Stories thread - King of the Romans PBM

[FactionHeir]

Rome, 1262 AD

Betrayed!
Betrayed by those I thought I could trust the most!
Hans was furious. He paced up and down the backroom making rude gestures at imaginary individuals.
Steffen and Arnold were supposed to vote for me! They swore it!
...and yet they simply turned their backs on me for a few parcels of land and some alleged efforts to find a wife!
Hans exhaled, his face red in rage.
I had offered them the same and more! Steffen was to gain the holy grail in addition to lands in Italy and Spain and Arnold was to get a wife and support against his foes in Outremer as well as lands in Hungary...how could they accept his offer instead!
Hans struck his arm against the stone wall in anger, but felt felt no pain, no relief.
I should have known. The diet against me with only the Dukes with me, who feared for their houses abandoning them. The council did not even wait a few hours for me to make copies of the final evidence submission but decided to vote for Siegfried immediately.
Emperor Siegfried. Hans spat. I was supposed to become emperor! Not this upstart Franconian who had no hopes of greatness!
And when I presented my plight to the diet, I was called a liar, a corrupt briber! How dare they! All those witnesses were real and impartial. How could anyone prove that any witness was bribed or true? Why did they believe that traitor Dieter instead? What did he have that my witnesses did not?
Hans stopped in his steps and pondered.
Maybe some of the diet plotted with him? Sigismund and Ansehelm seemed to be the most outspoken then. I should investigate them for treason!
Hans walked over to the desk and sat, his arms stretched out before him.
Dieter couldn't have acted alone. Maybe Hugo knows more than he's willing to tell me. Since I cannot become emperor now, maybe I should take some...more drastic measures...
Hans began scribbling on some paper.
This is not over yet. I will not be defeated without a pyrrhic victory.


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

South of Aleppo, 1264 AD
"Murdered?! What do you mean by murdered??" Hans bashed his fist against the strategic maps, sending the flags and figures into the air and onto the floor.
"Good lord, please calm! This messenger certainly is not part of it." Adalberth tried to soften Hans.
Hans inhaled deeply as he waited for the messenger to speak.
"Um...well...I..uh.." The messenger was unsure how to explain the turn of events.
"Be quick about it or I will be quick with my blade!" Hans was losing his temper.
"Right...I..the witness...the councilman..got...um...murdered.." Started the messenger once again.
"Yes you already told me that. I want to know more! More!" Hans was growing restless.
Regaining his composure, the messenger continued "It happened on his travels to..uh..Frankfurt..yes..he was resting at a council house when...someone broke in during the night and shot him."
Hans interrupted, with raised eyebrow "Shot you say? And you are certain?"
"Errr, why yes milord, he was...shot..with a pistol it seems. And uhh I heard some rumors on my way here that some other man was assaulted in broad daylight in Rome"
"This is just great! Someone kills my witness and then some other person is attacked in Rome! Come back when you know more about either of them. Best both! I want to know every detail and any other witnesses that saw what happened and who did it!" Hans immediately responded.
The messenger nodded slowly, unsure. "But milord, I am but a messen.."
A bag of florins hit the maps once more.
"Ahh...I will come back as soon as I can! Promise!" The messenger quickly picked up the florins, bowed and left, swiftfooted.
"Are you sure that was wise Hans? To tell him what you need to know and give him payment without knowing more about him?" Adalberth questioned.
"I can use any man in my services right now. I won't be picky. Besides, we got matters to attend to." Hans replied and started picking up the pieces that littered the floor.

[OverKnight]

Near Baghdad, 1266

Lukas Roht was a merchant. While many in the Reich would debate the utility of Outremer, he was not one of them. The Crusades and establishment of the Kingdom may have had spiritual origins, but it had been a boon to Imperial merchants. New markets had opened up and merchants like Lukas had gained access to trade goods previously monopolized by the Greeks, Turks and Egyptians. Before Outremer, heading so far east would have presented many risks, but the presence of Imperial soldiers and cities now mitigated these.

Business was good, Roht had made a fortune trading Spices near Aleppo, though when the Mongols came near the fortress he had to briefly shelter within the walls. Now that they had been destroyed, Roht had decided to head east and see if he could horn in on the silk trade around Baghdad.

Lukas smiled to himself, the Reich's soldiers claimed they were the shield of Christianity and the Empire, but he didn't see any of them travelling through the desert to open a new market. Where would they be without the tariffs he reluctantly paid? They walked around as if they owned the place, telling each other and whatever tavern wench they could grab brave stories, and mostly did nothing. They did occasionally fight, but they were a drain on the finances of the Reich.

Lukas's reverie was interrupted as his small caravan came into sight of Baghdad. Something was wrong, the city was besieged. He should have known by the lack of traffic on the road. Had the Turks or Egyptians moved in to claim the city?

A strong breeze came up over the alluvial plain, and the banners in the siege camps flared to life. Lukas Roht swore loudly and suddenly wished he had some of the same soldiers he just been thinking were superfluous.

They were back.

[FactionHeir]

Jerusalem, 1267 AD
Hans had just received word from the chancellor that his fleet that would take him back to Swabia was ready.
With good spirit, he had left the inn he had been staying in and inspected the fleet and his ever shrinking army before boarding.
Was this the way to treat the empire's greatest army commander? He had thought to himself. Ever since the end of my chancellorship, every chancellor seemed keen to either delay my travels or split my forces. Hans was angry, but he did not show it openly. It would be unwise, now, that he had no support in the diet left after the succession mess and only very few people he could still trust.
Even Salier, who was outwardly welcoming to anyone wanting to come to Outremer, despised him behind his back, Hans was sure. It was one of the reasons why he was leaving Outremer for good, after having pledged his support against the Mongols and then for the crusade earlier.
At least I am a man of my word, Hans thought wryly. The betrayal of the Dukes still stung, like a thorn in the side and the eye.

Hans surveyed the harbor. It was bustling with activity ever since it was retaken and merchants were everywhere, praising their wares. Even whores were about again. Not that Hans planned on using any of their services. It went against his religious beliefs as a pious man to do so.
Just as he was about to turn and give the signal for depature, Hans spotted something unusual.
What are all those men, women and children doing, crowded at that dock? They seem to have brought all their belongings with them too!
Hans watched more intently.
Some of the men seemed to haggle with the captain of one of the larger ships, but the captain seemed to not care much.
There was movement on deck of that other ship!
Now Hans could see why.
There were even more pilgrims or whatever these people were on that other ship already, and on another ship, and yet another!
What is going on? Why are people hastily leaving behind Outremer with all their family and belongings? They can't all be pilgrims wanting to return to Europe?
Hans waved the captain of his ship over.
"What is the commotion there about? All those people trying to leave?"
The captain scratched his chin before replying "Ah milord, t'is just rumors. Some word spread that the horse lords are back. Must be old, they were just recently defeated in the field once more eh?"
"Horse lords you say?" Hans' vision narrowed as he thought critically. "Tell me more of these recent rumors."
"Aye well sire, some merchant be sayin' that the trade route far east is blocked by many an army. And more scavengin' the ruins of Baghdad, wherever that be. Certainly not a port, or I'd know."
Hans couldn't believe it. He had thought that he came to Outremer to late to still see battle, but it seems his fortunes reversed.
"Give the order to disembark immediately."
"Wh..What?" The captain was visibly taken by surprise.
"You heard me. Disembark my men and equipment. I'm going back ashore."
"B..but milord! I was just about to set sail! Everything is ready, why the sudden change of mind?!"
"I have matters to attend to. Those horse lords...it is time I saw them with my own eyes."

[OverKnight]

Adana, 1266

Matthias sat alone in the Imperial Chapel inside the Citadel of Adana. It was the first Church built by the Crusaders in the Holy Land, initiated by Otto von Kassel in 1188 to give thanks for the twin victories nearby. After the death of Maximillian Mandorf, the Chapel had been enlarged and remodeled. A stained glass window showed Maximillian striking down the Turkish General Ali al Hadi with a flaming sword. It was one of the miracles that had led to his canonization, though that had occurred only recently to coincide with the Third Crusade. The Pope had made the architect of the original Crusade on Jerusalem a Saint as an astute move to inspire the retaking of the city.

Now another Bavarian ruled in Adana. Matthias had finally arrived in his County 26 years after he had been assigned it. His path had taken many twist and turns, from rotting in Bologna, to shipwreck and finally sailing to Jerusalem to liberate the city. With that task accomplished and the Mongols dispersed, Matthias had looked forward to at long last establishing his rule in Adana. Events, however, seemed to be working against him as usual.

Matthias's hand shook as he reread the note it held written by an Imperial merchant. The rumors were true, Baghdad was indeed besieged by a new wave of Mongols. One army it seemed, but there were bound to be more out there.

A coughing fit overtook Matthias, echoing through the Chapel, as he could feel a fever run through him. This was not how it supposed to be. The Mongols had been destroyed. Matthias had already begun work reducing the number of soldiers in Outremer to ease the burden on the treasury. What foolhardy or obstinate foes would come back for a third time after being crushed twice? Matthias shivered, what should be done? To be honest with himself, the eradication of the second wave had largely been the work of Fredericus, Conrad and Elberhard. This new threat would be his responsibility. Count von Hamburg had once asked him if he was worthy of being a Crusader. Matthias had given him a flippant answer, but now he wasn't sure if he was worthy, as a Crusader or Chancellor.

Matthias rose from his pew and knelt by the Altar, praying for guidance. Raising his head, he noticed there were words inscribed on the Altar, a quotation from Saint Maximillian before he had entered the second Battle of Adana:

“The Lord is testing us. It is not enough that we bring force of arms to his Great City. We must be worthy of possessing the lands of Christ. I shall give thanks for the hardships we bear, for they serve to purify the souls of those who have taken up the Cross for baser reasons.”

The words struck Matthias and he reeled as if from a blow. He could feel the fever rise in him and his vision swam. It seemed another time of purification was at hand. A test for the Reich and its Chancellor sent by God. As much as Matthias might wish that this cup would pass from him, it was not to be. He would pass the test, emerge from the Crucible a stronger man, a pure soul, or he would be consumed.

Matthias stood. The time for reflection and doubt was over. It was time to act, and decisively. The Reich would be marshalled to face this new threat. Outremer would gird for another attack, and the rest of the Empire would assist. It would take sacrifice, blood and treasure to accomplish this, perhaps more than some were willing to bear, but Matthias had been elected to lead, and lead he would.

The Chancellor strode out of the Chapel.

[GeneralHankerchief]

Baghdad, 1266

A hooded man was making his way through the wreckage of the recently-sacked city, distracted by nothing, noticed by no one. All around him were scenes of destruction – broken windows, buildings on fire, blood and corpses littering the streets, screams of women and children – but he took no notice, instead focusing on his destination.

As he progressed, the scene became more organized, but at the same time more chaotic. The blood grew more numerous and the screams louder, but it became evident that the soldiers who had sacked the city were the cause of this mayhem, and thus had the situation under control. Still the hooded man remained unnoticed. The soldiers’ attention was focused on other areas – mainly carrying out as much looting, carnal pleasure, and destruction as possible.

The man entered the Khan’s command tent, which on the inside looked no different aside from the fact that it was better-kept than the rest of the city. He paused, taking in his surroundings. To his left, five soldiers were counting and exchanging various trinkets taken in the looting of the city. To his right, three more soldiers were busy ripping the clothes off of two terrified-looking women. The man grunted and turned away. Attractive as the women surely were, he was not interested in them. He looked straight ahead and found the reason why he came. The Khan and his generals were sitting in a circle, having a discussion.

He walked closer to the circle, still unnoticed. He leaned in, trying to pick up what was being discussed. The language barrier was not a problem. There were not many things that were ever since that day.

“…do not want a repeat of the last two waves.”

“Nobody does, Mighty Khan, but it will not be easy. The Imperials have proven themselves most proficient in the area we excel at most – open-field battles. A siege assault will be unwise.”

“I agree,” said a third voice. “We must find out the weaknesses of the Westerners and exploit it.”

“Or rid them of their strength,” said the Khan.

“Mighty Khan?”

“Their strength is their generals,” said the Khan, sounding agitated. “I do not know why the soldiers listen to them when they are not feared like I am, but it is what it is. Cut off the head, and the body will die.”

The hooded man and the generals listened in earnest as the Khan continued. “Three men have defied us time and time again. One of them will surely be taken by age before we arrive. The other two are not so lucky. They have killed too many of us for too long, and accordingly will pay for their past actions.

“I want the heads of Salier and Elberhard before this is over.”

The hooded man stepped forward. He was, finally, no longer ignored or unseen. Instead, he was subject to scathing looks from all of the generals present, most notably the Khan.

“Who dares to interrupt this most important discussion? Speak quickly, before you find your head separated from your body.”

The hooded man bowed low. “Greetings, Mighty Khan Kuo Kan,” he said in a smooth, unctuous tone. “I apologize for intruding on your conversation but it appears that we share the same goals. My organization too wants Salier dead.”

