of Bysantines was approaching the field from the West lead by the Bysantine Emperor John.

After s short negotiation Dietrich gave the orders to the army. The army was set on a plateu next to an large East West pointed ridge,far enough from the ridge so the Egyptian missiles couldnt shoot the Germans from there. Maximillian Mandorf took the command of the left of the army,while Jonas Von Mahren was in charge of the right.Dietrich himself was in the center behind the lines of crossbows and infantry and foot knights.

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As the battle started the Germans were able to see the heathen muslims for the first time. These men were mostly infantry and first thing Dietrich noticed was that they were not very heavily armoured.

"I think our crossbows will kill many of these bastards today"

The Bysantines marched on the field on the west of the muslims with their catapults and few infantry men and started pounding the muslim army. Dietrich stood calmly and waited what would happen next.
The Egyptian commander divided his troops and deployed his missiles against Germans,while leading his infantry into assault against the Bysantines. Dieetrich gave an brief command.

"Crossbows aim for the horses of the horse archers! Right flank cavalry prepair!"

after couple volleys from the 6 units of crossbows,most of the Egyptian horse archers were shot dead,Dietrich ordered.

"Right flank cavalry charge! Crossbows cease fire!"

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Dietrich joined the cavalry charge also and in a matter of seconds as two general bodyguards units and an unit of Teutonic knights charged over the archers,they were slain.Few of them got away,but Dietrich halted the cavalry.He watched carefully to the North West and saw that the Egyptian infantry was engaging the Bysantines heavily and he commanded.

"Whole army to the high ground! Mandorf and Mahren keep the flanks!"

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The army moved over the bodies of the dead Egyptian archers.
As the Germans approached they could easily see how good the situation was.

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If they could move fast enough, they would arrive on the rear of the now engaged Egyptian force.Dietrich ordered the army to move on the double quick.
Soon the Bysantines were getting enough and started routing from the field,but that didint help the Egyptians. Now the crusader army was completely in order behind them the crossbows were wreaking havoc among the lightly armored muslims.

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As the Egyptian commander ordered charge uphill,Dietrich smiled to himself and sayed to his Lietenant besides him.

"Poor bastards,they are doomed."

The crossbows fired still few volleys to the advancing mass of Egyptian infantry.After that they retreated behind the main line of Germans. Dietrich had moved on the right and as the Egyptian infantry reached the German crusaders main battle line Dietrich blowed on his warhorn and on the right lead by himself and on the left commanded by Von Mandorf the German knights hitted the Egyptians with devastating force. Now also the German foot knights and spearmen charged and soon the whole Egyptian army was a mass of routing men trapped between the Crusader cavalry and infantry.
A mere 45 Egyptians escaped as the rest lowered their weapons.The Crusader army had won a resounding victory. After the battle the three German noblemen gathered and decided that there should be no mercy for the heathens and every prisoner was put to the sword and sent back to what false god they were worshipping.

The Butchers bill:

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[Ituralde]

Fall of Ragusa, 1184:

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Leopold did not get it. There in front of him sat one of the mightiest Castles he had ever seen. In fact it was rightfully called a Fortress. Two sets of walls had to be scaled and that was after the attacking army had been funneled on top of a plateau through a narrow rise. Then after the first gate was breached the way to the second gate would expose any intruder to Fire from the inner wall, raining fiery death or worse on the attackers. It was an attackers nightmare. Leopold had considered asking for Trebuchets to be brought in from Venice to even have a remote chance of taking this Venetian stronghold.

That's why he did not understand why the Venetians had neglected to defend it. The Fortress was virtually deserted, with only one Venetian Noble and his retainers trying to organize the defense. He almost pitied Barbus Selvo, but the stupidity prevented him. It was true that reinforcements were coming from the East, but it was too late. Imperial spies had managed to gain access to the gates and would open them during the attack. Leading his men Leopold advanced the Fortress in a slow canter.

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No men had manned the gate and so no arrows greeted the Imperial army as they made their way to the gate. Barbus Selvo had chosen to stay in the Central Plaza awaiting the attackers. Why he even had the nerve to stay and fight instead of just handing over the castle was beyond him. He would make the Venetian pay for his decision.
Unopposed Leopold entered the strong first gate.

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Barbus Selvo must not have accepted such an easy entrance for the Austrian army. His surprise didn't last long and he spurred his bodyguard onward to meet the Imperial troops in glorious battle.

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Leopold ordered his own bodyguard to lead the way against the Venetian attack, closely followed by his Mailed Knights. He would teach his adversary how foolish it was to charge a whole army all by himself. Some would have honoured his foe for his bravery and chivalry. Leopold just admired the mens stupidity.

The two horse groups clashed in one of the narrow streets leading to the second gate. The battle was bloody, both sides fought bitterly. Finally Leopold had managed to reach Barbus Selvo and traded decisive blows with him.

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Finally Leopold was able to breach his enemies defense and deliver a killing blow. The rest of his bodyguard finally realized the foolishnes of their action and tried to flee. None of them escaped.

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[Warluster]

1184
The Second battle for Dijon - The Sally Forth

Once again the city of Dijon was sieged by the forces of the Kingdom of France. Being Jobst Von Salza's given city, and treasured, he was too defend it. Or die trying.

it was nearly night time, most soldiers were falling asleep at their posts. That was untill a booming voice woke them up,
'Get to the Western gate! We are to sally forth, or you shall be slain by those French!' eylled the voice, and the Garrison of Dijon reaied themselves for the forthcoming battle, and waited by the Western Gate.

The French were also ready, waiting silently, among their meager ranks was also some mercanires, Spearmen and Frankish Knights. Both considerbly good, in Jobst's eyes.

