Pics & History of your Empire

[Martok]

Bravo, Innocentius; that was brilliant!!

[sigh] Thus ends another terrific narrative. I could go on using various superlative adjectives, so I will only say this: Veldig god!

(Yes, I know that's Norwegian and not Swedish. )

[bamff]

A fitting ending to a truly great series of write ups, Innocentius - truly superlative narrative!

Huzzah for King Joar! Huzzah for Emperor Inge! Long shall we miss further tales of their exploits.

My PC is up and running again, and, it appears with no data loss or other ongoing problems, so here is the latest instalment of my meandering English campaign - though I fear it will be a pallid and colourless tale in comparison to either King Kurt's Almo Adventures or the Tales of King Joar....

Apologies again - whilst it only covers 5 years, it has wound up being rather lengthy due to a combination of a whole bunch of battles and my own verbosity....

The Chronicles of Bamff’s English

Chapter 14 – The Ascendency of William IV (1380 - 1385)
All of Europe is at peace, save that is, for the occasional border skirmish between the peoples of Novgorod and the Finnish rebels in the far north. King Henry II of England surveyed the map that stretched out before him, somewhat absent-mindedly. A close observer would note that the king’s eyes did not focus on the map itself, but rather on his own hands that rested upon the parchment.
The King regarded both hands, noting how his skin was now pale and wrinkled, and how the flesh of his hands and arms sagged from his bones. “Time, you are an insidious foe,” the king mumbled to himself, turning his hand to regard its underside. A bony finger traced along a pink scar that stood out like a beacon on his forearm, a souvenir granted him by a Sardinian archer some years ago.
Without turning, or rising from his seat, he raised his voice so that his son William could hear him. “More foes I have vanquished than there are fingers on these old hands. I have even come through the challenge of video card failures unscathed, and yet, the slow and steady advance of time will ultimately defeat me. You are but young, my son, but one day you too, will face your own mortality.”
A raised hand silenced his son’s protests before the words could even form on his lips.
“My end is approaching, William. This is why I have recalled you from Serbia. Your place will soon be here, at Wessex, and you must prepare yourself. Soon you will be king.”
An uneasy silence followed these words before William spoke.
“Father, you have achieved many great things during your reign. To be regarded as only half the monarch that you have been will be a great compliment. You will long be remembered and revered by our people. Ever have they loved you.”
Henry stood, a little unsteady on his feet. He placed a wrinkled hand on his son’s shoulder. “And I them. Remember that and you will do well, my boy. As monarch you must protect and care for your people, for you are their servant as well as their master. Be fair and just in all of your dealings, but ever mindful that those you are dealing with may not be so.”
Henry drew a somewhat laboured breath “I will retire now, William. I will see you on the morrow.”
Sadly, he would not. King Henry II passed peacefully in his sleep that very night. The year was 1381. After a fitting period of mourning for their beloved King Henry, all of England rejoiced in the coronation of King William IV. None rejoiced more than England’s generals and nobility. Whilst Henry had been at pains to guide his nation into peace, young William had established a reputation of having a “killer instinct” during the Serbian campaign. Unlike his father, William was widely known to believe that the road to greatness was a road of blood and fire. England’s nobles knew that the opportunity for glory and for new lands and titles lay ahead.
They did not have long to wait. In early 1382, William made his first move.
Anxious to begin his reign in spectacular fashion, he petitioned Pope Antonio I, seeking leave to launch a crusade against Constantinople. It was a bold move indeed, as the city of Constantinople was both strongly fortified and heavily garrisoned. The pontiff duly granted his blessing on William’s holy mission, and Sir William Roos was given command of the venture. William had carefully planned his steps, and had instructed Roos to sail for Croatia, a province currently held by England’s enemy, Hungary.
King Kalman II was placed in a perfidious position indeed. Were he to refuse passage to the armies of his enemy, he risked excommunication. Were he to grant passage to England, he may appear to other nations to be weak. He would also run the risk of his garrison in that province being depleted as his men chose to follow the calling of the church to crusade against the followers of the false cross. After careful consideration, Kalman decided that discretion was the better part of valour, and he granted Sir William Roos leave to pass through Croatia. It was to prove the wrong move. As the crusade moved on to Serbia, it took with it a sizeable number of Hungarian troops – and left behind a significant English force under the redoubtable Sir Charles Peckham. Peckham wheeled his troops north-west to Zara Castle, the base long favoured by the Hungarians in Croatia. At the same time, a third English army marched south into Hungary itself.
The Hungarian troops in Hungary apparently had little regard for either their homeland or their manhood. All who were able fled south to Wallachia rather than give battle to the English.
The garrison in Croatia were made of sterner stuff, however, and they marched forth to meet Peckham’s army. The English and Hungarian forces numbered approximately 1,000 men each, with the Hungarians enjoying an ever so slight numerical superiority. As such, the defenders were confident. They had positioned themselves on a gentle hill, which sloped down to a small thicket, no doubt in hopes of concealing their positions from the English. What the Hungarians had achieved, however, was to create a situation whereby the English could close to the Hungarian line without coming under significant fire from archers.
Peckham directed Sir Edward Stafford to take his Turcopoles around the right hand side of the thicket. This they did, and they emerged behind the Hungarian left flank, which comprised one regiment of Bularian Brigands, one of Urban Militia, and one of Handgunners. As the Turcopoles’ arrows rained down on these 3 units from their rear, the Urban Milita withdrew. The Hungarian missile units turned to face their tormentors. At this point, a company of longbowmen and one of arbalesters advanced out of the thicket, and once again the Hungarian missile units found themselves taking fire from their rear.
The Hungarian general sent one unit of Szekely to the aid of his left flank, while another regiment of Urban Militia, and one of Armoured Spearmen marched forward to crush the English archers. The Longbowmen melted back into the cover of the thicket, and as the Hungarian troops moved too close to pull back, they found themselves facing row upon row of billmen and chivalric footknights. Leading the English charge was Sir Charles Scrope and his detachment of footknights, and these valiant Englishmen cut a swathe through their Hungarian counterparts. Adding to the Hungarian woes, they now found their right flank under attack from English Gallowglasses. As the Hungarians pushed forwards in a vain attempt to assist their comrades, Peckham now unleashed his knights, supported by Highland Clansmen, around both the left and right flanks. Peckham himself led the charge around the Hungarian right flank. The Hungarians were now completely surrounded. With their general captured, it is not long before they are more interested in fleeing than staying to face the English onslaught. Of an initial force of 1,156 men, only 482 survive to reach the gates of Zara Castle. 340 Hungarians lie dead on the field, 334 dazed and confused men are now prisoners of Peckham’s army.
Pope Antonio I is furious that William has used a Papal sanctioned crusade to mask his attack on a fellow Catholic nation, and a rider is despatched to Wessex to convey the Pope’s displeasure. Pope Antonio’s message instructs William to withdraw all English forces from Hungarian lands within 2 years and to refrain from any further aggression for 10 years.
William reponds to the Papal rebuke by sending his own messenger to assure the Pope that all English troops would be on English territory by the end of 1384.
As the emissary leaves, the king smiles to his assembled generals “Of course, Hungary is already an English province, and by this time next year, so too will Croatia!”
Sir Charles Peckham duly delivers Croatia, following a bloody assault on Zara Castle.
William’s attention has now turned northwards, to the rebel province of Finland. Sir Thomas Camoys, widely known to be a “skilled attacker” has been despatched to bring the rebels to heel and to secure the province for the realm. The Finnish army is impressively large, but poorly equipped and disciplined. Almost all of the Finnish troops are Urban Militia or Peasants. These troops have little hope against a modern army, but they are fighting for their homeland and their liberty.
Sadly for the Finns, raw courage counts for little in the face of cold steel and discipline. They are slaughtered by the hundred. As the Finnish army was entirely comprised of commoners, the heralds do not even bother to count the dead, but estimates of those present on the day put the toll somewhere between 600 and 700 dead. 56 Englishmen die for their king on those cold northern fields.
Meanwhile in the south, King Kalman II of Hungary is apoplectic with rage that the English have escaped Papal sanction through their swift action. He has gathered an army of some 2,890 men, and marches north to reclaim the Hungarian heartlands. Sir Nigel De Vere has but 2,101 men with which to meet this threat – but he is a very able general indeed. He had picked a gentle slope facing a large open plain to make his stand. De Vere had surveyed the terrain well, and was reasonably sure of the direction from which the Hungarians would come. He surveyed his line again, as the sounds of the approaching Hungarian force grew ever louder. He had set 3 regiments of pikemen as the centre of his line, with billmen on either flank. Behind the units of billmen were highland clansmen and royal knights on the left flank, and gallowglasses and royal knights on the right. To the rear of the pikes, and slightly further up the slope as a result, stood arbalesters and longbowmen. His gaze drifted again the the Scots and then to the Irishmen. An unruly bunch, to be sure, but magnificent fighting men. They would earn their keep today, he mused, as the blare of Hungarian horns grew louder still.
The Hungarians advanced across the plain. Truly they were a sight to behold, but the English line stood firm. King Kalman chose to inspire his troops by leading the charge himself, with two squadrons of royal knights flanking his own royal guard. On the Hungarian left was a regiment of armoured spearmen, on the right a regiment of feudal sergeants. Curiously all were driving straight at the centre of the English line.
Those knights that survived the hail of arbalest bolts and arrows that rained down upon them soon found themselves faced with the impossible task of fighting their way through the English pikes. Their task was made even more complicated as the flanking spearmen attempted to assist them, as together with the Jobbagy that followed, they simply served to restrict the knights movement.
De Vere’s battle plan could not have been followed more closely by Kalman had he written it himself! With the entire Hungarian force now pinned in the English centre, De Vere ordered his billmen, clansnsmen, and gallowglasses to close in from the sides, whilst the knights rode around to the Hungarian rear. The carnage that followed was dreadful to behold. Many Hungarians were most likely trampled underfoot by their own side. As the first Hungarian wave is crushed mercilessly, Kalman somehow extricates himself from the crush at the front of the Hungarian force, and he flees the field as would a whipped dog.
The second Hungarian assault fares no better than the first, nor does the third. As the dust of battle clears in the early evening, some 1,059 Hungarian corpses litter the field. 686 Hungarian prisoners gloomily await their fate. De Vere, by comparison, has lost but 273 men. Hungary remains under the dominion of England.
By 1385, the English crusaders had arrived in Constantinople. A second English force has marched on Bulgaria, and stands ready to meet the Byzantine defenders of that province.
The first 4 years of William IV’s reign had been amongst the bloodiest of England’s history – and it would appear that this ambitious young king was far from finished….