The Khan started. “Oh, it does, does it? And tell me, what makes me believe that I can put my trust in this organization of yours? What are they compared to the might of the Mongol Empire?”

“Might?” The hooded man laughed. His hood slipped, briefly revealing a smooth mustache and dark complexion. “I failed to see any might in your prior two attempts at conquering the West.

“But I digress,” the man said quickly, for the Khan and his men looked ready to kill, “We have acted before. The man who eliminated your first invasion, for example. He was... in our way. We removed him.”

“You killed Henry? But Henry died in his sleep.”

“That was what our organization aimed for. Obviously we succeeded.”

“But...” The Khan was taken aback. This was what he had least expected: an offer that could actually help him, that seemed legitimate. “But if you have that kind of power, why do you need our assistance?”

“I have tried assassinating Salier before,” the man said, and bitterness spilled into his smooth voice for the first time. “He proved... difficult to kill.” The man ripped open his cloak to reveal a terrible scar on his chest, the same kind of scar that came from a longsword. “Ever since then he has had a heightened security detail. But in the heat of battle...”

“Enough,” said the Khan. “You will assist with Salier when one of our armies meets with his in battle. What of the other one? Elberhard?”

“My organization has taken an interest in the Prinz but at the moment he is not on our list. We will help you with Salier in return for the right to his body and ten thousand florins.”

“Ten... thousand?” one of the Khan’s generals sputtered. “You are bold to the point of recklessness.”

“If you refuse my offer then of course I am sure you will be able to finish him easily, like you have with the Reich’s other generals. I do not expect the money until after he is dead. Do we have an agreement?”

The Khan looked around, torn between wanting to kill this hooded man and grudgingly respecting him. Finally, he offered his palm. The two shook, and with it the King of Outremer’s final days began counting down.

[AussieGiant]

Ragusa 1268

The great hall of Ragusa was a hive of activity. Since Duke Arnold arrived and turned it into the Austrian Head Quarters, there had been a steady stream of riders coming and going through the normally quiet Citadel. Running the House from the great hall had turned it into a sea of maps, documents and the usual collection of merchants, ambassadors and courtiers.

Striding through the massive doors of the hall the familiar figures of Bane and Grom immediately dominated the attention of all but the Duke and his engineer who were in deep discussion at the end of the great table.

Most people had gotten used to the two figures but no one could be called comfortable around them, especially Duke Arnolds new Priest, who upon seeing them both immediately crossed himself and silently mouthed a pray of some sort.

Somehow Bane caught the moment through his dark helmeted head and nodded towards the Priest in greeting.

Looking up from the maps Arnold grinned at the sight of his two enforcers.

“Report.”

Grinning hugely the barbarian took his helm off his head and ran his fingers through his sweat stained hair. “As you heard yesterday, they’re sitting there doing nothing. There about five miles from this very hall.”

“God damn it!! What the hell do these Sicilians think their doing!!? Surely they realise they are trespassing? Did you tell them what I told you?”

Arnold leaned back in his chair and studied the two men.

“Yes, your Gracce. We explained very clearly to the Captain what his choicess were. He sseemed indifferent to uss. Of coursse it was a front to ensure he didn’t show fear in front of hiss men.” Bane’s voice held the usual hollow, haunting sound it always did.

Arnold saw the Priest cross himself again out of the corner of his eye.

“Priest!!? Will you stop crossing yourself every time Bane talks!! He’s not the devil!!”

Pausing for a moment Arnold continued looking at his latest retinue advisor.

“What would you suggest we do given the situation?”

Grom was half way through his third pitcher of ale when he sprayed the contents of his full mouth over half the table at this question.

“Are you serious Duke Arnold!!?” placing the half empty pitcher on the table he wiped his face with the back of his hand, his face a look of confusion and shock.

“Well? What do you think Priest?”

Reluctantly the Priest sat at the table and looked at the map.

“Well sire I would not attack them…talking would be the best way to resolve this.”

“Talking, that’s the solution Priest?”

“Yes I’m sure of it your Grace. If you simply talk to the young captain I’m sure he will see reason and leave Austrian lands.”

“Well, that’s what we’ll do then. Grom, Bane, get my regiment ready immediately. We leave as soon as possible.”

[AussieGiant]

Ragusa 1268

Standing in his stirrups Arnold shaded his eyes to better look at the Sicilian encampment.

"%&$&ing Hell. They really think this is some type of joke don’t they!!!?

There was complete silence from the Duke’s party and his Bodyguard Captain. All of them knew it was a rhetorical question but designed to have someone answer, and then have the Duke vent on them.

“But your Grace they could be lost.” The Priest voice was full of hope that his explanation would be understood.

And audible groan could be heard from the other members of Arnold’s retinue.

“WHAT THE @#$%^&!!!ING HELL DID YOU JUST @#$%^&!!!ING SAY!!!??”

Before he could respond the Duke continued.

“Did I just hear you say they could be @#$%^&!!!ing lost!!?? LOST!!!?? WHAT @#$%^&!!!ING planet are you ON priest!!?

LOST!!?? What on God’s little green earth gives you the impression they are lost!!? Have you spoken to them!!? Look, they have even set up jakes!!”

“But, your Grace…”

“BUT WHAT?! Do you think men who are lost take the time to dig shiet HOUSES!!??

“Well no your Grace, but…”

“BUT WHAT?! Do you have any idea what you are talking about Priest!!??”

“Well no your Grace, but…”

“Mother of Merciful gods!! Will you just shut up then!!

“Yes your Grace.”

Sitting in silence for sometime the Dukes next order was not forthcoming.

Leaning across his saddle Grom whispered loudly to the Priest.

“That went well...did you actually engage your brain before speaking, or was that some blinding bit of insight sent to you by the Lord Himself?”

Before a response could come out of the priest’s mouth, Arnold yanked his horse’s head around and started off towards the Sicilian encampment.

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

Upon seeing the six riders approach, the Sicilian encampment suddenly looked like a hornet’s nest.

Within minutes a group of 20 riders where galloping out to meet the Duke’s party.

As the two groups approached the Captain and Duke moved slightly forward to speak.

“Duke Arnold, a pleasure to finally meet you” said the Sicilian.

His answer was met with stone silence and a grim stare from the Duke.

The captain’s face slowly betrayed his anger at the lack of response.

Staring at the Duke with increasing offence as no answer was forthcoming, the Captains face began to turn red at the insult being accorded to him.

Finally the Duke responded. “Are you married?”

The confusion on his face evident at the strange question; “What do you mean Lord Arnold?”

“ARE YOU MARRIED CAPTAIN!!?” The fury in Arnold voice cracked over the Captain making him flinch in his armour.

“YES!!”

Reaching into his saddle bag the Duke pulled out a bag of coins.

“Who’s the second in command here??!!!” No one answered. Dropping the bag on the ground in front of the gathered Sicilian’s Arnold turned back to the Captain.

“Defend yourself Captain!!”

“WHAT!!?”

Managing to duck the half speed swipe Arnold took at the Captains head the entire area burst into action.

Swords were drawn en mass, but with a practised move the four members of Arnold’s retinue, minus one horrified priest, quickly moved to block the twenty or so Sicilian’s in the field.

“IF ANY ONE OF YOU SCUM WANTS A PIECE OF ACTION I’LL KILL YOU!!” Grom’s huge frame dominated the gap between the two opposing groups.

Only the barbarians bludgeoning voice and the grim look of the Dread Knight and his two companions forced the Sicilian’s into no action.

Circling each other warily the Duke spoke softly; “You’re a fool Captain, and for that you will die.”

Arnold quickly took the measure of the Sicilian. It was going to be a short fight he thought.

“Your Grace, what are you doing!!??” The priest’s voice cut through the silence as both groups watched the unfolding duel.

With a quick lean in the saddle, a clean miss from the Captain, and a brutally fast counter strike by the Duke, it was all over.

The Captain’s headless corpse remained in the saddle for a few moments before clattering to the ground.

Riding back to the Sicilian’s, Arnold stood in the stirrups as he had done an hour before when observing the encampment.

His voice full of venom and strength it carried to the army some one hundred yards distant; “The money is for his wife and family, make sure it goes to them. If not then I’ll find out and you’ll follow him into the after life.

You’re trespassing!! Get off my land or there will be more bloodshed and it won’t be Austrian!!!”

With that, the Duke turned and rode back towards the Citadel without a backward glance.

[flyd]

Edessa, 1272

It had rained during the night. It usually doesn't, but it had, and everything was wet and slippery. Like every other early morning, Fredericus von Hamburg was up, performing some sort of inspection, review, or other useful task. This morning, it was the walls.

He walked along the eastern wall with some of his most trusted bodyguards (or, as trusted as they could get in the short time, the turnover for his bodyguard group was rather short). The Mongols were the topic of discussion.

"I don't know what they're hoping to accomplish," said one of them, "this wave seems similar to the others, and they didn't stand a chance."

"We should not underestimate them," added another, "the last wave insisted on pressing forward and ended up being surrounded. The leader of this one might be a little smarter."

"And do what exactly?" responded the first, "Not press forward? Stay back, sit in the desert until... what?"

"Until we attack them," Fredericus interrupted.

Everyone looked at him as they reached one of the gates.

"Let's head to ground level to inspect the gate," he added, and then continued, "I made the mistake last time of thinking that the Mongols could be induced into attacking. I guess they thought they could find an easier target somewhere along, but we were prepared. We'll be even better prepared this time, they might end up avoiding us altogether. We have to attack."

"But why? If they avoid us, have we not already succeeded?" said one of the bodyguards as the group approached the stairway in the gatehouse which was wet because the roof was not built to cope with the amount of rain that had fallen.

"Because it is glorious to fall in battle to defend the Outremer. You may have other chances, but I..."

Fredericus von Hamburg (the Brave, the Crusader, the Honorable...), Ex-Chancellor of the Holy Roman Empire, Count of Hamburg, Crusader Count of Aleppo, Grand Crusader and Knight of the Holy Roman Empire, on that day, the twenty-third day of August in the year of our Lord one thousand two hundred and seventy-two, did slip, and being unable to regain his balance, tumbled down the stairway, losing his life.

[Privateerkev]

Edessa 1272

Jan walked into the city. All around him was teeming with activity. Finishing touches were being put on the huge walls. Work had already begun on making the towers tall and strong enough to hold ballistas. Provisions were being stockpiled. Regiments were training in the courtyard. The city was preparing for the Mongol horde that was approaching. But all of that could wait because Jan had something else he had to attend to.

With Maximillian and Gunther in tow, Jan strode through the streets and up to the chapel. By himself, Jan strode inside. It was empty except for the body of Fredericus von Hamburg. Jan walked up to his father and kneeled at the casket. On his knees, Jan thought of his father. He never knew him very well. His father was always distant. Jan knew his father loved him but Fredericus was not one to show it. Well, he showed it in other ways. Like when he was Chancellor he kept Jan from joining him at Edessa during the second Mongol wave. Fredericus had said he did not want the whole Hamburg line to die at once. When he was kept away from the action, Jan was devastated.

All of Jan's adult life, he had been trying to win his father's approval. It was why he was so headstrong. Why he was so outspoken. Why he took risks in the Diet and on the battlefield. Jan thought that if he proved himself, his father would be proud of him and let Jan join him in battle against the Mongols. It was why he had picked a fight with Duke Arnold.

As Jan knelt, he remembered what little his father had taught him. He remembered his fathers plans to become Duke and secede Franconia from the Reich. For some reason though, Dietrich gave the Duchy to Gunther Kastilian. Fredericus had traveled to Outremer to find glory and took a young Jan in tow. But, as many do, Fredericus found God in Outremer and became a changed man. He taught Jan that it was out here in Outremer that one could do good work. He said the Reich was filled with self-serving men back home that would sell out Germany for a handful of florins. Jan grew up learning that the Kastilians were just going to destroy their House with their own selfishness and ineptitude. And that only a couple of men could be trusted to do what was right like the King and Ebelhard. Jan remembered his father's last words to the Diet. He had said that it was time for Outremer to become a house.

His father was right. The people back home had no idea about the Holy mission. All they cared about was expanding their duchies until their borders became impossible to defend. Fools like Lothar questioned the expense of Outremer. In order to secure its future, Outremer needed to be made a fifth house. Crusader Counts needed to be loyal to the cause and the cause only. Otherwise, they are still susceptible to the whims of their Dukes. Only by becoming a house, could Outremer guarantee that its holy mission would be fulfilled. But Jan was not that naive. This would not happen quickly or easily. It might take Jan's whole life. It might not even happen in Jan's lifetime. But, Jan thought, I can start.

He would have to be quiet and he would have to be careful. Ansehelm had become Duke and he was going to drive the duchy into the ground, Jan was sure of it. Jan was already feeling the pressure. Ansehelm had blamed Jan for CA 11.8 and claimed that it was an attempt by Jan to get him killed. The fool, Jan thought, I wasn't trying to get him killed, I just wanted him to stop murdering others. But, Ansehelm was paranoid and power hungry. He assumed the Kaiser would always be his little brother so he could get away with anything he wanted. Ansehelm had already made clear to Jan that he considered him a threat. Jan knew a recall order from his Duke was going to come for him and order him back to Germany. Jan would ignore it as long as he could. Outremer was his home. The Crusaders were his family.