While allt his happened, Jobst was waiting at the main Castle of the city, leaning over a balcony, watching. His Captain and BodyGuards waiting patiently behind him.
'I fear...' muttered Jobst, the Captain was slightly disheartened.
'Of battle sir?' asked the Captain.
'No! I shall never fear for battle... only for Swabia and The Reich' said Jobst,louder.
'Is it of Von Kassel's Chancellorship mein prinz?' asked the Captain.
"never, Chancellor Von Kassel is a good soldier,leader and man, I would never speak behind anyones backs, I would prefer to say it to their faces! But it is forwhat might happen to our Duchy, we are in grave danger Captain.' said Jobst,
'But now to battle!' he said cheerily.
'Yes mein prinz'
And Jobst put on his armor, a full bodied play of armor. And he strided downstaris, onto his amored horse and Jobst and his Bodyguard rode to the Western Gate.

When he reached their he nodded to his Captain, and then to the front of his army.
'Once again we face these vile French, the one The Reich is determined to stop conquering our lands, but most of all, the ones who Swabia despies! The ones who pillaged metz, killed The great Sigismund'(jobsts eyes darkened)' and wish to burn this great place of Dijon, so I say to you, Sally Forth with no fear, and kill as many as you can, OR DIE TRYING!' yelled Jobst, and a earth shattering roar issued from the army. And they turned to the gates, where they rode through, and too the sunset and battle.

At once Jobst ordered the Peasent Crossbowmen forward, who started firing at the enemys dismounted knights. Then the other four archer units started firing at once.

Jobst carefully observed the battle, and saw the enemy front line burning. The captain spoke,
'By god, what is that devillary?' he asked,
'Why, that is our archers fire arrows, burning their line' replied Jobst, and so it was. A horrible screaming could be heard, and burning flesh.

'Section the army into groups, the normal spearmen and townpeoples, then the elites' said Jobst,
'Elties sir?'
'Our dismounted Knights, the Seargent Spearmen, those Elites' said Jobst. The captain nodded, and so they were. Then they were ordered to attack certian areas.

Some Normal Spearmen went around the enemy, the other nrmal spearmen attacked the Frech Spearmen/Town Miltia, and the Elites attacked the highly armored ones.

And with several minutes of bloody fighting, it was all over, as the enemy routed.

And Dijon was saved, to fight another day!

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[Ignoramus]

*placeholder*

[Ituralde]

Battle near Ragusa, 1186:

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The Venetians had been quite surprised to find the Fortress they had been sent to relieve already in enemies hands. Leopold had ridden forth to meet them and drive them back south. They had chosen the more orderous path north though, probably hoping that they could use the mountains as cover. Not wanting them to join with some Venetian remnants further north, Leopold pursuied his enemy deep into the mountains. When he was finally able to get them to battle he surveyed the battlefield with much dismay.

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Mabye it would have been less strenuos to have faced this men in the Fortress at Ragusa than attempting to attack their formidable defensive position. He could count himself lucky that there were no Missile units among the enemy. Instead he was faced with some of the most formidable Heavy Infantry known.

Not wanting to exhaust his men too much Leopold tried to advance up a somewhat shallower slope to the East of the enemy, hoping to gain some equal ground from where he could attack him. Mabye sensing his plans or eager to engage the enemy the Venetians also set out towards a downhill slope to the left of their position.

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This gave Leopold enough time to deploy his men in a defensive fashion. Now turning the battle. His enemy would be charging downhill but he outnumbered them and once the Infantry was within reach of his Crossbowmen a deadly hail of bolts began, breaking the first attempts of attack.

Soon the Venetians engaged the Imperial troops in earnest though. Due to their superior numbers and positioning the enemy soon found himself outflanked. Leopold had meanwhile maneuvered his cavalry further up the slope from where he could survey the whole battlefield, and more importantly lead a downhill charge!

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The Venetian resistance was quickly dispersed and none of the Heave Infantry lived up to its reputation as they were hacked down one after another. Those that fled were mercilessly cut down, it would not have made sense to take them prisoner. After all he had just conquered Ragusa to deny his enemy access to these elite troops, so he surely had no intention of ransoming anybody.

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[econ21]

The First Battle of Adana, 1188

“How long has it been since we last fought a battle, Ernst?” Henry wondered. Ernst, his most devoted guard, looked back impassively, having long ago learnt not to interrupt the Kaiser’s soliloquies.

“How many years? Ah, my brain hurts even trying to think on that. What was our last battle, Ernst?”

Ernst watched the Kaiser stride around the tent, Henry’s agitation and excitement clear to behold.

“I remember now - it was against the French while Manfred was still Chancellor, just after poor Sigismund fell. What has become of Swabia now? It has lost its way, and the French still menace us.”

A fellow Swabian, Ernst looked down dolefully.

“But now, at last, we are back. And what a battle. Dusan reckons there are 1500 of the Mohammedans.”

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The balance of forces: while the Egyptians have numbers on their side, the greater quality of the German forces means that the battle begins 2:1 in their favour.

“Am I too eager to be back on the field of battle? Hans and Dietrich seem to think so. Damn, I am sad to see Otto’s gone. It’s not good to go into battle with reluctant warriors. Still, Hans and Dietrich surely understand that this battle, at least must be fought?”

Henry looked carefully at Ernst:

“You haven’t got much to say for yourself, have you?”

Ernest was about to respond to the Kaiser, when he heard footsteps approach and turned round to see Dusan Kolar stride into the tent, his black cloak swirling.

“Still talking to your damned dog, Kaiser” said Dusan, as he scratched Ernst’s ears and the dog thumped his tail from side to side excitedly. “Some people would say you’re going mad. Gone to the dogs, even.”

The Kaiser looked irritatedly at his presumptious advisor, who was crouched happily petting Ernst, Henry’s faithful guard dog.

“Come, Kaiser, you must put on your cloak - we’ve a journey to make. The Egyptian General, Mahmoud Ahmad, has requested a parley.

