Re: The one that got away
Sifridus arrived at his final destination, Florence. despite his young age the boy knew his country well and managed to hitchhike and steal a variety of transport methods to get to where he now was from Magdeburg. After interrogating an unfortunate guard the boy found his way to the pleasure palace. Despite a lot of the building being made up of rubble he knew the people he wanted to see were still in there. He tentatively knocked on the door...
Re: Stories thread - King of the Romans PBM
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
Part 1
Lady Alfgarda, Max the Teutonic Knight, Clare, and Andreas wait in the apartment. Max had done as the Lady asked and sent a letter to Duke Arnold requesting help. Right after Jan was killed at Bern, Arnold had sent an offer to shelter the family in Ragusa. It was an offer Alfgarda politely refused. But now, it seemed to be a convenient way to get the Duke to come meet with them.
“I see people coming!” Andreas shouted from his lookout position in the second floor window. He readied his musket but waited for word from his mother before doing anything. Downstairs, the small group got into position. Alfgarda went to the front door ready to open it. Max was behind an over-turned table with two pistols just behind the door. Clare was kept in a slightly safer position behind the corner in the kitchen. But she had a pistol out too if needed.
Alfgarda hoped the Duke would stride right in full of ego and pride. And then she planned to put a bullet in his head. He would pay for what he did to her brother-in-law Dieter Bresch. She waited behind the front door with two pistols under her robes as hooves grew closer from outside.
The Dread Knight Bane dismounts and wraps his gauntlet hand on the door.
"Lady Alfgarda, I bring you word from Duke Arnold. He's instructed me to wait for your response or take you to safety."
Behind Bane she can see Arnold's entire retinue and more than a few squadrons of the Duke's personal Cavalry Regiment. They are blood stained and have seen serious action but are alert and making sure there no immediate danger to their position.
She opens the note Bane hands her:
Lady Alfgarda peeks out and sees the massive Dread Knight. She had hoped for Arnold to come in person so they could just get this over with. Time to go to plan B.Lady Alfgarda,
The offer still stands my lady. I'm not going to rehash the past!
Children and women have always been exempt from and immune from any military actions.
I will offer you sanctuary anywhere you require. I would however recommend the Estate just north of Ragusa. It was left as it was all those years ago and I have security measure already in place.
Let Bane know what you would like to and he will ensure it is done.
The other option is to accompany Bane back to my location. My position is will be the most secure location until the remainder of the Imperial forces are found and the new government can be installed.
Yours
Duke Arnold
"Thank you Sir Bane. Please don't take offense but I would like to be taken to Duke Arnold. I am afraid we are being hunted by Fritz's mercenaries. I would feel safer if we were with the Duke for now."
Lady Alfgarda turns back into the apartment to say something. She then emerges and dons a cloak. Three people come out after her.
"This is all of us. Max you know. He was my husband's Teutonic Knight. Also, here is my daughter Clare, and my son Andreas."
Max is looking middle aged these days. He eyes Bane but keeps quiet. It's clear he hasn't forgotten that Bane killed his fellow Teutonic Knight Fredericus all those years ago. Clare is a beautiful young lady of 15. She looks nervous and sticks by her mother. Andreas looks very much like Jan and is 14. Defiant and proud, he simply walks past Bane and joins the others.
Bane observes the four figures as they head towards the waiting mounts. Standing at the doorway his hand slowly falls to his sword. His head cocks slightly as he continues to observe the movements of the four people he has been entrusted to protect.
As the members of Jan von Hamburg’s family mount and the Duke's Cavalry squadrons prepare to depart, the only person they are finally all waiting for is the Dread Knight himself.
With Bane’s unnatural ability to convey thoughts and moods even with his night black full helm, the small and imperceptible shake of his head is enough to warn Grom that something is not right.
The air stills, movement in the courtyard seems to stop momentarily, a threatening and dreaded feeling falls across the clearing. Horses whinny and stamp their feet, pricking their ears to an unseen danger, a number of the Dukes soldiers shiver at an unexpected chill and those with "the sense" prepare for danger.
The moment is broken by the cold hard and unyielding voice of the Dread Knight.
"My Lady, I've just realized that the Duke will not be able to receive you. Now that the battle has been decided I had entirely forgotten about a meeting of the Order to begin reorganizing the Reich. May I suggest we take you to the estate near Ragusa. That would be far safer at this time."
Lady Alfgarda pauses. Bane can tell she is contemplating something but he can't tell what. All four people are just sitting on their mounts and staring at Bane. Bane can't put his finger on it but if he was capable of feeling fear, he would be trembling.
Finally, the lady speaks. "I'm sorry but the deal was very precise. It has to be with Duke Arnold present or nothing. I understand he is busy. And you must be busy as well. So, I will waste no more of your time. I deeply apologize for your wasted efforts but I think we will find our own way to safety. Good day Sir Bane."
With that, Alfgarda dismounts and her party follows. Pulling their hoods over their heads, the group slips down an alley and into the shadows.
Knight of the Order of St. John
Duke of Nicosia
Re: Stories thread - King of the Romans PBM
Matthias reined in his horse, a loud oath escaping his lips. There was no way his men would be able to catch Maximillian von Hapsburg. With a bellowed command that betrayed the Viceroy's frustration, the Crusader Cavalry pivoted and began trotting back to the battlefield.