[Martok]

Another superb narrative, bamff! Here's to hoping the great Crusade to Constantinople goes well.

“I have even come through the challenge of video card failures unscathed, and yet, the slow and steady advance of time will ultimately defeat me.”

LOL! That was pure comedy gold.

[bamff]

Thanks Martok - i will confess that when the opportunity to throw in something silly comes up, I tend to jump aboard!

As for the crusade, I have followed my usual approach, inasmuch as I like to bide my time until I can hit a couple of provinces at once, in order to prevent the enemy from concentrating their forces. As a result, Bulgaria and Constantinople are the two that I am currently hitting. In Constantinople, the numbes are on my side, so I should be okay. In Bulgaria, the Byz have a fairly big garrison (5 or 6 pretty full stacks from memory). I have thrown a fair number of troops in as well, but my guys will still need to dig deep to make this one stick I think.....so fingers crossed!

[Kavhan Isbul]

Bamff, I think you should actually feel happy about the 5 or 6 Byzantine stacks in Bulgaria, as that will give you an opportunity for quite a battle. It is rare that you get a challenge in a game after the Horde has been dealt with.

[bamff]

Absolutely, Kavhan Isbul! I am hoping that it is indeed so, but the big worry is that in the latter stages of the game, a lot of big AI stacks seem to be full of rubbish (witness the Finnish rebels, with ridiculous numbers of UM's, 1 unit of archers, and a few peasants).

Interesting to note that in this campaign, the Horde are very much still there (possibly 3rd largest Empire after me and the Byz) - but they seem happy just to occupy a big chunk of the north east without going after any of their weaker neighbours (such as Novgorod, Poland, or Hungary). Perhaps they will get a touch more agressive when they share a border with me....

[Deus ret.]

Perhaps they will get a touch more agressive when they share a border with me....

Definitely! They're just waiting to border you. That's rather often the case with larger enemy factions: instead of swallowing their small neighbours they wait for you to come to them in order to have something to do with all their stacks

but the big worry is that in the latter stages of the game, a lot of big AI stacks seem to be full of rubbish

I might sound biased but ... try the MedMod. No more really crappy units, at least not in late, and subsequently enemy stacks are better balanced.

By the way, great write-up! almost forgot about the captivating story I just read...

[bamff]

Definitely! They're just waiting to border you. That's rather often the case with larger enemy factions: instead of swallowing their small neighbours they wait for you to come to them in order to have something to do with all their stacks

With William on the warpath, it looks only a matter of time before this showdown eventuates....

I might sound biased but ... try the MedMod. No more really crappy units, at least not in late, and subsequently enemy stacks are better balanced.

Gah! So many mod choices! I suppose I had only picked XL because it had so many positive mentions in so many threads. I will now also track down what info I can on MedMod!

By the way, great write-up! almost forgot about the captivating story I just read...

Thank you, my good sir...I will endeavour to keep it reasonably entertaining as I push on to 1453!

[Deus ret.]

I will endeavour to keep it reasonably entertaining as I push on to 1453!

Looking forward to it!

[Innocentius]

Great stuff as always. bamff! Keep it coming

I agree with Kavhan Isbul that the battle of Bulgaria will be epic, though unfortunately the Byz tend to spam their Slav warriors and Treb-archers into Bulgaria so it will (probably) be more of a slaughter than battle.