*****

Henry looked at the commanding young figure in front of him. Mahmoud Ahmad was only 33, but he spoke with calm authority and moved with grace.

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The Egyptian General: although it is not a term he would recognise, Europeans might even call him chivalrous.

“Great Kaiser, it is truly an honour to meet you. I am grateful for you agreeing to talk.”

Why the hell am I talking? Kaiser wondered to himself. This is to be a battle, not a breakfast! What was Kolar thinking? Henry tried to compose himself and said reservedly:

“Do not mention it, General. What was it you wanted to discuss?”

Mahmoud waved to his servants to bring Henry a small pot of coffee. The Kaiser tasted the drink cautiously, finding the sober, bitter beverage much more suitable for the time before battle than the wine, beer and spirits routinely consumed by the Germans. When the Kaiser had sipped from his cup, Mahmoud continued calmly.

“Kaiser, as I believe you know, my orders are to march on Constantinople. While our countries may now be at war, I have no intention to strike at you. I respect your strength and that of your warriors. If we fight today, the losses may be so great I may arrive at Constantinople with too few men to accomplish my mission. Or I may not arrive at all.”

Henry admired the young men’s candour and so returned it.

“General, you are a good and loyal soldier. There are good and loyal generals in my camp who think of my situation, as you think of yours.”

Mahmoud’s eyes widened slightly:

“Then Kaiser, take your army and pass by. No one need die this day.”

Henry drained his cup, as the last bitter drop of coffee fell, it only added to the empty feeling inside the Kaiser and he shook his head, sadly.

“I am sorry, General. It is impossible. Constantinople is the capitol of my allies and I am honour bound to assist them.”

Mahmoud looked down, and nodded.

“I understand the calls of duty and friendship, Kaiser. And, of course, I am not surprised. You have already stopped one of our armies heading for Constantinople, perhaps I was foolish to think you would not do so again.”

The Egyptian general looked up and narrowed his eyes:

“But there is one thing, I ask of you, man to man. When this day is over, whichever way Allah wills it, let is not end the way of the last battle of our peoples. Let us treat each other’s men with the respect we two generals have shown each other today.”

Henry stared into the young generals’ eyes. He knows. He knows he is outclassed. He has not called me here to avoid battle. He has brought me here to plead for the lives of his men. Henry found himself admiring again the composed young Egyptian facing him.

“General, you are brave and honourable man. You have my word.”

As the Kaiser left the Egyptian camp, he cursed Dusan Kolar.

“What the hell were you doing, bringing me here? We are here to kill these people, not drink coffee with them!”

Dusan Kolar smiled quietly. “You may have been drinking, Sire, I have not. Look around you. Know your enemy.”

Damn it, thought Henry: Kolar’s made me look like an idiot again! Here we are, in the heart of the enemy camp before battle, seeing their every regiment, able to size up the opposition. This kind of intelligence is invaluable! Henry looked around at the seething mass of enemy soldiers readying themselves for war. Around General Ahmad’s tent, the bodyguards seemed covered in very heavy armour - even their horses were protected from head to toe by the heaviest coats of armour. Henry could even see catapults and trebuchets towering over the Egyptian tents. Henry noted all this with admiration, but then his eyes travelled further afield. As he travelled out of the camp, most of the Egyptian soldiers around seemed ill equipped, undrilled but with eyes that burned with a passion: young excitable Mutatawwi’a and fanatical Ghazis, grey haired Sudanese warriors and robed Bedouin cavalry. Many of the enemy were chanting or praying. In their devotion, Henry thought sadly, these are Manfred’s children, born under a different sky. The abundance of cloth and bronzed flesh stayed in Henry’s mind as he returned to his camp, to be greeted by serried ranks of heavily armoured knights. This was not going to be a battle, it was going to be a slaughter.

*****

“Now, Dietrich, I want you up on the heights on my right. Take the pavisse crossbowmen. We can’t allow the enemy to gain that ground. I can spare you a regiment of dismounted knights and one of spearmen, and you can take Jonas too.”

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In order to deny them to the enemy, the Germans occupy the heights on the right. However, the Egyptians deploy in the centre, leaving Duke Dietrich’s right division somewhat detached from where the main battle will be fought.

Dietrich nodded. Henry embraced the old warhorse. No further instructions were necessary. Dietrich could be trusted to lead the right division as the situation dictated.

“Hans, you will be on the left flank, next to me. The Teutons will be on my right. The rest of the infantry will be formed up in column next to the spur under Dietrich’s heights. Put the crossbow militia in front, then the armoured sergeants, followed by the knights. The pilgrims can bring up the rear. Their numbers can add to an impression of strength, but I don’t want them anywhere near the enemy.”

Why do I want Hans so close to me? Henry wondered. Is it so I can protect him from danger? Or because I don’t trust him not to go charging off on his own?

“We will move the line forward until we are on the crest of the spur to the right, then we will take it from there.”

Henry could see Dietrich looking at him quizzically. Yes, not much of a plan, I know, God damn it, Henry thought in a fluster. But we will improvise.

Slowly, the German line shuffled forward, its deliberate step contrasting with the fleeting grace of a regiment of mercenary Turcopoles, who raced towards the Germans’ right. All four regiments of German crossbows targeted the horse archers, but their speed seemed to protect them from damage. In a flash, they were almost upon the crossbow militia, who ran backwards in disorder.

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The Turcopoles occupy the spur above the main German line, and from their Cantabrian circle, fire down on the approaching attackers.

From the heights above, Duke Dietrich watched the turcopoles in frustration. His pavisse crossbowmen seemed to be making no impression on the horse archers. But then the old Duke saw the enemy begin using a Cantabrian circle to protect themselves against missile fire.

“Jonas!” Dietrich roared. “Now we have them! Charge those heathen dogs!”