Matthias rode in stony silence. In the past he had fought against impossible odds, gone on Crusade, liberated Outremer from the Greeks, killed Khans and Strategoi and yet for the most important battle in the history of the Reich he had contributed nothing. He and his men had assembled a great armada, braved stormy seas and sailed halfway across the known world only to have their plans ruined by a simple broken axle on the wagon carrying the Great Cross. The largest host on the Republican side, at least before the battle started, was reduced to capturing a few fleeing Imperials, and even that with limited success.
Shaking his head, Matthias tried to look on the bright side. The Republicans were victorious, Imperial resistance had been crushed and few had escaped to fight again. All had gone according to plan, a rare event. Yet in this moment of triumph, his mind returned to Outremer. The Civil War was over, but would there be enough men and florins available to face the newest threat from the Steppes, much less the Greeks, Turks and Egyptians? He was old, had never felt older then when he watched von Hapsburg disappear over the horizon, who would take the Cross to replace him and the much missed Andreas? Both Hughes de Cervole and Ludwig von Bohmen had expressed interest in the past, but those two were now the last Swabians left standing. With such losses in the battle, could the Houses spare anyone?
He had thought of offering positions in Outremer to any surviving Imperial nobles who surrendered and pledged loyalty. However, as he pursued Hapsburg he had glimpsed the Count's compatriots charging into the fray, choosing death over surrender. A gallant gesture, but of little help to the Kingdom.
As if summoned by these thoughts, Matthias and his men came upon the aftermath of the last engagement of the battle. Dead men and horses were scattered the area, bearing the livery of Duke von Salza, Tancred von Tyrolia and, surprisingly, Fritz von Kastilien. Survivors milled about, Republicans herding a few prisoners, wounded men crying out and mercenaries stripping the Imperial dead of valuables.
It was then, with a shock, that Matthias recognized one of the fallen, it was Fritz von Kastilien himself. Not only a Brother of the Order, but the man who's arrival on the field had turned the battle to the Republic.
Dismounting, he slowly walked over to Fritz. Kneeling, he checked for a pulse, but the horrible wounds visible on the Franconian mocked that effort. All he could do was close the dead man's eyes. Groaning, Matthias fell heavily back, sitting in the mud and filth of the field as he gazed at his fallen comrade.
They had fought, and Fritz had died, to bring down the Empire. The Throne could have been his, a simple act of taking down one Kastilien and putting another in his place. It had been discussed, but when Matthias had proposed a Republic, Fritz had enthusiatically agreed. Yet what shape was the New Order to have? The idea of the Republic was a fine rallying cry, but would it actually come to pass? The Order had ruled from the shadows for so long, would they be able to come into the light of day, to rule with, not over, the brave men who had taken their side? Matthias bowed his head, he hoped so, but old habits might die hard.
Matthias slowly pulled himself up out of the mud. The last battle of the Empire was over, but it was only the first for the Republic. The future was uncertain for Outremer and the Republic, but he would fight for both to his last breath.
Walking back to his horse, Matthias retrieved a black cloak from his saddlebags. It had been given to him many years ago by Lothar when his brother had welcomed him into the Order. Matthias carefully laid the cloak over Fritz's body as he said the Lord's Prayer. It was hardly a proper shroud, but it would serve.
"No more secrets," Matthias said to the fallen.
There was much left to do.
Last edited by OverKnight; 04-15-2008 at 20:39.
Chretien Saisset, Chevalier in the King of the Franks PBM
Re: Stories thread - King of the Romans PBM
TRENT, 1380, in the aftermath of the battle.
The battle was over…
Fritz’s intervention for the Republicans had finished to turn the tide of battle in their favour. I’m sorry it cost him his life, I could have befriended such a man, Hughes mused.
Hughes had fought as hard as he could but looking over the field, all he could see was the mass of dead bodies, a large part the men he had led to that final confrontation…
But looking a bit further, Hughes could see some riders spurring their horses away from the battlefield as fast as their horses would go. From the distance he could see that the men wore the livery of Hapsburg, the man that had defiled his arms in front of the whole Diet, the man who in the midst of battle had been ready to betray his fellow fighters to save his own life.
Looking around him, he saw Guillaume, his old Templar brother nursing a bleeding arm and Thierry Foucault the French quartermaster turned bodyguard, dry-retching from the stink of blood and death that was slowly spreading over the battlefield.
Sensing his stare, the men looked as one towards him. Hughes looked back to the distance where the riders were rapidly getting away. Knowing full well what was on Hughes’ mind, Guillaume gave the order.
“Men, get on your horses !!! We ride !!!”
Soon, all men were mounted and riding at a fast pace on the trail of Hapsburg, leaving the battlefield behind.
And ride they did… For every single day of the following week… Hapsburg horses had been fresher than those of Hughes’ men and thus had quickly gain enough distance to be lost. However, a noble of the Reich could pass unnoticed in the villages he went through. Added to the fact that only the best inns could only suit the expensive tastes of the felon, the trail remained hot, allowing Hughes to follow if only one or two days late…
Finally, they reached Marseille. From the gatekeepers, they learned that Hapsburg had entered the city but no more information was available.
Hughes took lodging at the “Port-blocking Whale”, an inn where Thierry had often provided lodging for the commanding officers he had been serving. Having washed away the dirt and grime from the battle and the trip, Hughes gathered his men in the inn main room to give them his orders.
