Stories thread - King of the Romans PBM

[Cecil XIX]

Trent, 1360

It was before dawn, and Edmund Becker was tending to the horses and the wagon in preperation for setting off. As he walked back to the inn where his family was staying, he noticed that there was an unusual quite in the city. He did not understand it, and he increased his pace until he entered the inn.

“Why are there no people on the streets? Surely I am not the only man who rises before the sun.” The owner shrugged.

“We’ve heard tell that the battle will be fought today, m’lud. Some have left the city to escape the victory party, and everyone who isn’t tending to a business like me is sleeping. We figure it’s gonna be a long night.”

Edmund’s brow furrowed. “What battle?”

“Why, the battle between the Imperialists and the Republicans of course! What have you been doing these last few days that you haven’t heard of it?”

Edmund did not hear that last sentence, as he was already bolting up the stairs. Only the greatest of restraint prevented him from scaring his family half to death when he opened the door.

***

Thankfully his skill at campaigning had been showing through in this trip, and they were back on the road with little fuss. But up ahead, he could see a checkpoint of soldiers.

“Halt!” Came the cry from ahead. Edmund complied, and turned his head to give his family a reassuring look. As the soldiers approached, a knight on horseback rode out to speak to them. Edmund could tell from his livery that he was one of Lothar’s men. “State your business.” The knight demanded briskly.

“My family and I are headed to port. If that tyrant Peter should be victorious, God forbid, we’ll be on the first ship to Outremer.” Edmund spoke irratably, emphasizing his Austrian accent. The knight nodded appreciatingly.

“You may pass, though your fear is unwarranted. Duke Lothar shall be victorious.” Before he could turn to join his fellows, Edmund spoke again.

“Good sir knight, I cannot let my family get involved in the battle. From where comes the violence, so that we may avoid it?”

“The battle shall be fought over yonder hill and the tyrant’s forces shall come from that direction.” The knight spoke as he pointed in the right directions. “Stay close to the road from here on, and you shall not be bothered.”

“Bless you sir knight. I pray the day brings you glory.”

***

After a while, the checkpoint was long out of sight. Edmund looked up at the Heavens. His wife noticed the look in his eyes.

“Edmund!” Contzel cried out.

“Contzel…” Edmund lowered his head, then looked her in the eye. “I won’t be long. And I will keep our promise.” Edmund quickly stopped the wagon, dismounted, and began to untether the spare horse.

“Fredericus! You’ll be in charge while I’m gone! Keep to the plan and get to the port, I’ll be right behind you.” Not wanting to burden himself with arms and armor, he quickly mounted the horse and galloped off towards the battlefield.

***

Having moved as quickly as his old body would let him, Edmund was quite pleased with the speed with which he had arrived at the battlefield. Looking towards the south and the north, he could see the smoke from the campfires. Though he was on the periphery, he could just make out the larger banners denoting the various lords under whom the armies had assembled. It appeared that the battle was just about to begin. Edmund sighed.

“Very well, noble Reich. At least allow me the honor of witnessing your death throes.”

[Privateerkev]

Edessa 1380:

On a farm owned by the von Hamburg family, a knight rode up on a horse. This place had been in the family since Jan was the Crusader Count of Edessa. Now it was the home of an old hermit.

Opening the door, the knight saw an old woman rocking in her chair by the fire. When she looked up, a smile brightened her face.

"Max! What do I owe the pleasure?", Alfgarda rose to greet her old friend.

The knight bowed, "My lady, it is good to see you. But we have something important to discuss."

Alfgarda went to the kitchen to fetch herself and her friend some tea.

"I'm afraid the Reich is descending into civil war. For real this time."

The former Queen of Outremer paused in mid-sip. "I'm sorry to hear that. But it's out of my hands. I retired ever since that monster entered my husband's city."

Max sat in silence for a second. "But it is that monster that needs your help. There has been proof. Proof that it was Lothar that killed Kaiser Siegfried. Proof of the Order. Proof that your husband was right all along. Roughly half of the Reich's nobles have joined with Fritz to fight Lothar."