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Although the Cantabrian circle helps the turcopoles avoid the German crossbow bolts, it means that they are not able to skirmish away from Jonas’s knights.

In the centre of the German line, Henry’s attention had been fixed on the flamboyant turcopoles and only belatedly did he see a regiment of Egyptian archers coming racing forwards. Astonished by their audacity, Henry ordered his own escort to drive them off. Dusan Kolar looked at the Kaiser in incomprehension - he was abandoning command of the army now, before the battle had even started?

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The Kaiser chases off the skirmishing Egyptian archers in the centre of the battle.

The charge was badly botched - the Kaiser’s escort was on the right flank of the Egyptian archers and was not properly aligned for a charge. Moreover, the Egyptians were remarkably fleet footed, reaching the safety of their lines before the Kaiser’s men had come into contact. The Kaiser’s exhilaration turned to anxiety as in front of him loomed a fast moving mass of over a thousand Egyptian infantry.

“Pull back! Pull back!” he screamed, but in the roar of battle, it was hard for his frantic voice to reach the helmeted ears of his bodyguard.

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The Kaiser’s charge overruns into the approaching central mass of the jihad.

Over on the left of the German line, Hans had been left to face the second mercenary Turcopole regiment. All the crossbowmen were far away on the right or in the centre right of the line, so Hans and his slow moving escort were powerless against the fleet footed horse archers. Hans watched his father’s escort wheeling right to chase the Egyptian archers. He watched the arrows of the Turcopoles thud into the heavy armour of his men. The extra padding and horse armour would protect them for a while, but the young man was damned if he was going to let the enemy come up to his nose and start shooting. Hans ordered a charge to drive off the Turcopoles.

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The second regiment of Turcopoles taunts Hans and his men stationed on the left of the German line.

Hans’s charge was, as he knew, an exercise in futility. The greater speed of the Turcopoles meant they could easily outpace their pursuers, and their skill with the bow meant that even flight did not put an end to the barrage they were able to lay on Hans’ men. However, the pursuit did put Hans behind the main enemy lines and so he was able to break off, about turn and crash into the enemy infantry approaching the German centre.

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In a battle marked by little tactical subtlety, Hans is able to pull off a rare rear charge into the enemy lines.

In the centre of the battle, Henry had managed to extricate his bodyguard from the main body of the jihad with the loss of only one knight. But the situation was grim. General Ahmad clearly had no intention of leaving his men standing around and being shot down by the German crossbow bolts. His army was moving en masse towards the spur on the centre right on the German lines. There would be no time to for a missile duel. Henry began to realise with alarm how narrow his front line was - formed in a column, two regiments abreast. Hastily, he ordered the two regiments of dismounted knights to move alongside the two regiments of armoured spearmen. Even then, his frontage was less than half that of the enemy. With Hans gone from his left, his own escort in disorder, all that remained to hold his flank was a fine regiment of Teutonic knights. Reluctantly, Henry realised he had no choice but to order these sixty elite warriors forward, in a frontal attack on the central enemy mass of over a thousand fanatical warriors.

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The Teutonic knights, flower of Germanic Christendom, will be cut down in this battle.

When he gathered his own escort together, Henry ordered it back into the central melee. There was nothing for it now, but hard fighting: German iron against Egyptian cloth.

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Battle is now fully joined, as the Kaiser charges his men back into the central struggle.

On the right, from above the heights, Duke Dietrich watched the chaotic battle that had erupted in the centre of the German lines. His left division was about a third of the Reich’s forces, but its deployment had left it out of touch with the main conflagration.

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The view from the German right. Dietrich’s division is positioned to sweep down on the Egyptian left.

Dietrich roared at the men around him:

“Down and at them, men! The Kaiser needs us! Forward, for God’s sake! I have promised him my support! Would you make me a liar?”

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As the Teutons and dismounted knights in the German centre begin to take heavy losses, Dietrich strikes deep into the Egyptian left flank.

Over on the German left, the Turcopoles who had been harassing Hans observed his escort, locked in battle with the Egyptian infantry and decided to strike at their exposed rears. Hans, however, welcomed this chance to come to grips with those who had earlier been his tormentors and managed to successfully extricate his escort to face the enemy cavalry.

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Alone on the left flank, Hans must anchor the otherwise hanging German line.

Amidst the chaos of battle, Henry wondered if he had forgotten something. Hacking through the mass of Egyptian infantry was one thing, but surely there was more to it than this? And then he remembered - the heavily armoured men who had guarded General Ahmad. Come to think of it, where was Ahmad himself? Dusan Kolar seemed to read his Master’s mind and he pointed over to the centre left of the line. There, Henry could just make our a compact body of enemy horsemen emerging out of the mass of Egyptians.

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General Ahmad enters the battle, driving straight towards the faltering German centre left.

With alarm, Henry realised that his left flank was exposed. Hans was alone on the far left, now surrounded by Turcopoles and ghazis. Closer in the regiment of Teutons was holding back the tide of the enemy infantry but it could not endure forever. Already, the furthest left regiment of dismounted knights had been destroyed in the central melee, a dozen broken survivors running to the rear. General Ahmad was leading his heavily armoured, veteran band of cavalry straight to the weakest point of the German line.

“Crossbows - shoot them down! Escort - about left!” shouted Henry, taking his escort around to meet the enemy general “With me, men, with me! Ride! Ride!”

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Henry races to intercept General Ahmad

Things were going better on the German right, as Dietrich’s cavalry cut its way deep into the flank of the Egyptian mass, reaching its war machines.

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Dietrich’s veterans carve their way into the heart of the enemy lines.

The tide was beginning to turn. As Henry’s escort made their appearance on the centre left of the German lines, entire Egyptian regiments started to break. Barefoot warriors from Sudan, some old men with grey hair - others, slim boys - could not stand before the heavy horse and iron of the elite German knights.

