Battle reports thread - King of the Romans PBM

**econ21** · 09-25-2007, 11:59

The battle for Jerusalem, 1302

Elberhard was glad to escape Europe and the thankless job of chairing the Diet for a while. A formidable Egyptian army had entered the province of Jerusalem and he had to lead his army to drive it off. However, the Prinz's army was still battered from its last encounter with the Egyptians, and so Elberhard ordered his Armenian captain, Kachig Iskyan, to recruit some mercenaries to make up the shortfall.

“There are some Khwarazmian cavalry units that would join us for a price.” offered the Armenian.

“Aren't the Khwarazmians Mohammedans?” queried the Prinz, cautiously. “The Diet is already giving me hell for cosying up to the Orthodox Byzantines. How do you think they will take it if I start drafting Mohammedans into my ranks?”

Kachig shrugged. “Are the Electors going to fight this battle for you? Is a sword Catholic or Mohammedan? No, the Electors are hundreds of miles from here, running around like headless chickens over this or that imagined plot against them. And you need these men. That Egyptian army means business.”

“You are right. @#$%^&!!! it - I don’t care which god those Khwarazmians worship, so long as they fight for me.”

“Very good, Sire, and now, I have something rather special for you today. Follow me and take a look…”

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Elberhard gazed up at the mighty armour clad beasts in front of him.

“Cannon? They’ve got @#$%^&!!!ing cannon on top of them? I don’t @#$%^&!!!ing believe it! Who the @#$%^&!!! came up that @#$%^&!!!ing idea?! Must have been some goddamn creative assembly.”

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The Prinz smiled to himself and shook his head admiringly.

Then he paused and said lewdly to Kachig: “Lift up that cloth over them, I want to have a look down below. This one’s a male, right?”

The Prinz peered under the elephant and then emerged, with a smirk on his face. “Hah! Better tell Duke Arnold - that soubriquet of his, old elephant balls, might be one thing that is deterring any of the ladies from saying yes to his propositioning!”

*****

The Prinz shuffled nervously.

“Three to two in our favour, you said?” he asked Kachig. The Armenian shrugged and mumbled something - not wishing to correct the Prinz and tell him the odds were actually reversed. Better to let him attack thinking he had the edge.

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“All right - can’t be that hard, then can it? But @#$%^&!!!, they do look rather formidable - all lined up like that.”

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“All right” said Elberhard, repeating himself, as if psyching himself up for the challenge. “Those handguns of theirs will make probably make a mess of our armour, but we may have an advantage in range. Let’s start off the battle by seeing what those Duke Arnolds can do. Tell them to aim for the rearmost cavalry unit - it will probably be their captain.”

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However, Elberhard had overlooked the fact that the Egyptians had their own long range artillery in the form of a pair of trebuchets. These monsters of wood and stone were wheeled out in front of the Egyptian army and began to launch fiery shots in the direction of the Prinz’s elephants.

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“@#$%^&!!! it! Take care of my Arnolds!” shouted the Prinz to Kachig. “Get them the @#$%^&!!! out of there! Send them to the hill on the right flank - at the double.”

Kachig bowed, slightly distressed at the clear evidence that the Prinz cared more for his lumbering beasts of war than for the brave men standing on the front line.

“All right” said the Prinz, taking stock. “So much for the blasting them from range. I forgot about their @#$%^&!!!ing trebuchets. We’ll have to try something else. Let’s send forward the pavise crossbowmen. We will still outrange them. Put the entire army in loose formation. I’ve seen what those trebuchets can do to close ranked troops.”

The German line advanced forward, moving into crossbow range of the Egyptians. However, the Mamluk archers swept in from the flanks and began to fire on the advancing Imperial army.

“Halt!” shouted Elberhard, calmly. Four regiments of pavise crossbowmen against three of Mamluk archers. The odds were still in his favour. One regiment of Mamluks began to enter a Cantabrian circle.