Kneeling at his father's casket thinking all of these thoughts, Jan realized something. He realized that one of the reasons he was sad was because he now would never be able to prove himself to his father. He shouldn't have to prove himself to anyone. He had his God. He had his purpose. And he had a mission. If he wanted to do good work, he had to stop worrying about what others thought. Those that understood, would help. Those that didn't, would not help until they one day understood. Jan had started serving the King because his father had asked him to. Now he did it because he believed it was the right thing to do. Crusading into Jerusalem had changed him. Jan was always a pious man but now he was starting to realize that the mission was bigger than him. And he not only realized it but started, for the first time in his life, to be ok with it.

There was much to do before the Mongols came. For Outremer to become a powerful enough political force to fulfill its Holy mission, it first had to survive. And the Mongols were a threat to that survival. They had to be stopped. And the King had entrusted Jan with Edessa's survival. The Mongols were exterminating every city in their way. Well, they are not going to get this city as long as I am alive, Jan thought. With that sense of urgent purpose, Jan stood up, made the sign of the cross at his father's body, said a prayer for his father to find peace in heaven, and strode out of the chapel.

[Kagemusha]

Rome 1272

Few hours after his seizure in the Diet hall, Jonas Von Mahren sat on his bedside doing absolutely nothing. Just sitting there without any thoughts, emotions or anything. He just couldnt believe what had happened. First Erhart at the battle of Durazzo and now Sigismund at the walls of Bran. He still had daughters, but no sons, atleast men he had thought to be his sons. His wife had told him during an awfull fight after Jonas had came from Holy land that indeed the sons he thought as his were infact bastards of the Late Leopold, Duke of Austria that he had always considered his friend.

While Jonas had been separated from his family, most of his life, he had always loved his children, even after the claim that they were not his. He had kept contact with his remaining son Sigismund after the reveeak of his wife about the sons being from another seed. Sigismund had swore that whether Jonas was his father in blood or not,he would be his true father always.

Jonas had received an letter from his dead son the same day that he had been informed about the same sons death in battle. Jonas just didnt have any strength left to read the words of his dead son until now. He took the letter on his hand and looked at the Austrian seal of it, touched the rough surface of the scroll and opened it. He started reading slowly:

"Father,

I apologize for not having written to you in so long, but I've been busy with the AHA. Things aren't easy, but I am confident that before the Chancellors term ends the Reich will once again be reminded of the our family's martial prowess.

That being said, I've spoken to Mother and that business I mentioned before. She admits she has no proof, only her word. But what is more troubling is that Duke Arnold has independantly confirmed her story, and has called me brother himself. I did not press the matter further, but I cannot think of a reason for him to think this if it were not true.

It has been deeply troubling, not only that my mother could break the Lord's Seventh Commandment, but also that Leopolds barbarity could reach such heights. But I will not pursue the matter further, as I doubt there is any proof left to be found. I have done this out of a sense of filial obligation to you, an obligation that will not diminish. I am your son. Whatever blood flows through my veins will not change that.

Once Transylvannia is stable, I would very much like to visit you in Stettin. We have spent precious little time face to face.

Your loving son,
Sigismund"

Jonas lifted his eyes from the letter and breathed heavily saying out loud.

" Well son. Next time we will meet. It will be in heaven, or maybe in hell."

The old man stood up and walked to an window,where the midsummer sun of Italy scorched the earth, the hills that were covered with shades of yellow and brown as the wheat fields were starting to be ready for harvest.

"I wish that the harvester man of eternity will soon visit me also. There is no point in living when my sons are dead and my family name will die with me. My God,what i have done to deserve this?"

the old man thought as sun touched his old and wrinkled skin.

[GeneralHankerchief]

Outside of Edessa, 1276

The hooded man made his way through the camp. It was two in the morning, the ideal time for activities of a stealthy nature. The entire army, including its officers, was finally getting some sleep before the engagement the following day. Nobody would be up late, nobody would be awake early.

Perfect.

Of course, there were exceptions to this rule. Most annoyingly for the hooded man, these exceptions happened to be stationed around his target's tent. The King of Outremer took his security seriously. The only more-guarded men in the entire Empire were the current Chancellor and the Kaiser himself. If he was attacking a lesser figure, the hooded man would take his chances but trying to enter Salier's tent would be suicide. Not what his organization wanted.

This would be only a small hinderance to a man of his caliber, however. There were plenty of other ways to get to his target; you just had to know where to look.

In the dark, his nose, not his eyes, guided him. He sniffed away, sifting through the different aromas permeating the camp until he found the one he wanted. Ignoring the all-too-present scents of the dying embers, armor being tinkered with, and urine, he found what he was looking for: the unmistakable scent of meat.

He made his way into the cook's tent where the smell briefly overwhelmed him. He stepped outside, ignoring the urge to cough. Giving in would not have been ideal. He stepped back in, more adjusted, and sorted through the various items of food present.

Eventually he found what he was looking for: The finest cut of bratwurst. This was certainly going to be his target's breakfast. Obviously the King would have the heartiest meal, and being one of the few people in the army who lived in Germany for a significant period he would have time to develop a liking for that disgusting food.

Why risk capture when you can be just as effective by going down a subtle path? the man thought. You're smart, Salier, but not that smart. There are a thousand different ways I can kill you.

He produced a small vial from his cloak. "Iocane", it read. After eyeing it up and taking a sniff, the man sprinkled it on the bratwurst.

Let's see how well you feel tomorrow. Satisfied, the man snuck out of the tent and the camp, undetected.

[econ21]

Acre, 1276

“@#$%^&!!! it.” muttered Elberhard. “@#$%^&!!!ing @#$%^&!!! it. @#$%^&!!! it all to hell”

Jan the Teuton looked at the Prinz with a pained expression. The Order regarded cursing as a sin and there were times when Jan believed Elberhard had been sent by God to try him. Today the Prinz was in a particularly foul mood.

“What ails you, my Lord?” Jan inquired.

Elberhard looked at Jan. “What ails me? You want to know what really @#$%^&!!!ing ails me? What really @#$%^&!!!ing ails me is …”

The Prinz paused and thought, before continuing in a surprised voice. “Well, lots of things really..."

"...This @#$%^&!!!ing place - the heat, the insects, the sand, the smell."

"...The @#$%^&!!!ing food, which tastes so @#$%^&!!!ing fine when coming down but then forces you to spend a week @#$%^&!!!ing on the john afterwards."

"...The fact that the @#$%^&!!!ing beer is always warm and the @#$%^&!!!ing wine tastes like vinegar."

"The @#$%^&!!!ing people! Half are Mohammadans who want to put a knife in your throat, while the other half are sanctimonious crusaders who want to stop you drinking, swearing or otherwise having fun. Sometimes it’s hard to know which of the two are more dangerous.”

Jan looked down at his feet, but Elberhard could not be placated.

“…The fact that I am stuck here in Acre when the rest of @#$%^&!!!ing Outremer is marching against the Horse Lords."

"...The fact that I am stuck here in Outremer when the rest of the @#$%^&!!!ing Reich is battling Poles, Hungarians, Sicilians, Spaniards and God only knows who else.”

Elberhard paused for breath and then continued with a new wind:

“… The fact that @#$%^&!!!ing elephant balls Arnold dominates the Diet with his screaming for a wife and nobody even notices that the heir to the Throne is unwed."

"... The fact that I stand second behind a Kaiser who is a young @#$%^&!!!ing nobody."

"...And that I take orders from a pip squeek Chancellor who is another young @#$%^&!!!ing nobody.”

Jan continued looking at his own feet as if they had become worthy of great study and sustained contemplation.

“…But most of all, what really @#$%^&!!!ing ails me is that is the fact that I am a completely @#$%^&!!!ing useless @#$%^&!!!er that nobody would notice if I dropped down dead.”

Jan looked up. “Sire, might I suggest you speak to old Niklas Gruber, your old mentor, about your discontent? He might be able to advise you?”

Elberhard rubbed his head. “@#$%^&!!! it! You are right! It’s about time that old @#$%^&!!!er started earning his money! I’ll go to him right now!”

As the Prinz left the room, Jan let out an audible sigh of relief.

*****

Niklas looked at the angry young man sitting in front of him.

“You need to go home.”

Elberhard looked up, shocked. “Leave Outremer?”

“Yes.”

“For @#$%^&!!!s sake why? I’ve devoted my life to this @#$%^&!!!ing place!”

“As next in line to the Throne, you cannot devote your life to one part of the Reich. You must broaden your horizons. And your political constituency. Return to the fatherland. Ask the Chancellor to reinstitute the idea of a Prinz’s army. I am sure they will find something for you to do.”

“But what of Outremer?”

“Outremer will survive. It has many able generals. King Salier and Chancellor Steffen have already indicated your services are not required against the Horse Lords. Sire, you are not needed here. But you have your own needs and above all now, you need a change.”

“But what of my commitment to Outremer? I would be seen as abandoning the place!”

“If any say that, tell them - Outremer is not a place; it is an idea and that you will always hold it close to your heart. As your father did.”

Elberhard looked at Niklas. @#$%^&!!! it, the old man was really earning his money today. The Prinz exhaled and smiled. He stood up and patted his mentor on the shoulder.

“Thanks. Really, thanks! Now, that’s that sorted, I am going to get well and truly @#$%^&!!!d.”

And with that the Prinz walked out the door as if he had not a concern in the world.

*****

Niklas Gruber walked cautiously through the tavern. It was in a rough part of town that he seldom frequented. The old man looked at the suspicious faces around him, the furtive glances. Then he saw the person he had come to meet - sat in a corner of the tavern, cloaked in black.

Gingerly, Niklas sat down and muttered nervously.

“It’s done. I have persuaded him to leave Outremer.”

The black cloaked figure did not respond.

“When will you release my grandchildren?” Niklas asked, aggressively.

“Patience, old man.” said the dark figure. “I will keep my word. Your grandchildren will be freed when the Prinz is back in Europe. Now go.”

Niklas stared angrily at the figure, then reluctantly rose and turned to leave the bar.

When the old man had left, the dark figure rubbed an old wound on his leg and muttered to himself.

“Excellent - one down; one more to go.”

And with that, his mind soared to Edessa where King Salier was preparing to challenge the Horse Lords.

[AussieGiant]

Eastern Austria 1276

After dispatching the rebels in less than an hour, the Duke's force has spend the entire afternoon chasing down the deserters and putting them to the sword. Arnold's House Hold regiment was now making its way through a winding track towards the main highway in drizzling rain.

“It tell you he’s pissed”; Grom’s words caused the Priest to flinch in horror at his choice of words.

“Grom, I’d hardly describe the Duke’s mood in that way, it’s more than likely the rain that has causes his unhappiness.”

The Dread Knight had fallen back from riding next to the Duke upon hearing whispering behind him. “Bad mood due to the rain Priesst? Did you ssee the way he ended that poor rebel Captainss’ life?”

Grom snorted in response to the question; “&*% me with a rubber chicken, DID I!!? He nearly took my arm off with that last stroke. The armourer’s been working on Leopold’s sword for hours since then.

I tell you, the messenger came in just after the battle and rumour has it the Mongols have killed King Sailer, butchered the army, plus…and this is what is giving our beloved Duke the shiets… Elberhard’s just gotten married to some English tartlet!!”

The group was quiet for some moments collectively gazing at the back of their Lords black clocked armoured figure.

The rain increased.

Finally the priest rode forward towards the Duke.

Quietly Bane said to the Priest as he rode forward; “I hope you know what you’re doing…”

[Privateerkev]

Edessa 1276

A long line of men snaked into the city. Battered and demoralized survivors of the latest battle. They were joined by refugees from surrounding towns and villages. The word of the defeat had reached the surrounding area and panic had ensued. The horse lords were back and no one wanted to be out on the countryside tonight. In the city, soldiers wandered around looking for others from their unit. Cranes lifted ballistas into the newly completed towers. Crossbowmen climbed up onto the walls and collapsed exhausted. They were ordered to sleep at their posts on the walls in case they were needed. There were not enough survivors to provide a rotating shift so everyone who could stand was still on duty. Among the line of surviving soldiers were carts baring the injured and the dead.

Searching these carts was Jan. His whole unit of bodyguards had been lost in battle, including his Teutonic Knight, Maximillian and his grizzled old veteran, Gunther. Finally, he found a cart with Max lying in it with Gunther walking alongside with a bandaged arm.

"Thank God your alive!", said Jan. "How is Max?"

"He'll live but he will need to rest for awhile. I am sorry that we could not stay with you throughout the battle." Said Gunther with a look of shame on his face.

Jan replied, "Nonsense, I am sorry about what happened to everyone but I had to get to the King to see if he was still alive."