[bamff]

The Chronicles of Bamff’s English

Chapter 15 – The Reign of “Bloody Bill” continues (1385 - 1395)
The year is 1386. Under the direction of King William IV, the new monarch of England, the Byzantine provinces of Constantinople and Bulgaria have found themselves under attack. The Byzantine commanders appear to be somewhat in awe of the fearsome reputation of the young English king, as the defenders melt away before the crusading army in Constantinople. Some flee to Nicea, others north to Trebizond.
In Bulgaria, it proves much the same, notwithstanding the fact that the Byzantine forces actually outnumber the English invaders by almost 1,200 men. A careful analysis of Byzantine records of the time reveals that English agents at work in the province had played no small part in this amazing victory. They had succeeded in convincing their Byzantine counterparts that the English numbers were considerably greater. Had the Byzantine generals been aware of the true size of the English army, and that many of its number were grievously ill with dysentery, malaria, and other ailments, they would undoubtedly have stood their ground rather than fleeing back within the gates of Turnovo Castle.
Disturbing news reaches Wessex in late 1386. Sir Thomas Camoys, the hero of the short war in Finland has fallen in to a despondent mood. The combination of the bitter cold of the north, the relative isolation of the province of Finland, and the absence of any military action to occupy his energies has seen him turn to the bottle for solace.
The disasters of 1386 have an immediate impact on the Byzantine empire, with a series of rebellions breaking out in 1387. Romanus Lascaris has convinced the Cypriots to rise, and his cousin Nicephorus leads the rebel forces in Anatolia. Nicephorus Basilacius and George Monomchus lead the rising in Moldavia, and Theodore Angelus in Georgia.
Ever the opportunist, King William orders Lord Mortimer to take a force to seize the warring island of Cyprus. The resulting triangular contest proves a confused and bloody battle indeed. 191 Cypriots, 243 Byzantines, and 128 Englishmen lie dead as the sun sets on Cyprus that terrible day. Of the Byzantine forces, but 7 Byzantine Cavalrymen survive this dreadful battle (the Byzantines having felt the combined force of the rebels and English before Mortimer turned his attention to what remained of the rebel army).
All of the other rebellions are crushed by their Byzantine overlords, although each of these revolts have served to drain and deplete the Byzantine military machine. Indeed, so far have the Byzantine resources been stretched, that the peoples of Lithuania and Smolensk both claim their independence, and assert their new found rights by slaughtering the local Byzantine governors of their respective lands. Freedom proves short lived in Smolensk, however – by 1389 it is once again under the Byzantine heel.
With the Byzantine Empire in such a precarious state, William moves to seize Armenia and Nicea. Both provinces fall to the English after a series of costly engagements.
The English force that had invaded Nicea had commenced its campaign with almost 1,100 men. The battles of 1389 had been compounded by tropical disease, and these factors had seen the army’s numbers drop to 698 men by the summer of 1390. This was too few men to ably defend the province as over 2,500 Byzantine troops swept west from Lesser Armenia to reclaim Nicea for Byzantium.
The dreadful summer of 1390 brings further gloom for England. News arrives from the north that Sir Thomas Camoys depression and despondency has deepened further still. He is now reputed to be “often drunk”. William sends word to Finland, ordering Camoys to make his way to Constantinople to explain himself.
William himself leads the English army south from Constantinople in 1392, destroying the Byzantine army in a ferocious battle in Trebizond. Casualties on both sides are again frighteningly high, and William now finds himself known by the sinister sobriquet of “Bloody Bill” amongst the English soldiery. At the same time, Sir Charles Langton leads a second English army into Nicea, retarning the province to the English crown.
Intelligence from the East indicates that the Egyptian Sultan continues to be content to sit quietly in Rum. “Rather like our friend, Camoys!” laughs King William, with the sycophantic laughter of the court serving to further embarrass the English General, newly arrived in Trebizond. William is indeed a man ahead of his time, as news of the beverage known as Rum was not to reach Europe for some years yet….
As it transpires, the English intelligence is wildly incorrect. In 1393, the Egyptians reveal that they has been steadily rebuilding their armies as they launch an invasion of Edessa. The English forces are completely unprepared for this attack, and are swept aside. William does not dally in responding. In 1394, Sir Charles Langton leads a small army into the undefended province of Lesser Armenia. King William and Sir Thomas Camoys lead the English invasion of Rum, with the unfortunate Camoys forced to endure a further jibe from his King “Who better to lead us into Rum?”
Even as these English armies moved into position, a third English force under the redoubtable Sir John Despenser moves to retake Edessa. Despenser succeeds in his aim, the English force suffering 351 deaths in doing so. The Egyptian army loses 895 men, with 340 surrendering to the English. In Rum, the Egyptians fight magnificently, but prove to be no match for the better equipped, numerically superior English. Among the many Egyptians to die on the field that day is the Sultan himself. With no heir, the sultanate of Egypt is no more. The rich lands of the East now belong to England….but William’s thirst for conquest is far from slaked….

Author's notes
So as it transpires, the Battle for Bulgaria was a real fizzer...

I was intrigued that poor old Thomas Camoys two vices seemed to follow on quite logically...I hope the poor guy can reclaim some honour for the family...

Just curious - having taken Finland (and having destroyed the port in the process), those troops were stuck there, which is why I guess Thomas copped his vices. Was there a better way I could have managed that (other than building the port quicker)?

As for the campaign as a whole, I believe that enough time may now have passed for William to turn his attentions back to the HRE and Hungary. This may well bring England into contact with the Horde, who offer the only possible threat to English interests - Poland and Novgorod are way too weak, Sicily is trapped on Malta, the Byz are struggling to keep it together....Italy have some sizeable forces in Naples, and my suddenly look south to Sicily - but my forces there are veterans just brimming with valour.

Will see how it goes, but I am already thinking that it may be time to end this campaign and move on to another challenge (though I must admit I am loathe to do that - I hate not finishing stuff!)

[Martok]

Another superb narrative, bamff! Truly, you are a master storyteller.

As for the unfortunate Sir Thomas Camoys, I don't think there was anything you could have done. About your only option would have been to command him to lead an expedition eastward (since governors & generals are more likely to pick up vices when they're just sitting around), but that would have been unwise, given the Golden Horde's conquest and occupation of the steppe provinces. For better or worse, getting drunk was probably the smarter thing for him to do in this case.

[Galagros]

Okay, so this is the first time I've touched MTW in almost a year (though I've posted in here before around page 18-21) so I am very rusty. I was never great with battles to begin with, but I was getting much better. I'm not using any cheats, but I did view the entire map on round one just so I could get a picture for you guys.

I've never had much success with the Polish (in any version of the game), but I've always thought their position was interesting. I decided to give it a go and figured the campaign probably wasn't going to last too long.

Mod: BKB
Faction: Polish
Era: Early
Difficulty: Hard






1087: Poland was a small, poor nation full of hard-working men and women, fearful for their lives. To the west the vast German lands were full of able-bodied soldiers, just waiting for the order to invade; to the south were the Hungarians, who were always ready to invade at any show of weakness; and to the east were the Cumans, who's raids were growing fiercer and appearing further inland every month. King Wladyslaw I was accounted a mighty warrior by many, but he could not defend his lands alone and his army was a pitiful thing made up almost entirely of Slavic tribesmen and peasant levies. He needed coin and allies, but most importantly time, to train and arm his peasants.

Well, coin would be impossible and he could hope for time, but he could actively search out allies. Leszek Zuraw, his royal emissary, would travel south to feel out the opinions of the Hungarians, whose king was the most pious man Wladyslaw had ever heard of. And the king's daughter, whose name was unimportant, would be sent west to be offered in marriage to any German prince that would take her. Oh yes, Wladyslaw could at least find allies....