“Send in the Khwarazmians!” ordered Elberhard. He had no expectation the heavily armoured mercenaries could catch the horse archers, but they would at least prevent them using the Cantabrian circle to make themselves invulnerable to the German crossbowmen.

The Egyptians seemed to realise they were getting the worst of it and so sent forward two regiments of Sudanese gunners to assist the Mamluk archers. As the gunners got close enough to bring their weapons to bear, Elberhard knew he had to act.

“Send in the cavalry from both flanks. Let’s catch those fellows before they get too comfortable.”

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For a moment, it looked as if the battle was shifting decisively in favour of the Germans. The Sudanese gunners, and the Egyptian trebuchets, were run down in the charge of the Imperial cavalry. The elephant artillery, now sited on a ridge on the right flank, rained death down on the central mass of Egyptian heavy infantry and cavalry, which milled in confusion, reforming its line.

*****

However, like a swarm of angry bees, the Egyptian army started to group together and then surged forward towards the exposed German cavalry. Regiments of axebearing Tabbardariyya threw themselves at the cavalry locked in melee in the centre.

Hastily, Elberhard called for his cavalry to withdraw.

Then, like lightning, fast moving Mamluks and Royal Mamluks emerged on the flanks to pursue the retreating Teutons and Khwarazmians.

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Jan the Teuton’s regiment on the right of the Imperial line had smashed through a regiment of handunners and crossed the centre of the line. As a result, it was withdrawing down the left flank, pursued by enemy horse. This unfortunately left a retreating regiment of Khwarazmians as the sole cavalry available to defend the German right. The mercenaries were unable to hold against massed Royal Mamluks and Mamluk archers which vigourously pursued them.

“@#$%^&!!! it, I am going to lose me cavalry” swore Elberhard. “Kachig - bring back those elephants - get them to counter-charge on the right flank. Escort! Captain Jan’s Teutons are in trouble! Let’s help them out!” With that the Prinz launched his own escort towards the left flank.

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The Prinz’s escort was unable to reach the Egyptian cavalry pursuing Jan’s Teutons on the left and instead got bogged down in the centre, in melee with three regiments of axe-wielding Tabbardariyya. As he saw his escort falling around him, Elberhard could hear Linyeve’s voice inside his head: Be careful… you must not die… you have many enemies who would rejoice in your death.

But as Elberhard looked around, he could see no possibility of retreat. He was alone, behind the three enemy infantry regiments - to try to pull back through the axe-chopping infantry would be certain death.

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There was only one thing for it - Elberhard called out to his escort, over the heads of the Egyptian infantry that were interposed between them.

“Brothers! Follow me! Forward! Ride through these scum!”

The well armoured German knights spurred their heavy horses through the enemy lines and, as if by a miracle, all three of the regiments of Tabardariyya broke beneath their advance.

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With that “charge”, Elberhard had smashed the enemy centre. He quickly exploited it, crashing his escort into the rear of other committed enemy units and then overrunning into one of the remaining regiments of Sudanese gunners.

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The battle was now clearly the Prinz’s, but there was a price to be paid on the beleaguered right. There, only the mercenary elephants were holding up the Egyptian attack and even they were falling to the lances of the dauntless Royal Mamluks.

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Kachig ordered his pavise crossbowmen to stand their ground and fight the enemy heavy cavalry in a desperately uneven battle. The Armenian captain brought the decimated regiment of Khwarazmians to assist the crossbowmen, but it was not enough and the mercenaries died bravely in the cause of their hired masters.

In the end, the situation on the right was only saved by the arrival of Elberhard and the bulk of his army from the centre and left.

****

After the battle, Elberhard wandered, distraught, over to the fallen elephants.

“My poor @#$%^&!!!ing Arnolds.” he wailed.

Kachig angrily approached the Prinz: “Forget those animals, Sire!” chastised the Armenian, gesturing to the depleted regiments of pavise crossbowmen and spearmen. “If you must grieve, grieve for the brave men who died to give you this victory.”

Shamefaced, Elberhard nodded in agreement. But when the angry Armenian had left, the Prinz, who by now had recovered his good spirits, took aside one of his pages.