“Hapsburg is here… We are sure of that… We will comb the city, street by street, inn by inn until we find him… Go at it by squads of two so that one can remain watching whatever premises you find him in while the other comes back here to report their findings… Thierry, we will search together… We’ll meet here at dusk… We must bring him to justice… For our dead comrades…”
The search parties went through the town questioning inn- and shop-keepers, militiamen, sailors, whores and beggars…
Hughes and Guillaume were among the last of the search parties to come back to the inn. Only Thierry and one of the other men were still missing. Though some had heard news of Hapsburg’s passage through the city, the trail went cold two days before. Nobody had seen him since either going out of the city or within its walls.
Hughes was growing tense the more reports he heard. Dusk had fallen and still Thierry hadn’t come back. This added to the tension Hughes felt. If Thierry had fallen into an ambush, there would be nowhere on Earth Hapsburg could run to avoid Hughes’ wrath…
As the evening progressed, one by one the men filed out of the main room to their upstairs rooms until Hughes was alone in the inn, save for the innkeeper, a rudy fiftyish man counting coins behind his counter, with hardly a glance for Hughes.
The call for midnight went by and still no sign of Thierry. Out of sheer exhaustion, Hughes dropped asleep, his resting on his elbows on the table, an unfinished mug of wine in front of him.
Raucous laughter brought him out of dark dreams of blood and gore, the battle unfolding once more in his mind’s eye. Someone started banging on the inn’s door with un-articulate calls.
Master Labarthe, the innkeeper, ran down the stairs with a large cudgel in hand and taking a large iron key from behind the counter, went to the door. Signalling for Hughes to remain where he was, he put the key in the lock and opened the door to reveal Thierry and his comrade, fully in their cups. Recognizing them as some of his patrons, Master Labarthe dropped the cudgel he had lifted over his head and with a shake of head slowly went back to his own apartments.
Shoving his comrade towards the stairs, Thierry swerved between the tables in the direction of Hughes. Finally sitting himself after upturning several stools and benches, Thierry reached for the mug in front of Hughes and drained it in one gulp. Letting go of a huge belch, he suddenly seemed to sober up as if his drunken state had all been a sham.
“Sorry for being late but we had to go through a few taverns and sailors’ bars to follow some trail we heard… Hopefully, I’ve been through so many drinking matches that I can hold my own, even when faced with hard-drinking sailors… Anyway, ten drinks led to one sailor telling us of a noble inquiring for passage on a ship, ten more in another tavern led us to a cargo-master who loaded the said ship, ten more in another bar led us to the captain of the ship which confirmed that a noble whose description fit Hapsburg had requisitioned his ship, without its crew and has put sail two days ago…”
Hughes cut him short
“Where is he heading ?”… Wait a minute… You said without a crew ?”
“Yes, strange, isn’t it ? I thought I had gone too heavy on the liquor with the man at that point but his boatswain confirmed that the ship had left without a single one of its crew onboard…”
“Surely Hapsburg will have procured some other sailors for the voyage…”
“No, no hiring has been made for that ship… There is only Hapsburg, his men and some whores, if I heard’ em right…”
“So there’s no way to tell where they are heading ? Par les couilles du Grand Maître… He will succeed in getting away… I can’t believe it… »
“There is one more thing I must tell you… Some more drinks led us to another ship captain who crossed the path of Hapsburg’ ship… It was headed roughly south-west towards the Straits at Gibraltar and it seems it was a woman who was manning the helm… The man who told me the story swore on his own ship that was the truth…”
“Thank you, Thierry… Once more, you’ve been of great help… Go get some rest, I’ll meet you tomorrow…”
Seeing the sad look on his friend’s face, Thierry hesitated but a gesture from Hughes chased him up the stairs to his room.
Hughes reached behind the counter, took the key and opened the door. The breeze from the sea brought a cool and refreshing air in the heat of this summer’s night. Walking through the streets towards the harbour, Hughes contemplated the last years of his life : his flight deemed to secure the Templars’ future, his return to Europe and his joining the Reich, the years of fighting the French, making them pay for the destruction of his Order, his last fight for an utopian idea of a Republic, an idea that would never see fruition even though the Illuminati had won the day… Hughes couldn’t believe that they would release the reins of power they had held for so long. It seemed his fight by their side had been in vain although it was better than having fought for the Kaiser. It saddened him to think of all the lives lost because men chose to follow him, to their doom.
Lost in his thoughts, Hughes had finally reached the harbour where the many ships riding at anchor bobbed up and down in the calm waters of the port. There were all kind of ships to be seen, from slim Byzantine galleys laden with the riches of Orient to heavy and bulgy cogs plying the waters of the Mediterranean Sea from Italy to Spain and down to the northern coast of Africa… Hughes’ gaze went to the horizon and beyond to the coast of Africa with its riches of gold and ivory…
Africa… Gold…
Having reached a decision, Hughes turned on his heels and went strolling slowly back to the inn, oblivious to the spectacle of the sun slowly rising in the east and casting shimmering golden rays on the waters of the bay.
Philippe 1er de Francein King of the Franks
Re: Stories thread - King of the Romans PBM
This is a co-op story between AG and I.
Sifridus takes a seat in a massive room just next to the new Diet Chamber in Rome. His audience with the Illuminati Grand Master had been granted and he sat patiently waiting for Arnold's arrival.
From a side door to the room the still young looking Arnold walks quickly into the massive study and sits behind a large table.
Sitting he picks up a parchment that is the letter Sifridus wrote requesting the meeting.
After looking up he found that Arnold's stare bored into and through him.
"I've been informed young Sifridus that you wish to join the Order. What exactly are you trying to accomplish young man!!??"