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The Egyptian resolve begins to fail.

On the extreme left, Hans and his men had managed to see off the Turcopoles and were making short work of the Ghazis who stubbornly held on.

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Although he has lost a third of his men, Hans has held the left flank and emerges victorious.

Gradually, the Kaiser’s escort cut its way through the Egyptian lines until it was able to reach General Ahmad and his bodyguard. Although by convention it was a great honour to battle your opponent, hand to hand, Henry was rather glad that he was not the one to slay his honourable young opponent.

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General Ahmad is slain by Henry’s escort.

With the death of their general, the will of the Egypt army began to sap. Henry led his men forward into the central mass of the enemy jihad, determined to break any regiments that resisted.

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Things fall apart - Henry leads his men to smash through the wavering Egyptians.

“Forward! Forward! They won’t stand!” shouted Henry. “Bring forward the pilgrims too, come on! Don’t let them get away!”

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From the heights, the pavisse crossbowmen watch the rout of the Egyptian jihad.

*****

After the battle, Dusan Kolar approached the Kaiser:

“Sire, about the prisoners. We have nearly 500 of them. What do you want done with them?”

Henry looked at Dusan wearily. Germany had lost over two hundred men, but numbers did not tell the full story. The quality of the men the Reich had lost was what mattered. Over 100 dismounted feudal knights and an entire regiment of Teutons. Dietrich would doubtless advise the Egyptians all be executed, as the Duke had done at Constantinople. There was a certain logic in that. Could the Reich afford to face these men again? To see another two hundred German knights slaughtered by waves of unarmoured fanatics? But no, there had been enough killing today. Ordering an execution was inconceivable. In his youth, the Kaiser might have released the prisoners, but that option was scarcely worth contemplating. The others on the Crusader Council would not understand. Henry looked back at Dusan, helplessly:

“What am I to do?”

Dusan stared at his master, a man physically and emotionally drained by the day’s battle. The pagan magician’s eyes sparkled and he said light-heartedly:

“Let God decide. Offer them for ransom. If God wills it, they will be free. If not,…”

Henry nodded heavily, so be it. Nearly 500 prisoners - what would such men be worth, Henry mused? When he later heard it was a scant four florins per man, the Kaiser was surprised at the low value of a man’s life. But that idle thought was of little consequence compared to the great relief the Kaiser felt at being able to honour his promise to the late Mahmoud Ahmad.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

The butcher’s bill

[TinCow]

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

The thin wind whipped twirling funnels of sand across the emptiness around him. One of the Byzantine guides had called them dust devils. Devils indeed. What else could live in a land disconnected from the Lord? Maximillian raised his visor and squinted at the horizon, or what he thought was the horizon. There was no color in these lands. The earth and sky alike were mottled shades of tan and brown, absent of life and virtue.

For several moments he stared, searching, but there was nothing to see. They had split away from Kaiser Henry’s main force of Crusaders over two weeks ago, but the Turkish Jihad had not yet been sighted. Without access to the great supply train that traveled with the main army, food and water was scarce. If they did not find a source of sustenance soon, men would begin to weaken and die.

Maximillian turned and looked at his companion. “The Lord is testing us, Otto. 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.”

Chancellor von Kassel opened his mouth to speak, but gust of wind blew sand in his face and his words turned into a fit of spitting and coughing. It didn’t matter, words were not necessary. “Thank you for coming, Otto. It is good to have a friend with me during these times. Sir Welf is a skilled and pious knight, but reverence has taken the place of friendship between us. I suppose it is so for many who did not know me in my youth. I threw off the shackles of sin long ago, but the memory of that taint is what keeps my soul pure and my loyalty to God alone. Those who do not know my past do not know who I am.”

Otto nodded. “I expect that Kaiser Henry has engaged the Egyptian Jihad by now. It is possible that we are all that remains of our glorious Crusade.”

All that remains. A curious thought, indeed. “If it is so, then it is because they failed the test of God.” The Chancellor did not respond. There was no need to. Maximillian knew his feelings about the Kaiser were obvious. Henry was a good man, to be sure, but he had fallen from the Light. Maximillian had hoped that by taking the cross Henry would come into greater communion with God, yet since their departure he had fallen further and further into sacrilege and heresy. He had mistaken earthly power for heavenly spirit. In his search for God, he looked only to the world around him, not the world within him. It was this failure of the soul that had led him to that pagan magician. A man that Henry mistook as a priest, but who was nothing more than a trickster and a charlatan. The years spent watching that man’s ‘miracles’ had given the Kaiser superstitions that some called silly. Maximillian called them heretical.

It had been nearly a month ago that he had decided to remove himself from the presence of the Corrupt. Perhaps Henry would succeed and the glory of the City of Christ would restore some piety to the fallen man, but Maximillian thought it more likely that he would lead them into doom. So, he had proposed to split off from the main army and save those who could be saved. From the fortress of Adana, he would spread true Christianity to these barren lands, creating a bastion of sanctity in a land of devilry. No matter what the fate of Henry’s soul, Christendom would be victorious.

A shout came from Maximillian’s left. He looked over to see one of his bodyguards pointing at the horizon. At first, he could see nothing but a blur, as if a green moss had covered the crest of a distant hill. Yet this moss was adorned with pennants and banners flying the unholy symbol of the Mohammedan horde. It was the Jihad.

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“God help us…” Otto gave voice to the thoughts of all who could see the battlefield. The Turks had positioned themselves at the top of a cliff which dominated a vast, sunken land. There they had assembled massive siege engines; catapults and ballistae which could hurl deadly projectiles deep into the valley. The Chancellor turned to him, “If we descend these slopes, we will never rise again.”