“Look, I want you to take an axe and cut off a piece of one of those beasts to send to Duke Arnold as a souvenir. … No, no, no, not a foot, I don’t want you to cut off a foot, I want you to cut off, you know their …”

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**FactionHeir** · 09-26-2007, 23:26

A small village somewhere at the foot of the eastern Alps, 1304 AD

There had been reports of rebels who raided and pillaged the many small villages that littered the foot of the Alps, but to date, they had always eluded the Imperial forces that marched through, on their way east. It was time that someone put an end to this menace thought Hans, who was also eyeing the newest addition to Swabia: Ehrhart.

"Ehrhart, it is time you earned your spurs."

"Very well, I have been waiting to test my skills with the blade on a foe for many years now, and I am humbled by your attention my liege." was the reply.

Hans nodded. "Indeed, you will have ample opportunity. In fact, it will just be the two of us and a small company of men who will be defending this village here tonight."

"Just us two?! They may be rebels, but last reports indicate some 500 or so men with spears and horses. How are we to defeat them on our own? We have the Imperial army with us, why not use them?"

"You have much to learn Ehrhart. We nobles are priviledged to lead men, and to do so, means to not waste lives needlessly. Anyone can muster an army to defeat this force, but to do so with a sense of chivalry is different. Besides, the Imperial army would be spotted too easily. Us two can lay in waiting and strike when the time is ripe."

Ehrhart was too loyal a man to disobey such words or reason, although he believed in simply killing his foe rather than doing so honorably.

-----

A villager ran up to Hans, shouting between gasps and waving his arms wildly. Before he could speak anything audible, Hans raised his hand to stop him, only nodding and saying calmly: "They are coming, I know. Get to safety and have all villagers stay in their homes."

"Well then Ehrhart, let us show these rebels that to attack a German village is to attack the empire itself. To battle!"
Hans signalled his men to follow and charged the nearest regiment of rogue militia spearmen, while Ehrhart joined him only after the regiment was decimated and fleeing and Hans was already charging against the next.

Lances broke through the little armor most of the rebels wore and each charge by the two nobles left only a mass of dead or nearly dead raiders, with few horses to be seen in between. Ehrhart was dazzled by it all, less leading than following Hans' orders during the battle. His retinue on the other hand was busy protecting him from any blows he might take while staring at the scene, still wondering which devil rode his adopter to attack so boldly and relentlessly.
It was then, that he noticed how the veterans under Hans' command did not merely reform to charge, but at times charged through the rebel ranks without even galloping more than a single step.

Finally exiting his trance-like state, Ehrhart got a grip of himself and led a charge into the rebel leader's retinue himself to prove his worth and gain knighthood.

It was not after long, that the last regiment of rebels were scattering and running from the two men, who had fought so bitterly and with such determination and instilled fear with their very presence.

After the battle, Hans rode his horse next to Ehrhart, laying a hand on his shoulder, he spoke: "While you were not too eager to fight them, you did prove your worth towards the end by throwing yourself into the fray with spearmen in pursuit. For that, and your service to these villagers and the empire, you are hereby Knight Ehrhart."

Before Ehrhart could respond, Hans had already rode off to the village square to address the villagers. Finally a knight was his only thought.

**Cecil XIX** · 09-28-2007, 01:04

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Although he was about to go battle, Edmund Becker was very happy. A new general had appeared name Lorenz Zirn, and he was seeking his knighthood under Duke Arnold. Even better, he had just heard that Karl Zirn would be returning from Outremer. Yes, he was quite pleased.

“I tell you Karl, it is a good day to be alive. Soon Duke Arnold will have ample replacements for me, and I can resign from this army and finally govern over my beloved Prague. My beloved’s beloved Prague, for that matter.”

Karl did not answer. He had been staring at the walls of Bucharest with a depressed look on his face for quite some time. He soon snapped out of it and turned to Becker.

