IC Tavern Thread

Watching the departure of Jan and his companions Arnold says to know one in particular.

"Looks like another crisis in Gods own Country."

"Right then, I'm off to bed...Grom your paying for everything tonight after that effort of yours earlier."

Standing the Duke moves towards the stairs. Spying Larisa behind the bar the Duke smiles and blows her a good night kiss.

From across the room Grom elbows Bane at the sight.

"Did you see that Bane!!??"

"The kiss?" replied Bane.

"No, the smile! That's the first time I've ever seen him smile!!"

The priest can't help but smile at the banter between the Duke's two companions.

Larisa blushes and smiles, then blows a kiss back and calls after him

"Do you dance, Duke Arnold? Come back and we will have the musicians here!"

Larisa bustles about cleaning up after all her customers have left.

"Horst, how do we get more customers in here? I'm trying my best, but they wander by on the street and don't come in!"

An inarticulate grunt comes from the back room. She pauses while wiping up a particularly sticky corner.

"What if we put a sign out front, advertising authentic kraut?"

She sticks her lip out, resumes the mopping half-hearted.

"Authentic wenches?"

A more interested grunt issues from the kitchen. She laughs loud, her black braids falling down from their clips. She shakes her head.

"No, not in Rome I guess."

She resumes her cleaning, now chewing on her lower lip. When the cleaning is done, she bids farewell to Horst, looks the place over once more, and walks out the door.

Péter walks in after his battle with the Russians. He hasn't been in Rome for a while, and wants to unwind before the Prussian Army departs for Vilnius. He doesn't like waiting, and waiting is what he must do while the Second Franconian Household Army, or the Saxon Army, is training. He sees a dark-haired girl leave, looking a bit distressed.

"Now there's something you don't see everyday. Horst - a pint."

Making his way to his corner suite Arnold mused to himself.

Dance, I haven't danced in months. The last time I was dancing was at one of Prinz Elberhard's huge ballroom extravaganzas. The Prinz could certainly party that was for sure.

Dancing with Larisa would certainly stir up enough gossip to fuel month’s worth of discussion.

He was pretty sure his advisor the ex Count of Venice would disapprove entirely. Ever since the Chancellors attempts at a State wedding had failed he had been spending months trying to find him a suitable bride from the Merchant class.

As he kept telling the former Count, he didn’t need money…god had granted him Austria and it was a ducal seat drowning in money. Budapest, Venice and Vienna were massive cities earning substantial sums for the Chancellor and Kaiser. No one could ever say Austria didn’t contribute to the royal coffers.

Still, time was against him. Now in his early thirties it was becoming an ongoing embarrassment that he had yet to sire an heir. If he didn’t marry soon the Captains and governors of his House would push even harder for him to clearly nominate an heir from the other Austrian Noble families.

Every move he made, every woman he spoke to was seen as some sign or other about his potential interests or intentions.

If a state wedding was not required and money was never going to be an issue then in reality he could tell them all to go to hell and see anyone or marry anyone he chose.

With that thought, he resolved to not only have musicians invited to the Tavern but host a huge event there as soon as possible. He would invite everyone. Horst will have the event of the year and he would pay for everything…and what’s more, Larisa would be a guest rather than a maid.

Larisa arises after a day of peaceful relaxation, and finds a note under her door. She furrows her brows at it, then reads slowly, sounding out words.

"A ball... at the Tavern!"

She stops in stunned silence for a moment, then begins scurrying first one way, and then another, all the while muttering to herself about everything she must do. Finally she stops in the middle of her bedroom, falls backwards onto her mattress, and lies there with her eyes open but seeing nothing at all around her.

"Arnold..."

She crosses to the small window, pulls the rags up which cover it, and shouts across the street.

"Horst! The Duke has solved our problem! Hire the Holzmeiers for cooks. No, hire their cousins. Oh, hire all of them! And we need those plates cleaned! And..."