Gunther stood up straight as he could, "Did you get to the King? How was he?"

Jan lowered his head, "He was already gone. I did not have time to try to heft his body onto my horse so I took his box." With that he reached into this cloak and pulled out the box. He still could not believe what was inside it.

Gunther inquired, "What's inside?"

Still with disbelief and awe, Jan said, "Its the crown of thorns Jesus wore. This will have to go to whoever becomes the next King of Outremer. This was King Otto's. He passed it onto King Salier. If Salier gets his wish, it will pass to Count Zirn. I'll write Chancellor Matthias as soon as I am done looking over things here and tell him about it. I will keep it safe until it is decided as to who it goes to." Jan put the box back in his cloak. But Jan's hand stayed on the box as he bowed his head in thought. "I should not have this. This is the King's and the King should still be alive!" Looking around the City Jan said, "Gunther...we have enough men here. Well, we will when the reinforcements arrive from Chancellor Matthias. We need to strike that Mongol general and show him justice! I have already sent word to the Chancellor and his reply should arrive soon."

With that, the leading elements of the reinforcements arrived. One rode up to Jan and delivered a letter baring the seal of the Chancellor. Finally, Jan thought, I have a reply to my request to attack the depleted Mongol army. Jan undid the scroll and read,

Jan,

Your request does you credit, but you are hardly ready for another battle. All your retainers are dead, and it would just take one stray arrow to finish you.

I promise you, you will have your retribution, but not this year. I need you to look to the defense of Edessa. There are three more Mongol Armies out there, and we must conserve what is left of our forces.

King Salier failed, for whatever reason, and we will not compound this failure by striking out without an advantage.

Chancellor Matthias

"Damn it!", exclaimed a very irate Jan. "They are sitting just over that hill!" The line of soldiers filing into the city slowed down to hear their count lose his temper. "This is unacceptable! That pagan scum should not be able to sit there warm and safe in his camp while the King is dead! Gunther! Rally the men! We are going to attack the Mongol camp orders or no orders!"

Jan had taken to pacing up and down the street looking over formations of men who were either standing in line or splayed out in the street exhausted or wounded or both. He was getting worked up to the idea. It might mean being stripped of rank or worse. I don't care. I owe that man everything. This is the least I can do for him.

"Sir!" Jan was interrupted in thought from Gunther. "I share your feelings concerning the King. He was a good man. And that general does deserve justice. But the men are utterly exhausted. They need a good night's sleep. They need to bind their wounds and mourn their dead comrades. They need some hot food in their belly. We need for all of the reinforcements to arrive and for them to be integrated with the older units. If you take these men into battle now, they will shatter against the enemy even though we outnumber them. You told me to give it to you straight and this is as straight as I can give it. This army is combat ineffective."

Jan stood there taking in everything Gunther said. Finally he resigned himself. "Your right Gunther... your right. Its just... I failed him Gunther. He gave me so much and I failed him. If only we got there sooner."

"That is utter bullocks sir!", counciled Gunther. "This army was made up largely of militia. They are not up to a forced march and could not have been pushed harder. There was nothing more you could have done. Sure, you could have run us off by ourselves on our horses or maybe force marched the professional soldiers. But that would have split our army. You kept the unit intact. The King was dead by the time we arrived anyways. You did exactly the right thing in what proved to be an impossible tactical situation. We need to rest and refit. We need to see to the defense of the city. And then we can plan for the general's justice. But first, you need to get some rest."

With that, Jan bid Gunther good night. He clasped Max's hand and bid him a quick recovery. And then he turned around and headed to his quarters to pray and then sob himself to sleep.

[AussieGiant]

Eastern Austria 1276

……

The rain continued to fall, enveloping the Dukes small army in mist as they continued eastwards.

They had pushed on into the night, the Duke not saying a word, his lone figure a steady guide in the darkness.

The torches spat and hissed as there was not quite enough rain to douse them entirely.

Suddenly a muffled thunder of hooves could be heard as the Dukes outriders could be seen in the distant shadows, their torches dancing as they approached.

“Something approaches Duke Arnold!!” the scout, clearly spooked by what he saw or felt.

“Calm yourself man.” The Dukes voice steadied the veteran soldier as the entire column came to a halt. Bunching up, the regiments halted in a clearing as the remaining scouts galloped in to report, each one more distressed than the last.

Finally the last scout arrived, his horse foaming from the mouth after it’s break neck ride through the woods on the other side of the clearing.

“Something approaches my Lord!! It’s nearly upon us, prepare for battle!!” The scout continued riding to the rear, turning his mount only once a few hundred men where between him and the forest.

The moon cast an eerie glow on the men as they stood staring at the wood some hundred yards distant.

Then almost imperceptibly a faint sound could be heard…a moaning…the trees in the distance could be seen bending as if some giant hand was pushing them flat. A feeling of fear crept through the men; gently a wind began to blow into the clearing carrying with it a low moaning of what sounded like dying men.

The priest crossed himself and began to pray.

Hundreds of torches began to flicker and die, casting the area into sudden darkness.

The Duke rode out into the clearing as the wind began to increase, his own torch untouched by the wind; the moaning increased, causing more panic in the assembled men.

“HOLD!!” Arnold voice boomed out across the army, even men at the back could clearly hear their Dukes words. Their fear was replaced by one of horror as for a few brief moments the Duke's torch flared brilliantly revealing a menacing red glow to his eyes.

Then, as fast as it came, the wind and sound stopped.

The clearing was deathly silent, not a sound could be heard.

Moment's passed, then slowly the Duke's party rode up behind him.

Turning to no one, the Duke was gazing at some far off point to the East.

“Something has changed; I can feel a…disturbance.” There was only a chilling silence to his statement as a wave of fear passed over the group. Only the Dread Knight seemed oblivious to the effect it had on everyone around him.

Finally the Duke rode off into the wood, his men following with much trepidation.

[Stig]

Deep Russia, anno 1278

"Little Russians around, hey Sir?"
"Stop calling me Sir Helmut, how many times do I have to tell you?" Ansehelm was looking around while sitting on a rock. The Teutonic Crusade was now well on it's way into Russia, and was ready closing in on Moscow. Ansehelm reckonned it wouldn't take more than 4 maybe 6 years before they would be in Moscow. Moscow would be his, his moment of glory, he himself would be first to storm the walls, he would take the city square. While he had to thought of this he couldn't help thinking about poor Helmut. His cousing came along with him on this lonely mission, Ansehelm never knew why. He would dearly have given Helmut the command in some small, minor battle, but there were so little Russian armies around. Ansehelm hoped on loads of battles, but in reality he only fought 2 really. All Helmut commanded was the detachment of Light Cavalry, the most succesfull part of Ansehelms army, but he would never be able to command an entire army.
"Hah, Helmut can lead the road back to the Reich," Ansehelm thought, "it might be better for me to ride forward, to solve some political matters, Helmut is more than capable of bringing an army home. Or we could attack some Polish castle on our way back, Franconia is safe, but we could drive south and strike against Hungary. The morale is still high, and after we sacked Moscow it will even be higher."

But Ansehelm himself thought about the Reich, about his Heimat, it was now almost 15 years ago since he left, or so he thought, if one goes away as long as this he loses the count. But then, here he was safe from politics, from annoying people, from all that. Well, that isn't true, Ansehelm send scouts ahead, if there wouldn't be many Russian armies he himself would head back to the Diet. There was a route still open to the Reich, it was the one used by messengers, but it was dangerous, it would mean travelling through Polish territory, till he would reach Breslau, but it might also be needed. A Duke should be at the Diet Sessions.



to be continued...

[Ituralde]

Constantinople, 1270:

The air is thick with the scents of smoke and exotic perfumes. Through the gaze the young man is hardly visible, half-sunk in the giant pillows spread across the floor, while two scantily clad female servants try to circulate the air with palm leaves a third is propped beside the man on the cushion. For the imperial messenger it is hard to believe that he is actually standing in front fo the Emperor of the Holy Roman Empire.

"Where is my wife again, young man?" Siegfrieds eyes are glazed over, as he inhales another whiff from the pipe laying in front of him. Why in the world has King Salier ever forbidden the substance? It really made it hard for him to acquire it.

"I believe she is in her chambers. There are more pressing matters to attend to though. As I said, the Imperial Diet is starting and King Salier has fallen against the Mongols."

"King Salier dead?" Slight surprise passes Siegfrieds face. "That makes how many nobles dead? Four, five?"

The messenger can't help but to surpress a sigh: "The Diet, my Lord?"

"Ah yes! The Diet! Send a messenger with my wishes, will you. My wife's secretary will hand them to you. Speaking... speaking..."

"So you won't attend the Diet in person, my Lord?" The messenger can't keep his voice calm anymore.

"Speaking of which. I think I shall see her now! You are dismissed, my boy!"

The messenger opens his mouth again, but is dismissed with a wave of Siegfrieds hand. After the man has left, he tries to rise from his cushion to find his wife. He had some marital duties to fulfill, after all. He raises to fast though, and with his head swimming immediatelly falls down again into the lap of the woman beside him. Chuckling to himself the Emperor of the Holy Roman Empire decides to stay here instead.

[GeneralHankerchief]

Rome, 1280

The entire known world was subject to his gaze. Europe, North Africa, and Asia – nothing escaped his view. For he was all-powerful.

He saw armies marching to the far corners of the world and back. He saw deals being made and just as quickly broken. He saw fathers passing on weapons to sons, loyal subjects mourning the death of their lord, and politicians dictating policy, hoping that what they made was the right choice.

He saw the Pope, in Jerusalem, drawing up a Papal Bull:

“The Reich shall hereby abstain from continuing hostilities with Spain and Denmark until further notice, under penalty of excommunication…”

The nerve of the Pope! He was an Imperial! He was not respecting the Lord of All’s wishes! But the Lord of all laughed, and swept his hand, and the Pope, nay, all of Jerusalem, was no more, swept away. So the Lord of All wished it, so it occurred.

In Rome, Jan von Hamburg laughed at him and dismissed his groundbreaking legal proposals. The Lord of All clenched a giant fist and brought it down upon the Diet building. There would be no more legal obfuscating.

In Constantinople, that usurper of a Kaiser simply existed. He was vacationing, enjoying his little play for the throne, and now not even bothering to take an interest in the Reich while its true leaders like Hans and Elberhard toiled in obscurity. The Lord of All grew angry at this and let forth a mighty bellow.

Seeing this, the Kaiser noticed his opposition and let forth a cry. “Please, My Lord,” he said, petrified, “What have I done to offend you? I shall do anything, anything to get back in your good graces.

The Lord of All laughed. “There will be no second chances for you, mortal.” Amid the Kaiser’s screaming he pronounced and executed his final judgment. Siegfried von Kastillien no longer existed. The Lord of All surveyed his domain once more. In it, he saw frightened respect, terrified awe, and willful submission. This pleased him greatly. He-

The door knocked. Hastily, Jens Hümmel scrambled, scooping up his map of the world and clay figurines and stuffed them into a corner of his room.

“State your name,” he said in a cracking voice, far from the majestic tones of the Lord of All.

“Innkeeper,” said the voice from behind the door. “You owe me a night’s rent.”

“Yes, of c-course I do,” said Jens, stuttering, as he opened the door. “Please, come in, make yourself at home while I get the florins. How much do I owe you? Eleven florins?”

“Twenty,” said the innkeeper. He peered around the room, looking as if he was expecting to find someone else there. Jens tried not to look at the map and clay figurines. “I heard voices,” the innkeeper continued. “You trying to sneak in an extra customer? ‘cause it’s ten extra florins a night if ye are.”

“It’s robbery, is what it is,” Jens said under his breath as he breathed a sigh of relief. “No,” he said, “Nobody here but me. Take a look around if you like.”

“Very well, young sir, I shall do that.” The innkeeper walked around the shabby room, occasionally peering over for a closer look, for a couple of minutes. He glanced over the map and clay figurines but said nothing.

“Satisfied?” said Jens.

“I s’pose that only you are keeping yourself company,” said the innkeeper wearily. “Twenty florins, then, if you please.” Jens reluctantly handed over the money and saw the innkeeper out the door. He shut it and grunted.

“I have got to be the poorest noble that ever did live,” Jens said to himself. “Here I am, sitting in the shabbiest inn in Rome, barely able to pay rent, and yet I am an important member of the House of Swabia.”

Jens blamed his family for his poor position. Being the son of the worst Chancellor in the Reich’s history and the brother of the man who led a failed revolution against the Kaiser did not endear him to the people. He considered himself lucky that they had even allowed him to become an Elector in the first place. Of course, he didn’t help that perception by picking a fight his first day in the Diet with the man who eventually ascended to the post of King of Outremer, but how was he supposed to know that was coming? Von Hamburg was an almighty wart, a political nobody who was only alive because Salier had taken a liking to him.

And so, he was laughed at, brushed off without a second thought. But that would change. Someday, he would be powerful. Someday, he would be important. Someday, he would restore the Hümmel family name and become the most revered figure in the Reich, one way or another.