“Well my lord, here’s hoping that this siege goes better than the last one.” His carefree expression fell apart when he realized what he said, and he turned away.

Becker turned to regard the usually irreverent figure. It was only by the slimmest of margins that he had met Edmund in Bran, when the Count was making a tour of the ranges. Eager to start a retinue, Edmund immediately offered him a position.

“It’s all right. I can’t blame you for feeling so poorly after what happened, especially after what my wife went through. But this is different.” Becker continued as he absent-mindedly scratched one of his scars. “I’ve proven myself to be quite difficult to kill. I swear to God I am not going to die to today. There will be not chance of that happening what so ever.” He sighed to himself heavily. “I still have to see Prague. Now then, let’s go about making some better memories.”

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* * *

The battle started with a bit of a surprise: The walls were abandoned.

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“This is rather odd.” pondered Becker. “But it doesn’t change what me have to do. Get those gates open!” This was not a difficult job for two Grand Bombards, who opened the gates in an instant. “Get the troops in line to enter the city.” Becker ordered.

“Now then,” he thought, “Let us see how they react. If they’re just waiting at the center then that’s fine, but I won’t have my boys caught unawares in the streets somewhere.”

Becker’s patience was soon rewarded when the city garrison arrived on the walls and started firing on his soldiers. He turned around and smacked his advisor, which was more for effect what with the armor. “What the hell is this? Why’d you tell me we couldn’t deploy any further when we’re not even beyond bowshot?” Before he could get an answer, he realized that the artillery had already taken out three of the towers.

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“That’s good! Target the wall next!” It only took one salvo from the two cannons to send an entire section of the wall crumbling down. With a keen eye Becker spotted that there were on Hungarians in front of the gate. He quickly shouted orders. “Cavalry, ride to the city center! Infantry, advance upon the two breaches! Artillery, take out that last tower!”

As the men advanced, Edmund came to the embarrassing realization that those orders would have been better off given in the reverse order.

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Regardless, Imperial Knights soon began riding through the eastern gates of Bucharest to the surprise of the Hungarians.

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But the enemy were no fools, and the Hungarian militia engaged the Imperial cavalry while the Imperial foot engaged the Hungarian militia. The result was a rather confusing melee.

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This arrangement soon proved it’s effectiveness when the Hungarians fleeting to the city center found half of the Knights blocking their path. The Hungarian general Oremus Samuel had planned on coming to the aid of the militia, but a quick peek at the situation made the futility of such an act obvious.

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With the walls taken, Edmund began issuing new orders. “All right, let’s get going! Surround the center from all sides! Sergeants, what do you see?”

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A sergeant walked up to Edmund quickly. “My lord, the Hungarians have one full unit of milita, one quarter-strength unit of militia, and a Hungarian Noble.”

“I see. Well then, let us wait for the other regiments to get in position. We need to do this right.” At that point, Karl spoke up.

“Sir, what about the crossbowmen? They can be put to good use if the enemy’s just going to sit there.”

“Interesting. Very well, bring them up. Worst case scenario, we draw them out to us.”

The crossbowmen reached the center, and soon began shooting at Samuel. Samuel wanted to stop this.

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It was a noble effort, and he died in a suitably manly fashion with a sword in his arm and enemies on all sides.

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“Very good. With him dead we have nothing to fear. Just rush those last few militia.”

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It was an easy task for the sergeant and zweihanders.

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As Edmund marched into the city triumphant, the town hall caught his eye.

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“Did we do that?”

**econ21** · 09-29-2007, 19:22

Caen, 1306

As Karl’s horse crested the brow of the hill, he could see before him Count Scherer’s army arrayed for battle. The legendary Swabian general had deployed his men, the combined militia of Paris and Rheims, to force a way through the French besieging Caen.

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Karl raced down the hill, skirting the French lines on the forward slope of the hill. The foe were not numerous, but impressed Karl with their professionalism. At the front, well-armoured aventuriers stood, ready to rain crossbow bolts down on any attackers. Behind them were foot knights and a single regiment of mounted knights.