At the end of his sentence Sifridus heard a click behind him.
Turning to glance backwards he saw, standing no more than two feet away, the Berserker Grom and the Dread Knight Bane, both eying him intently.
The click seems to have come from a massive crossbow now aimed at his back. The third man holding the crossbow, Sifridus had never seen him before.
A trickle of sweat dripped down Sifridus' forehead as he began a hasty explanation to Arnold, "I want to be like you, Lord. I am not like my father, the man was forever a fool for following those self defeating principles of his. he used to lecture me about never doing anything similar in any way to men like you and Fritz. I heard great tales of your victories and the way that you mercilessly, yet logically, dealt with the remnants of enemy forces. I believe I am of the right frame of mid to join the sacred order, though that is the decision..."
He tailed off speaking far too fast to be heard properly.
Picking up where the young man left off, Arnold's gaze continues to hold Sifridus' attention;
"that is the decision We in the Order will have to make. Yes you are correct in your statement there.
You need understand Sifridus. The Order has only just recently decided to reveal itself to the unenlightened, therefore we have never received a proactive request for anyone to join. I understand that this would seem a logical thing to have happen but all future members will not be disclosed to the world as a rule. While the Five remaining members of the Order are known to all at this time...the Order's new recruits will not be. They will therefore slowly fade back into the background over the course of time and again take it's position in the shadows.
I would therefore recommend that you go about your life as you wish and know that, as usual, the Illuminati will deliberate on potential candidates and their relative merits and flaws. If you are regarded as someone worthy of joining you will be contacted in due course.
Does that satisfy you Sifridus?"
Arnold leans forward on the desk wit his elbow, while he steeples his hands waiting for a response.
A look of utter disappointment crosses Sifridus' face.
"But I am made of the same things as you all are, I know how to make this nation as great as it can be! Surely you can at least take my plea to the other members, I assure no-one knows I am here, no one!"
The look on Arnold's face tells him that there is no point in trying but the boy will stop at nothing, he now speaks slowly and clearly and with a sinister tinge,
"you do know that of I am refused acceptance then there is a strong possibility my talents will be used against you...trust me when I say it is not in your best interests to make me want to do what my father failed to do. I can achieve where he cannot, there are no stupid morals to stop me. All my goals will be achieved."
It is a wonder that a boy of such a young age can muster the confidence to speak in such a way to the most feared man in all the known world.
The lone raised brow of Arnold is all that can be seen in response to such a thinly veiled threat. Leaning back in his chair the Grand Master smiles broadly.
"You have an impressive amount of courage for one so young...especially considering who and what is stationed behind you.
Unfortunately Sifridus, you must understand that threats and pressure tactics are something I've experienced a great deal that in my life time. Given your statement I will say this.
The Order WILL NOT change it's recruitment process for you, or anyone, and certainly not under the guise of having run the risk of you work against us. I hope you can understand, that under those conditions I would take that risk every time and I would hope you can see my point of view.
Having said that, you do seem to be motivated and you do not lack courage, which is a fine trait to have. Therefore I will raise your name for discussion at the next council. But I will not discuss this topic with you any further than now.
If you are deemed worthy then the Order will make contact with you as we have done so since the very beginning of our existence.
Is that acceptable to you?"
The tone of the Grand Masters voice leaves little room for doubt about accepting the statement or not. However he does seem prepared to wait for you answer.
"this will do for now, I trust the Gods will have the council see sense. Please pass the message on to them that their lives depend on the decision."
He turned slightly in his chair and smirked at the crossbow, "such old contraptions do not frighten me. I have full confidence in my abilities and have no doubt that I could be the only man alive in this room should I wish it. Thank you for considering me Arnold, it has been a pleasure talking to you."
With that the boy got up and headed for the door, not bothering to look back to check whether the men standing behind him had decided to stop him or not.
The door closes behind the young man leaving the room is silence for a time while the four men contemplate what just happened.
Finally Grom begins to chuckle, drawing the attention of the others to him. Realising everyone is clearly waiting for some explanation, Grom shrugs his massive shoulders and says; "He's either completely mad or the four of us are just getting old."
There's a pause as the other three men continue to look at the Berserker with questioning stares.
"I find the whole thing fun because I swear I just heard him say that the Orders future will be finished if we don't admit him, AND that the four of us would be dead if he so wished it!"
Again the big barbarian starts to chuckle at the whole situation. After some moments he realises the others aren't joining in the humour.
Finally the Grand Master turns towards the door that admitted the young man. In a quizzical and thoughtful tone the Grand Master says to no one in particular.
"Indeed my large friend, that IS what he just said."
Re: Stories thread - King of the Romans PBM
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
Trent 1380: (Three weeks after the battle)
Dawn was broken by the first rays of light. Arnold and the four remaining members of the Order stood as a group overlooking the battle ground.
Behind them were the collective members of their retinues, many of them had fought together, spent countless years with each other serving their respective masters. Each of them seemed subdued but where glad to see that some of their fellow advisers, bodyguards, priests and servants had survived the years and more importantly the final epic battle that was strewn below them.
The burial parties could be seen yet again commencing their grim work. That work had been going on from dawn until dusk, and still now, three weeks later, burial pyres where being lit in the early morning light.
On a hill some miles distance from the battlefield a group of men had gathered in the early morning light.