Maximillian galloped forward to get clear of the main body of men. When he was 50 yards in front, he stopped and surveyed the land. To the west was a ridge which spanned the depression. From there, the Turkish position could be approached without descending into the Valley of Death. He turned and galloped back to the lines. “Captains! On my march!” He turned west and raised his sword. The battle had begun.

It took only moments for the entire army to shift direction, a sidelong movement which became obvious to the infidels almost immediately. Whoever commanded there had prepared for just such an act. Maximillian could see the entire body of the Turkish force begin to move towards the western ridge. “Double speed! Captains! Get your men into position!”

As one, the entire Crusade army broke into a run. It took only a few minutes to reach the assembly point atop the ridge, but the Mohammedans had moved with devilish speed. A giant mass of men surged forward on the horizon. They would be on the Crusaders in moments. “Form up! FORM UP!”

The sun rose from the north that day; a glowing ball of fire ascending the sky. At first, Maximillian took it for a good omen, but as suddenly as it had appeared, the sun ceased its ascent and began to fall. As a body, the entire Crusade army stopped and looked up as the great ball of fire passed overhead.

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The flaming ball of pitch crashed down to Maximillian’s left.

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The army stood mesmerized by the sight, their formation stalled and their lines disorganized. The trance was broken as a second ball of pitch tore through the easternmost line of crossbowmen, barely missing Chancellor von Kassel’s bodyguard. Men screamed and flailed as they were covered in sticky, burning mass.

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“God help us.” There was no safe haven on the battlefield, no place they could take refuge from the artillery. Though the lines were not yet formed, Maximillian knew they had no choice. The only place the catapults would not fire was into their own lines. It was death by fire or death by blade. He lowered his visor. “CHARGE!”

As the Crusaders surged forward, the Turkish mob came forward to meet them. The main body clashed along the crest of the ridge, while the catapults continued to rain devilish fire on the line of crossbows which had remained in the rear. Maximillian moved to the left flank of the line, watching for breaks and encouraging his men. Otto rode with him. Suddenly, the Turkish lines parted and a mass of heavily armored horse charged straight into the German spears. A dozen men fell almost instantly. No orders were needed. Maximillian and the Chancellor moved in unison. Around the left flank they galloped, then reversed course and engaged the Turkish horse.

For several minutes, Maximillian knew nothing but battle. Ringing steel, shouts of pain, and screams of terror. His trance was broken as a fiery ball flew right into the middle of the engaged German spearmen. Either the Turkish artillerymen had superb aim, or they did not care about hitting their own men.

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“MY LORD! SIR MANDORF!” Maximillian turned and saw Sir Welf behind him. “A large mass of infantry is coming up out of the valley on our right. Hundreds of them! They will flank our line within minutes!”

Before he could respond, another ball of pitch exploded into the German lines, incinerating several spearmen at once

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The entire infantry line was already committed, the only men left to hold the flanks were the cavalry. If all four brigades moved to meet the flanking Turks, they would surely hold the line. But even with such a move, the catapults would continue to fire and the Crusaders would be decimated. “Sir Welf, tell the knights to hold back the right flank at all costs. AT ALL COSTS!”

The Teuton grinned broadly, pleased with the prospect of meeting the Infidel charge head-on. “NO! Not you, Sir Welf. You must take your Teutons around the left flank and deep into the enemy rear. You must stop the Turkish artillery before it kills us all!”

“My Lord, the two brigades of German knights will not be able to hold off hundreds of axemen on their own!”

Mandorf nodded. “Those who fall in the service of God shall live on forever at his side.” He crossed himself. “NOW GO!”

Maximillian turned back to the fight. Otto’s men had dropped many of the Turkish horsemen, pushing deep into their lines. Yet one man still stood his ground, his position surrounded by the fallen horses of half a dozen German knights. As Maximillian turned and galloped towards the Turkish general, the rain of fire continued.

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Mandorf’s gallop had drawn the attention of several nearby knights and spearmen. As a body, they turned and followed; moving as one, deep into the Turkish right flank. The infidel saw Mandorf’s approach and lifted a horn to his lips. A loud double note sounded, and at once a dozen armored horse pulled out of the main line and came galloping to his side. Maximillian lifted his sword and held it shoulder-high as he kicked his mount into a gallop towards the enemy. With a mighty swing, he brought the blade down onto the back of an engaged horseman. The man screamed as the blade cleaved his shoulder from his spine; his armor opened like a split berry.

Time seemed to slow. A lifetime passed in mere moments. Men fell on both sides and the ground was stained red with the blood of pious and heretic alike. Through it all, the enemy catapults continued to fire and Germans continued to burn.

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The prospect of flaming death was putting terror into the hearts of even the most valiant Crusaders. If Sir Welf did not silence the Turkish artillery soon, the line might break. On the right flank, the German knights held back the mass of flanking infantry, but they had paid a huge price. Two thirds of the men were down and the rest were being pushed back. As Mandorf watched, two more were pulled from their saddles.

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If they broke, the line would be flanked and the army would be destroyed. Yet there were no men to spare. Mandorf prayed. He parried a slicing cut by a curved sword. Flaming pitch crashed down into a group of horsemen to his right. Christian and Muslim alike were engulfed in writhing flames. “Lord above, hear my prayers! Deliver us from evil and spare our earthly forms so that we may spread your Truth!” He thrust his sword forward; sparks flew as it met sharpened steel. “GOD, GIVE ME STRENGTH!”

Mandorf threw aside his opponent and spurred his horse forward. A dozen paces ahead, the Turkish general saw him coming and lifted his sword to parry. When they impacted, the battlefield went silent. For a moment, it seemed as if all had stopped to watch the meeting of God and Devil. Yet, the mass around him still surged, swords still swung, and mouths still moved. The ringing sound of the impact had echoed through his helm and momentarily deafened him. As sound slowly returned to the world, Mandorf turned around and looked at the Turkish general. He lay on the ground, his head cut cleanly from his body; his sword broken in two at the spot it had met Maximillian’s. The Crusader looked at his own blade. It was unmarked. It had cleaved through watered steel, armor, flesh, and bone, and it had not so much as a nick about it.