1089: Before any word of success or failure could reach him, King Wladyslaw took a risk that could easily make or break his fledgling kingdom; he attacked when all sense said to defend. Wladyslaw assembled a small force at struck north, into Pomernia. True, Pomernia was full of pagan tribesmen, but Poland had known it's share of those and besides, the land was full of important resources and trade goods that the king hoped he would have time to exploit.

The attack was considered a moderate success. The enemy smartly retreated from Pomernia before the king had a chance to bloody them; thus the province was taken, but more men had to be brought in to garrison it against a possible counter-attack. It would be a long time before the territory was anything resembling a Polish province.

1091: Wladyslaw had gained his allies; not all of the ones he had sought, but allies were allies. The Hungarians had agreed that the Cumans must meet a unified front when they tried to raid, the Novgorodians had agreed to build an army that would force the Cumans to watch their back, the Byzantines were friendly, and even the English had established diplomatic ties. Some things were definitely started to look better.

1093: Peace somehow still reigned in Poland. Small Cuman raids were still commonplace, but they had not yet brought an army, yet the king still prayed everyday for that to never happen. Wladyslaw next moved his forces into Prussia, accompanied by his eldest son, also named Wladyslaw. Together they hoped to finish off a large contingent of hostile tribesmen that had banded together. Yet when they arrived the tribesmen simply laid down their arms and surrendered. Odd, that, perhaps it was fate; near 1,200 of them were executed that day without the loss of one Polishman.

1096: The German Prince Rudolf leads an uprising in Bohemia and Brandenburg! It seems that the western border is no longer in much danger and King Wladyslaw I sees this as his chance to strike out at the Cumans in Volhynia.



The battle was everything but what Wladyslaw had expected. A Cuman Prince had returned to the province with a sizable escort shortly before the battle began and from there things continued to go down hill. Prince Wladyslaw's horse stepped in a rabbit hole and he broke a leg that later festered and killed him. It was raining, but not hard enough to slow down the Cuman archers, and when the Cuman horsemen charged the King's personal bodyguard just after they had been pelted with arrows, many lost their nerve and were quickly cut down. In the end, King Wladyslaw fled the field of battle ... after that his men never quite looked at him with as much respect as they had before.



1099: Prince Casimir seeks revenge... He leads a large force into Volhynia to punish the Cuman Prince that so easily defeated his father three years earlier.





1100: Prince Casimir carries out the siege of Volhynia skillfully and the castle is captured before summer.
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That's all that I played today; not a lot of time for gaming. I got bored while at work on Thursday and started reading posts in this thread again so I couldn't stop myself from playing for a while.

[bamff]

Well done Galagros! A very enjoyable read. Great to see a new writer in the thread, and (if I am not mistaken) I don't believe anyone else has done a Polish write up thus far. Keep it coming! I look forward to reading of Wladyslaw & Casimir's next move.

[bamff]

Now, the latest update from "the campaign that would not die"....