Larisa prances around the room merrily, leading herself in a twirling dance, then runs to the washbasin and readies herself for the day.

"It's a long journey, Horst, even in a carriage! I can't expect to be back here every weekend!"

Larisa was wiping up after some very rowdy customers had spilled bean stew all over the wall. From the kitchen came a barely audible grumble.

"No Horst, I'm not going to find a replacement for me. That's your job. And besides, how am I going to find a replacement when every woman who sees me turns the other way? The people here aren't like at home."

Horst appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, his belly bobbing up and down as he walked. His grubby beard and thick brows were still for a moment, then he let out a deep breath.

"God speed you then, girl. And don't get caught!"

*Fritz von Kastilien walks through the door. Well, in truth he slides through the doorway, hits his head on one side of it, and stumbles over to the counter*

Morgning Horr... Horp... Horst. I wongher if you could do me a favour. Could you give me jus' two... two more bottles of Agua Vita. Just little teeny ones.

*Fritz holds his fingers up close to his face and tries pressing them together, but they won't come together*

Look at that, Horsht, my fingerzh are numb.

*Horst brings the two bottles, collects the money, and then Fritz slaps him on the back*

You're a good man, a good man. And how about that Siegfried, eh? How about him, eh?

*Fritz breaks into a slightly maniacal laugh and slaps Horst on the back*

He is a good man too! A good man...

*Fritz wanders towards the door, mumbling over and over "a good man". By the time he goes out he is weeping openly*

*Horst wipes up some drool on the countertop, watches Fritz go, and shakes his head*

Having disembarked ship only hours ago, Hans enters the rather abandoned tavern.
He surveys the room, not noticing the presence of any elector and walks up to the barkeep. Hans can then be seen exchanging a few muffled words and showing some parchment to the barkeep, who nods and goes on some lengthy explanation.
Hans looks somewhat contrite but hands the barkeep some coin before seating himself in his usual corner, forcefully gripping the parchment.

Dietrich von Dassel:

*banging his mug on his table, calling for attention*

Gentlemen!

It is clear to me that the Diet has no longer become a place of free speech. Opinions are now filtered by the Kaiser before they are allowed to be voiced for all to hear. Therefore, this is the only place left to properly debate! Come one, come all, and let us have a proper, unfiltered discussion of the issues!

The first round of drinks are on me, Electors!!!

Hear hear, Dietrich! We have much to discuss. It seems the Greek has more influence in this Diet than I thought, the little @#$%^. She'll get an apology from me once I'm long dead and so are all of her ilk. I came into politics believing the Byzantines would be useful allies for protecting the Meditteranean, but they have outlived their usefulness and it is time for all of them to die. The men, women, and children.

Dietrich von Dassel:

While I do not deny that Theodora is merely a tool of her father, poisoning your brother, and generally making a mockery of the Diet, I do not advocate a policy of war with the Byzantines. They would extend our front far too much.

Let us finish up with the old foes first, eh? Last I checked, Poland and Hungary still needed a good swift kick in the rear. Several of them, actually! You would deny them of what is coming to them? Peter, we need more men like you ready to plant your foot up their ends!

Ah, the Poles are downsh and deadsh. Fritzsh will take good care a' 'em. I'm shick of my brother being Emperor and tellingsh me what to do, ya knowsh? It's all cuzsh of that @#$%^, Tsheodorash. Larsh, Ulrichsh? Take me awaysh.

Peter's shieldbearer and lancebearer carry him out of the Tavern. Peter doesn't drink often, so it gets to him quickly.

Friedrich, having just exited the Diet, with the scribes' notes of what happened, enters the Tavern. He sits -scrolls in a hand, beer in another- in a dark corner, sombre but light enough to read properly. Time passes while he reads the minutes, and eventually someone from the Diet enters. Friedrich addresses him:

"As the Diet indeed is a difficult place to openly voice one's opinion, I shall do it here: if the Kaiser wants re-unification, then why do we not conquer Byzantium, purely and simply? In addition to the fact that we would be re-unified, we'd be joining Outremer to the Reich "Proper" and we'd be doing a great show of force, telling the Byzantines that we are not to be trifled with.