Arnold was dressed in his familiar obsidian plate with his deep red surcoat emblazoned with the blood red dragon, he shielded his eyes as he gazed at the horizon taking shape in the distance. He realised finally he was lost deep in thought and that only a few men where now conversing behind him. Turning to the assembled group the Duke of Austria and Grand Master of the Illuminati looked at the gathering of men assembled before him with pride and determination.
His voice finally broke the silence on the small hill top.
“Gentlemen, I'm glad you could all make it at such an early hour. God knows we have all been working hard reorganising the Reich into a Republic. I can say with certainty that what we will present to the Diet next week will create the future we have seen together in our discussion over the past twenty one days.”
Turning back to the battle field, Arnold swept his plate covered arm over the scene before him.
“What I can honestly say to everyone here is that all those decades ago when Lothar and I first began this, I never envisaged that battle ground and who would be fighting on it.”
Pausing Arnold began his familiar pacing.
“We made this Order for the good of the Reich and to ensure that for eternity, there would be a force in place, in the background, holding steady the Reich's course as we navigated through history, against all events and all people that would endanger what we stood for.
Recent history has shown that while I was expecting external threats, it was in fact ourselves that we were going to face as the principle threat to our existence.
The whims of Kaisers became our most pressing danger, Unification, the Cataclysm, these where the events that took centre stage in our lives and these are the events that we have overcome. That battle field below sadly shows just how gruesome the reality of ruling is. More importantly it shows what a steep price must be paid to ensure that Tyranny and Mayhem are not visited upon us by the opinions of a few people, placed by fate to be born at a certain time to a certain set of people.
I stand before you today to recommit myself to making sure that it is not these same issues that will threaten us in the future, that the Republic, AND the Order will ensure that history doesn't repeat itself.”
Arnold turned back to the assembled men. His jaw clenched and his gauntlets groaned as his hands balled into black metal fists.
“At this time I would like to honour our fallen brothers. Karl Zirn, his son Johann, Jens Hümmel, Dietrich von Dassel and finally our most recently departed Brother Fritz von Kastillen. They were to a man the most dedicated, loyal and brilliant men I've had the privilege of knowing and I pray that they are able to see what we will make of this opportunity their sacrifice has allowed us to accomplish.”
Turn to each of the Illuminati members Arnold used the warriors handshake to look each of them in the eye as he spoke to them in turn.
“Max, your father would be proud of you and so would your brother. Know this...you did what was right and you and Fritz ensured that even though the bloodshed was horrific, it was at least much less than what it could have been.
Herrmann, your uncle and father have been part of the Order from the very beginning. You've been a credit to them both and the service the Steffen family has given to the Reich and the Order will be overshadowed by what you alone will accomplish in the New Republic.
Matthias, my friend, you've been a stalwart of consistency and brilliance. Your handling of Outremer and house politics as a whole has been incredible. You and your brother form one of the most impressive set of minds I've even encountered.
Lothar, my friend, we grew up together, your brother has been my brother, your father was my father and you have been everything and more to me as a companion, as the Voice, as the Duke of Bavaria and as the one man that has kept everything together no matter what situations we faced together.
Standing back, Arnold now addressed everyone on the hill top. His voice swept across the hill top, full of energy and passion.
“My Brothers, your loyal retinues, we stand on the steps of an old Reich, a Reich that we will turn into a New Republic, a Republic that will stand for the principles of our Charter, a Charter that has proved its worth, a Charter that has drawn together the greatest collection of men the world has seen to date.
A salute to you all in the name of the new Republic and in the name of the Illuminati Order!!!”
There was no cheering among the men, of course. The battle was too horrible and the effort expended too great to make that sort of thing appropriate. Instead, each of the Brothers simply nodded, lost in their own thoughts and what Arnold had said, supremely satisfied in their own unique ways.
Herrmann Steffen looked down from the hill at the gravediggers, sitting quietly. He was the only one in the group whose armor was shiny, the only one who had not participated in the battle. Maybe it was for the best. His two predecessors, Jens Hümmel and Dietrich von Dassel, had notoriously short life spans. Jens had died the year after he was formally inducted, barely getting his feet wet before fate had taken him, and Dietrich had already made his sacrifice, destroying two of the enemy’s greatest supporters and depriving them of much influence.
Herrmann silently saluted his fallen comrades and predecessors, as well as the Zirns and Fritz. Without their devotion, this day, this moment, would never have happened.
The salute only lasted for a few moments, as the past was gone. He was the future. Even though the Reich was to become a Republic, there would still be leaders. With the death of so many nobles at Trent, there would be a massive power vacuum to fill. This vacuum would be intensified in a few short years, when the senior Brothers would inevitably die off. Then, Herrmann realized, he would have a very good chance of becoming the second Grand Master, not to mention the leading voice in the Diet along with Maximilian Zirn. It had been a long road for the Steffen family ever since a young noble named Gerhard set foot on the Genoese battlefield so many years ago and vowed his assistance in the destruction of another enemy of the Reich.
Would the road end with the deaths of Lothar and Matthias? Herrmann doubted it. He had two more brothers to take up in their stead. For Herrmann Steffen, the possibilities of what he could accomplish were limited only by his dreams.
Lothar turned his gaze from the field of battle and surveyed the surviving Brothers of the Illuminati. It was a victory indeed, for all of them, but at such a cost that Lothar’s heart had been heavy for every moment that had past since that momentous day. With sadness in his eyes, he turned to Matthias.