The Chronicles of Bamff’s English

Chapter 16 – The March of “The Warrior King”, William IV (1395 – 1405)
Under William’s orders, Sir Charles Peckham marched north into the province of Georgia in 1396. The Byzantine forces there have no hope of either reinforcement or retreat. To the north, Khazar is held by the Golden Horde. The waters off the Georgian coast similarly offer no safe passage. They are constantly patrolled by vessels of the English and the Golden Horde. As such, the Byzantine garrison commander, Manuel Stratiocus, is faced with but two choices – fight or surrender.
This choice is by no means an easy one for Stratiocus. A proud man, a loyal subject of the Byzantine Empire, and with a well documented hatred of the invading English, his first instinct is to reach for his sword. This instinct is somewhat tempered by his knowledge of a significant deficiency in his armoury. Stratiocus has not a single archer in his garrison. All had travelled west in 1392 to take part in the disastrous battle for Trebizond. Not a one had returned. True, his garrison was still strong in number, but to take the field with no missile troops other than naptha throwers….Stratiocus loved his troops as a father does his sons. They had lived and fought together over many years. To be responsible for their needless deaths was a thought too horrible for him to dwell upon, and yet a decision had to be made.
“Our lives or our honour….” He mused aloud. Absent-mindedly his fingers turned the family ring long ago given him by his father, and his mind drifted to his wife and sons in Muscovy, far to the north. His decision was made. Stratiocus summoned his captains. “If we are to die this day, we do so as heroes of Byzantium!”
Stratiocus chose a field not far from the gates of T’bilisi Castle to make his stand. The field itself included small patches of forest, which the Byzantine general had reasoned would afford his men some cover from the English archers.
Sir Charles Peckham surveyed the scene from the opposite side of the gently sloping valley. He also felt that the woods could be turned to his advantage, and he directed his Turcopoles and Footknights to advance on either flank, using the trees to screen their movements. The main English force advanced across the open centre of the field. Peckham ordered a halt when his arbalesters were within range of the Byzantine force. The two armies faced each other for a moment, and then the first hail of arbalest bolts tore through the Byzantine ranks. As the second volley cut almost an entire troop of lancers from their saddles, the English footknights, having made their way behind the Byzantines, and through the trees, now smashed into the enemy’s rear.
Stratioucus’ men turned in an attempt to meet this unexpected threat, and Peckham unleashed his Fyrdmen and Royal Knights. Stratiocus and a small band of his lancers managed to fight their way clear of the carnage that followed, and rode hard for the gates of T’bilisi. Some Urban Militia and Peasants tried also to flee, but the English Turcopoles had been positioned to wait for such routing troops, and made short work of these hapless souls. Indeed, not all of Stratiocus’ lancers survived to reach the safety of their stronghold. The day had been won by the English, and in devastating fashion.
Meanwhile, in central Europe, Princess Ryska of Poland is despatched to seek an alliance with Italy. Word of her clandestine mission is relayed by English spies, and the sinister William Fitzneale is soon following ever closer in the footsteps of the princess’ retinue.
Fitzneale finally catches up with his quarry at a lonely inn in Western Bohemia in 1397. As he rides away into the night, the piteous screams of Ryska’s ladies in waiting signal the grim success of his mission.
1397 proves to be a busy year for England’s generals. In Georgia, with his army still encamped around T’bilisi Castle making preparations for the coming siege, Sir Charles Peckham is alerted by his scouts of the approach of an army from the province of Khazar. It proves to be little more than a raiding party, and it withdraws without further incident.
The Italians are not so easily dissuaded, however. Doge Giovanni IV is of the opinion that Sicily, like Naples, should be part of the reborn Italian empire. He leads an army of 3,673 men south, intending to seize the English province. Lord de Beauchamp, commander of the English forces in Sicily, is heavily outnumbered, with only some 1,425 men and boys at his disposal. He holds two important advantages, however. The central core of his army are seasoned veterans with many years campaigning under their belts. The second “ace” in de Beauchamp’s hand is the hilly terrain of Sicily. He positions his men accordingly.
Giovanni’s army climbs steadily to meet the defenders. On the right English flank, two regiments of arbalesters and one of longbowmen concentrate their fire on the leading Italian unit, a squadron of royal knights. A dozen are unseated by the first devastating volley; but three remain after the second – and they are now riding quickly back down the hillside. A regiment of chivalric men at arms now threatens the English bowmen, but as they draw closer to the English line, a unit of Highland clansmen sweep over the hill and smash into their exposed flank, as the swiss halberdiers slice into their other flank. The Italians rout.
Meanwhile, the arbalesters and longbowmen have continued to exact a terrible toll of the Italians struggling up the slope. Giovanni raises his sword to encourage his men, and is unhorsed as an arbalest bolt smashes its way through his exposed armpit. Chain mail alone is no defence at such close range. The Italian forces waver with the falling of Giovanni. Prince Jacopo, next in line to the Italian throne, sends his man to “tend” to the fallen Doge. He duly returns, bearing the sad news that the Doge has perished of wounds suffered by an arbalest bolt and a dagger.
Whilst Jacopo’s face remains grim, there is an undoubted smile in eyes as he places a hand on his attendant’s shoulder. He orders his men to withdraw. “I now hold the Neapolitan crown,” reasons the prince, in somewhat Macchiavellian fashion “I have no need to waste further men seeking Sicily at this time.”
As the Italians withdraw, they leave behind some 450 of their countrymen on the battlefield outside Siracusa, and a further 86 who are now held prisoner by the English. A paltry 17 Englishmen have perished in the battle, and one of those was a billman who carelessly wandered in front of Perkin Percy’s arbalesters just as they loosed their bolts.
The battle proves useful to both the English, and Italian commanders. The vanquished Prince Jacopo returns to Naples, where he is crowned Doge Jacopo II. The victor, Lord de Beauchamp is now widely known as a field defence specialist.
The following year, the Golden Horde shows the world that the raiding party sent into Georgia the preceding year was not there by accident. Their vessels in the Black sea launch a series of attacks on English shipping. It is a misguided move to have underestimated the English navy. The result is that by 1399, the Horde have no ships left afloat.
In the summer of 1401, Sir Robert Mobray’s crusaders arrive in their target province of Moldavia. He is reinforced by Sir Henry Uhtred, who has marched north from Bulgaria with an impressive army of some 1,520 men. At the same time, Lord Giffard, Duke of Greece, leads his army north to Kiev, Sir Charles Peckham sails from Georgia to the Crimea, and King William IV and Lord Longchamp lead the English forces as they strike north into Khazar.
The Horde do not give battle in either Khazar or the Crimea, withdrawing to their fortresses in both provinces.
Lord Giffard meets stern resistance in Kiev. After a tumultuous struggle, the Horde are defeated, but a heavy price has been paid by both sides in this battle. 687 Mongols and 259 Englishmen lie dead on the field. 242 of the Golden Horde’s finest have fallen into English hands. This, however, pales into insignificance next to the carnage of Moldavia. With no hope of retreat, and led by their Emperor, the Byzantines fight ferociously. 1,902 Byzantines and 423 Englishmen are slain before the Byzantine survivors relinquish the field and retreat to Cetatea Castle. 176 Byzantine prisoners gloomily await their fate as the English set up their camps around the enemy stronghold.
Meanwhile in the west, the final flickering light of the HRE is finally snuffed out with the invasion of Austria and the death of Emperor Otto IV. Another faction becomes no more than a memory.
Come 1403, the Golden Horde make a concerted effort to regain their lost territories. Ordhun leads the assault on Khazar. 170 of his men pay the ultimate price for an incautious advance before the Horde are forced from the field. At the same time as Ordhun was suffering this defeat, Aradai leads a large army, estimated to be some 4,000 strong, into Kiev. Grossly outnumbered, the English set their defensive line on a riverbank, with a single bridge crossing. Sir Thomas Peckham’s chivalric footknights and Edward Longchamp’s billmen were assigned the task of holding the bridge. Fanned out to either side were 4 regiments of arbalesters. Wave after wave of Aradai’s men charged the bridge, only to be beaten back each time by the combination of murderous arbalest fire and the staunch resistance of the knights and billmen standing firm at the bridge. The most significant source of English casualties comes from the bows of mongol warriors. These troops line the opposite bank, firing across the river until encouraged to move on by the arbalesters.
Eventually, casualties and fatigue force Peckham and Longchamp to withdraw their men, and their places are taken by more footknights and billmen. As night draws in, and their casualties mount, the Horde withdraw. 1,157 of their number lie dead at the bridge. On the other side of the river, 41 Englishmen have fallen defending the bridge. It is a remarkable victory by any measure.
More troops are sent to Khazar in the latter part of 1403 to bolster the garrison, which has been sorely depleted by two years of warfare.
In 1404, Lord Angelus leads a Byzantine army south into Khazar. His force is twice the number of Lord Longchamp’s English army. The numbers conceal something of a lie in comparing the two forces, however. Whilst Angelus’ force is in total greater than his English opponent, much of the number is comprised of poorly equipped, inferior troops.
Sadly for the Byzantine general, the battle opens with his committing a grievous tactical error. Angelus orders his troops to halt short of the English line, prior to ordering his opening charge. Whilst his men would have been safely out of the range of the common archer, they are well within the reach of the English longbows and arbalesters, who set about reducing the Byzantine forces with ruthless efficiency.
Angelus unleashes his Kataphraktoi. They are met by a solid wall of chivalric sergeants, and then the English billmen and the footknights of Sir Thomas Camoys close in from both flanks. Even as they do so, English knights and Gallowglasses burst from the forests on either flank of the attacking Byzantine army. The combination of the rain of missiles from their front, and these sudden surprise attacks from their rear spark a chaotic, panicked retreat from the Byzantine army.
Camoys and his men are conspicuous for their valour on this glorious day, with this small unit accounting for a significant number of the enemys total casualties of 593 dead, 356 captured. The errant knight has redeemed his family honour in spectacular fashion. Lord Longchamp’s skilled leadership has delivered victory for the paltry price of only 98 English dead, and he is now recognised as a skilled defender.

So, as we leave the chronicle in the year 1405, the map of Europe stands thus:



Author's Note

Silly I know, but I was so pleased that Sir Thomas Camoys performed so well in Khazar. I suppose I was feeling sorry for him - he had done nothing other than what he had been asked to do, and copped a couple of vice slaps for his trouble.

I am thinking that at this point, William will push on to Volyhnia (note the crusade currently in Moldavia), then perhaps turn his attentions to Italy and Hungary (just to alleviate the garrison requirements in surrounding provinces). That will leave the Byz, the Horde, the rebels in Latvia, the People of Novgorod, and last but not least, our one staunch ally - the Papacy. After cleaning up the Italians in Naples and the Hungarians, I thought taking out the north east corner would make sense before folding back towards Scandinavia.

My aim is to wrap it all up as quickly as possible - both to keep "in character" as the aggressive William, and because it is becoming more than a little tedious at this point (I have massive numerical, technological, financial, and territorial superiority over every other faction, and am miles ahead in terms of GA points - in other words, i'm struggling to find entertainment without a challenge).

[Martok]

@Galagros: Very nice! For someone who's supposedly rusty at MTW, I'd say you're doing quite well thus far. Can't wait to hear more.

@bamff: Another superb narrative, man (as always!). I especially enjoyed the beginning part where Manuel Stratiocus is wrestling with the decision of whether or not to fight. Nice color commentaries on the battles of Sicily and Kiev as well.

So do you think you'll conquer everything, or will you leave the Pope be?

[King Kurt]

As some of you may be aware, I have started a hard, High Teutonic Order campaign in XL. As in my chronicles of my Alomhad campaign, I have decided to write it up in a narrative style. I will post a more technical account in the thread I started on Teutonic Order in XL. So, sit back and enjoy.