Alfgarda took the information in. Sipping some tea she finally said, "But what can I do now? Earlier, when I had the ear of Kaiser Elberhard and some of the other nobles, I could maybe make a difference. Now? I'm just an old woman that everyone is glad to be rid of."

Max stared at her and swallowed. "Fritz could use some more legitimacy. Think of it. One of his great enemies goes to the Diet and proclaims her support. It might sway some of the neutral nobles. Plus, your husband owed Kaiser Siegfried big. And he never got the chance to repay."

That last hit Alfgarda hard. Max was right. For some reason, Siegfried had entrusted Jan with Outremer. Given him a promotion and a purpose. Even re-appointed him when it was politically difficult to do so. Jan had been obsessed with finding Siegfried's killer. He always suspected it was Lothar but he had no proof. All he could do was strike at Lothar's allies, like Dassel. And upset the career of others, like Matthias. Jan had died before he could do more.

"Alright, but what if I do what you suggest? From what you said, it seems the battle is almost underway. I could be too late."

Max looked at her with all seriousness and said, "My lady, your husband would say that it is never too late to do the right thing. Fritz may be a monster. But a Reich led by the Order would usher in a darkness that would blanket the whole world."

Alfgarda sat for a minute sipping her tea. Finally she said, "Fine, let me pack."

[gibsonsg91921]

Should Hapsburg survive the battle, there's no way he'll be Duke of Austria, Peter thought as he poised to charge. He came late and he's still just sitting there! The Zirns are a nobler family anyways.

The Republican forces were nearing him. His conscious thoughts fell apart as he drove Schwarz furiously into the fray.

[TinCow]

Trent - 1380 AD

“What is it, m’lord?”

Lothar swiveled his head to look at the man who had spoken. It was one of the younger Bavarian knights, Dietmar, or possibly Ditwin. Lothar hardly bothered learning their names anymore, at least not until they had survived a year. He arched his eyebrow at the young warrior.

“What is what, Sir…?”

The man’s face blushed red. “Uh, Sir Hartrad, m’lord.”

The Duke of Bavaria grimaced and looked back at the battle lines. Who in the hells was Sir Hartrad, and what had happened to Sir Dietmar? Had there ever been a Sir Dietmar? Lothar spat on the ground and looked out on the battle before him. A mass of men were swarming in, around, and away from each other everywhere his eye could see. Arrows and bolts fell from the sky, and the sound of gunpowder weapons firing still sprinkled the air. Men screamed and died, but the Voice of the Illuminati did not even break a sweat.

“Sire…”

Lothar turned back to Sir Hartrad. “Ah, you mean Duke Arnold’s banner, do you not?”

The young knight nodded sheepishly.

“It is the sign of the birth of the Republic.” Lothar gazed at the rippling red flag. It pleased him greatly to see the insignia of the Illuminati displayed so publicly, and so proudly. It had taken many years of hard work and sacrifice to reach this day, but total victory was at least within reach. He turned back towards Sir Hartrad and was about to say more, when a rider arrived from the right flank.

A blood-soaked bandage was wrapped around the man’s left thigh and his horse was soaked with sweat, but he managed to stammer out his message between gasps for air. “Lord Bernhard reports… the Imperials… right flank… fighting each other…”

Lothar smiled broadly and clapped the messenger on the shoulder. “Thank you, my good man. That is the news I have been waiting for.”

The rider nodded. “Any message to deliver, m’lord?”

The Voice of the Illuminati smiled. “Yes. Give my regards to my son. Oh, and if you see Brother Maximillian, tell him that his father and eldest brother would be proud of him. The Zirns have always been the most loyal and devoted of the Illuminati brotherhood. He honors their memory well. Brother Karl and Brother Johann are surely looking down on him with pride this day.”

When the Duke of Bavaria said nothing more, the rider simply gave a quick nod and began his ride back to the east. Lothar returned his attention to Sir Hartrad, whose gaze was now affixed to the immense black flag that waved from Duke Arnold’s position. He answered before the knight could ask his inevitable question.