“You are my brother twice over, Matthias. In blood and in shadow. Yet for so much of our lives, we have been forced to put on a façade of rivalry. I am glad that those days are finally over. Our family has suffered too much in recent years, and it is sometimes more than I think I can bear. I do not know how deep Dannae’s curse runs in our family, but it seems I have never shaken free of its grasp. For a time, I thought our family was safe and our destinies true, but Bernhard’s death was no coincidence. Two Steffens have now died under my command. It was bad enough losing our brother, Markus, but no man should outlive his own son. I am old now, and I must do what I can to remove this curse before it takes more Steffen blood. Father and I were the two most afflicted by this curse. It can be no coincidence that neither of us ever set foot in Outremer. I intend to end that discrepancy and break the curse once and for all. When you return to Outremer, Matthias, I shall go with you. I shall make a pilgrimage to the tomb of Saint Maximilian, and then to Jerusalem itself. Perhaps with the blessing of God, the Pope, and, of course, the Viceroy, I can rid our family of this vile plague once and for all. Even if I fail, I will end my days in the company of family, and there is little I desire more these days.”
Lothar smiled slightly, and turned to Herrmann.
“My son, I have trained you for great things since the day you were born. You have proven your abilities many times over the past years. I am proud to be your father and even more proud to be your Brother. The future of the Steffen family now falls on your shoulders. Matthias and I are old and we will soon depart this world. You will need to look after your brothers and ensure that they thrive and prosper. Yet, there is one more burden that I must now place on your shoulders.”
“A man cannot govern his lands effectively when he is at a great distance from them. I will leave for Outremer soon, and I may never return. It is therefore my intention to abdicate. As my eldest son and heir, I hereby name you the new Duke of Bavaria.”
With this, Lothar knelt in deep homage to his son, before rising and ruffling his hair in an affectionate manner.
“Remember the example your grandfather set, Herrmann, and you will do well. Always protect your people first, no matter what price you must pay personally. Those of us who are superior in mind have a duty to watch over those who are more mundane. The future of Bavaria is in your hands, my son.”
Lothar turned next to Maximillian Zirn.
“I regret that I have not had much time to get to know you, Brother Zirn, but your father and I were always good friends. Your family has given more than any other to the Order, and thus to the Reich. The Zirns are a paragon of virtue and gifted with the wisdom of the ages. You are a worthy heir to your father’s reputation. I know he would be proud to see you here with us today.”
The former Duke of Bavaria looked over at his old friend, Arnold. The two had birthed the Illuminati in the bloom of life and dedicated their lives to growing and nurturing it. Never had the Reich seen two stronger allies, or two closer friends. Throughout the decades, age and battle had changed their visages. The decades had not been kind to either man. The gray hair and scars had wiped away the frivolity of youth; marks on the soul as well as the body. Yet, despite the many years that had past, not one falsehood had ever passed between these two men. Such absolute trust was rare indeed. Arnold saw the growing seriousness in his friend’s eye and unleashed a grin that wiped away Lothar’s misery in a moment. The Voice of the Illuminati raised an eyebrow and looked at the field of Trent.
“I still think we should have called ourselves The Drunken Whoremongers.”
The men laughed heartily together, and for a moment, they were boys once again.
Max sat on a knoll looking over the field and thinking it was finally over.
Thinking back since the death of Johann his mind had not stopped turning. He was exhausted and just wanted to lie down on the sodden field.
This was not his to do and he was overcome with emotion sobbing quietly, he was the youngest, the carefree life of a wealthy family. This was Johann’s duty passed down from their father, or was it? Max could not think of all the work he had to do to be part of this battle and what scheme his father had orchestrated to have him fulfill the family responsibility to the Order. He missed the old man and his Brother Johann and to date he had not the time to grieve his death. However there was Jan, and thankful he survived the battle.
It was a father figure that had been missing though, and strangely Fritz had been a source of confidence in the days leading up to the battle. He listened intently for his words of wisdom as he always saw a different man in Fritz then the rest of the nobles and this was especially true now he was gone. “Rest my brother” Max whispered has he gazed out over the dead, still littering the field. He saw the other members grouped together and wiping the tears he got up and walked over to them.
He barely heard Lothar’s words of praise for the family but he shook his hand heartily and said thank you to him for all his support.
Looking over at Hermann, Max smiled; “I guess we have a lot of work to do in the near future, we have to pick up after these Old Men.” Motioning towards the Elder Illuminate members, Hermann smirked and nodded in agreement.
Max then spoke to his Uncle, thanking him for his support and being there for the family for as long as he could remember. He hoped that he had proven himself in battle to the fearless leader. “Uncle, I just have one request to make and I ask for your blessing” Arnold nodded in agreement and Max turned to the last living member of the Order who had been in the East.
“Matthias, my father has spoken very highly of you and of the work in the Outremer. Your service has been above reproach and it something every knight should be looking at to measure there own worth.” Max thought of his father and was momentarily silent before speaking again. “I wish to be one of those men and I ask that I accompany you back to the Outremer. There is much more work to be done there. I want to go to Damascus.”
Hearing the younger man’s words, Matthias smiled, the first time he done so since the grim day had began.
“You’ve got a good name for Outremer, Maximillian Zirn, son of a great Crusader and namesake of a Saint. I’d be honored if you took the Cross. The Kingdom will need defenders, now and in the future. If you live up to the promise you showed on this terrible field, the Crown of Thorns will be yours one day.”
He turned to Lothar and his smile disappeared.
“The loss of Bernhard is a terrible one. I wish I had known the boy better. If you feel you need to come to Outremer, then you are most certainly welcome. You are my brother; I would not refuse you anything. My only regret is that our father died without knowing that our feud was just a ruse. The old man would have been proud.”