ICE COLD CLARITY

Flurries of spindrift snow swirled along the battlements of Viljandi castle as the last weak rays of the early spring sun turned the western sky light crimson. Atop of one of the higher towers, a solitary figure stood silhouetted against the setting sun. Grandmaster Volquin pulled his white cloak tighter around him in a vain attempt to keep out the cold east wind – How on earth had he and his brethren ended up in such a godforsaken place he mused to himself. Not so many years ago the Teutonic Order basked in the warm sun of the Holy land and the glory of the Crusades. Now after several false dawns, the Order found itself in Northern Europe, bringing God’s word to the heathens of Livonia. A vision of the pompous Bishop of Riga flashed through Volquin’s mind. He laughed out loud, his long blond hair shaking in the fit of sudden mirth. His gloom temporarily lifted, he turned his attention to the matter in hand – what to do about the Order’s current predicament. Militarily, his small army was well equipped and efficient. But that was needed – everywhere he looked he saw potential enemies – to the north the wild land of Estonia whose inhabitants could conquer the world if they stopped fighting themselves, to the east lay the Kingdoms of Novogorod and Russia whose ambitious Princes cast a greedy eye over the rich lands of Livonia. Finally, to the south lay the Lithuanians – pagans keen to fight the world. Only the west seemed safe with the cold waters of the Baltic their castle wall. He knew he must strike in one direction – to wait would mean a slow death – but which?
Volquin’s thoughts were broken by the arrival of messenger. Initially, it seemed the usual litany of useless facts, but suddenly a chance remark sparked a fire in his mind. Apparently merchants from Lithuania reported that much fodder had been recently gathered and several Livonian merchants had sold consignments of barrels to representatives of the King. To Volquin’s military mind, this meant one thing only – the Lithuanians planned a military operation. The scale of purchases meant a force about half of all Lithuania could put in the field, so it probably would be going south to capture Volhynia. In a flash, Volquin’s mind was made up – he would strike south with all he could muster hoping to catch the Lithuanians forces split.
Six weeks later, the smoke from the funeral pyres on the battle field smarted Volquin’s eyes as a small group of horse approached. The day’s action had been a crushing success with his army shattering the reduced field army of Lithuania. “My liege, I bring you a present for the day” shouted the lead rider. The small group of horse parted to reveal the Lithuanian King shackled between 2 horses. Volquin smiled – “Treat my present well; he will be worth a pretty penny. Send word to Volhynia that if they want to see their king and his whipped curs alive they had better send his worth in florins to Riga without haste”
The success of Volquin’s Lithuanian campaign paved the way for a period of prosperity and growth for his kingdom. With his southern border secure and a healthy treasury he swiftly conquered Prussia as well and several chests of gold brought the Estonians into the fold. Denmark, Sweden and Russia became allies and a small Teutonic fleet began plying its trade in the waters of the Baltic. The kingdom of Novgorod was brought to heel with the numbers of Volquin’s army being boosted by mercenaries attracted to the inns of Livonia and Estonia by word of his military prowess and chests of gold.
A period of peace ensued, broken only by the excitement of a Crusade. Apparently the Alomhads threatened Christendom far away to the south and the Pope called on good Catholics to join in the war against the infidel. Stirred up by the ranting of Riga’s Bishop and the attraction of sun and loot many had flocked to the Chapter House to answer the call. Volquin reluctantly gave his blessing but noticeably did not add any troops to the motley group which left with much pomp and gaiety one spring morning. For several years all went well, the force gathering strength as it made its way south. However, the distance was its undoing as Granada fell to the Castilians before they had reached France and the Crusade dispersed in Bavaria to fill the inns with drunken revellers full of brave imagined deeds. More sinisterly, the forests of Bavaria saw a marked increase in banditry as the holy men turned to more worldly needs.
The early 1320’s saw several great military councils where the Order decided its long term military aims. They saw the future as a slow, deliberate progress to the south and east. There the enemy was likely to be enemies of the Catholic faith – a comfortable foe for the military arm of the Pope.
Volquin and his retinue broached the hill and reigned in their horses. In the distance stood the great castle of Novgorod, now the easterly seat of Teutonic military might. The warm southerly wind brought sweet smells of summer as it played through the now grey locks of hair that streamed behind Volquin as he stood at ease on his black charger. Two regiments were exercising beneath the castle wall. Volquin squinted against the sun – “Yonder troops – who are they? – I don’t recognise their colours” Otto, the master of the mercenaries, stepped forward. “They are new, sire. A unit of spear and a unit of polearms” Volquin looked again “They look Slav scoundrels to me. I thought I told you, German or French spear only. Those Slavs are only good for rape and pillage in my experience.” Otto’s face reddened, but he stood his ground “They look like Slavs, sire, but they come from a land far to the east called Korea. They train and fight well, disciplined but savage. Moreover, they have an interesting tale to tell.”
Volquin turned his attention to the exercising troops again. His tutored eye soon picked out their ability as they went through a series of drills and exercises. “These Koreans interest me. Bring their captain to my quarters tonight and we will hear what they have to say.”
Volquin and his retinue were halfway through their meal when Otto brought the Korean captain to their table. He was a tall, intimidating man with dark hair, tanned skin and almond eyes. His cheek was gashed with a livid scar, the relic of previous battles. In a faltering Slav tongue which Otto translated, he told his story. His 2 units had been part of a huge army which had conquered much of Asia and far Cathay. There was constant mention of a Golden Horde and a nation called the Mongols. Either he had no concept of numbers or this Horde was one of the biggest armies in history. Apparently, his troops had fallen foul of a prince of the Khan and they had had to flee to save their lives. They had travelled many leagues, acting as caravan guards across the Slav lands far to the east. In recent years, they had constantly moved west as word spread that the Horde had turned its attention to the west and pushed across the endless steppes of central Asia. Volquin silently considered the man for a minute then asked him when he thought they would reach the lands of the Volga Bulgars and Russians. Through Otto’s translation, the answer came back – 2 maybe 4 years. Volquin frowned. “What then – what happens when they come” Otto’s translation was slow and faltering, but there was no disguising his reaction to the Korean’s terse reply. “Sire, he just says Death, Death to all”

Reflection
Hopefully the dialogue tells the moves well. The strike into Lithuania move 1 worked really well as half the army had gone to Volhynia. The loot from the ransom of the king made the rest of the moves easy. Once established, it was just a case of a steady build and expansion with a careful eye on keeping good alliances. The dispersed crusade was a pain, but such is life. The arrival of the Korean mercenaries in Novgorod in 1327 provided a useful tool to justify some Mongol preparation and lay the seeds for the next chapter – which I will write soon. As I have said elsewhere XL requires a different and challenging style – one which I am enjoying very much – I hope you enjoy it to.

[Martok]

A terrific opening to your story, King Kurt! Your narrative abilities continue to impress.

[bamff]

Wonderful write up, King Kurt -very entertaining!

Martok, in response to your query, my battle plan is to finish off my existing enemies (Horde, Byzantium, Hungary, followed by Italy). This will bring my borders up to Novgorod, so they and the Poles will be next on the hit list - oh, and the Livonian rebels, almost forgot them.

The Sicilians are still alive and kicking down in Malta, and with a reasonable sized force. Mind you with no navy, they present no real threat, so I can leave them alone for a while yet.

And the Papacy should, I think, be rewarded for being my staunchest ally throughout - so I will leave them the honour of being the second last surviving faction (naturally with the English to be last left on the map).

That's the loose plan at this stage, anyway.

[Ciaran]

Taking a look on your most recent screenshot, bamff, shoulnd´t you have been offered a Minor Victory by now? If not, I suppose you´re not far from it.

[Derfasciti]

Era: Vikings

Faction: Mercia

Difficulty: Normal


Note: During the game I'll be trying to play the viewpoint more or less of the king. So if there is a civil war I'm always going to side with the king.


Years: 793-807


The Kingdom of Mercia is hemmed in between 3 mighty kingdoms: Wales, Northumbria, and the Saxons. King Offa of Mercia knew that unity was necessarry in England. At least of the Anglo-Saxons. To his south, the Saxons were currently too strong and to the west the Welsh mountains were to formidable of a problem. But Northumbria was ripe for conquest and the beginning of unification.

Emmisaries were sent to both the Saxons and the Welsh and treaties of alliance were made. The Welsh even provided a daughter of theirs to deepen the peace.

The Mercians and Northumbrians both began to ammass troops in Mierce and Dere respectively. The kings son Aethlbert was sent south to Hwice and then Middle Seaxe to lead a defense against any possible Saxon or Welsh incursions. The minor kingdoms to the east could wait for immediate invasion for now. Prince Aethlbert has about 300 troops under his command many of which are mercinaries.

King Offa further north on the other hand has only Fyrd. Both spear and archers along with 20 more royal bodyguards for his son just recently came of age and it was long past due to show him battle's face.

During this time the Kingdom's economy and construction goes on full production. Farmland is further cultivated and enriched in some provinces while all provinces create basic defenses to try to hold off any foreign enemies. Watchtowers are constructed to watch over the Northumbrian border.

In about 803, the stage is set. About 950 Mercians face over 1000 Northumbrians and an invasion of Dere is set. There was no economic necessity at the start but King Offa knew that he would need every rich province he could get later on down the years.

The Northumbrians had mainly peasants, and only then some Fyrd and about 60 woodsmen. The king of Northumbria himself and his son also came to the battle.

The battle commenced with Mercian archers rapidly moving towards the enemy hoping to take as many shots as possible. The Northumbrian spearmen charged the archers with many losses and inflicting few of their own for by then the Mercian Fyrdmen came up to protect the archers. The Mercian cavalry is put on reserve, with only two heirs king Offa is too conscious of his line's vulnerability.

Where king Offa exercised caution the Northumbrian king forgot all about it. His son and him both charged the very weak right Mercian flank, barely having 100 or so fyrdmen and 50 archers. reinforcements are immediately set and soon the King is completely surronded. The Northumbrian infantry, massed on the Mercian right flank and fighting in what was a battle of wills, break and an immediate slaughter commences. A Mercian fyrd, finding itself infront of the Northumbrians who are retreating, charges them and even further destroys the morale and numbers of the Northumbrians. The Northumbrian king, surronded and fighting for his life both against spears and the recently arrived Mercian king himself, dies honorably in battle, and what was left of his army begins to flee. The routed army suffers arounc 200 dead and 350 captured. The Mercians only suffer about 130 losses.
'
The next year the Northumbrian kingdom is split in two by a viking invasion of Elmete. The Saxons, distressingly cancel their alliance and plans are made to fortify the southern border. Things are going well for the Kingdom of Mercia.

[Deus ret.]

Cool! Just take care of the Saxons, they are your worst enemy in the long run as they are quite rich (and West Seaxe can recruit +1v huscarles ). Also try to get an alliance with the Vikings, they seem to be rather faithful. Which is a good thing as their uber troops will whoop your a**, especially in early/mid-game.

[Derfasciti]

Agreed, the second I can, I plan on trying to make an alliance with them. And considering the Saxons broke the alliance I may just up and invade them now too. I don't know yet.

[bamff]

Nice write-up Derfasciti. I look forward to reading more of the Mercian expansion.