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Thankfully, the French paid no heed to Karl - perhaps thinking him one of their own. The young German knight made it through to his own lines. There, he was shocked that no one intercepted him, a knight in full armour, heading straight for the German head quarters. All around him the militia seemed unconcerned or uncertain. Only when he approached Count Scherer’s own escort was he stopped and his identity demanded.

“I am Sir Karl Gorg, a knight from the Caen garrison.” Karl proclaimed.

Count Scherer had observed Karl’s rapid approach and came over to speak to him.

“Can we expect your garrison to join us?” the Count inquired.

Karl felt shame deep within him. The garrison, led by an overly methodical and cautious commander, Captain Hermann, still had not broken out of Caen.

“They may yet, my Lord, but garrison is hard pressed breaking through the French barricades.”

Scherer nodded. “Very well, we waste no time in assisting them. Sound the advance!”

Karl was alarmed - he had seen the professional French army awaiting them. The Count’s militia may outnumber the enemy considerably, but they would be no match for them in combat.

The Count looked at Karl with a smile: “You will ride with me, I hope?”

Karl bowed, honoured at the request to join the Count’s escort.

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The French lines advanced - peasant crossbowmen leading the way in loose order. The Count ordered them to target the French knights, rather than try to duel the aventuriers. After them came the spear militia, backed by town militia and halberd militia. On each flank, a regiment of militia cavalry was sent to get behind the enemy lines.

Karl rode with Count Scherer behind the mass of the German militia. He could see the violence being worked by the aventuriers on the hill. Militia fell by the dozen and lay moaning or screaming in the grass. Karl looked at the progress of the militia cavalry on the two flanks. On the right, he was appalled to see one rider fall after another. Within a couple of minutes, the regiment had been reduced from sixty to less than a dozen.

“My God!” exclaimed Karl. Never before had he witnessed such effective archery.

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He turned to look at the German left. Amazingly, the militia cavalry regiment there had drawn up level with the French line without being molested. Then Karl’s eyes made out something in woods. A body of enemy horsemen had hidden concealed on the right of the French lines.

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For a moment, Karl thought the militia cavalry might charge the French mounted knights in the rear.

“Don’t do it, don’t do it.” Karl prayed quietly under his breath.

Already one of the two militia cavalry regiments had been destroyed. Karl had little doubt the same fate would await the remaining one if it entered combat unsupported against the pride of French chivalry.

“Send a regiment of spearmen to engage those mounted knights on the left.” ordered Count Scherer to his aides. Then, as if remembering he only commanded militia, not professional sergeants, the Count added: “Better make that two regiments of spearmen.”

But the Germans were not to have the initiative in this battle. As the Germans approached the aventuriers, French knights charged through the aventuriers and headed straight to the militia struggling up the hill.

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All along the lines there was a clash of arms. The French knights, both mounted and on foot, clearly outclassed their opponents and soon most of the militia regiments were at half strength or below. Only the reputation of their general kept the Germans in the fight.

Count Scherer turned to Karl grimly: “Well, young man, it looks like our presence at the front is required.”

Karl held up his lance in a salute as Count Scherer ordered his bodyguard into the fray.

The Duke made straight for the enemy general, whose mounted knights were threatening to overrun the German right.

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Karl fought ferociously, cutting his way to the enemy general and then bringing him down in single combat. The young knight was exultant - through valour of arms, he and Scherer’s escort had surely won the day!

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However, when Karl turned, he saw in horror, dismounted French knights with poleaxes closing in on Scherer’s few remaining bodyguards. The Count himself was hemmed in among the trees, trapped between brave aventuriers and vengeful foot knights.

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As Karl saw the body of the Count fall, he screamed in anger. This was all Karl’s fault - he should have stopped the general attacking alone; he should have brought the Caen garrison up in time. News of the brave general’s death spread among the German militia like a shock wave and soon the entire vast German army was in rout.

Karl shouted to the crossbow militia: “Stand your ground! Fight like Friedrich!”