“So the Lord of All wishes it, so it occurs,” he said to himself as he departed his room, leaving only a black ribbon in the window and his map and clay figurines in the corner.

[Privateerkev]

Rome 1280

Jan was sitting in his small room in Rome exhausted from trying to catch up on reports on Outremer. The Diet was pretty calm at the moment so Jan decided to take the opportunity to rest. So much had happened in the past few days and Jan was still in disbelief. King Salier had died in combat against the Mongols. Jan had almost died in that same battle but was able to make it to the King’s body and retrieve his box which contained the Crown of Thorns. Everyone knew the King favored Karl Zirn to be the successor. Ebelhard had taken over as Steward since Karl was sick and the Kaiser was away. Then all of a sudden, a messenger came into the Diet and proclaimed that the Kaiser had named Jan King of Outremer.

King? Sure Jan had his ambitions. But they were for the long term. Ever since he had become politically active, he had planned on becoming King. It was where he felt he could do the most good. Before the King died, Jan had assumed that he would work his way up and become Salier’s heir. After Salier died, Jan had assumed that he would work his way up and become Karl’s heir. But now? Everyone seemed shocked and suspicious. Jan knew no one would believe him but he had not had contact with the Kaiser since the last Diet. This was entirely the Kaiser’s idea. Why the Kaiser picked him was entirely beyond him. He would like to think that it was because he proved himself to not only be capable, but unattached to house politics. But Jan was not that naive. Jan thought it was more likely that the Kaiser wanted to thumb his nose at those in power and he considered that Jan would be a patsy. Jan chuckled to himself. Everyone who has underestimated me so far has done so at their own risk, Jan thought to himself.

But regardless of the Kaiser’s motives, Jan was King. And all that entailed was weighing heavily on Jan. First off, there was a war to run. The Mongols, Turks, and Egyptians all wanted territory in Outremer and they would all have to be fended off. The Holy City had to be protected. There could be no more embarrassments to give fuel to those that opposed what they were doing out there. Christianity had to be spread throughout the area. Four Crusader Counts had to be led. All capable men, some probably resented being passed over by someone who was younger, less politically experienced, or both. But salving bruised egos was not the King’s job. Political alliances with other houses had to be maintained. This was a part of the job that Jan had not anticipated. While Crusader Count, you just worry about what will be your next assignment. But as King, you have to worry about getting enough resources to fuel the whole venture.

Something about houses had gotten Jan thinking. While Jan was ecstatic that he no longer had to suffer the inept leadership of Ansehelm, his views on houses had been changing as of late. Something in Duke Arnold’s speech had stirred him. Arnold was right. The houses were the ones that sent their nobles and money off to a far away land. Jan had been there in the Second Crusade when Duke Leopold fell. Jan almost lost his father in that same battle. Maybe trying to turn Outremer into a fifth house was the wrong answer to the right question. The right question being, how can we do good work and serve the Lord, thus earning ourselves salvation? If Outremer is to help save the soul of the Reich, should it really be split off from the houses that bled for it? Jan did not think so anymore.

Jan was interrupted by Max knocking on his door. Max and Gunther had both become more paranoid for Jan’s safety since he became King.

Max announced, “My King, a visitor for you.”

Curious, Jan called out, “Let him in”.

A man Jan recognized walked into the room. “My King, my name is Hermann and we have met once before. I was the one that gave you that letter warning you about Duke Arnold’s arrival in Outremer.”

Jan looked puzzled. “I remember now. But how did you get that letter?”

Hermann stated simply, “Because I worked for King Salier. He gave me that letter and ordered me to give it to you. He didn’t want you to know. But, he is gone now and you are King. I thought you should know. Also, with King Salier dead, there is not much for me to do now that his estate is settled and I could use some work.”

Jan was far too deep in thought to consider Hermann’s offer of service and said dismissively, “While my personal staff is full at the moment, I am sure I can find something for you in Antioch. Thank you. Now, if you please, I would like to be alone now.”

Hermann bowed, “Of course my King. Thank you and good day.”

Even back then, the King was protecting me, Jan thought. I always wondered who warned me about the whereabouts of Duke Arnold. He had to have known that he might have been signing the Duke’s death warrant but he warned me anyways.

With these latest thoughts, Jan sat back in his chair. Scenes of that previous battle played out in his head. Swarms of horsemen that came on like locusts. The body of the King lying on the ground surrounded by dozens of Mongol bodies. The box lying next to him.

With this, Jan turned and looked at the box sitting on his desk. He walked over to the box, picked it up, and took it over to his bed which he sat on. He had glanced at the contents before but he had never really looked at it. He had assumed that he would just be a caretaker until Karl was confirmed as King. Only now did it really dawn on him that the Crown of Thorns was his as a badge of office. Jan opened the box, picked it up, and looked at it. It was a bramble of thorny twigs in a circle. It was light in his hand. Jan looked at it up close and thought he could see dried blood on it. It was then that the full realization of what he held dawned on him.

This was worn by Jesus when he was killed…

Suddenly emotions welled up in Jan. I am not worthy of this. This was worn by the son of our Lord. This sat upon his head as he suffered for my sins.

Jan fell over onto the bed careful to keep the crown in his hands.

He started reciting John 19 aloud in a murmur as visions pass by.

Jan starts an argument with Duke Arnold in the Diet in order to impress his father. A fight follows and Jan’s first Teutonic Knight, Fredericus, is killed.

"Then Pilate therefore took Jesus, and scourged him.”

Jan’s pride almost destroys him politically as he starts argument after argument with one powerful noble after another which threatens to suicide his own agenda. King Salier threatens to fire Jan if he can not control himself.

“And the soldiers plaited a crown of thorns, and put it on his head, and they put on him a purple robe, And said, Hail, King of the Jews! and they smote him with their hands.”

Jan’s envy at Ansehelm becoming Duke leads him to attempt to undermine him wherever possible. Relations between the two men sour to such an extent, that every young Franconian starts backing away from Jan.

“Pilate therefore went forth again, and saith unto them, Behold, I bring him forth to you, that ye may know that I find no fault in him.”

Jan’s ambition for becoming King leads his every action. From what he tells fellow nobles. To what he brings up in the Diet. To what letters he writes. Being King becomes more important than anything. Than serving the Lord. Than serving the Kaiser, Than serving the Reich. Jan sees himself sending forward his loyal Crusader Counts to conquer the whole Middle East as Dukes and the Kaiser come bowing to him for his favor. Jan sits on a throne made of the bones of countless German sons that died to fulfill his vision for this part of the world.

“Then came Jesus forth, wearing the crown of thorns, and the purple robe. And Pilate saith unto them, Behold the man!"

With this last, Jan falls off of the bed somehow keeping the crown in his hand. He sits up stunned by all he saw. He is sweating profusely and panting from the exertion. He finally starts to calm down. Funny how his whole adult life was about becoming King. Then he finally becomes King in a way that he had absolutely nothing to do with. And he finds that he is not sure if he wants it anymore. At least not for the same reasons that he used to.

I can not go on living like this. Living with this guilt. It will consume me. Things do not have to be this way. The Lord sent his son to die for my sins. He sent his son because he loved me. This Crown is proof of that. Jesus died for my sins and I need to atone. I can only atone by living a life dedicated to the Lord. But that isn’t enough. I am finally in a position where I can really do good. Through Outremer, I can save the soul of the Reich. Living for Outremer is no longer enough. I need to live for the Reich. It is not enough to just try to save my own sorry soul. I need to help the whole Reich save theirs. And Outremer is the key. Outremer has always been the key. And I…

I am going to turn that key.

Jan just sat there blinking for a few minutes as all of this processed in his head. Then he looked at the Crown sitting in his hand. He placed it back in the box carefully. And then he got up and opened the door where Gunther and Max were standing guard. If they heard Jan earlier, they gave no sign.

“Get ready to leave. We’re heading for the Outremer chambers. There is much work to do.”

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Hermann used with permission of GH

[AussieGiant]

ROME 1280

Glancing at the three empty seats that make up the Austrian Chamber, Arnold shook his head in disappointment at the state of his fathers House.

Lord Zirn's seat was covered in dust, he wondered if his brother in law would recover soon. His sister has reassured him that Karl's health would improving but it had now been some years since he had heard from him. Unfortunately his sister didn't realise just how precarious Austria's situation was.

He then glanced at Sigismund’s old chair...now occupied by the as yet unknown von Heidelberg. He hadn't even presented himself since wedding the last von Mahren daughter...a pity...

Lastly there was Becker. The only active member left of House Austria.

Was there any point having this chamber open anymore he thought?

While the other House Chambers bustled with the activity of nobles coming and going, reporting to their Dukes on House matters, he was left sitting here staring at dust and wood.

Suddenly the Duke began speaking

Welcome nobles of Austria. It’s a pleasure to see you all here for the 12th Diet session…we have much to discuss as the state of Austria is hard pressed at the moment.

First item on the agenda, Hungary!!!!

His voice rose steadily in anger as he continued, Groms eye’s widened at the site of his Lord speaking to no one…Bane glanced at the Priest, his dark helm somehow conveying his thoughts that something seemed terribly wrong…

…Arnold continued, his voice reaching levels that he reserved normally for battlefield commands

We must crush them!!! What say you lords of Austria, are you with me!!!???

Silence was the predictable response…

…with a slow but enormous show of strength, the Duke clenched his fists, the pressure so great the metal of his gauntlets groaned in protest. Shockingly, to those that witnessed the spectacle, blood began running through the chain mail and plates dripping onto the bench beneath his hands.

Finally, with a prodigious explosion of energy the Duke slammed his fists into the bench. With a shower of blood and wood it was broken in half.

Stunned silence filled the Chamber…the cold dread of violence filled the room causing everyone to back away from the Dread Duke…Grom raised his eye brows in startled surprise as he witness Bane place a hand on his sword in anticipation of what the Duke might do next.

LEAVE ME!!!

NOW!!!!

[econ21]

A fine romance

First contact


Elberhard waited for the door to open, to see his bride for the first time.

“What’s she look like then?” he muttered to one of the courtiers. “English, eh? All horse-faced and bad teeth?”

The courtier looked mortified: “Oh no, no, no, Sire…”

The door started to open and the gathering fell silent.

Elberhard saw her gliding through the crowd.

“@#$%^&!!!ing ‘ell!” he whispered.

The English Princess had a head not unlike an onion, or so you would think, if you liked onions (as Elberhard did). A beautiful delectable pickled onion: round, small and smooth; contoured and perfectly symmetrical. A pickled onion, Elberhard thought. White skinned, with a sharp and slightly sour taste.

Her eyes flitted briefly across the room and zeroed in on the Prinz. Strangely, it was the fearless Prinz who blushed, as her eyes confidently sized him up. They lingered on his rough hewn body and seemed to scrutinize every manly scar on his face. She smiled and Elberhard fell, pole-axed, helplessly into love and enslavement.

*****

The lure


“So you are the heir to the throne of the great German Reich?” said Linyeve Apperry, sounding not too displeased at the prospect.

“Err, yes.” said Elberhard.

“But the Kaiser is not your father?”

“Err, no. My dad was Kaiser Henry.”

“Ah yes, I have heard much of him. Some say he civilized the enlarged Empire that Kaiser Heinrich carved out of the investiture crisis.”

“Err, yeah, he was all right.”

“And how many provinces does the Empire now span?”

“Oh, errr, quite a few.”

“Not the most eloquent of men, are you?” laughed Linyeve.

*****

The end of the beginning


“That man was the Kaiser?!?” stormed Linyeve.

“Err, yeah love, why?” queried Elberhard.

“But he is so young! The man is thirty if he is a year!”

Elberhard watched and waited, he had dreaded this moment.

“And you must be, God knows, forty at least!” she continued.

Elberhard rubbed his gnarled chin – the sand of Outremer and the rigours of battle had not been kind.

“So basically…” pressed Linyeve, “You may be the Prinz, but you will never inherit! The Kaiser will outlive you.”

Elberhard rubbed his chin harder and then shrugged his shoulders. There was no point denying it. The maths was incontrovertible.

“So what, precisely, does being a Prinz entail if it does not mean you will succeed to the Throne?” demanded Linyeve.

“Well, I am his, err, deputy.” ventured Elberhard. “And he is away a lot.”

Linyeve looked somewhat placated. “I see – so all the Kaiser’s powers devolve to you in his absence?”

“Well, err, that’s how I see it. But Kaiser Siegfried, well err, he does not quite see it like that. I am only supposed to chair the Diet and, err, shout at Electors if they are out of order.”

“I see, so I married a man of no prospects who is great at shouting?”

“Err, well that’s rather the long and short of it, yeah.”

“Wonderful.”

[econ21]

Acre, 1280


“No, you cannot stay in Outremer, you cannot!” pleaded the old man.

Elberhard looked puzzled. His mentor, Niklas Gruber, was normally so composed, so urbane. This desperation was wholly out of character.

“Why the @#$%^&!!! not?” demanded Elberhard. “The boss is dead. Hans is @#$%^&!!!ing off once he has added the latest scalp to his trophies. Even @#$%^&!!!ing Jens Hummel is quitting. I can’t quit now – not now.”

Niklas seemed almost visibly to be grasping for any support. “But you must not! The Diet will not accept an heir to the throne who refuses to come home! Outremer has few friends now and you need friends.”

“Outremer has few friends and that is why she needs me. But seriously, Niklas, why do you care so much? It’s my @#$%^&!!!ing life.”

“Yes, Niklas, that is a question I would like to hear answered.” intervened Linyeve. “If Elberhard asked me – as I should note, he has singularly failed to do – why I desperately wanted to leave Outremer, I am sure I could conjure up a plausible answer. Probably, something involving sand, camels, murderous Mohammedans and the phrase “Get me out of this sinking hell hole, you bastard!” I suppose.”

Elberhard winced, but Linyeve continued – her gaze fixed on Niklas. For once, Elberhard was not her prey and the Prinz could watch with detachment as she circled her latest victim.

“So tell me, Niklas, why does the Prinz’s old mentor demand that he leave Outremer, when it is quite evident that wild horses and even sweet English Princesses could not get him to do that?”

Linyeve moved very close to the old man, her face was almost touching his, and her fingers gently brushed the sweat dripping from his brow.

Niklas crumbled: “Because they will kill them if you don’t…” the old man cried.

*****

Elberhard paced around the room liked a bear in a pit. Betrayed by his old mentor! He cast hostile looks at Niklas, who was sat, a broken man. Periodically, the Prinz approached the old man angrily, fists clenched, before thinking better of it and turning away.

His closest retainers were in attendance. Jan the Teuton, hand on sword hilt – ready to act the instant the Prinz commanded it. Kachig Iskyan, the Armenian mercenary captain, watching Niklas with distaste. Whether it was distaste for the man’s betrayal or distaste at the possibility of having to kill such a helpless old man, Kachig himself did not know.

Linyeve was like an island of calm among the men. She moved to soothe the restless Prinz. She stopped his pacing and forced him to sit, so that both Niklas and Elberhard found themselves looking up at the young woman in front of them.

“Niklas – you said at your last meeting, you sought this man out in a local tavern?” Linyeve inquired.

“Yes.” sniffled Niklas.

“Rather careless of a kidnapper, don’t you think? He really must think he has you.” she commented.

“My grandchildren.” moaned Niklas. “I could not live with myself if they are harmed.”

“Yes, yes.” scolded Linyeve in a businesslike manner, “Blubbing won’t get them back. You must arrange another meeting – do you have a means of contacting this man?”

Niklas nodded. “But he is well protected – I think by Hashashins. If we send men to seize him, he will know and he will be gone.”

Linyeve smiled. “Yes, if we send men.”

Elberhard looked up at his wife, not understanding. And then, as her meaning became apparent, he fell, pole-axed again, just as he had on the first day he had ever set eyes on her.

*****

Why was the old man sweating so much? Something was not right. Dusan looked at the hashashin by the door again, inquiring. The hashashin shrugged again.

“Are you telling me you have failed?” Dusan asked Niklas. “That would be most unfortunate.”

“The Prinz is determined to stay in Outremer, but I think there is still a way to remove him.” said Niklas, talking fast and almost falling over his words. “His wife… she can be very … persuasive. And she is not fond of this place.”

Dusan smiled. “Good, good, the rats are finally leaving the sinking ship. Salier has been removed. Hans will leave once he has had his sport. Matthias cannot be Chancellor forever and soon will be a lame duck. And that joke they made King, soon his Duke will drag him home to Franconia. Who will be left? The Reich will be free to concentrate on its true destiny in Europe, not this Papist obsession”

“You talk too much.”

Dusan looked aghast as a pretty young whore boldly sat down opposite him.

“Go away, whore! This is men’s talk!” Dusan barked.

The whore smiled and drew something under the table. Dusan felt cold metal press against his groin.

“You remember this blade, Kolar?” said Linyeve. “It was a bequest from King Otto to Elberhard. Apparently Otto always regretted that Henry has stopped him from ever wielding it fully. And perhaps Otto suspected that Henry’s son might one day require it.”

Dusan looked up in alarm, seeking out the hashashin by the door.

“Send him and his men away, now, or say goodbye to your manhood.” Linyeve said commandingly. Dusan felt the metal press hard against his clothing, the point pricking his flesh. “I am not messing around. Do it now or regret it forever.”

Dusan jerked his head up to the side. The hashashin looked curious. Go. mouthed Dusan. Reluctantly, the hashashin exited the tavern.

“Now, listen to me, Kolar. My husband, well, you know, he kind of shares King Otto’s view of you. If it were up to him, he would have his men spend the next few months working you over. By the first day was done, you would be screaming for them to kill you. But they wouldn’t. I wonder how long a man could be tortured before dying? My husband would use you as an experiment to find out.”

“But, Kolar, it is your lucky day. Because you are talking to me and not my husband. You see being a frail and gentle woman, I am a very different creature. I would not want you to be tortured for months. The screaming might disturb the guests. And the stains would be hell to get off the floors. No, insect, I do not care about you.”

“As a woman, I care only about Niklas’s brats. Or should we call them grand-brats, Niklas?” Linyeve smiled at Niklas, who turned away in distress. “Yes, I care only about Niklas’s lovely little grand-brats.”

“So this is what we are going to do. You are going to come with me and stay as my guest in the Prinz’s quarters. Oh, your accommodation may not be of the highest class, but you will not be harmed. While there, you will summon the grand-brats to be brought to Outremer and we will make an exchange: you for them. An insect for some grand-brats: a fair exchange. And you must pray that they arrive here in just as pristine a condition as you yourself will be in.”

“I know what you are thinking: why should you surrender to this mad woman? Why should you not make a run for it? Have your hashashin rescue you?”

Linyeve pulled out two stiletto blades, handing one to Niklas. “But you have to think on this. You are talking to a Princess of the Crown – recently wed and expected to produce many offspring for the Reich. How likely do you think it would be for the Prinz to let her face down a kidnapper with only this old fool as my guard? And if by some miracle, you did escape, how long do you think you could stay in the shadows if you struck down a woman of such standing? In such an event, do you not think the Reich could pay the hashashins rather more for your neck than you could afford to pay to save it? No, Kolar – do the smart thing. Come with me and I will spare you. Defy me and I will squash you like the insect you are.”

The other customers noticed nothing out of the ordinary when the tall, dark clothed gentleman left the tavern. It is true, he did look rather discomforted. A young whore seemed to be clinging to him passionately and a nervous older man seemed to be supporting him. But the tall gentlemen did not protest and the watchers in the shadows did not intervene, as the ungainly trio marched up the street.

[Privateerkev]

Antioch, 1280

Jan sat in a large library in Antioch. At a large table, books on law were piled high. Max sat on a stool against the wall. Gunther was coming back with another pile of books. The King was flipping through books while scribbling notes down. Next to them was a fine piece of parchment that had, as of yet, no writing on it except for the words, Charter Amendment 13.x

Gunther plopped down the books and sat across from the King. He eyed the parchment and noticed its exceptionally high quality. "My King, that is one fine piece of paper. Surely you could have used any old piece of paper for a CA."

"Its the piece of parchment that Duke Arnold sent me as repayment. Its a long story. I thought it would be appropriate for what I'm writing," said the King as he was scribbling.

"And if I may ask, what are you writing?" Gunther inquired out of curiosity.

Jan slid the paper he was scribbling on across the table to Gunther and said, "Here is a rough outline of it."

Gunther took it and the old veteran scrutinized it. His face turned to a scowl.

"What? You don't like it?" asked Jan.

Gunther struggled for a respectful way to say what he was thinking. "Um...Sir... what are you doing? Why are you doing this to the Dukes?"

"What? You don't think they'll like it?" inquired Jan.

"Like it? I think they'll love it! But why ever would you do this?" Gunther was starting to wonder if the King had gone a little crazy.

Jan sat up and explained, "Because Gunther, we need to bind the Duchies to Outremer. Its the only way. If the Dukes feel involved, then the mission will survive. If they feel alienated from the land they sacrifice for, then our mission will fail. This will ensure that they will feel more included."

Gunther shook his head, "Sir, its so unbelievable, it just might work. If this doesn't make them feel included, nothing will."

With that, Jan grinned, took the paper back, and started working again on his legislation. A man in a robe, a few tables down, closed his book, got up and left. Max saw him but thought nothing of it.

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

The robed man walked out of the library. After back tracking to make sure he wasn't followed, he went down an alley. Coming to a door, he knocked two up high and three down low on the door. It opened and a large hulking man saw him and let him in. The robed man walked down the hall to a large den where an older man was sitting at a table counting coins. The robed man sat down and immediately said, "I'm worried, about the King. He's working on something that could undo everything."

The older man continued counting until he was done with a stack before replying. "Oh, and what is the boy-king up to?"

"He said something about binding the Duchies to Outremer. If that works, it could be disastrous. Everything depends on getting the Duchies to become fed up with being over here and call for an abandonment of Outremer. I think we need to add him to the list," said the man in robes quickly and insistently.

With that, the older man fully turned away from his counting and looked up before speaking. "The list? Are you joking? King Salier was on the list. Kaiser Henry was on the list. Elberhard is on the list. Powerful and influential men who were a threat to our agenda. You want to add Jan to the list!? We might as well add Dieter to the list. Or Dieter's dog! If we're going to set the bar that low, we might as well add every German in Outremer to the list. Your thinking too much and your not paid to think. Your paid to follow your target and report. Every noble out here is followed by one of us. You follow Jan and report in. We'll do the thinking."

The older man was about to return to his counting when the man in robes pleaded, "But what if he can really pull it off? Getting the Dukes involved in Outremer could set us back years!"

With a sigh, the older gentleman explained, "Look, your making two assumptions. One is that Jan can get anything passed in the Diet. The man is a laughingstock. The boy-Kaiser appointed the boy-King and then abandoned him to the wolves. The Dukes smelled blood and tore him to shreds during the last Diet. Even common electors mock him openly. He's lucky if he will even get re-appointed. The second assumption is that the Dukes will stop being petty, narrow-minded, short-sighted, and provincial. No, the Dukes are far more concerned with their little corner of the Reich than they are of Outremer. Nothing will change that. And when the time is right, the right words will be whispered in the right ears in the Diet and Outremer will be abandoned. In the meantime, just do your job and you'll be fine. Dismissed."

The older man slid a stack of coins to the man in robes. The younger man pocketed the coins, got up, and left.

[GeneralHankerchief]

The Desert, 1282

“Godfrey! How on Earth am I supposed to do this thing?!”

The horsemaster of Hans’s army turned from his present task and faced the voice addressing him. All he saw, however, was a brown horse draped in Imperial colors. What trickery is this? he thought to himself. Horses can’t talk, so unless some dirty ventriloquist or the Lord himself is speaking…

Then he looked down and saw a pair of human legs. He chuckled. Of course. “So, young Hümmel, what can I do for you?”

Jens Hümmel stepped out from behind the horse, fuming. He made wide, bold gestures with his arms and legs, clearly accentuating the size difference between himself and his intended mount. “This is a friggin’ joke. There’s no way I’m supposed to be able to mount this thing and ride it. Can you tell me how to do it?”

Godfrey had to fight hard to prevent himself from laughing. He knew that if he did, the undersized young man in front of him would probably get even angrier and louder, which would probably make him laugh even more. “Do you mean to say that, merely days before this huge battle with the Horse Lords, you don’t know how to properly mount and ride an instrument of cavalry?”

“Of course I haven’t,” he shouted, “that’s why I’m talking to you, isn’t it?!”

“You mean, in all those trips to and back from Outremer, you’ve never gotten on a horse? Ever?”

“No, of course I haven’t!!!” Jens looked ready to explode, but breathed in and calmed down slightly. “I walked,” he said with a faint hint of pride. “Walking is good. It’s better for you. It builds up your stamina.”

“It also makes you a very susceptible target when the fighting comes if you’re a foot soldier,” Godfrey said, getting more serious as Jens got less angry. “I find it extremely hard to believe that a noble of the Reich, an Elector, a Count, a direct descendent of Kaiser Heinrich himself, hasn’t even gotten on a horse once for any kind of purpose.”

“If you mean to say you think I’m rich enough to own a horse, you’re dead wrong,” said Jens soberly. “My father didn’t have that much money to begin with and after he died my fool of a brother spent most of it in that ridiculous revolution of his.”

There was silence after this comment. Godfrey obviously couldn’t think of the right thing to say and didn’t detect the tone in Jens’s voice saying that it was a topic better left unexplored.

“Well, are you going to help me or not?”

Godfrey snapped back to attention and once again began to feel amused. “Well, you try it again, this time so I can see what you’re doing wrong.”