“That, my young friend, is the sign of the impending doom of all the Imperialist fools.” Lothar laughed and clapped his hands together in mock applause. “How arrogant of them to believe that they could ever defeat us by force of arms. They do not even realize that this is not a battle, it is an execution. The war was won before any man took up arms.” The Voice of the Illuminati grinned broadly and looked deep into the eyes of the young knight. “This is simply the most efficient method of killing those who remain.”

[gibsonsg91921]

Peter slew the Dismounted Feudal Knights, and thought, "Why, Max? Now your end will be the same as all of the fools you fight for.

[AussieGiant]

Trent 1380

Bolts had been fizzing around the Dread Duke since the battle had begun. His shield had taken 3 direct hits while amazingly one bolt was still protruding from the join in his shoulder plate, blood oozed down his breast plate and onto his thigh guards and grieves. The plate barding of his horse was equally covered in arrows and bolts.

A rider approached the hive of activity that made up Arnold's retinue. Making his way past the Dread Knight and the Berserker Grom, the messenger kept his eyes down and finally spoke up.

"My Lord!!" He shouted over the din of the battle taking place forward of their position.

"Lord Bernhard has perished in his engagement with Ruppel, Max Zirn sends word that they have prevailed never the less. They request orders at this time!"

At that moment the sky seemed to darken, the messenger looked around in panic for a moment.

The Dread Duke looked across at the front lines for a second and said:

"Achtung!! Bolts incoming, SHIELDS UP!!"

With a barely noticeable movement the entire regiment complied, except the Duke himself who seemed totally oblivious to the hail of death approaching.

As the final bolts thudded home there was a small gurgling sound that drew the Duke's attention...turning back to the messenger,Arnold raised an eyebrow at the now dying man. He shook his head in disgust at his feeble attempts to remove the crossbow bolt that was now lodged in his throat.

"Get me another messenger!!"

Glancing at Grom the Duke said with an exasperated tone. "When will these young knights start listening to me??!! I say things for a reason!!

Grom, get over to the right flank and give Max, and Ludwig this message!" The Duke handed the huge man a note covered in the Dukes own blood.

"And don't get yourself killed, get back here with their answers immediately."

Arnold looked to his left and saw Hugo and Lothar’s standards still flying, behind him the two massive BLACK and RED flags were still being waved back and forth as he had ordered.

The work was getting grim now and it was certainly not over yet he thought to himself.

Swinging his war horse around to his personal regiment the Duke thundered;

"Right you stinking whoresons!! It looks like we are going to see some action, when that bastard GROM gets back we are going to see how these Imperial scum handle the Dread LORD and his Regiment!!

Say your prayers and touch your lucky charms men, because I'm taking you to HELL AND BACK!!"

The roar from Arnold's personal retinue was staggering, for a moment the front line paused at the noise before resuming their deadly battle, the critical point was now upon everyone...who would rise to the occasion and cement themselves into history and who would fall and be forgotten forever?

[_Tristan_]

Tears washed down the blood and dirt from Hughes' cheeks as he was comtemplating the western side of the battlefield.

All the good men that had joined him on his name alone, men that believed in the ideals Hughes fought for, chivalric ideals, utopian ideals, not one of them was alive to see the brighter future that their fight was destined to bring out for the people of what was once known as the Holy Roman Empire.

Hughes' gaze was taken from the gruesome sight by the sound of cheering on the other side of the battlefield. What he saw defied reason... It seemed that Imperials were fighting among themselves. He saw Ruppel's banner brought down and wondered what befell of his fellow Swabian.

Now he understood the meaning of the red flag waving constantly behind Duke Arnold, that immense flag with its eye symbol. Now he witnessed another flag being unfurled, this one black... Black as a bad omen, mused Hughes...

Those men have secret deep in the marrow of their bones... Why didn't they trust me with their battle plan ? Did they think I would turn on them ? Didn't I commit myself to their cause against my House, against the Kaiser who gave me asylum when I was without a country ?

Is this why they have sent my men to their deaths ? Did they see me and my men as a threat ?

I don't know where this whole bloody business is leading but seeing all this bloodshed I wonder if I chose the good side...

Will our Utopia be ruled by secrecy ?