Might someone help me with this?"

OOC: the "someone" from the first paragraph depends on who actually answers first. I'll add it in later.

Our forces might be spread quite thinly then, don't you think? Our center holdings would then be threatened in addition from Hungary in the north and Venetians and Egyptians from the south while we still battle our enemies at the old fronts.
Besides, which house would reign over that many regions?

Walking into the Tavern the Duke proceeds to kick a chair clean across the room. The immediate response is complete silence and a room full of people frozen half way through whatever they were doing.

BARMAN!!! Drinks on me ALL night!!

Another moments passes as the room absorbs what has just been said. A split second later there’s a mad rush to the bar as all hell breaks loose!!

Lars and Ulrich peer their heads into the bar gingerly and walk in. They sit down nervously, for a couple minutes.

Jan walks into the bar, looks around for Larisa, and relaxes when he doesn't see her.

Gentlemen!

I good man died today! I wish to drink to his memory. The first round is on me!

Jan lifts a full mug up high.

To Kaiser Siegfried!

To Kaiser Siegfried!

Count Becker!

Good to see you again!

Jan takes a long pull from his mug

Friedrich pops in briefly, before his departure up north.

I already said it in the Diet, but here it's more meaningful, perhaps, especially with a drink.

To Kaiser Siegfried! He guided us rather well, all things considered. Although at the end...

But that is not what one speaks of!

To Kaiser Elberhard! May he guide us like his predecessor.

Friedrich drains a mug, and then leaves quickly.

Péter von Kastilien marches in, singing after leaving the Diet, with all the dignity of a Norse God.

Free drinks for everyone, all night! The spoils of war are plentiful!

He flashes the coins from Constantinople.

Countrymen, the Greeks are festering in their wealth! Come east to Wahrheitburg to relieve them of it! But first,

LET'S PARTY!

Péter downs his flagon in one chug, apparently a much better drinker since he left.

The Tavern is boarded up and dark. Inside, a family hides, cowering behind the bar. The sound of screams can be heard outside. The Byzantines are taking no prisoners - even the old are butchered, but they are fortunate compared to the horrors inflicted on the young.

Greek voices can be heard, close by:

“A tavern! There must be lots of booze in there! Break down the door, boys!”

The father of the family draws a sword, preparing to make a stand. His wife grabs his arm and he follows her eyes to look at their children.

“It would be kinder at your hand, my love.”

The father shakes his head, tears in his eyes - he cannot do it. With grim determination, his wife takes the sword…

A large tavern in Nuremburg:

"Well, it's official then - Duke Lothar has invited the Kaiser to call the Diet in this city and the Kaiser has accepted!"

"Praise be - all those high falutin' Lords will bring a fair few florins to this place."

"Aye, and after the recent chaos, I suspect one or two will have squirrelled away a fair amount of private wealth that is now burning a hole in their pockets!"

"Right, let's get this place sorted out then. The year is almost out and some Electors may set off for the Diet early."

"Yes, but I wonder what's happening down in Ragusa and outside Venice..."

"Oh, be quiet - likely this place will be full enough of talk about current affairs and politics when those Lords arrive. Let's get to work! And make sure there is a large sign "OPEN FOR BUSINESS" outside the door."

Andreas walks into the tavern. From his somewhat dusty appearance, it would seem he came here straight from his ride to Nuremburg. He walks up to the bar.

"Barkeep, one mug of ale, please".

Dieter enters the tavern after being freed from Magdeburg by Fritz. He sees Andreas.