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“The Lord is with us.”

As if in agreement, a sea of shining armor appeared over the crest of the ridge far to the north. The Teutons had arrived.

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With the Mohammedan commander fallen and the artillery captured, the Turkish morale broke. The main line crumbled as the men turned to flee. Mandorf rode them down as Chancellor von Kassel led three regiments of spearmen to the aid of the knights. With their army broken and the force of numbers no longer on their side, they broke as well.

“We have won!”

Maximillian turned to see Sir Welf breathing heavily, his horse sweating profusely. “Yes, but we are not done.” He gestured towards the mass of fleeing men. “Capture them all.” The Teutons joined Chancellor von Kassel and the remnants of the German knights as they chased the routers into the valley. None of the infidels escaped.

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…

Two hours later, Sir Welf returned. “It is done my Lord. We have captured over 700 of the Mohammedan soldiers; nearly three-quarters of their strength! They had a great supply train as well. We have more than enough food and water to reach Adana. What do you wish done with the prisoners?”

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Mandorf looked over at the crowd of disarmed men, surrounded by a ring of German steel. “They are the servants of the Devil. We must make an example of them.” He dismounted and took off his helmet. As he strode towards the captured army, he drew his sword. Its unmarked face glittered in the fading light.

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...

One week later, the Crusade approached the fortress of Adana. Word of the defeat of the Turkish Jihad had not reached the stronghold, as no one had survived to report it. The place was nearly empty of soldiers, all having been called away in service of the Devil. The Turkish Crown Prince was the only significant fighting force present, supervising the construction of yet more artillery to use against Christian sons.

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The reduced garrison did not even notice when a German spy slipped inside the walls and opened the gates. A group of engineers was pushing a pair of ballistae along the wall road when the mass of German knights entered the fortress. The Teutons spread out into the town as Maximillian’s own men put the artillerymen to the sword.

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When the infantry entered, the Crown Prince made a valiant charge into the sea of spears. His death was quick.

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Mandorf turned to survey his new holding. It was a mighty fortress with a double-ringed wall of immense thickness. Within its confines was sufficient space to train many armies of holy Christian warriors. “Yes, this will do nicely.” He turned to a nearby sergeant. “Find all Mohammedan priests and put them to the sword. Strip their temples bare, melt down their holy symbols, and then tear the structures down to the foundations. Tell those who live here that they can renounce their devil worship or they can die.”

Maximillian Mandorf knelt to pray.

Christianity had arrived in the Holy Lands.

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[Warluster]

Dijon , 1188.

A building crumbled to the ground, as loud voices rounded the corner. Peasents brandishing picthed forks were yelling and screaming, burning houses.

But quickly there was a trotting of feet, and a unit of Knights appeared,
'Move along you scum, burning your own bloody houses!' spat one Knight, and was stabbed by a nearby Peasent, whos head was quickly chopped off. More Knights arrived, lower class ones.

They clapped their swords against their shields, yelling and roaring, sometimes killing, untill quickly it was over. The peasents ran away, yelliing, or simply bleed on the ground.

The higher class knights trotted off to the City Centre, while the others stayed behind, policeing the area.

The higher classed knights leader coughed, his throat full of smoke,
'Those bloody peasent scum are getting worse, should slaughter them next time' he spat.
'We shall not and can not, as Prinz Jobst as ordered so'
'But what diffrence will he make!?' one said thickly through his helmet.
'A lot, as the peasents are much more obidient when mein prinz is here' one said, and they all murmured in agreement. But there was one fact they couldn't avoid, Dijon was restless, and rioting, and Jobst was far away dealing with, others....

****

The other side of the mountains of Staufen , 1188.
'I wonder...'
'You wonder too much sir' said the captain, and Jobst laughed.
'At least I am using my brain when I wonder!' said Jobst ,and both men laughed, but the laugh was short lived, as both mens faces dipped back into anxious looks, as battle lay ahead.
'I was going to say how I wonder Dijon is... I hope the lower classes are not problematic' said Jobst thoughtfully, Jobst's Second in command, Fritz, did not wish to tell him of the letter the he had received the day before, clearly outlining and pleading for Jobst to come back and install control, but this would only worry Jobst, especially as - 'And I also hope Heidindrudis is okay' muttered Jobst, Heidindrudis was Jobst's wife, Heidindrudis von Salza.

While the two men sat in thought in the command tent, a messenger came riding swiftly into the armies camp, demanding Prinz Jobst. At once a Knight of Jobst's Bodyguardcame walking into the command tent, bearing a message, from several sources.
'Sir, we have several messages here' said the Knight, fingering through them.
'One from your wife, a couple from military leaders stating about the Crusade, and other places' finished the Knight, kneeling down and handing Jobst the messages, Jobst clapped him on the shoulder,
'Good man, now you go off and prepare for the battle ahead' said Jobst, and the Knight rushed out. Jobst then ripped open the letters eagerly, wanting infomation from the outside world. One was about the capture of Adanna near the Holy Land, one of the capture and sacking of Marseilles, and one about the stae of the Diet, which some Councillers were disproving of. But one thing bugged Jobst -
'NO Bloody letters from Ulrich or Friedrich! I want to bloody hear from them, or I shall speak to them myself!!!' roared Jobst, and the area outside of the tent went quiet. A Knight rushed in,
'Is everything all right sir?' he asked, he knew everything was all right, but it was his obligation to ask.
'Yes Franz, yes' said Jobst, looking at the ground, the Knight withdrew. And silence resumed until;
'Aren't you scared sir?' asked Fritz.
'No I am not Fritz, as eventually we all die, in battle or near loved ones' Jobst said.
'But it is a strange world Fritz' whispered Jobst,
'How mein prinz?' asked Fritz.
'We enter this cruel world crying, smiling faces around us, we leave the world smiling, with crying faces around us' said Jobst. Fritz took this in, and thought on it.
'PRINZ JOBST! MEIN PRINZ!' yelled someone outside, Jobst stood up, and was wearing all his armor, full plate armor. He rushed outside,
'Yes?' Jobst said inquirelny, someone nearly ran into him, but halted , and bowed.
'Battle Awaits!' muttered the person.
"Excellent, EVERYONE! TO ASSIGNED FORMATIONS!' roared Jobst, and the camp blew up with movement, as hundreds of soldiers moved forward, stumbling, cursing and swearing as the tripped over. But eventually they were no longer a rablle, but a army. Jobst was mounted on his horse, and him and his 44-strong bodyguard moved forward.

'Crossbows, move forward and engage enemy ranged units!' yelled Fritz. As their pasive crossbowmen and peasent crossbowmen marched forward, and loaded. But before the could fire, several fell, and many saw bolts sticking from them. Eventually there was a full on skirmish, the air full of crossbow bolts. But the losses were getting worse.

'Infantry and Cavarly move forward and prepare to engage' yelled Fritz, who then turned to Jobst.
'Mein Prinz, do you wish for the bodyguard to engage?' asked Fritz, Jobst nodded, and Fritz prepared to yell orders. But Jobst put a hand on his shoulder,
'Not staright forward Fritz, we're going around them' smiled Jobst,
'Again sir? They can't be thst thick to fall for the sneak trick again!' laughed Fritz. Jobst smiled grimmly.
'We're not going for the peasents, we're going for that 120 unit of Swiss Pikemen.' said Jobst, nodding ahead. And so they did, as they rode out towards the mountains. menwhile the soldiers at the battlefield had stopped,
'mein prinz is abandoning us!' cried some, but others were more confident.
'He'll be back' they muttered, and so he was, as the 44 strong unit appeared 10 minutes later, except behind the enemy. The commanders unit of Swiss Pikemen panicked.
'Turn around, turn around' he yelled in French. But the trumpets of the Swabian House blared, and the bodyguard unit was there, and at once a unit with 120 pikemen were shortened to 10, and they tried to run, but ALL were killed.
'YES!!! THAT"LL TEACH 'EM!' roared Jobst, and the rest roared their uttermost agreement. Soon the whole enemy army was dead, all 400 gone, bleeding to death on the German Lands of the Reich. Jobst, grinned, another bloody good battle.

***
A few weeks later a letter arrived at Dijon, addressed for Heidindrudis von Salza. She eagerly received the letter, and was estatic to see it was from Jobst. She ripped the letter open and read it;

Dear Heidindrudis,
I am returning at once to Dijon, as my second in command,Fritz, told me of your situation today, I am dearly sorry for not responding to your other messages, as I am busy dealing with rebel scum.

I know your woried about the battle, but its over. With our 400 (estimated) troops against their 400, we killed every single one, leaving none alive.

I shall be back in less then a year, until then, take care.

From Prinz Jobst,
Count of Dijon,
Third Elector of Swabia,

End of Report

[OverKnight]

The Battle South of Acre, 1192

News of a Egyptian relief force on its way north to Acre reached Otto from the agent in the castle. With Count Hans having besieged the fortress, and the Kaiser overseeing the final preparations for the move on Jerusalem, Otto decided to take much of the Crusade south around Acre and intercept the large Egyptian force. They seek to break the siege, Otto thought, or to help in the event of Hans's attack, but I'm not going to give them that opportunity. I will destroy them so that our way to Jerusalem will be clear.

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The Egyptian army:

Coming out of the hills from the east, the Crusade caught the Egyptians on the road to Acre. Squinting into the setting sun, Otto saw trebuchets and catapults turning toward his forces as the Saracens redeployed to face the unexpected threat. A shiver ran down his spine, he remembered the terrible damage the wooden monsters had inflicted on the Crusade when he had fought side by side with Maximillian against the Turks at Adana. They must be our first target, I will not have my men suffer under a constant barrage.

Making up his mind, Otto ordered the deployment of his army. The infantry was to deploy in a line. The crossbowmen would also be in a line behind them. Taking advanatge of the slope of the hill, they would be able to fire in a flat trajectory without endangering the men in front. The cavalry would be in column on the right.

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The infantry were ordered forward a bit to counter the Egyptian deployment, while the crossbrowmen stayed on the ridge of the hill. Otto, among the cavalry, ordered the column forward. If they respond to the flanking manuever with their horse archers, I'll charge them. If it's infantry, I'll bring up my own. If they choose to ignore us, then we shall see how their dread machines stand up to Imperial lance and sword.

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The Saracen horse archers and bowmen advanced to skirmish with the Imperial infantry, with their spearmen following behind. Ordering his men to a trot, Otto smiled, the fools were ignoring his cavalry, a terrible mistake. Soon the column had redeployed to a line abreast facing the artillery.

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Otto could see the machines firing at his infantry, but due to the hill their aim was off. Still some of his Crusaders were falling, and the infantry lines were about to meet. Time to gut them.

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With Otto and the mailed Knight charging the catapults, Jonas von Mahren and the Teutons rushed the trebuchets.

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There would be no more artillery fire.

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The Saracen infantry, already outclassed by the Imperial footmen, now faced the prospect of an attack from the rear. They broke and were pursued.

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Captain Youseff and the Mamluk horse archers tried to stem the tide, but they broke as well. The Captain was eventually run down by the mailed knights.

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After the battle, Otto could not help but feel satisifed. The infidels were routed, none of them would trouble the Reich again and he had been able to leave behind the duties of Chancellor for a time. It was good to lead men in battle again.


The Butcher's Bill:

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