The smile returned, a bit more sardonic.
“Lothar Steffen in the Holy Land? A sign of the end of days if there ever was one.”
“As for you,” said Matthias turning to Hermann, “Not a bad days work, my Duke.”
Matthias sketched a bow and then clapped his nephew on the shoulder.
“The path ahead of you is difficult, what we did today established the foundation of the Republic, but it will be up to your generation to build it. Royalists, rebels and the armies of half of Europe will be arrayed against you, but I have no doubt you will succeed. You are a Steffen after all. Take care of Wenzel, you never know what third sons are capable of.”
Matthias turned to Arnold.
“Good show today, you magnificent #@$@%$ Bastard! Though I wish you had waited another day before attacking so I could have done something more than chase routers. You lead us to victory and held your nerve when things looked grim. A lesser man, knowing about Max and Fritz, would have stayed on the defensive, but you charged in, pinning their line for the killing blow. I expected nothing less from the Dread Duke.”
His one eye took in all his Brothers, and he spoke again.
“I once said ‘We are effective as long as we are unknown. As soon as we step into the light of day, our power will dissipate.’ This has come to pass, though with Fritz’s sacrifice our final deception won the battle. The power of the Order will now fall away, but we must emerge from the shadows to build the Republic side by side with the others who fought for it. I pray that it will be enough.”
As the sun set on the field of battle, the gravediggers and peasants began to disperse to their homes. Soon, only the surviving Brothers of the Illuminati remained to watch over the dead. Silence descended on the group for a long time, before the Grand Master gave a great sigh.
“I suppose our work is done. The Kaiser has been overthrown and the Republic now rules the Reich. The next time we enter the Diet, all Electors will be equal.”
The Voice let the solemnity of the moment wash over them, before replying. “In the Republic, all Electors are equal, but some Electors are more equal than others.”
Re: Stories thread - King of the Romans PBM
Part 2
Alfgarda, Max, Clare, and Andreas quickly made their way down an alley in an attempt to escape from Arnold's men. Something had gone wrong. The plan was working perfectly. They had an invitation to meet with the Duke. And then they were going to fill his body full of lead. They might have lived, they might have died, it didn't matter. But for some reason, Bane had sensed something and called the meeting off.
I blew it! Now what do we do? Alfgarda thought as she hurried along the dark path between buildings. Her party of four rounded a corner and ran into two cloaked figures. Instantly all 4 had their guns out from their robes and pointed at the 2 men.
"Please, you don't need those. Your safe for now. You won't see them but many men are in the area protecting you. We thought it was best if just the two of us show ourselves. Here, this should help calm your nerves."
The man speaks with a funny accent and hands a letter to Alfgarda bearing the seal of Empress Theodora. Alfgarda opens it:
"I'm Nickolaus and I work for the Empress. We don't have much time but I can answer a few questions. The Duke's men have left the area. Apparently he was serious when he promised your protection. His people did not follow you. However, there are agents and mercenaries hunting for you as you feared. But none are in this area of the city... anymore..."Lady Alfgarda,
This man will see to whatever you need. To prove who I am, here is a story only myself and your husband would know.
When Jan went to see Pope Abbate, I warned him that I might need his help one day. That I might need his protection. Now it seems you need mine. Hopefully that story will prove who this letter comes from.
Good luck,
Yours,
Empress Theodora
Alfgarda remembered Jan mentioning something about his talk with the Empress during his visit to the Holy Father. "And who is your friend there." She pointed to the quiet companion.
Without speaking, the man reached into his robe and pulled out a letter. When the robe moved, Alfgarda could see that the man was dressed in the uniform of the Swiss Guard. Alfgarda opened that letter:
"What are our options?" Alfgarda asked.Lady Alfgarda,
While the idea of religious unification is long dead, there seems to be one thing that the two churches can agree on. And that is that the family of Saint Jan must be protected. This man and his Greek colleague will see to anything you need.
I will pray for you.
Respectfully,
The Holy Father
Nickolaus prattled off a list. "You have a few options. We can take you to Greek territories. I know the Empress could put you up at the royal court in Constantinople. Edessa is also an option. I know your family still has land there. Jerusalem is a possibility. The Holy Father would ensure your safety. A Muslim nation is a possibility. Your husband famously released thousands of Muslim prisoners. Both the Turks and the Egyptians have quietly sent word that they would help shelter the family of such a pious and chivalrous man. Jan was best friends with Kaiser Elberhard so his wife could set you up in England. The choice is yours."
Alfgarda contemplated for a few seconds. "I'll have to think about it. First, we need to get out of here. I want us to head north and pick up my niece. She has expressed interest in coming with. With both of her parents dead, and her brother running off to do Lord knows what, there is nothing for her here."
The group all donned their cloaks and continued on to the next leg of their journey.
Knight of the Order of St. John
Duke of Nicosia
Re: Stories thread - King of the Romans PBM
Constantinople: 1380
Alfgarda brought a bite of delicious food to her mouth. Looking around the great dining hall, she admired the paintings, tapestries, and armor adorning the walls.
"How's the food?" Empress Theodora asked as she paused in eating her meal. While older now, she still had a regal presence.
"It's wonderful, thank you. And thank you again for letting us stay here." Tonight, dinner was just for the two women. Alfgarda's niece and Max were watching the kids play with other nobles' children out in the courtyard.