Cursing, Jens walked back to his horse. It was a brown, normal-sized thing with a kind look in its eye, a horse that would have been better suited on a farm back in Europe than at war with the fiercest people in the world. This fact grew clear to Jens and Godfrey as Jens tried to mount it. Totally ignoring the stirrups, Jens instead leaped on, desperate for any kind of grip. It reminded Godfrey of the way a taller person would try to climb onto the roof of a low building.

Taken aback, the horse whinnied and took off at top speed, leaving Jens wildly holding on as he desperately fought not to get thrown off. The horse veered left and tore through the camp, where most of the army got a good laugh at what was happening, Jens screaming and cursing all the way through.

As he grew more concerned with yelling his head off than staying on, Jens slowly lost his grip and eventually tumbled off, landing face-first in a pile of –what else?- horse excrement.

He rolled over slowly and deliberately, refusing to open his eyes. He vaguely heard people laughing at him. When he got up, he would stab the closest man. It didn’t matter if he was much shorter than them, he would still get a shot in at their privates; that would teach ‘em.

“So, young Hümmel, have you learned anything from that little adventure?”

Jens sat up, wiped the crud from his eyes, and screwed up his face in anger. Godfrey was standing in front of him, very obviously biting his tongue.

“I’ve learned not to ride STUPID *#%!ING HORSES on the account that they’re STUPID *#%!ING HORSES!!! Even from the small part of his face that wasn’t covered in crap, Godfrey could see that Jens was as red as a tomato. He stood up, still shrieking. My Lord that man can make a lot of noise coming from such a small body, Godfrey thought.

“That’s it, I’m not riding any horses, I don’t care whether I go on foot, those damned animals are out to kill me, they’re up to no good, I need something to kill now, I don’t care whether it’s Imperial or Mongol, I’m already more of a *#%!ing laughingstock than I used to be because this *#%!ing thing took me for a ride and threw me into a pile of- ACK! Pphbbth!”

He stopped mid-rant in disgust as he felt something wet and slobbery go across his face. Blinking in surprise, he saw that “stupid *#%!ing horse” licking the rest of the excrement off of his face.

“Stupid nag, licking its own crap,” Jens muttered, but then the horse made a distinct spitting noise away from Jens as if to clean its tongue. Then it returned to Jens, looking at him with an expression that almost matched pity.

“Well, I suppose it can’t be that bad,” he said to himself, getting up. The horse whinnied meekly, as if in agreement. Godfrey approached the man and the horse, still grinning.

“So, you ready to learn the real way?”

“Nah,” Jens said, grinning himself, “I think me and this nag understand each other now.” He proceeded to jump onto his horse in the same, awkward way as before. The horse whinnied and took off again, leaving Jens holding on for dear life, screaming and cursing once again. Godfrey just shook his head and chuckled.

[FactionHeir]

Antioch Docks at night, 1282 AD

Everything went by plan.
His men were now boarding the flagship, horses in tow and the many peasants and dockworkers hurried around carrying crates with supplies, ammunition, letters and other paraphernalia meant for his troops or for Europe.
Hans, however, was not among them. He watched from a safe distance, from within a dead alleyway, Dirk guarding his back.
They were quiet, waiting and watching. Hans subconsiously touched the wide robe he was wearing over his newly acquired suit of studded leather, thinking of the letters he had received these past days after the battle at Edessa. Who would warn me of this he kept wondering to himself. And why would someone be coming after me, now that I was leaving for Europe? The answer to the latter was somewhat more clear in his mind, as he was certain it was not because he defeated the Mongols, but because Jens fell. But who would care so much about whether Jens lived or not? and added immediately besides myself. %/"§ it. Why did he have to die just then!.

A sudden movement behind him caused Hans to startle and he almost dropped the handgun that he bought at the Edessan bazaar. It was only Dirk though, who shifted. Relieved, Hans let out a sigh and continued to observe. Most the men are aboard now, whoever is after me will likely be as well, or waiting for me to board. Hans smiled to himself. Unless Matthias was the one after him, it would be nigh on impossible for the would-be assassin to catch up with him, for he would not be boarding the flagship, but rather one of the smaller two Holks. The would-be assassin would not know of course, since Hans had ensured that two of the Feudal knights, who the chancellor ordered to stay in Outremer against their will, for they were loyal to Hans alone, would be taking his and Dirk's place on the flagship, each in robes as well, flanked by his usual retinue.
Hans smirked, as he left the shadows and boarded the smaller ship, inconspicuous to anyone.

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

Later that night
Quite rotten, that ship. Hans surveyed his surroundings, which was the storage bunk, filled with countless crates, sacks and chests, carrying the wealth that Outremer held, besides being a place for pilgrims. As an emperor's son, he was not used to travelling in such run down ships, but rather in one of the cabins designed for noble guests.
Hans paced around, peeking behind crates and dark corners, making sure no one else was down here. Dirk on the other hand stood by the trapdoor, guarding his surroundings carefully, as he was trained to do.
This time, I must have evaded them Hans thought to himself, as he sat himself in a well-lit corner and started reading the letters sent to him again. He shook his head whenever Lothar was mentioned. Why would he be plotting against me, now that we had agreed in secret on a Bavarian-Swabian alliance? Hans decided he would meet that elusive writer and find out.

[Northnovas]

Damascus 1287

“Count Zirn, the Writ has been received and is complete with the Duke’s Seal.” announced the young attendant.

“Excellent! Lets review before we ride out, read what is says” replied the Count has he made his way for another cup of coffee.

“Yes, my lord” the attendant opens the scroll that contains documents bearing Duke Arnold’s Seal from the Austrian House, the Seal of the local magistrate some letters and a special worded information that the attendant reads out loud to the Count.

On or about the 22nd day of June to 25 October in the year 1279 in the year of our Lord, in the City of Damascus, Jedda Region, Outremer Possession of the Austrian House, in the Holy Roman Empire.
One General al Muazzam also known as the accused is charged with the following Criminal Acts against the Holy Roman Empire.

Count 1

On the dates stated in the location stated, the accused is charged with 1 count of murder against one Mr. Aftim, resident of the Damascus, servant of the Governor.

Count 2

On the dates stated in the location stated the accused is charged with 1 count of murder against on Mr. al Jazze resident of Damascus, merchant.

Count 3

On the said dates in the said location stated the accused is charge with 1 count of attempt murder on Count Karl Zirn, Governor of Damascus, representative of the Reich.

“There are several other charges of poisoning causing grievous bodily harm. Do you wish me to go on sire?”

“No, that is enough. I am glad to have the Duke’s approval it would not look fair the Governor signing a warrant when he is the victim. I want this up and above. I really liked this al Muazzam, a young fanatical general he gave me a real go and then the Prince. I would like to have a large battlefield session with him. However, once I found out the swine he really is and what he did. We are no longer talking about chivalry and the art of war. Just review the synopsis with me.”

“Yes sire, the accused in charge of a small Egyptian force contaminated the date supply for the city of Damascus in the month of June 1279. When the supplies had entered the city he systematically cut of the rest of the supply along with the other food supplies allowing the dates to be distributed within city. The siege was maintained and supplies were cut the contaminated food made its way the Governor’s residence where he killed the head servant of the kitchen staff by poison and poisoned the Governor Zirn causing him to be very ill and almost loosing his life.
It was also revealed that a date merchant was poisoned and died and several residence of the city were sick from the poison dates. Should I continue??...

“No that is good have the documentation bundled. I will muster a small detachment from the city and arrest al Muazzam at his location in the desert. Have Peter sent to me at once.” Karl then went to a table and viewed a map of the Jedda Region.


1288 Jedda region

In an isolated desert area southeast of Damascus, at nightfall. A detachment of German soldiers waited while the men on the horses talked in a small group.

Ingo was the first to speak. “Sire, we got word that he is camping 5 miles south of here. They only remain in one location and move on. They are all on horse but haven’t been to a settlement in some time and the horses must be tiring in these conditions.”

Karl listened to his advisor and looked for consensus amongst the other men. “Very well this will be a swift operation and I want him captured and returned to Damascus. He is a very cunning individual and our numbers are great but I still stress caution and be very aware of your surroundings.”

The riders broke and the orders given to the men it was almost midnight and there were no fires burning to keep the men warm.

The troops moved out and Peter could hear the distinct sound of horses there was movement in the distance. “I can’t believe it he is coming at us instead of running. Battle Order all units!” shouted Peter. The warrant was being executed.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

General al Muazzam did not hesitate and charged for Karl’s unit. The spearmen tried to come around the rear to envelope the Egyptians. The crossbowmen kept the small unit of horse archers away.

“Don’t let him get away” shouted Karl. The Egyptians fought viciously they were not going to surrender. Karl had the superior numbers but his men were falling fast it was a battle of attrition. There was no way to stop this crazed man. He truly is a fighter.

Finally the melee broke and Karl was in hot pursuit.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

The accused was apprehended and returned to Damascus.

1288 Damascus Court Room

The magistrate listened to closing arguments and then proceeded with his findings.

He began. “General al Muazzam you are found guilty of all counts from this proceeding. Your acts were despicable and you will punished by death for your crime against the Holy Roman Empire.
I therefore sentenced at the time and location specified by this court, to death by beheading and may God have mercy on your soul”
The court proceedings closed and justice had finally been served. The people cheered for their Governor and the law and order that he maintains to keep them safe.

Karl returned to his residence with a new person in his entourage, Randolph the Biographer. He remembered his father in law Leopold had used such a person to share his exploits and now it was time for Karl to have his own history recorded and the dream he has for the city of Damascus.

[Ituralde]

Constantinople

"So the Dukes were already resenting, the young fool was about to give up, and the support was wavering. And then he marches back into the Diet, backs up his choice and promises, promises that he will do anything it takes to let people go there? To support this forlorn cause in the future? You said you had this man in your hand!"

Theodora taps her chin thoughtfully: "It's not as easy as you make it look, father. I have full control over the situation, I assure you. He listens to me, he listens well. But you can't forget that he is an Emperor. He has visions, and plans of his own."

"Well, see to it that they are replaced by yours!" Emperor Comenus snaps indignantly, before snorting in contempt. How could the fool dare to let himself be called an Emperor.

"They will be in time. But until then I need Outremere as the carrot on a stick to guide him. To give him hope. He truly believes that he can make something grand and right now he believes Outremere to be part of this."

The Emperor shakes his head: "This place has to go, you know it. We can't be surrounded by those Christians!"

Theodora smiles slightly: "Oh it will go, father. Eventually it'll cease to exist. The rift between the Crusaders and the Reich is quite deep already. Just trust your daughter, will you? Besides, you should be happy, those vile Mongols give the Empire quite a beating. You would not want to be facing them along with the Turks, now would you?"

Smiling ever broader Empress Theodora leaves her father standing alone in the vast chamber.
She would help build an Empire, no matter which faith!

[OverKnight]

Rome, 1290

His head hurt. The room was no longer spinning, but his mouth was dry and gritty as if he was still on campaign in Anatolia.

"This why I don't drink, usually", croaked the Chancellor of the Reich to himself.

The door to his bed chamber opened, letting in a blinding, to his eyes, stream of light. A figure stood in the door way.

"Leave me in peace," Matthias rasped, "If there are letters, dump them in the pile with the others."

The figure spoke with a familiar voice, "This is not a way for a Chancellor to be conducting himself. Did you learn nothing from me?"

Matthias snorted ruefully, "Ah. . .Elsebeth. I fear you catch me at a. . .poor moment."

The Queen sat on the edge of the bed and surveyed him with a critical eye. The years had been kinder to her than Matthias. The travails of two terms had left him prematurely grey, the unrelenting sun of many campaigns in Outremer had etched lines into his face, and the marks of war had left scars on his body.

Elsebeth gently moved a stray lock of hair from Matthias's face and spoke, "I have heard of your recent outbursts. It was so unlike you, I was concerned. You have ruled with subtlety and vision, until now, what has changed?"

Matthias closed his eyes and sighed, "I have sought to rebuild the Reich in my tenure. I have tried to rule impartially, mostly, and avoid the dramatics of the previous Chancellors. I thought I had succeeded, but. . ."

"But what? Matthias, you have done well. You were the youngest man to be elected Chancellor, much less for two terms. There has been little complaint from the Electors."

Matthias grimaced and sat up to look Elsebeth in the face. He swayed a bit but spoke in steady voice.

"This isn't about me, so much. Yes, the books are balanced, cities have been conquered, old enemies defeated, but there's something lacking. Lately, I've gotten the feeling that I haven't restored the Reich, but merely delayed the inevitable rot."

Elsebeth raised an eyebrow, "Rot? The Empire is more powerful than ever. There are no enemies that can match us. Even the Mongols, whose Empire stretches to Cathay, were defeated."

"No, you're right, but I'm not talking about external enemies. A rot from the inside. We have become complacent and decadent. The Electors seem resigned to squabble about family politics or points of order. Each House seems cut off from the other, turned inward on their own pet causes. Their seems to be no esprit de corps that marked, for example, the First Crusade. The Kaiser. . .the Kaiser provides no focus. He seems to be disinterested in ruling, leaving many tasks to me, the Prinz, or his wife."