Ah you must be the new crusader I've heard about! What was it, Jan...no, Gunther...no, ah! It's Andreas isn't it? Its damn rewarding down there I'll tell you, nice knowing that God is on your side. Alas I did not know Matthias well but have heard some stories and some say that he is not as chivalrous as the Kings of past but that is beyond my knowledge, I'm sure is a brave man, takes guts to stay there in defiance of an Empire. What do you think of the place then? Do check up on some of my old friends, Maximillian and Friedrich when you make it back to Aleppo, as I'm sure you will. Good luck as well lad!

The door to the bar is slammed aside and Fritz von Kastilien enters with three of the men from his retinue. Fritz does not look happy to be there.

"Go on then you halfwits, drink yourselves stupid on me but buy your own whores!"

A small purse changes hands and the three non-nobles pull up seats at the bar while enjoying a noisy debate on who has killed more Danes. Fritz, meanwhile, looks about grimly, gives a short nod to Dieter and Andreas, and takes a table on the dim side of the bar, near the door. When the girl comes by Fritz growls something at her before she can speak, and she hurries away without even a glance backwards, never to return to his table.

Leaning down Fritz withdraws a thick packet of documents from an overburdened leather case and proceeds to shuffle through them while squinting endlessly. Anyone straying too near his table receives a blank, questioning glare.

:egypt:

Andreas nods to Fritz before turning back to answer Dieter.

Yes, it is Andreas. I don't believe I have the pleasure of knowing your name? Matthias is a great man, I think he may just be more pragmatic than some (Andreas hasn't yet had his delusions shattered concerning how dreaful some of the famous figures in the Reich are :clown: ). I am sure that is what makes him the right man for Outremer at such a grim time as this. I have found Outremer to be fine, although I've seen most of it from a tent out in the field so far. If we can whittle down those enormous Byzantine armies, perhaps I can become acquainted with the amenities of Antioch. I will try to remember those names, sir.

Andreas takes a swig of his beer and starts to stare into it, looking worried.

Don't know my name! ha! I was a crusader like yourself, trying to make a name for myself, luckily I happened to be related to the King. I'm sure you will reconquer the lands there soon enough, those purple-lovers are no match for the crusaders. Please don't call me sir Andreas, I'm sure I will soon learn of heroic victories and conquest on your part. And don't look so worried! The diet is always a good laugh and the arguments are all meant in good will. Don't forget to have fun!...Oh I almost forget, the name's Dieter, Dieter Bresch. I'm a count from Franconia and the bane of all Danes.

Dieter slapped him on the back and walked over to Fritz's table, ignoring the cold glare. Dieter speaks in a much quieter and reserved tone of voice

Good evening Fritz, may I be of any assistance in those papers? I am in your debt for what happened at Magdeburg and will do what I can to make up for it.

Sweeping most of the papers back into the case Fritz waves one full of densely packed prose in an uneven hand around.

Dieter. 'Evening. Just trying to drudge through these status reports. Bloody merchants and scribes! If they ever learned to simply say 'Bought 500 barrels of gunpowder,' or 'Palermo was captured by Dieter von Kassel,' think what practical men might accomplish!

No, though, it cannot ever be thus. Instead it's a thousand words on the necessity of more gold and then a list of articles purchased.

Fritz brutally slams his fist on the tabletop, causing the girl to startle from dreamily gazing at Andreas.

Did you know a Franconian had taken Palermo on the Kaiser's orders? Young von Kassel's exploits in the Levant showed a very practical head, but what in the name of heaven is he going to do from Palermo? Was Elberhard trying to get him out of the way?

Rage and incomprehension twist briefly across Fritz's scarred visage before his blank, angry look returns.

Do you know Dieter, it's all here somewhere? All the sense of everything. The why of it. Often I think God placed us here just to seek that why. Only, then, what possessed him to put the vile scribes here to hide it so well?

Taking a deep breath Fritz pauses, but not long enough that you feel compelled to interrupt him.

No. I suspect you could not help, but I thank you for the offer. I am not a drinker, but Robert up there will see you under the table if you're not careful.

:egypt: