Stories thread - King of the Romans PBM

[FactionHeir]

Rome, Autumn 1220

It was a cold Autmn night in this capital of the empire, the wind howling as if in agony, taking yellow leaves with it where it went. Citizens were far and few on the streets that night, and those that were, hurried with cowls over their head from here to there.

Yet for one man, the shiver that this night ran over the backs of others was absent. Hans was oblivious to the world around him as he strode towards a small villa where he had taken up residence. The ballot seemed clear, I am now chancellor. was what went through this young man's mind as he walked. But I now also bear the responsibility of leading this empire, to prevent it from crumbling, to defend it with all costs. The taverns were filled with thirsty men and those who dared not go outside as a storm was anticipated on the horizon. The locals seem not too concerned about their fate and what is happening in our empire. All they care about is cheap wine, women, and a place to stay. Hans sighed. Sometimes I wish life was this easy too, but.... Shaking his head at his improper thoughts No. I must not lose focus now. Too much is in my hands to lead, it was my own choice to stand and now it must be me who honors the trust all these men put in me. Hans accelerated his movement at these words in his mind. But what to do first? The crusade? The conquest of France? The investigation near Staufen? The buildings? Or even the taking of Thorn? His eyes narrowed. Thorn. He wanted to retake it. Yet Franconia voted united against him. Should he leave this to the last? Show them their insolence would lead nowhere? A truly ironic name that. Like a thorn in my side. Maybe I should take it myself and gift it back to the Franconians with them begging at my feet? Hans smirked subconciously But no, I must keep to the ideals that I have been taught. It is much too easy to fall from the path of chivalry. Muttering to himself, he continued yet what of revenge? Was that acceptable? What would his father, or Leopold say if they heard him like this? Hans took a deep breath in... Henry would tell him to do what is best for the empire, as any emperor would, as he himself had taught to be like. Leopold. He would call him a coward for being so indecisive, pondering all the time and not acting....and out....Coward. He only too well remembered those words when he read them. And were they not true, in this extended meaning? Hans clenched his fists It would be upon him to prove otherwise. He would retake Thorn immediately for chivalry's sake and utterly destroy the Hungarians that pillaged their Byzantine ally's lands. And maybe make his own way to Sofia. The citadel he had once passed with only his small entourage and the Hungarians pouring out the gates to pursue him. It would only be too fitting to finally take this place to hold the borders better. But was it also for revenge? Hans stopped. He seemed to have gotten off the road home and now stood at the cathedral of Rome. Maybe it would be a good idea to pray and reconsider these thoughts, or maybe get god's blessing for them. And with this in mind, he slowly pushed open the heavy doors to the holy interior.

[TinCow]

He was sweating heavily. The thick woolen padding prevented any crippling damage from the blunted practice blades, but it was not designed for comfort during the hot Roman summers. Lothar took a step back, away from his circling opponent, and quickly shifted the three foot arming sword to his left hand. He wiped his hand on his thigh pad, then scooped up a fistful of dirt and ground it into his palm. It took only a moment, but it was an opening he knew would not be ignored.

The tip of the man’s sword flicked out to the right, but the weight on his left foot showed his true intent. With dirt still filling his right hand, Lothar dropped the tip of his still, angling the sword across the front of his torso. His left arm was not strong enough to stop the blow, but he kept his wrist loose and stepped into the attack with his left foot, turning his body outwards at the same time. The man’s blade slid off his own with a shriek, the force of his blow carrying his arm down and across Lothar’s right side.

In the blink of an eye, the young Bavarian flipped his weapon back into his right hand and lashed out with a wicked cut. He put all of his strength into the back handed slash. The blow would have taken the man’s right arm off below the armpit, had the blade been sharpened. With his mind’s eye he saw a fountain of blood erupting from the severed limb; the shocked expression on the face of a man who did not yet understand that he was dead. At least that was what would have happened, had the man’s arm had still been there. Instead of hitting padded armor and flesh, his blade met only air.

With his sword swinging wide into empty space, it would take precious seconds to reverse the momentum and bring it back to guard his now wide-open body. Seconds he did not have. In desperation, Lothar backpedaled, but it was useless. Before he had managed half a step, he felt cool steel sliding up the right side of his throat. Even though the edge had been rounded off, the sheer speed of the thrust drew a long line of blood. He shouted in pain and dropped his sword.

The man stood up from the crouch and threw a dirty rag in his face. “Arrogance!” He spat on the ground. “What did you think you were doing?!”

Lothar clasped the cloth to his neck and breathed heavily. “Your right was open. You put in too much weight to pull back.”

“But not too much to go forward!” Adelman, weapons master to the House of Bavaria, growled. “Never move without planning for failure as well as success!” He stepped forward, his grizzled face towering over the still growing teenager, and slapped Lothar hard on the side of the head. “You did not think, dummkopf! You celebrated victory when the battle was not yet over!”

The young Steffen bit back an acidic retort. Of all his teachers, Adelman was the only one he respected, but even so it was difficult to restrain himself. Strategy, tactics, combat, these he excelled at beyond all his peers. Few adults could best him in combat, let alone war games, yet for all that there was the indisputable fact that had the battle been real, he would have less than a minute to live before he died of blood loss.

Adelman snorted. “Good, at least you’re learning when to keep your mouth shut. Go clean yourself up, we’re done for today.” Lothar bowed and left. The weapons master was low born, peasant stock, but on the practice field he outranked even a Duke. His first day of training with Adelman had been on his tenth birthday, over six years before, but he still remembered the first lesson clearly. Though he had yet to experience the flush of manhood, Lothar had stood at the edge of the field and ordered Adelman to kneel. He had been rewarded with a laugh and a boot to the chest. The Bavarian weapons master had stood over him, his eyes cold and disparaging. “On this field, nobility is earned, not inherited. You will bow to me at the beginning and end of every lesson. Until you can best me in combat, you are not worthy of respect.” Six years later, Lothar was still bowing.

He left the practice field in a foul mood and stalked the dark halls of the manor. It was a cavernous place, built for a corrupt Milanese Cardinal who had decorated it with paintings and friezes of the most appalling nature. The grand bedroom had been adorned with a disturbingly large number of scenes of the Virgin Mary, nude. His father had stripped the place bare and replaced all religious scenes with dark tapestries and captured weapons and armor. There were rumors that one particular sword, hung over Gerhard’s bed, was the very weapon Pope Gregory had wielded in his final battle with Kaiser Heinrich.

A few servants approached him in the hallway, but the sneer on his face kept them at bay. It was with relief when he finally reached his bed chamber and shut the door behind him. I am the eldest son of the Steward of Bavaria. My father leads the greatest House in the Reich and rode with Kaiser Heinrich in his war against Pope Gregory. By the time I was thirteen, I already knew more about combat and military command than most nobles will ever hope to understand in their entire lives. Yet none of them take me seriously. The Diet disregards me; they laugh at me. They think I am a child still.

His eyes were drawn to a shape resting on the corner of his writing desk. It was a large bundle, wrapped in rough burlap and tied with twine. Lothar loosened the knot and opened the package. Inside was a smooth, folded cloth; black as pitch and soft as silk. As he lifted it, the layers opened to reveal a thick, body-length cloak with a cavernous hood. On the inside of the cowl was a small red marking, no larger than his thumbnail. When worn, it would be invisible to all, pressed against the back of his head. He raised the mark to the light and gazed at it. In small, exquisitely embroidered stitching was an all-seeing eye.

I am not a child any longer.

[econ21]

The bridge to Edessa, 1220 AD

Elberhard strode into the officer’s mess and clapped Kurt Altman on the shoulder:

“So, you old @#$%^&!!!, you’re finally going to get a chance to rip those @#$%^&!!!s at Edessa a new @#$%^&!!!, eh?!?”

Kurt looked round at the young prince with the pained expression of Ernest, Henry’s guard dog, being tormented by an irritatingly energetic young puppy.

“Master Elberhard,” Kurt touched his forehead in deference. “Your father has not confided his plans in me, you’d best be talking to him yourself.”

Elberhard turned round a chair and sat astride it, grabbing a leg of mutton from the table.

“Oh, @#$%^&!!! The old @#$%^&!!!’s not going all quiet and mysterious again is he?” Elberhard groaned, in an exaggerated world weary drawl.

Kurt gritted his teeth. “I am not sure as I rightly know to what you are referring to, young Master.”

Elberhard guffawed, spraying half digested mutton over the table. “Don’t @#$%^&!!! me, Kurt! You know what they say: you can’t @#$%^&!!! a @#$%^&!!!er! That @#$%^&!!! Kolar, that’s what I’m @#$%^&!!!ing referring to, as if you did not know."

Kurt stolidly munched on his food in silence, not giving anything away. Elberhard eyed him up carefully and continued:

"Man, he was one sly, smart son of a @#$%^&!!! Plans within plans, schemes and cons played out over decades. And yet, you know what the strange thing is? All he ever did, he did for the Reich. You may question his methods, but the old @#$%^&!!!er was our @#$%^&!!!er.”

Then, lightly, like a puppy tiring of a reluctant adult playmate, Elberhard sprang up and looked about, as if ready to leave:

“Got any women, here, Kurt?”

“What?” blurted out Kurt in shock, then quickly, “I am sorry, Sir, what did you say?”

“Oh, I forgot, you all think you are still on a @#$%^&!!!ing crusade to save Christendom, don’t you?” Elberhard laughed. “Pity you had to send Dirk away - he was the only one of you @#$%^&!!!ers who was any fun!”

With that, Elberhard threw the half-eaten leg of mutton on the table and strode off in search of his father.

Kurt looked gave a wry smile to the earnest Teuton sitting next to him: “Thank God they elected the other son.”

*****

Henry was finishing the last part of his letter to King Otto:

…I am far from convinced we should press the attack on Edessa in the face of the approach of the Mongols. The city is formidably garrisoned and will require a full army to garrison due to religious differences.

Everything seems to hinge on Damascus. While the Egyptian fortress at Gaza might seem to threaten Acre, Jerusalem may act as a protective buffer. During my term in office, small Egyptian forces crossed Jerusalem province en route for Damascus. More importantly, the Mongols are heading there. If unchecked, I believe they will then move on to Jerusalem.

For this reason, I do not believe we will have the option of fighting them from the safety of our walls. Rather I think we should use the short time we both have on this earth, and our ability as night fighters, to thin the Mongol horde down so that when the crusade arrives at Damascus, the odds will be in their favour.

…

Elberhard walked into the Kaiser’s tent and coughed awkwardly. Henry looked up at his second son, carefully scrutinising his every feature and mannerism: such unpromising material, so unlike his brother. Where Hans was quiet and contemplative, Elberhard was loud and thoughtless. Where Hans planned and acted, Elberhard partied and postured. Still, the young man had some redeeming qualities - bravery, a sense of justice, a promising strategist… perhaps something would come of him one day?

Henry stood up awkwardly and Elberhard rushed forward to embrace his reserved father.

“So” said Elberhard “Time for round two with that Egyptian - what was the @#$..., I mean, what was the chap called again?”

“Medhat Kafur, I believe his name was.” supplied Henry diffidently. “But no, that fellow will be your responsibility, I fear.”

“What? Never thought you’d walk away from a good fight, father!” joshed Elberhard.

Henry smiled: “My glory-hunting days are over. Duke Otto warned me I would have only a few years to run wild. They are over now. I have but one or two battles left in me. I do, however, intend them to count.”

Elberhard looked puzzled.

Henry continued: “You have no doubt read Athalwolf’s reports from Baghdad?”

“Athalwolf? Why, err… well, you know, I haven’t quite got around to …”

“They are coming, you know. Not here, at least Athalwolf thinks not, but to Damascus or perhaps even directly to Jerusalem. I cannot leave King Otto alone to try to fend them off.”

For once, Elberhard was still and quiet.

“I intend to strike them first, before they even set eyes on the Holy City. I have no expectation that I will prevail. But I will strike them such a blow, it will give them pause. I am contacting Duke Otto. I expect he will also make a stand - perhaps on the bridge to Jerusalem. When we two are done with them, my brother’s crusade will only have to pick up the pieces. And Christendom will be saved.”

Elberhard looked at his father, resignedly signing his letter to King Otto and putting it to one side. In a rare moment of insight, it seemed to Elberhard as if his father was signing off on all his earthly attachments. Elberhard’s stomach felt empty as he realised this was probably the last time he would ever see his father again. @#$%^&!!! this for a game of soldiers, thought Elberhard sadly: My father’s become a religious fanatic. I preferred it when Kolar was in charge.

[Warluster]

1220, Stockholm

It was a dull night,broken only by howls of wind, the streets empty,beggers asleep amongst junk. A faint clippty clop broke the air occasionly, and a thud as wheels hit potholes.

In one of the houses of Stockholm,near the Prince's Lodgings, there was several Danish Rebels,all sitting around a table waiting for someone.

The door into the room opened silently, and in walked, no snuck, a man.

"We've been waiting for you Hugo" said one of the Rebels, the man,called Hugo, sat down opposite the only man sitting,the rest were standing.
"I was very quick, I nearly got caught!" exclaimed Hugo.
"I do not care,we're here to discuss...how to get you near the Prince" said the man, Hugo hissed.
"Do not say such things,in such company..." Hugo motioned to the men standing around them,all quite large. They flexed their muscles.
"There my bodyguards"
"Why do you need bodyguards? You are such a powerful man, good with weapons, you are ever so smart..." drawled Hugo, the man considered Dieter,
"Leave bodyguards, he is right" said the man. Dieter smiled inwardly,they never picked up on the flattering. Once the guards were gone, Hugo spoke,

"I am on a mission...from a unknown person, my master is currently residing North of Frankfurt" said Hugo, the Danish Rebel asked him to go on,
"I want to see the Prince, so we can prove he is alive"
"Is this possibly a mission from the German Emperor? Or perhaps your Imperial Diet?" asked the Danish Rebel, Hugo laughed,
"They think so, I was already moving here in 1214, no, I have not been taking orders from the Germans, but from another source..." said Hugo sneakily, the rebel eyed him suspicously,
"Who then..." wondered the rebel,
"Von Darm-!" Hugo was cut off as a bodyguard barged through the door,
"Sir! We've been tipped off from a source, some Danish Soldiers are coming to kill us!" said the bodyguard, outside there was panic as people ran like crazy, The Danish Rebel Leader looked at Hugo suspicously, but was convinced at Hugo's panicked look on his face,
"RuN! get as far away as you can!" said the Danish Rebel,
"You, Hugo, at 1 tomorrow the Prince has a afternoon nap, you can see he is alive then, now run!" yelled the Danish Rebel leader, and Hugo jumped through the window, and snuck off into a alley. It was all goign excellent...


North of Frankfurt, 1220 , the Site of the previous battle between Prince Jobst and the Danes

The pine trees waved in the midday sun, as gravel was crunched beneath feet. Birds chirped, as if to add tot he atmosphere. Pine cones littered the ground,some occasioly falling, as the sun blared from the sky.

But the day was not all peaceful, because amongst those peaceful trees layed hundreds of bodies, and a foul stench ruined the forests as crows feasted on dead flesh.

No living thing could sustain that stench, but standing amongst the hundreds of dead Danish and German bodies, was a man. Beside him stood a man.
"Fromt he looks we can't tell anything here..." said the man, he looked at the other man standing beside him,
"Can you...uh,sense anything Luka?" teased the man,
"Why Dieter, do you underestimate the powers of the Pagan Gods?" said the Pagan Magician Luka. The man called Dieter replied snappishly,
"Because I am no pagan Luka's, now where was I..." he drawled,
"Hugo better be done, he knows we are on a tight schedule, if we can find the Danish Prince at Stockholm, we can prove this was a fizzle" said Dieter. Luka stood straighter and observed the ground,
"Just there, one of Prinz Jobst's bodyguards, hm..." Luka's let out a gasp,
"And there is the Danish Family Member, but he is no prinz! Plus it looks as if he was slain by a Teutonic Knight!" said Luka, Dieter stood up and looked around, he spotted something at the edge of the forest. He pointed there,
"Why is there bodies there Luka...?" asked Dieter, the two men rushed over to the clearing and found,
"The two scouts, they were slain by the danes!" exclaimed Dieter,
"Which means..."
"That the Danish started this whole battle!"
Finally the mystery was solved, but not the problem...

Otuside Staufen,1220

Jobst was sitting in his command tent, going over the last few years events.
All the drama in the Diet, at least he still could command the EIA...

Luka's, his pagan magician came marching into the command tent, followed closely by a shorter person.
"Prinz Jobst, we just returned from the scene of battle,the battle which happened north of Frankfurt in 1218..."
"Yes Luka's,that one" said Jobst wearily,
"Along with me I brought the investigator... the German Offical Dieter Von Darmstadt" said Luka's, Dieter bowed,
"Mein prinz, I bring joyful news to you, we have confirmed your story, that your scouts were attacked first" said Dieter, Jobst grinned,
"Thankyou Dieter, you have my good will on your side." said Jobst,
"mein prinz,may I also discuss with you things my counterpart found in Stockholm, Hugo von Heidelbery has found...?" asked Dieter,
"Of course, Luka,leave us,tell Fritz too be ready, we leave for the Diet after I finished talking to Dieter" said Jobst,
"Yes,si-!" luka was cut off,
"May I accompy you mein prinz to the Diet?" asked Dieter, Jobst nodded.
Luka's scowled and left, and he found Fritz waiting by the door,
"He's coming soon, be ready to leave for Rome. And that spy Dieter is coming as well" said Luka, and he strode off.

[AussieGiant]

Crash!!!

Arnold's longsword slammed into the Temple Knight's shield. His prodigious strength yet again took his opponent by surprise, the Knight was momentarily knocked back and stunned by the ferocity of Arnold's attack.

Taking immediate advantage, Arnold stepped inside his opponents sword arm and delivered a terrific blow with his shield knocking the Knight to the ground. As his opponent's breath exploded from his lungs at the fall, Arnold leaped after the Temple Knight, raising his sword for a massive overhand blow.

“ENOUGH!!”

The booming voice of the Temple Knight Commander rang across the courtyard of Ragusa Fortress.

“You've both been told not to use your real weapons when training!!”

Silence was the only response as the two combatants froze...the Temple Knight started crawling backwards away from the figure of Arnold towering above him. Arnold himself let his sword fall to his side, his face a conflict of chaos and control.

“Are you two in fact training!!??”

Again there was only silence. The Knight got to his feet, while Arnold's demeanor took on a more composed look.

“Tristan, go to the barracks and report to the Knight Lieutenant, explain what was going on, he will issue you with punishment!”

As the young Temple Knight left the courtyard the Commander strode into the courtyard to face the young Arnold.

“You should join...rather than taking your frustrations out on my younger knights Arnold!"

“I can not and you know why Commander. I'm waiting here until Jonas brings the Austrian House Army back from the east. Until I am knighted I can do nothing.” Arnold sheathed his sword in a fluid and practiced motion.

“I can knight you, as long as you pass our test” said the Commander. “You have mastered all aspects of military training...in theory of course”. The Commander grinned at Arnold's frustrated snort of agreement.

“A word of warning though. This is the last time you send another one of my novice knights to the infirmary. If you want to test your skill pick one of the veterans from the east. They will certainly give you a tougher test.”

They held each others gaze for a moment. The Commander broke his first. There was something unnerving about the young man. His father was a legend and was feared and respected beyond nearly all in Europe. As the Commander watched Arnold walk towards the the Great Hall, he recounted the times he had meet Duke Leopold. He concluded that Arnold certainly had the characteristics to follow in his fathers footsteps as the iron ruler of Austria.

As Arnold walked towards his quarters, Karl Brunner, the former Count of Venice and now adviser appeared in the doorway of the great hall.

“I see you are still conducting diplomatic relations with the Temple Knight detachment?” the grin on Karl's face clearly showed his amusement at the spectacle that just took place.

“God's knows where you acquired your speed and strength young Arnold...I'm positive my sword master Anton has taught you far too much of that Russian sword fighting technique. There's no skill at all, it's just brute strength.”

“Well it works merchant, and that's all I care about. Plus, I don't like that prat Tristan, I would have shoved my shield down his throat if the Commander had not stepped in.”

They continued inside the Fortress together, making there way to the large table dominating the centre of the great hall.

“So what are your thoughts regarding the Austrian House Army once you are knighted?” Karl glanced at Arnold while pouring them both a goblet of wine.

“I'm not sure;” replied Arnold taking a sip. While holding his cup to cover most of his face he gazed at the two von Mahren girls across the other side of the hall. They were both pretty, but it would certainly be bad form to relieve his frustrations with either of them, especially as the family had just joined the House. Plus he didn't feel like fighting with either of the brother's. He cast the thought away and focused back on Karl, who was observing him with a raised eyebrow.

“You know it looks very obvious Arnold, you should stick with the pretty serving girls until your father selects a bride or god forbid you fall in love. Nobility and their daughters are never simple affairs.”

“Your right Karl, plus I don't want to upset my father. He has worked long and hard to integrate the von Mahren's into the House. If I was to destroy all that in one night, I'm sure he would come back and tear me apart and everyone else for that matter.” Arnold stood and started up stairs.

“I'm going to have a bath. IF, anything happens, and I'm sure there wont, then I'll be in my quarters until supper.”

Making his way through the Fortress he wondered when his life would really begin. Years of training, books, languages, military history, trade...he had learnt it all, and for what? To rule Austria, to become Chancellor perhaps?

Once inside his chambers, the servants stripped off his armour and weapons. After some time he was left alone and sat at his desk. He began re-read his most recent correspondence.

Yes he realised, things had changed, he had a purpose now, recent events had crystallized everything. He now had direction and all the uncertainty was flowing away with every passing day.

All he knew right now was the burning desire to go into battle, meet the enemy face to face, and utterly crush his opponent. With that step complete he could begin his march towards fate and destiny.

[Warluster]

Frankfurt,1222
Part I
The sun was shining like a newly cracked egg, the sky like a drying painting. Life below could not be described like that though.

It was midday in Frankfurt, the market crowds were out,noise and cahos the surpreme rulers on market days. Pigs oinked,roosters crowed and people babbled.

On the third floor of a large house, standing at the window, was a German Spy,Hugo Heidelberg. He was waiting for someone to join him, for an important matter.

He let out a sigh of recognition, then sneaking through the larges crowds was his counter part, and the organiser of the whole thing. Hugo sat down on the window still, waiting for the person to come in.

The door banged open,
"mein master, you are finnaly here" said Hugo, the man,supposedly Hugo's master,let out a spulttering cough,
"It took longer to get away from them then I thought, had to escape some of those dogs..." wondered the man aloud,
"Now to matters mein master, he..." Hugo was cut off.
"Shut up! Don't you dare speak aloud,windows open" He slammed the window shut "Curtains open!" he ripped the curtains shut "And doors unlocked and empty!" He slammed the door shut and locked it, the room was now very dark, and no noise could be heard except the two men's breathing.
"At least a candle?" asked Hugo,
"Nothing!" snarled the man. Hugo accepted it and sat down at a table.

"So did the bribe work mein lord?" asked Hugo, the man nodded, his face in the dark.
"Those Danes couldn't get over it, I raised that money at the city, and gave it, they agreed to send a massive one..." drawled the man.
"Excellent mein lord..."
"Now we have to clear up this mess, at least it all worked, they didn't see anything,Luka reported it all, the bodies misplaced, the armies supposedly meeting, ha!" laughed the man.
"And today, the loose ends meet, and it all starts!" exclaimed Hugo, the man nodded and leaned forward.
"He shall be suspicous, but order it all anyway, now go, tell them to head off and wait! Let him be the ambushed!" claimed the man, and Hugo got up,unlocked the door and ran off.
"Today, it begins"
OOC:
Part II cooming up soon.

[Ituralde]

A strong breeze tugged at the tentflaps and made them flail, the two guards standing beside the entrance tried to huddle deeper into their coats. Inside a single brazier gave little illumination and not close to enough warmth for the three men occupying it.

One, a large bald man with broad shoulders was pacing slowly through the room. A second, younger man, wiry and thin was sitting on a stool perching over a piece of pergament, while the third man, a grizzled old veteran, stood silently to attention.

"This will be a glorious chapter, mein Herr! The Holy Crusade, I can't wait until you enter the city of Damascus gloriously. I have already prepared several versions of it in advance. It will be my masterpiece. Do you want to hear this third version of mine, I like it best so far..."

"Hush you fool!" The old veteran spoke, but the pacing man held up a hand. "Leave him be, Rainer. Let him write his stories."

"As you wish, my Duke!" replied the veteran stiffly.

Leopold was pacing through his tent, mainly to help him think, but also to get some movement in his stiff joints. He could feel himself becoming older. Who could have foreseen that the nights in this country could be so cold. By day the sun nearly melted your brain and by night it was hard not to shiver.
Finally he turned on the scribe, who jolted upright at the sudden attention.

"I wouldn't be so sure about me entering Damascus. If you write in advance, maybe you should prepare for some different endings as well. You have heard the news. The Mongols are besieging Damascus and have brought a force that far outnumbers us."

"I am sure you will be able to defeat them, my Lord! You always do. Nobody stands a chance against our armies. The Austrian Household Army has never lost."

Leopold gave a snort of contempt and began pacing again. The man was right though. He had never lost a battle, now had he? But then his enemies had been Rebels, Hungarians, Venetians, and he had been head of the Austrian Household Army. Now he was commanding a band of Crusaders. Men that followed him, because they believed in some pious mission. He knew what he would have done with the Austrian Army at his back. Wait for the Mongols to deplete their forces against the Egyptian defenders and then move in for the kill. Maybe deplete their ranks through nightly raids.
But this was different. The men would not sit idly by, while some barbarians took their prized objective. They had come to conquer Damascus, and conquer it they would. No backing down, no strategical maneuvering. You went towards the enemy and fought it out, square and fair.

He couldn't believe his own thoughts! Now he sounded just like Sigismund. Maybe this Crusade had changed him though. There must be a reason why his brother Henry was now hailed as Henry the Chivalrous, although he had never shown much inclination before he left. Maybe as a Crusader you had to do things differently. You presented Christendom after all. And while you may well be a sneaky bastard you couldn't act like one, that just wouldn't sit well with the Pope, or Emperor Henry and the Diet for that matter.

And for his enemies, these were no minor European powers. This were savage barbarians from the Steppe to the East. Horse Lords, they were called. Many a foe had fallen against them and it was murmured that they're Empire stretched expanses that no European mind could imagine. The had sent their best generals to conquer all of Christendom before them, and they would not be stopped easily.

Once again Leopold stopped in his steps. He knew what he had to do. He had known it all along. He was not getting any younger, and he had always wanted die in battle. He had known that the Mongols would await him and now he had his chance before him. To prove whether those Raiders from the East really were such formidable foes as everybody made them out to be. And also to find out whether he had really earned his reputation of being the greatest general of the Reich, he added wryly.

"Rainer, my trusted friend. We have been through a lot together and it looks like soon our fates will be decided. I have one final thing I ask from you." The old veteran only nodded.

"If I die, take my sword and bring it to my son Arnold."

"Die? What do you mean die?" exclaimed the Biographer from his stool in the corner.

"Hush you fool!" Leopold turns back to Rainer "Tell him, tell him to remember his father. And now go get me Karl Zirn. I have to talk with him and then I will have to speak to the Crusader Council."

"Jawohl mein Herr!" Rainer bows and leaves the tent immediately. With a thin smile on his lips Leopold turns to the scrawny man sitting in the corner.

"Well, go ahead already. Write your stories, write a lot of them. If I should die, I want nothing less than the best version you got, understand?"

[Cecil XIX]

Bran, 1296

It was a normal Sunday, like all those previous but with two exceptions. Firstly, Contzel Becker had arrived in Bran with the intent to stay until the second AHA was reformed. Secondly, the Beckers were wearing black to Church that day.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

The service itself was not remarkable. After it was over, Edmund spoke to the Priest who had presided over the ceremony. After the exchange of pleasantries and a brief conversation, they parted ways and Edmund guided Contzel to the door that was sequestered towards the back.

The door itself was the entry to a small room that seemed to jut out from the corner. A brief inspection of the stones used showed that the two lesser walls for the room were noticeable younger than the major walls for the building. Edmund opened the door, revealing a well-lit staircase.

As the Beckers descended, Contzel previously emotionless expression began to brake apart, and when they reached the door at the bottom she had started to cry. Becker looked at her with concern before he awkwardly fished a handkerchief from his person and gave it to his wife before opening the door.

The room was small, but rather cozy. There were a few benches on the walls, but otherwise the room was lacking in accoutrements. In the center of the room was a sarcophagus, clearly marked in stone for those who had just entered.

Sigismund von Mahren

1144-1274

"For a true and holy Reich"

At this Edmund quickly made the sign of the Cross. Whilst he was doing that Contzel threw herself onto the coffin and began sobbing hysterically.

“Sigismund! Sigismund, we did you have to leave us too? We all miss you Sigismund! Mother and Niesenn and I were all terribly upset…”

Edmund knelt before his wife, and placed a reassuring hand on her back.

“It’s all right Contzel, Sigismund’s-“

She turned to him with fury in her eyes.

“NO! It is not all right! Sigismund said the same thing when Ehrhart died, so don’t you dare say that it’s all right!”

Edmund stopped, unable to say anything. Ehrhart, Sigismund, and now Wilhelm falling in battle had put them both on edge. As he stared into his wife’s eyes, a look of intense focus entered her features and she began to speak.

“You have to promise me that you will never go to war again. You can’t! This family has been through too much to see you die too!”

Never had he had to refuse something so agreeable.

“I can’t do that Contzel, I’m the only one left. Duke Arnold needs me, and Sigismund would never forgive me if I shirked away from my duty.”

“Don’t you talk to me about duty! That’s what got my brothers killed, and it’s going to get you too!”

“I promise you, I’m not going to die in battle. I will be extremely cautious when I’m on the field.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

“All right then.” She stood up. “I’ve said what I had to say. I’m going to go get some flowers to place here before continuing. Do you want to come with me?”

“I will stay here and converse with the priest. They say he met Sigismund when he was a member of the Theologian’s guild in Budapest and became a member of his retinue.” He stood up to walk with her.

“Ludwig was his name, wasn’t it? I’m sure you'll have much to talk about.”

The walked up the stairs in silence and said their momentary goodbyes when Contzel went to pick flowers. To Edmund’s surprise the priest was exactly where he had left him. With a bit of nervousness he walked up to the vicar.

“Thank you for taking care of the burial chamber. It means a great deal to the Reich, Austria and my family.”

The priest was silent, and seemed to be sizing Edmund up.

"It's remarkable really, I've heard Sigsimund made quite an impression on the people here even though he spent so little time in the castle."

The Priest continued to stay silent. By then Edmund had decided that a staring contest was as good a use of his time as he was going to get, and he attacked the matter whole-heartedly. Eventually Contzel returned and Edmund turned to walk away. That was when the priest spoke.

“Sir Sigismund spared Bran from the wanton death and destruction that surrounds the Reich. Many of the soldiers he spared had families here, and they remembered the mercy he showed to their husbands, fathers, brothers, and sons. We keep the crypt well-maintained as a tribute to him for treating Transylvania with the respect an Imperial province commands before it was even conquered, as well as showing the people mercy even Imperial citizens are occasionally without.” Without another word, the priest walked away leaving Edmund thoughtful.

“Mercy…”

[Privateerkev]

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

This story is a co-op between myself and Cecil

Bran 1300:

King Jan rode his horse up to the citadel. He had taken a ship to south Austria and headed here on the way to the next Diet session. He had been both dreading and eagerly awaiting this trip for years. But, it was something he had to do. A letter to Count Becker preceded his arrival and Edmund was waiting by the gates for the King.

"Count Becker! Good to finally talk to you. I haven't seen you since we drank at the Tavern," Jan said as he got off of his horse and shook the man's hand.

"It is good to see you again as well, King Jan. I thank you for coming, the people here are eager to get a look at the King of Outremer. This way, if you please"

The two men walked into the church. They were silent until they got down into the tomb. For awhile, Jan just stared at Sigismund's final resting place.

"He was the best of us you know," Jan finally said softly to break the silence.

"I confess I know little about my brother-in-law, though Contzel spoke very highly of him. I know that the two of you were friends and I'd be eager hear something about him."

Jan began, "First off, I'm sorry about the tragedies that have befallen your family. Sigismund was my best friend. We worked closely together to try to steer the Reich in a new direction. You're one of the two last remaining male family members of his. And I don't think Duke Arnold is ready to hear this yet so I'll tell you."

Becker politely listened as Jan continued, "Years ago there was a piece of legislation that attempted to mandate that prisoners could not be executed after battle and that settlements could not be exterminated. It was pretty unpopular among some and it didn't pass. But, it came a lot closer than people thought it would and it gave those of the more dreadful persuasion a good scare."

"People still think that it was my idea. But the secret I have been carrying around for years is that it was Sigismund's. It was him that pushed me to put that legislation forward and it was him that worked behind the scenes to help get it passed. Afterwards, he was instrumental at getting Duke Arnold and I to reconcile. I was simply the public face of the CA. It was decided that Sigismund was in a more precarious political situation. If you've checked the old Diet transcripts, you'll see that I am somewhat more outspoken and not as concerned with the niceties of politics," Jan said the last with a small smile. As Jan was talking about the mercy CA, Becker listened more intently.

"The point of all of this is, Sigismund was a true knight. In the best sense of the word. And I can't even tell anyone. The Reich has gone in the wrong direction. People in the Diet try to one-up each other on suggestions for massacres. Those of us who believe otherwise are dying off. And not enough of the younger ones are following the right path. Those of the more dreadful persuasion hold positions of power and are not encouraging their Counts to be merciful," with that last word, Edmund perked up. Jan noticed the word struck a cord with Edmund.

Edmund spoke up, "Your sentiments confirm my own observations. Though I am not as grand as you or Sigismund in my thoughts about the Reich, I am a religous man and I find casual slaughter to be extremely distasteful."

Jan looked at Becker intently and said, "Edmund, the Lord is saddened to see us deny him souls. It is our job to save people and spread the good word. Murdering them unarmed denies the Lord his Christian soldiers. While we are the vanguard, he needs many soldiers. That is our task." Jan pulled a box out of his cloak and opened it. Becker's eyes widened in amazement as he saw a bramble of twigs in a circle. "This sat upon the Lord's head when he was crucified. When he died for our sins. This is proof that he loved us regardless of how imperfect we were. We have to honor the Lord's sacrifice by atoning for our sins and helping to build a more perfect world. A world ruled by the word of God. And the Reich will be the instrument of the Lord for we are good and just. I will leave you with those thoughts in hope that it will comfort you," Jan said as he closed the box and put it away.

There was silence for a few moments, as Edmund stared at the space the Crown of Thorns had occupied. Eventually he spoke, "I understand. Thank you my King, I will take these words to heart."

Finally Jan said, "if you don't mind, I'd like to be alone for awhile."

Jan waited until he was sure that Becker left. Finally, he knelt in front of the tomb. "I'm sorry old friend, I failed. I tried to continue the work we started together but everything changed when you died. So many of our allies passed on. All of the Dukes are murderers. The Kaiser has even gotten a bit colder. There is only the Prince, myself, and a handful of others left that show mercy on the battlefield. I fear we are facing dark times Sigismund and I wish you were here to help steer us out of them. You were always the brains and heart of our partnership. I was simply the mouthpiece," the King said as his eyes welled up.

Jan knelt in silence for what seemed like an eternity. Alone with his thoughts, Jan knew deep down that Sigismund would want Jan to keep fighting. To never give up. Jan knew that Sigismund always had faith in him. With resolve, Jan stood up and made the sign of the cross across his chest.

"Goodbye my friend. One day, we'll meet again..."

With that, the King walked back up the stairs.

[FactionHeir]

Staufen castle, 1300 AD

The cellar was dark and damp. The few torches that had been lit in the darker corners did little to illuminate the eery athmosphere that lay upon this chamber tonight, as a dark figure entered it, bringing with it some fading beams of light.
It was suitable however, for what was to be discussed between the several men that had gathered here, with none of the usual castle guards in sight.

Hans motioned to the late arrival to have a seat at the lone round table beside the kegs of wine that were lined along the sides of the cellar. The figure hesistated at first, noticing that several other men lay waiting behind some of the pillars, but then seated itself regardless, not without a smirk, hidden by the darkness.

"I see you have brought some lapdogs with you to keep guard. Very good. I prefer dealing with those who trust me as little as I do." was the first sentence that broke the silence

Taking a seat himself, Hans poured some French wine into the two goblets that stood ready, offering one to the shady figure "Indeed. These days are not as safe as they used to be, besides, you know as little of my intentions as I do of yours..."

The figure moved somewhat, releasing from the depth of its hood what sounded like a muffled laugh. Waiting for Hans to drink from his goblet, he exchanged them, and took a sip himself. "Good, I see we understand each other. Do you wish to continue this battle of wits or will you let me in on why you have summoned me here this night?"

Hans was sligtly surprised by the exchange of goblets, but did not show it in his expression. One wrong move could mean the end of this meeting or betrayal. "Very well, let us begin. I have a question and an answer for you, which one will it be?"

The figure seemed startled for the reply did not come after several long seconds of silence. "The answer."

"Ahh, I would have thought you more interested in how the answer is obtained rather than a straight dead-end. Still, I will not count this against you. The answer is 'I cannot trust you to do what I will ask of you, yet neither can you trust me with your reward or support.'"

"Quite. Name your task then."

"I need someone...observed."

"Observation. How boring. Could you not have bothered one of the many apprentices with it?" Was the reply

"Of course. While I do not doubt their ability, I doubt their experience and ... integrity with this most secret mission."

"Really."

"It would also be unfortunate if there were ...problems with the guild if things went awry."

"Interesting. Problems." The figure spoke in a bored tone

"Yet influence in Swabia and possibly the empire might be the other side of the coin."

"You truly believe we lack influence."

"The headquarters certainly is not found in the empire."

The figure once again took a while to respond "Indeed. Very well, speak. You have my ear, but I warn you, if you are wasting my time, there might be...problems as well."

"Good. I see we reached an agreement. Well then. Dietrich von Dassel ring a bell?"

"If it was important, it would."

"I see your men withhold it from you."

"You see quite a lot, no?"

Hans had to chuckle at this remark. His guest was well versed in the art of diplomacy. Still, he did not reply directly to it, instead, simply continuing. "He seems to work for someone influential. Someone who grants him security so that he does not mind going "independent."

"Are you certain you did not wish to talk to the other guild?"

"I do not need him removed...yet. I'd rather strike when the mice are gathered."

A nod was the only reply

"Send your best agents to watch him. I will be putting him to garrison duty and he should be fairly easy to track. Make sure that he does not see your men, and they report in regularly. Every piece of information if to come directly to you and relayed to myself. Any leak and you may find yourself a new home in France. You bring me what I want, and you will gain several ew guild houses."

"And what tells me you will keep your word?"

"What tells me you will keep yours?"

"Good. I like it. Anything else?"

Adalberth passed Hans a heavy purse, which he dropped on the figure's lap "You will find further information inside. Do not disappoint me."

"As long as this is not too disappointing, you will not be" The figure rose, bowed, turned and slowly, like a shade, disappeared to the stairs.

[GeneralHankerchief]

Caen, 1300

"Ragusa?"

"Ragusa."

"Ragusa?!"

"Yes sir, I believe that it says 'Ragusa' on the parchment, yes."

"Cut the crap, Friedrich," Dietrich von Dassel said to his aide. "I'm being shuffled around, which is unlucky for the both of us. At first I thought that the Kaiser would simply be content with putting me in eternal second-in-command of the SHA behind the last Hummel. Kind of an irony considering that he hates me more than the man who tried to violently rebel against him some years ago. But now, not even that's good enough for me! Instead he puts me in Austrian territory overseeing nothing in particular for the best years of my life!"

"Well," said Friedrich thoughtfully, "It is close to the Byzantine border... If the Kaiser screws up negotiations - and considering him, it could happen - then you might be seeing more action than you think."

"No," said Dietrich with a touch of gloom on his face. "That's the brilliance of it all. Not even he can botch these negotiations, at least not to the point of war. He just gave Emperor Isaac two territories that should have been Bavarian right off the bat. I shudder to think what will happen when they get down to business.

"Anyway," he continued, "The whole point of his plan is that I won't even be on the frontier if his plan works. The way he sees it, he puts me right smack-dab in the middle of the new Empire once we re-unify with the Byzantines. I'll be far from anywhere important - exactly what he wants. That's why he picked Ragusa."

"I see," said Friedrich. Now he looked rather depressed. As a commander's career went, so did his aide's, and Friedrich's commander was not on the fast track to greater things at the moment.

"I don't know what went wrong during that Diet session," Dietrich said. It must have been the thousandth time he had said this since the session had ended some weeks ago, and that was only out loud. God knows how many more times he thought it to himself, at night, sleeping, eating, drinking, going over paperwork.

"I thought I really had something going, you know? Power to the people, and all that. I talk bad about the Kaiser, incite popular sentiment, and throw enough carrots to the Houses and I really thought they'd join me. It worked, for a while. I had Fritz, Peter, Athalwolf (although I don't know what happened with him, I was clearly being sarcastic when I insulted him), even Matthias! But what happened after that?"

"Well, sir, the fight with Duke Ansehelm got pretty ugly."

"Bah!" Dietrich spat, remembering the insults that had been traded and the political pressure placed on him to apologize. "I meant every word I said to him. The stupid idiot agrees with me but won't vote with me just because Kaiser Siegfried is his brother, so that completely absolves him of all wrongdoing. Hans acts like a total Frenchman when the time comes to make a stand, of course. 'I want to preserve the alliance with Franconia,' he says. Bah! The Swabian edicts still passed overwhelmingly. And he deprives his own House of voting influence because of that damned Duke."

There was a slight lull in conversation, which didn't last long due to Dietrich's continued ranting.

"Jesus Christ, Friedrich, I don't know what went wrong. I guess I'm just going to have to suck up to Hans if I want this thing turned around."

"Indeed, sir," Friedrich said. He looked uncomfortable at the mention of Hans but said nothing further to that effect. Dietrich did not notice the expression on his face and the two continued to live their newly-boring lives as normal.

[Northnovas]

Damascus 1300

The stout fellow knocked and waited for permission to enter the Governor’s study. Upon getting permission to enter the middle aged man walked in wiping his face with a hankie to clear the sweat from his eyes before speaking.

“My lord it has been completed. You must come and see immediately.” the man spoke excitedly still wiping sweat from his face and forgetting all manners with his good news.

Zirn looked at his new siege engineer Walter with amusement. He had come highly recommended but there had been no sieges for the Governor for sometime. Wanting to retain his service has insurance the Governor took him on to help complete his Cathedral.

“Excellent, excellent news, Walter! I knew I could put those engineering skills of yours to something more creative then just designing equipment for destruction.” exclaimed Zirn. “Your expertise has put this feat well ahead of schedule. I am truly grateful for your work.”

The man was slightly embarrassed by the Governor’s remarks but had truly believed in the Governor’s mission and felt that his contribution to such a great feat would help balance things out in the eyes of God for some of the work he had done in the past.
“Thank you my lord. It has truly been an honour and I am grateful to have been involved with such a great project. Please hurry! There are some minor details to complete but the major construction is over.” Walter then headed for the door waving the Zirn to follow.

Zirn assembled himself and headed out towards the new Cathedral. He walked to the location instead of the riding and mingled amongst the people as he made his way. Many of the pedestrians not knowing the great feat that had been accomplished. Karl thought to himself they will soon know because they will be the converted. This will be great place of worship that will rival any Cathedral in the known world.

As he got closer he began to slow down and catching the glimpses of the structure in the skyline amongst the lower buildings around it. When he finally got out to the main through way heading towards the building a great emotion overwhelmed him. He had deliberately stayed away the reaming year when he left Walter in charge. He heard many comments but would not go and sneak a peak.

The scaffolding was gone from the front and the last crane was being disassembled. He soaked in the view of the majestic front. The Cathedral face was that of the standard Western architecture with 2 spiraling towers at it front corners and a huge rectangular stain glass mural in the front. However, when he came around to view the sites the building transformed itself taking on the architecture of all the Eastern lands. There were gold domes and spires on its sides and the rear of the building the sanctuary was finished off in an amphitheater shape. The building was alive and seemed to transform from the different views Karl would take. It would almost be difficult for one to readily recognize it's faith if they were not to familair with church architecture.

The interior displayed the workmanship of both Western and Eastern artisans. There was earthly material of fine minerals and diamonds to simple ore. Wood from all reaches of the Reich. This was truly a magnificent house of worship.

When Karl got to the sanctuary he placed the Veil of Veronica in a very ornate box that was part of the centre piece of the sanctuary.

I have truly completed my mission here in the Outremer. I have completed the work the Lord had called to me to do in this land thought Karl the Honourble. Sunday will be the blessing and first service of the First Cathedral of the Outremer.