Theodora smiled, "It's my pleasure. It is the least we can do. I do however wish to talk to you about something."
Alfgarda stopped eating and listened.
"The direction the Reich is heading has us worried. Not just us but all the heads of state in Europe and Asia. Now that this Order has taken full control, who knows what evil they will bring. An alliance among the other nations is forming quietly. Not amateurs like the Catholic Alliance, though some of them are in this one. But nations of all faiths and from all regions. If there is one thing that can unite all of the nations, it is fear of a Reich led by a small cabal of truly evil men."
Alfgarda sat patiently and nodded. Theodora continued.
"We could use someone to be an adviser. Someone who knows the Reich. Someone who knows the nobles. Sure we have spies but someone who knows the inner workings of the politics could be of great use to us. I'd like to offer you that job. Now I'll make this clear, you staying here is absolutely free with no strings attached. If you say no, nothing will be held against you and you and your family can stay here indefinitely. But I couldn't think of someone better qualified. You were part of the political structure and so was your husband. You have his files which, I have heard, are quite extensive."
Jan's widow thought for a moment. The offer was intriguing but something bothered her. "I'm not a traitor."
The Empress gave Alfgarda a kind thoughtful look. "Oh my dear, of course your not. What were looking to do is apply international political pressure on the Order. To do that well, we need information. This isn't about war. You wouldn't be leading to the deaths of your people. Are you really loyal to those now in charge? Do they deserve your loyalty? The group who killed your husband, your brother-in-law, and my dear Siegfried? The other nations are looking for an insurance policy against the Order. We wish to make clear that if they are going to continue conquering and exterminating whole peoples, then they are going to become quite lonely in the world. You would be doing a great service. Please think it over."
"May I sleep on it?" Alfgarda asked still looking troubled by the idea.
"Of course my dear" the Empress said as she beamed.
------------------------------------------------
That night, Alfgarda dreamed.
She rose from her bed, out of the chamber, through the roof, above the great city, and up to the heavens.
She ended up in a large tavern. Over to her left, she could see Jan, playing cards with Sigismund von Mahren, Dieter Bresch, and Elberhard. The men were laughing and drinking. Not a care in the world. Others that Jan knew and liked were also in the tavern.
Hans walked in, nodded hello to Jan, and walked to the bar, aloof as always. Elberhard excused himself and went to his brother to keep him company.
Siegfried was in the corner by himself smoking a hookah with a content look on his face. It seemed like he had his own private joke and did not feel like sharing.
Gunther and Jonas walked into the bar together and took their usual seats at the bar. Gunther asked the group if anyone had heard from Peter yet.
Jan spoke up, "Last I heard, him and Tancred are still in Purgatory. But I had breakfast with Pope Abbate this morning and I got the 'inside word' that those two will eventually be allowed up here."
Slightly annoyed at being interrupted, Fredericus and Conrad look up from their chess game. Conrad looks at Fred and says, "I still can't believe you fell down the stairs." Fred smiles and says, "I still can't believe you ate poisoned sausage." The two men laugh and resume their game.
Looking over at his two mentors, Jan remembers a story about Arnold. He proceeds to tell the group about how Arnold came to Outremer to kill him but he got his rear-end kicked by Jan. The whole tavern laughs at Arnold's expense. Everyone that is but Elberhard. He just stares into his beer and mutters something that people can't hear. All they can make out is "Me poor poor Arnolds..."
Gunther gets up and walks over to the chess game. Him and Fred stare at each other for a long time and finally shake hands.
Seeing his father sitting alone, Sigismund excuses himself from the game and goes and joins his father at the bar. Seeing his wife walk in, Dieter leaves the game, runs up to her, and they begin dancing.
Alfgarda sees all of this and wishes she could join. If it wasn't for the children, there would be nothing holding her back. She could be here, with Jan, and be happy.
Finally Jan looks up and sees his wife. With that big grin of his, he signals for Alfgarda to sit on his lap. She happily does so and just basks in being held by her husband again. Sitting on his lap, she looks down at Jan. He puts his hand on her face and it feels warm. Looking into her eyes, Jan gives her a nod. Alfgarda knows now what she must do.
--------------------------------------------------------
The next morning, Alfgarda joined Empress Theodora for breakfast and accepted the job.
Last edited by Privateerkev; 04-15-2008 at 20:27.
Knight of the Order of St. John
Duke of Nicosia
Re: Stories thread - King of the Romans PBM
It had been months and Sifridus had still not heard back from the Illuminati. He knew he had not been accepted. Perhaps he should have gone with Alfgarda? The old hag must have had some use, maybe he would go back North to look for her, though he no longer kept in touch. He leapt up from the chair he was in and strided out of the room.
"If you can't join them, beat them."
OOC:great dream PK
Re: Stories thread - King of the Romans PBM
Approximately three centuries after the battle of Bern, an unpublished letter of Edmund Becker's was discovered in Northumbria, at the manor he settled at with his family shortly after the so-called 'Illuminati' tore down the Reich. While Becker's inward-looking nature made him something of a footnote in the Reich's history outside of the Cataclysm, the letter in particular was still notable for it's unique message. It was evidently written while Becker and the First Austrian Household Army where besieged in Bucharest by the Hungarians from 1312-1316. What follows is the letter itself, neither changed nor altered from the state in which it was found.
OOC: When this when I was rummaging through my computer, and I thought it might interest someone. Remind me to post all the corresponence I've been saving in two or three years.Originally Posted by Edmund Becker
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