Then the young knight took his horse and raced up the hill, desperate to find if the Caen garrison had arrived on the field. When he reached the small, but professional garrison, he rode straight to its commander, Captain Hermann.

“Count Friedrich is fallen. The battle is almost lost. I beg of you, Captain, give me command of the regiment of mounted knights. I may yet be able to save the day!”

Captain Hermann was a general who would never earn the soubriquet speedy, but even he could not fail to be moved by the impassioned young knight pleading before him. He nodded: “God go with you! I will follow with the infantry as fast as I can.”

Karl led the Imperial knights in a frenzy, leading them to smash one regiment of aventuriers after another.

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By the time Karl’s men turned their attention to the enemy foot knights, the fighting spirit of the French was broken. Count Scherer’s mission to relieve Caen had succeeded, but at the cost of the Reich’s most distinguished general.

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Some weeks after the battle, Karl received a letter from Prinz Elberhard:

Originally Posted by Elberhard

Sir Karl Gorg,

I am saddened to hear of the loss of Count Friedrich Scherer, a true hero of the Reich.

But as one hero dies, another is born. I have been told of your part in saving the battle and wish to offer you a battlefield promotion. You will be given land and estates and made an Elector in the Reich.

Please accept this great honour,

Yours,

Prinz Elbehard

Karl let the letter fall, unanswered to the floor.

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**Dutch_guy** · 10-05-2007, 23:03

Placeholder for the siege, assault and sack of Constantinopel.

**Cecil XIX** · 10-05-2007, 23:11

“So it has come to this again. It seems the peasants and the nobles alike want to keep their city to themselves”

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Edmund Becker addressed his army.

“Men! We have Hungarian wolves at the wayside, just waiting to pick to pick off good Imperials who have the courage to go and fight. So let’s take this city quickly, and make sure to keep the walls intact! Now, to battle for the Reich and Saint Michael!”

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Though there was a heavy rain, it did little to obscure what needed to be done. There were five towers to take down, and cannons to do it.

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Once that was done it was a simple matter of advancing on the walls. The rebels had only one unit of archers to contest with and they futilely spent their arrows on the walls.

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In Edmund’s haste to make sure the ladders were properly placed, he was very much surprised to see the enemy Knight’s riding forth from the city gates and attacking his Zweihanders.

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“That it, they’ve given us an opening! Infantry, cavalry advance!” Soon Imperial soldiers were swarming into Bucharest without so much as splinter having fallen from the gate.

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On the walls, the rebel foot archers were firing their last salvo.

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Again, the Imperial cavalry surged forward. They would be ready when the rebels tried to flee back to the city center.

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That did not take long, as the men defending the walls were all peasants and levies. A few units broke almost upon contact.

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But the battle was far from over, with many enemies standing between the Reich and control of the city.

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Becker quickly hatched a plan to send the infantry through the main road,

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While having the cavalry flank them by moving along a side road.

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This led to the cavalry almost being flanked, but Becker was prepared for that too.

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Still, the fighting inevitably degenerated into chaos.

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Becker ordered the cavalry to extract themselves from the fighting and approach the city center from another direction while the infantry pushed through.

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After that, the rest of the siege was textbook. The infantry and the cavalry moved in from multiple directions, surrounding the then outnumbered defenders and wearing them down from all side. Unfortunately most of the remaining soldiers were knights, and they took a heavy toll before falling.

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**GeneralHankerchief** · 10-08-2007, 00:45

The Diary of Dietrich von Dassel

Durazzo, 1314

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No really, I thought, rolling up the scroll and burning it. What a waste of paper. If raising an illegal army, housing the greatest threat to the Papacy (Alexander Luther), and marching that army on Durazzo, de facto capital of the Papacy in the name of Luther's teachings with the intent of killing the Pope wasn't grounds for excommunication, everyone might as well just coast into Heaven right now. I laughed. Wouldn't that be something?