Elsebeth smiled slyly, "And you object to this? An active Kaiser can have an interesting effect on the course of the Reich."

Matthias shook his head, "Yes, but the Kaiser should be the hub of the wheel, with the houses as the spokes, and the lords of the realm as the rim. Without any of these components, the wheel collapses, the wagon does not move forward. The Reich isn't moving forward. I studied the proceedings of the Diet before running for Chancellor. The dynamic tension between the Houses and the Kaiser, and the Diet and Chancellor that fueled our progress, that elevated us above the simple monarchies of our neighbors, now seems lacking."

Elsebeth pursed her lips, "The past often seems more ideal than the present Matthias. Memories and histories are kind to our ancestors. Nostalgia can be a trap."

Matthias frowned, "Perhaps. I worry though. I worry that for all I have done, all I have tried to do, it won't be enough. Siegfried will come along and take what I have done, what I have accomplished, and fritter it away. And the Electors, focused on their petty chimeras, won't lift a finger."

Elsebeth chuckled and patted the Chancellor's hand. "Ah, so it is not so much the great tide of history that worries you, but the fact that you will have to give up the power you have held for so long."

The Chancellor grunted and his eyes narrowed.

"Perhaps, but there's more to it than that. Empires rise and Empires fall. I'd rather my term be remembered as the start of a golden age, rather than the last glimmer of light before the darkness."

Elsebeth rose and moved to the door.

"Such grim thoughts for a young man. You do have a few years left in power. Try to enjoy them. And if this is the last glimmer the light, it should be savored, not wasted hung over in the dark."

The Queen paused before leaving the room, her face in profile in the light streaming in behind her.

"Of course, Matthias, this doesn't have to be your last term. A two thirds majority in the Diet would ensure that. Think about it."

She left him to his thoughts.

[Warluster]

The surrounding Dijon, 1292 AD

Athalwolf had his leg propped up on a rock, he let his hair blow in the breeze. His sweat was cooled as a eagle circled overhead, cawing. He was sitting upon the top of a large mountain, a rocky road layed down behind him. At the bottom of it rested his soldiers.

He was standing in the same spot, where his father some 120 Years earlier had stood and talked with Lukas about his happiness of being made Count of Dijon. The place where he devoted half his life to, where he time after time beat back the French. And now the Empire was clawing at the Western Borders of France, the lands of Dijon were beggining to drain of the blood so mercilessly spilt for many,many years.

Athalfwolf sorely wished he now lived in those times, The Diet was more established, there was no Outremer, the lands beyond theres were a threat. Armies were setting out to conquer new places.

Now they lived in a world where one wrong move, all goes wrong. Where they own foreign lands where the very pages of history do not record. They fought with Horse Lords from far away lands, they owned old English Settlements, once even lands in Northern Scotland! He buried his face in his hands, all these things about his Father, being Kaiser, the Defender of Dijon, once even the last general in Swabia! Why had he not travelled the waters and joined the sun burtn lands of Outremer! Not this politicial madhouse.

"Do not worry young Athalwolf." spoke a voice from behind, he started and jumped up from his rock, straying close to the edge. Athalwolf drew his sword, the ring echoing.
"Who goes there?" cried he, more as a warning then quedtion. The man came into the light, revealing his face. It was warm and kind. Athalwolf dropped his sword.
"Would you really kill a old friend of your Fathers?" asked Lukas. He was aged, at least 70 Years old now and showing signs of stress afther the case some years before. He sat, drinking in the sight of the lands before him. Athalwolf stood, and Lukas fought the tears as the exact same image was burnt in his mind from so many years before.
"I have come, my friend, to warn you." muttered Lukas, making sure they were indeed alone. Athalwolf was still staring at Dijon.
"You may know, from your familys past, of a man called Dieter." He nodded, to show he understood. Lukas pressed on, "I believe he was a traitor to your father. He bretrayed him in the thick forests north of Frankfurt, and set up a ambush for him in the plains north of Metz. he is a traitor, and wanted the Kaiser dead. And there is a chance,my friend, you may become the next in line." said Lukas, eyeing him to see his reaction. Athalwolf though, had merely moved his gaze to Staufen.
"Dieter wants you dead. And he is hunting you down." finished Lukas simply, relief etched over his face. he stood next to Athalwolf now, looking at metz instead and murmuring "Ah, the fields of Sigismund..."

"So Dieter, is coming for me, and will kill me for being a von Salza?" asked Athalwolf, his voice strained.
"Yes, that is the basic idea." eplied Lukas, watching the Fields of France beyond the rivers of Dijon.
"Well I will wait for the bastard, won't I? Meanwhile, I shall go to Spain, Yes, I shall propose iot to the Diet..." thought Athalwolf seamlessly. Lukas sighed and closed his eyes.
"I am honored to meet you, Knight to Knight Count Athalwolf. You are everything your Father was, and I know you shall be more. King of COnquering Armies I say. For now, I say goodbye cruel world." And with that, Lukas jumped.

Athalwolf didn't stop him, he knew he meant that the whole time. He knew Lukas owed one last favor to the man he worshipped. And now, he was to join him on his Masters beloved fields. Athalwolf let a few tears follow Lukas, then turned and walk back to camp.

The Second Lot were going.

[Privateerkev]

Antioch 1293

King Jan was back in the library. It was late and near closing time. The robed figure was off around a corner at a table. Far enough to not be noticed but close enough to hear the King talk to Gunther about the legislation he was planning for the next Diet.

"It looks like things are looking good for this CA! I've got the Kaiser's blessing. Arnold is very much for it. Lothar approves of it. I haven't told Ansehelm yet but he is open to talking about it once I get it more polished up which is much more than I expected from him. Since this so obviously favors the Dukes, I just need to get them on board. They'll hopefully make their own people support it. Outremer will become the responsibility of the whole Reich. The Dukes will become real partners in the project. As it should be. Without them, its just a matter of time before people call for us to end this experiment and come home."

The robed figure grew more alarmed at what he was hearing. He thought to himself, I knew my boss was a fool to ignore my warnings about King Jan. If the Dukes are truly this close to getting on board with his plan, our plans are in peril. I need to report in at once! The man got up to leave. As he rounded the corner, he ran straight into Max who stood squarely in his way.

"Ah, our friend took the bait", the robed figure heard behind him. He turned and saw the King standing there with Gunther at his side. He was trapped. The King looked at him and said, "its time you and I had a little chat." The three men led the robed figure around the library and down into the basement. They all arrived in a small room with a table and two chairs. The King sat in one chair and motioned for the robed man to sit in the other. Gunther stood by the door and leaned against it. Max stood behind the King.

"First off, whats your name son?", the King started off.

"R-R-r-robert!", the spy rambled off. He was new and inexperienced. He was caught off-guard with the turn of events.

"Ok, Robert. Here is what is going to happen. I'm going to explain what I know. Then your going to fill me in on what I don't know. Then, your going to leave here alive. Clear?", the King said evenly and with confidence.

"Um...I don't know anything. I was just sitting at the table reading. You must have me mixed up with someone else.", Robert stammered off.

"I'm disappointed in you Robert. Larisa implied you guys were incompetent but I didn't think they would send someone so inexperienced to trail me. It was probably because I am not considered to be much of a threat. Elberhard and Matthias probably have the experienced spies trailing them. Its nice to be underestimated... ," said Jan as he watched carefully for Robert's reaction.

"I don't know anyone named Larisa," shot back Robert but his face had quickly betrayed surprise at the mention of a name he recognized.

"Yes, Larisa. Her and I had a little talk. She told me much about your group. She told me that King Salier was poisoned and your group had a role in it. She knew because she worked for you. She also told me that your group had targeted Hans next but she tipped him off. Since she told me, I have been digging into things. I have researched into Salier's last battle and he behaved quite strangely as a general before he fell. I had Salier's body exhumed in order to look for poison but I couldn't find a trace. I was however able to start noticing that I have been followed where ever I go. So, here we are." The King concluded the story and did not add the rest. But he thought to himself, At the end of that meeting Larisa offered to whore herself to me but got a pistol pointed at her for her troubles. She was partly responsible for Salier's death and I should have killed her then and there. But, that would have been no way to honor Salier's name. Maybe by using her information to catch his killers, I can bring some good out of her evil past.

Through all of this, Robert was silent. "I don't know what your talking about," he said indignantly.

Jan sighed and reached into his cloak. He pulled out a box and set it on the table. He opened the box and Robert saw a bramble of twigs that formed a circle. Being Catholic, Robert knew what he was looking at. "Are you a religious man?", the King asked.

"Um...I haven't been to church in years," stammered Robert as Jan handed the Crown of Thorns off to Max.

"God remembers you," Jan said as Max walked over to Robert. "This belonged to my predecessor. Salier was a good and decent man. I believe you know something about his murder. Salier was also a very holy man. He was better than you or I. But, we get chances in life to atone. To repent our sins. Jesus died for our sins.", with that, Max set the Crown upon Robert's head. Robert just sat there as still as a statue.

Robert thought all about what Jan had just said to him. All about his life. All about what sat on his head. His head itched yet he dared not move. Robert silently started to cry. Tears ran down his cheeks. Jan nodded to Max who carefully took the Crown off of Roberts head and put it back in the box. Robert told the King everything he knew which wasn't much. But, he did give the King the address and details of the den that he reported to.

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

A few days later

Jan walked down the streets of Antioch with Max, Gunther, and a company of Teutonic Knights. Jan didn't know how much the criminal gang had infiltrated Imperial bureaucracy and didn't want to tip them off by calling up army units. Jan and the Teutonic Knights in this area had a long past and they gladly formed up when Max went to the Order House in Aleppo with the King's request.

The large burly man guarding the door to the gang's den heard the knocks come in the right place in the right order. He opened the door and was knocked aside by large Teutonic Knights.

The same older man from before was sitting in the den counting stacks of money per usual. He heard the knocks and thought that Robert had finally come to report in. Good, I was wondering when he would finally show up. He's late and I think I'll dock him some pay.

In the den, at least a dozen men were sitting at tables drinking and smoking hashish. As they heard the commotion up front, they all clambered up from their tables. The knights ran down the hallway and entered the den. The front rank kneeled and put their shields out as the second rank leveled crossbows over their shoulders. Bolts shot out and found their marks. Five of the criminals fell instantly. As the second rank reloaded, the front rank got up and moved forward as one, slicing through their adversaries. Through the commotion, the older man ran to the secret exit as his men bought him a few precious seconds. He opened the spot in the wall that was really a door and came face to face with the King of Outremer. After taking heavy losses and seeing they were surrounded, the rest of the criminals dropped their weapons. The King looked at the older man and said, "please have a seat. We are going to have a little chat."

The older man gave up. Gunther and Max appeared from behind the King and expertly frisked the older gentleman. After being frisked, he turned around and sat at the table. The King took a seat across from him with Max and Gunther standing behind him. The knights gathered their prisoners and marched them out leaving the four men alone to talk.

"Whats your name?", asked the King. He was met with silence. "Are you a religious man?", the King asked as he took out the box from his cloak.

Finally the older man spoke. "Save your piety for someone who gives a damn Jan. You have my attention. What do you want?"

Jan looked at the man sizing him up. "Well, the Lord cares about you regardless of how you feel. But, your right, lets get to the point. I want information on your group's involvement with the murder of King Salier. You might not care about what God thinks. And you might be gambling that I won't kill you since you undoubtedly know my reputation. But, I imagine that you don't want to spend your remaining years in a cell. If you tell me what you know, and leave Outremer for good, you will walk out of here. If you don't, I will see that you rot in prison for the rest of your life for your crimes. Don't test me on this. Salier was like a father to me."

The older man sat and thought for a moment. "Very well, it seems you have me in a tight spot my King. We're a cell. There are many of us and we're set up to be independent of the other cells. We deal in criminal rackets and what-not. We were tapped to provide support in Antioch for whatever the higher-ups have planned. Having you followed was one example. We also followed Salier. We helped trail him and set up logistical support for a couple of attempts on his life. But, both attacks on him occurred outside of Antioch so we had nothing to do with it beyond what information we gathered here. In the meantime, we busy ourselves with the usual criminal enterprises."

The King sat back as he took everything in. "So, if your all cells, who is coordinating all of this?"

The older man shrugged. "I don't know. Thats why they use cells. The Holy Roman Empire has many enemies. Take your pick. Sure, I know some rumors here and there but I don't really know what is going on."

Jan replied, "Like what rumors? Surely you report your information to someone."

"We use dead-drops. I don't know who acts on our information. I've only heard a name. Supposedly he is one of the people coordinating things in Outremer but I don't think he is in charge. He used to be on Kaiser Henry's staff and they had a falling out," said the older man calmly.

The King stared right at the older man and said with a deadly seriousness, "give me the name."

The older man replied, "Dusan."

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Dusan used with Econ's permission.