The Chronicles of Bamff’s English

Chapter 17 – The Setting of the Sun (1406 - 1424)
The reign of Doge Jacopo II of Italy came to an abrupt end as 1405 drew to a close. The self indulgent Jacopo had made numerous enemies in his own court as well as abroad, so it was no surprise to anyone when word reached Wessex of the untimely demise of the Italian ruler. His brother, Vitale, laid claim to the throne, and was duly coronated as Doge Vitale IV.
Unlike Jacopo, Vitale had always been close to his father Goivanni, and had long since burned with a desire to avenge him against those who had played a part in his death. Jacopo had now paid the price for his treachery, but the English had also been involved in Giovanni’s death, and with this in mind, Vitale gathered an army of 3,195 men and marched south to Sicily.
Vitale and his men had every reason to feel confident. Lord Holland, the commander of the English forces in Sicily could muster only some 1,468 men to meet them.
Lord Holland, for his own part, was quietly confident that he and his men could at the very least ensure that Vitale had to pay a very high price indeed for Sicily. The bulk of his force were men who had served with him for many a year. These hardened soldiers knew what was needed to win the day. Their quiet confidence did much to steady the nerves of Holland’s newer recruits.
Holland inhaled deeply as the gentle breeze carried the feint aroma of the ocean once more to his nostrils. He gazed across the valley below. Far away to his right, stood the port town of Siracusa. Directly to his front, the green of the valley gave way to the blue of the Gulf of Catania. He could spot gulls, sweeping and soaring, mere white dots against the pale blue sky, but could not hear their cries above the ever louder rattle of drums and blare of trumpets.
The Italian army was truly a sight to behold, stretched out in neat lines across the valley. Their distinctive gold and green tunics had, in the distance, blended somewhat with their surrounds, but not so now as they drew ever closer.
“Pretty, aren’t they? The Italians do dress well for battle,” he noted to his nearest lieutenant and then paused briefly to reflect. Milan and its various fashion houses had long been under English control - surely his own men should be more fashionably attired? He shrugged, then continued “But remember - ’tis one thing to look like a soldier – but altogether another to fight like a soldier.”
The Italian front ranks were comprised of several regiments of pikemen. They came within range of the English arbalesters and longbowmen while still faced with a long uphill march to reach the English line. 200 men had evaporated to just 105 by the time they had crossed half of this distance. One regiment had been reduced to just 42 men, and they withdrew. The other regiment pressed on, now feeling the full weight of English fire. Only 36 survived to reach the English line, where they were immediately set upon by Sir Henry Burnell’s Chivalric Men at Arms. A veritable giant of a man standing well over 6ft tall, the imposing figure of Burnell was in the van as the Englishmen ripped through the pikemen. Only 11 Italians survived to flee the onslaught.
The English archers continued to rain death upon the advancing Italians, but doggedly they continued to advance. With his casualties mounting, Doge Vitale was acutely aware that his men needed inspiration from their leader. To this end, he led his surviving knights in a charge against Stephen Bolingbroke’s billmen in the English centre. This decision proved a costly one. His steed was slashed across the shoulder and flank, and fell, throwing the Doge at the feet of the billmen. In the heat of battle, the billmen forgot all thoughts of ransome, and Vitale’s end was not a pretty one.
News of the death of Vitale is the final straw for the surviving Italian troops, and they flee the field with almost indecent haste.
At day’s end, the field is littered with the distinctive gold and green tunics of Italy. 767 of them lie scattered as far as the eye can see. 163 more Italians sit glumly under English guard. 61 Englishmen have perished.
Far to the west, further battles were also unfolding. King William IV, was continuing to revel in the role of the “warrior king”, and in 1406, he led a force of 1,785 men into Lithuania to meet the army of Khan Chagatai IV. At the same time, Lord Giffard led the English assault on Chernigov, held by Prince Mongke, Sir Henry Langton invaded Pereslavyl, Sir Morcar Mortimer invaded Prussia, and the English crusaders seized Volhynia. The Golden Horde retreat without giving battle in both Lithuania and Chernigov, and their losses in Prussia and Pereslavyl are crippling. With his empire ripped from beneath him, and trapped in a besieged castle, Chagatai takes his own life. The Golden Horde are but a memory.
The Hungarians continue to resist all overtures of peace, and in 1409, King William’s patience is at an end. Lord Berkely leads the invasion of Carpathia, and Sir Henry Percy leads the invasion of Wallachia.
King Kalman II leads a most spirited defence of Wallachia, but ultimately, superior English numbers and arms carry the day. 463 Hungarians and 376 Englishmen have made the ultimate sacrifice. 189 Hungarians have placed themselves at the mercy of their conquerors. Kalman is amongst the Hungarian dead.
Never one to do things by halves, William has also ordered the invasion and annexure of Poland and Pomerania. Lord Greystoke and Lord Mobray respectively, are the English commanders of these assaults. In both provinces, the Poles retreat to their strongholds rather than give battle. Neither castle is prepared to play host to so many men, and with supplies rapidly dwindling, both castles surrender in 1410.
Most of Europe has now fallen under the English heel. In 1411, whilst enjoying an early morning ride in Kiev, the king’s horse steps in a rabbit hole, breaking its leg and throwing its rider. King William IV lands heavily, breaking his neck. Death is instantaneous. What a cruel twist of fate, that this great king, who had captured most of Europe and the middle east, and who had struck fear into the hearts of his enemies from Wessex to Volga-Bulgaria, should meet his end courtesy of a mere rabbit.
King Stephen III is crowned in Wessex. At 28 years of age, the new king is already widely known as a “great warrior” and a “hedonist”. Though little is recorded of Stephen’s early life, it would appear that the new monarch has already seen much action both on and off the field.
Stephen is anxious to continue what he calls his father’s “great work”, and to this end, he orders his armies in the east to invade the Byzantine provinces of Smolensk, Ryazan, and Volga-Bulgaria. The Byzantine armies are but a shadow of what they once were, and surrender all 3 provinces meekly, without so much as loosing an arrow.
In 1413, Stephen’s army pushes on into Muscovy, determined to meet Emperor Alexius III in the field. They are sorely disappointed. The Byzantine Emperor has gathered all of his available forces and marched south to liberate Ryazan. The garrison of Muscovy is reduced to a solitary Ballista crewman. This hapless soul surrenders as quickly as he can.
Emperor Alexius’ army numbers some 1,736 men. Lord Greystoke’s forces in Ryazan total 1,222. Greystoke is a master at defensive warfare, and duly wins the day. 661 sons of Byzantium have perished, 270 are captured, including the Emperor himself. He fetches a fine ransom indeed – 17,304 fl. In return for this gold, the Emperor is returned to his loyal followers on Crete. Greystoke’s losses on this memorable day number only 207.
King Stephen is anxious for further personal glory, and in 1414 he leads an army to subdue the rebel Vladimir Maksimov and his followers in Lithuania. The English king succeeds in this endeavour, and Lithuania falls under the English banner. At the same time as Stephen’s army crossed the Lithuanian border, Lord Cromwell leads a second army into Novgorod, seizing the province for the English crown.
Two years later, Stephen’s eye shifts to the rebel province of Naples. Lord Holland marches north, and brutally crushes the rebels. 1,080 Neapolitans die, 278 surrender. Holland loses only 151 men.
The success is dizzying for the English king. In 1417, his armies assault and seize the island of Crete. Just when it appears that all is going to plan, The Papacy launch a surprise attack on the English Navy in the Adriatic Sea. The attack is ill-conceived and poorly executed, and the entire Papal Navy is soon resting on the floor of the Adriatic. Stephen’s rage is terrible to behold. He orders the immediate invasion of all Papal lands, with strict orders to auto-calc, given the overwhelming numerical superiority of the English forces. The Papacy is shattered, and by 1420, all remaining resistance is crushed in the Papal States and Rome.
In 1421, the English invade the last remaining non-English province, Malta. The Sicilians are routed, and the survivors flee to the sanctuary of Valetta Castle. They continue to resist the English until 1424.
King Stephen III stood on the western wall of Wessex castle, calmly surveying the clouds now painted in glorious fashion by the sun as it dipped towards the western horizon. His Chamberlain approached rapidly, carrying the latest despatch from the east.
"News from Malta, my liege." he bowed as he offered the parchment bearing Lord Holland's seal.
King Stephen read the proffered note "The Sicilians have relinquished Valetta Castle, and the survivors have sworn allegiance to England."
His voice trailed off for a moment, before he continued "I am victorious. All of Europe has fallen."
He thought of his father William and all of those who had gone before, and then turned once more to view the richly painted western sky. Never had a sunset seemed so beautiful to his eyes. All of Europe was his. His place in history was assured.

[Caerfanan]

Agreed, the second I can, I plan on trying to make an alliance with them. And considering the Saxons broke the alliance I may just up and invade them now too. I don't know yet.

Alliance with the vikings is a vital key! I rush a bishop after the viking king and keep asking, asking and asking for peace if necessary, then alliance. Not having a coastal province with an Abbey is a plus.... And the saxons are the main threat. So having a bit more troop producing provinces than them is a good idea!

[Martok]

@Derfasciti: Hurrah for the Mercians! You're off to a pretty good start with them. In regards to the Vikings, I second Caerfanan -- getting an alliance with them is imperative! You'll want to turn your attention to Wessex before long, and securing friend with the Norsemen will make that possible.

@bamff: Huzzah for King Stephen and the English! Huzzah for bamff and his magnificient storytelling abilities! Truly, we have witnessed the terminus of an outstanding campaign.

Lord Holland ruminating on soldier fashion got the biggest chuckles out of me by far. I also really liked the short passage about Sir Henry Burnell cutting down the Genoan pikemen -- a very nice touch, that.

[Deus ret.]

Yeah, it's indeed a pity that the story of bamff's great English is now told and over. I just read through the last write up and really enjoyed it..."with strict orders to auto-calc"....great!

Looking forward to new adventures!

[bamff]

Thanks for the nod of approval Martok & Deus ret.

As I have mentioned (possibly too many times) previously, I am going to try my hand at Aragon next...possibly prior to installing a mod such as XL, just so that I can then go back and try the same faction "post mod" to compare how it has changed.

Stay tuned!

[seireikhaan]

I, for one, second Martok and Dues ret. Bamff, thoust surely is a god amongst men in the art of recounting the deeds of pixilated heroes and the sacrafices of those who don't actually exist! Alas, if only I was as skilled at the literary arts!

[Csargo]

Very nice bamff