As far as marches went, it was a rather fun one. The men were clearly motivated, and we may have heard Hans's screams of frustration at the fact that he couldn't catch me from here. Plus, after that assassination attempt on Luther, we actually gained men who wanted to join the cause, which was a welcome rarity in army marches. Granted, the fellows didn't have much experience... or armor... or weaponry. However, they did have zeal, and there are some occasions where zeal counts for the most.

If only the most zealous were always the most well-equipped to fight...

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Anyways, we finally arrived at Durazzo. It was a beautiful day, clear skies, all that. We were also somewhat surrounded and definitely outnumbered. But the nasty part of it would come later. Now came the catapults.

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We brought six of the shiny, lovely, wooden things with us from Ragusa to Durazzo. I remembered back in the Diet when Jan von Hamburg was flapping on about them and how there was no possible way they could be used to keep the peace in Ragusa, which at the time was my main excuse for housing that large army. I simply ignored him on that point. Ignoring him is fun. I must make a note to ignore him more often. Perhaps me completely ignoring him will actually ruffle his feathers a bit. That would be fun to see.

Before the catapults began their salvos against Durazzo's poor walls I had a couple of things to do. First of all, I had to address Luther. He was our religious ace in the hole, after all. I was confident in my generalling skills that day, but still, I was outnumbered by quite a bit. I told him to use all of his religious mojo to pray that second, massive army away, or at least delay them a bit. He seemed taken aback at my request but considering how I had sheltered him for the past few years and the fact that I was dressed in my full, intimidating, battle regalia he complied.

The second thing was to make the usual inspiring speech to the troops. I had this sort of thing in my mind for a while now. One's head generally gets overloaded with inspiring speeches when one gets stuck with garrison duty for a number of years. As a result, it came out a little over-the-top. Of course, I had people with zeal on my side, so maybe it was perfect.

"Men!" I said, in a nice, manly, let's-get-down-to-business tone, "Before us lies our goal! Durazzo, home of the puppet! Durazzo, home of the old crone! Durazzo, home of that Byzantine!!!" They cheered at that last bit. I grinned behind my helmet. I love it when something in a speech goes right. "We come here today," I continued, "A persecuted people, chased by our own kind, chased by people determined to run the Reich into ruin just to complete their own misguided agendas!" More cheering. I felt like a Kaiser. Oh wait, scratch that. I felt like a Duke. Actually, some Dukes are really having some problems nowadays. Scratch that too. I felt like... a popular leader. Let's leave it at that.

"They have tried to take everything away from me! Gentlemen, look at me! I am without a County. I am without a House! Men, they were even trying to rob me of my freedom before we made our march! But *#%! it, I have an army. And an army is all you ever need in life!!! We are the Army of Light, for that is what we bring to the world! Light, knowledge, and the truth! Nobody can take that away from us!!!" Cue army going beserk. Cue me nervously scanning the horizon searching for that huge Papal army scheduled to grind us into oblivion. Cue me not seeing anything and silently praising God and Luther (not necessarily in that order) for siding with me today.

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"Anyway, enough talking!" I concluded, because I really wanted to take the city before that other army decided to show up. "Catapults, show 'em what you've got!!!"

And they did. The lovely, shiny, wooden things did their work and launched those rocks at the enemy's walls, which vibrated so much from the impact that they sent the poor men on them flying. Of course, Pope Abbate or whoever was actually commanding the men saw the danger in this at once and gave the order to promptly abandon the walls. I remember turning to my aide, Friedrich, and remarking that I take back everything I ever said about artillery. He just shook his head.

I kept them firing long after it was necessary, grinning. Say all you will about the Reich's current state. The people of Durazzo, especially those who live on the north side of the city, will still say that we're pretty damn powerful. It felt good. Plus, it gave me some time to think about how to assault the city, where a large Papal army was waiting for us.

Mainly, I thought about those Religious Fanatics that had joined us halfway through and where they would fit. My first inclination was to use them as shock troops; they certainly had that required zeal. But then I realized they didn't fit the other definition of shock troops: effective. Forlorn Hope were good shock troops. They were effective. These Lutherans were like Forlorn Hope, only they suck. But then I realized that - hey! - the walls were abandoned and I wouldn't need any shock troops, period. Eventually I decided to put the Lutherans in reserve and use them as a buffer where extra manpower was needed.

"Sir?" Friedrich tugged my arm, snapping me back to life. "The northern walls are pretty much gone. Should we go in?"

I stared at the walls. The assessment was quite accurate.

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But then I saw that the gates, while now completely redundant, still stood. I couldn't have that, now, could I?

"Not yet," I said. "Tell the catapults to bring the gate down."

"Sir? You do realize that-"

"Just do it," I snapped. "Catapults! Bring down that gate!"

They did so. I grinned. We were ready to go in.

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Our men marched in, slowly, relaxed. There was need to speed up. After all, the walls - or what was left of them - were abandoned. There was no army behind us pushing us to move in. We had all the time in the world. I liked that. It's rare in war when you can be so organized in the middle of a battle. I ordered my units in and they went exactly where I placed them. Amazing.

A lone regiment of Papal Guard was standing at the entranceway to one of the main streets, daring us to pass. I laughed. Did they expect to be like the Spartans at Thermopylae? Did they expect to hold back the crush of my men? I ordered most of my infantry in to break them. The people in the numerous regiments of Dismounted Feudal Knights, Armoured Sergeants, and Zweihanders inevitably slipped through the cracks and sent the Papal Guard fleeing. The Papists would have to find another way to beat me.

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The main vanguard of infantry continued to move up the main street, occasionally encountering resistance. I dispatched a smaller group consisting of the Lutherans and two regiments of Armoured Sergeants to take a side street in support. Once enough area was secure, the archers and cavalry moved in. Order was progressing nicely, with the vanguard almost reaching the end of the main street. They were facing a minor resistance in Italian Spear Militia, who were being roundly defeated. Then I saw some movement that was rather surprising.

Cavalry - it had to be the Pope, since that was the only horse unit in the place - was moving, ready to back up the Italians and slam into my Zweihanders. But then I saw the Pope (poor lad, he was German, after all) move past the main action... right onto the side street where the Lutherans were ready to intercept him.

I laughed out loud. Pope Abbate was alone, without infantry support, against nearly two hundred and fifty pissed off Lutherans who had been taught for the past years that the man deserved to die. Zeal would certainly account for a lot in this skirmish.

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It was almost comically quick. The poor guy was right at the front of his unit when they ran into the Lutherans. His men put up a valiant fight but they simply couldn't reverse the fact that their leader was an old fat guy who had no military experience whatsoever. He fell rather quickly and a humongous cheer went up among the Lutherans, buoying the main group (who had intercepted potential infantry support).

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Anyway, the fight continued until it was a brutal showdown in the town center between us and the majority of the Papal infantry. I received a report from the catapults saying that the enemy army was finally in sight and that it was beginning to savage them with long-range weapons of its own. I ignored it. Killing the guys in the town center mattered now. After reading Kaiser Heinrich's reports on defeating the Papacy and taking Mediterranean settlements in general it seemed like this was the hardest part. I spent most of my time alternating between watching the battle and breaking into houses to steal food.

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The fight dragged on, blah blah blah. We lost some, they lost some. I received another report from the catapults. Time to get serious. I broke into one final house with a delicious scent of cake emanating from it, ate a slice, re-mounted my horse, and gave the final orders to the cavalry:

"Charge, boys!!!"

The Papal infantry was already at the breaking point, pressed to the limit by our men. That final cavalry charge, 150 horses screaming in, was simply too much. They died easily. Clockwork.

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"Men!" I screamed to my army after it was all over. "You have been vindicated! Re-unification lies in ruins! The puppet is deposed! You have exercised the Reich's authority and I salute you for that! The final Papal army approaches. Enjoy your spoils, make them remember this day forever as the day where they were too slow to prevent this from happening!"

And then, I exercised my final atrocity against the city of Durazzo.

"Kill them all."

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