Stories Thread

[ULC]

1129, Sofia, Midwinter

Nikolaos Aristenos was a bear of a man, easily standing a head taller then anyone else on the streets, and his girth was that of two men. Needless to say, Nikolaos hard a hard time fitting into most buildings, and had a hard time not being spotted. Most people were easily intimidated by his bulk, and it was working well for him today.

"I am sorry, but I do not have the payments you requested, please, understand."
Nikolaos shook his head at the Innkeeper. "I am sorry, but the City of Kiev has forwarded the bill through me only, so it is not me you must pay, but them. I would be more then happy to let you get the money, but I cannot so sadly, because I'd like to keep my head. Thus, I am will have to put in yet more paperwork, and we can work on your debt getting paid off. I am terribly sorry."

Nikolaos sighed. He really liked this Inn, it was well kept, had great food, kept excellent company, and that warm hearth made it very comfortable compared to the snowstorm outside. Nikolaos watched the Innkeeper begin to protest, but Nikolaos eyed him as he pulled out the paperwork. Rolling it out on the lovely wooden counter, Nikolaos spoke to the Innkeeper. "Sign here, and we can begin this terrible, necessary, yet hopefully with little pain, process. If we are lucky, we might save much of the Inn." The man was hesitant, yet a quick look at Nikolaos, and he hurriedly signed his name.

A few minutes latter, and Nikolaos walked out of the Inn with the signed papers in hand, pulling his winter cloak over him a little more tightly. The poor Innkeeper had lost almost everything, but Nikolaos had shelled in a few coin to make sure the man would not be out in the cold. Nikolaos looked over the contract again, and chuckled. At least he could keep the man at the head of his Inn, even if he would now answer to Nikolaos.

Turning to make his way to a blacksmith shop that was late on payments, Nikolaos knocked over a woman in a heavy overcoat, sending her flying into the snow. Nikolaos was used to this and quickly offered his hand to the poor woman. "I'm sorry m'lady, please forgive my-" He is immediately entranced by her eyes, riveted in thought and in motion. Even with the bitterly cold wind, Nikolaos is as warm as if he was dancing in a fireplace.

"Easily forgiven. I should have been looking where I was going, not a bit of it was your fault." Lady Veronica pushed herself up, ignoring Nikolaos's hand and dusting herself off. She looked back up at Nikolaos eyeing him before speaking. "Aren't you the senator from Kiev? What are you doing in Sofia?" Nikolaos smiles. "Oh, just some small business matters. And you?" Lady Veronica considers. "I came to visit someone close to my late husband, and I was on my way home until you bowled me over."

Nikolaos chuckles. "And I am deeply sorry for that. Do you wish me to escort you to-" Veronica waved her hand. "No, I am fully capable of finding my own way. Thank you for the offer though." Veronica turns and makes her way down the street, as Nikolaos watches her go. After she rounds the corner, Nikolaos shakes himself from his stupor and growing coat of snow. He had a blacksmith to see.

[Privateerkev]

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

This story is a co-op between OK and myself.

Constantinople 1129:

His cane clacked on the tile as he walked through the massive hallway. Makedonios had been down this way before many years ago. But that was for a very different reason. He wasn't nearly as nervous this time. For one, things were different now. For another, this conversation would probably go much better than the last. Time was short and things had to be said.

A guard flanked either side of the door unmoving like statues. An aide scurried up to him and checked his name against a list. Makedonios guessed that he was probably the only name on that list all day. But still the aide had to scan down the mostly blank page in order to look official. Bureaucracy...

The doors opened and the Megas walked in with his cane hitting at alternate beats. He was older now. His long blond hair was streaked with gray. While he needed a cane, his movements were steady. His demeanor had changed since the last time he had been in this room as well. No longer desperately pleading for a woman's hand in marriage, Makedonios was confident without being cocky.

The Basileus was speaking with a metal worker, both men in front of Aleksios's desk. Resting on the desk itself were two large blocks of plaster, with a mallet between them. Aleksios looked up as Makedonios approached and spoke to the metal worker, "I will view them myself, and then you can do the detail work. Wait outside, I do not wish to keep the Megas Logothetes waiting."

The two men were soon alone. Picking up the mallet, Aleksios casually spun it in his hands as he greeted Makedonios, "Welcome Megas, my apologies for the delay, but I have just received an interesting gift from my men."

The Basileus made his way behind the desk to sit, "How can I help you?"

First, the Megas bowed properly. Then, when it was clear he had an invitation to sit, he sat down gently and rested his cane against the chair. Mak's curiosity got the better of him and he eyed the thing on the Emperor's desk. "Your majesty, I'm curious. What is that on your desk?"

Aleksios replied, "Business before pleasure, Megas, what do you wish of me?"

Makedonios replied with a small smile. "No business Your Highness. I wanted to take this opportunity to say some things that needed to be said. But it can wait. I'm curious. Is the plaster part of the sculpture or was it what the mallet came from?" His eyes twinkled with curiosity.

The Basileus's lips twitched with a small smile, "Very well, I will indulge your curiousity. The blocks are plaster molds. Best shield your eyes."

Standing, he brought the mallet down on one block and then the other, sending chunks of plaster and dust flying. Two bronze heads were now visible underneath: One's face, what was left of it, was a rictus of pain, the other looked almost surprised.

"May I present to you Sultan Burak and Crown Prince Mehmed," said the Basileus, "These are their death masks, casted from their severed heads after they fell in battle. My men have honored me with a memento from Adrianople."

The Basileus layed down the mallet and sat again, wiping dust from his hands.

"So, what brings you here?"

The Megas looked at the grotesque display for a moment. While not exactly what he had in mind for a memento, it was clear the Emperor was pleased with it. I guess we're just different men, he thought. He kept his face impassive at the morbidness. Finally, Makedonios shrugged and looked up at the Emperor.

"I wanted to thank you. I've never really done that before. We've had our differences. And I've certainly asked for a lot. So... before it is too late, I want to thank you Your Highness. For a lot of things." Knowing he had the bad habit of monologuing, Mak left it at that and waited for the Emperor to reply.

Aleksios raised an eyebrow, "Isn't this a day of wonders?"

He resumed, more seriously, "I myself could not have foreseen the events of the past few years. However, I acted as I did to prevent the loss of what we have regained. After Manzikert, the internal strife within the Empire did more damage than the battle itself. I will not have anyone. . .anyone. . .bring about those dark days again."

The Grandmaster nodded and pointed at his scar. "Like a good number of the Senators my age, I was there. We learned the enemy within is worse than the enemy without." Pausing for a second to erase the memories that still gave him nightmares, he changed the subject back.

"You could have left us on Nicosia all those years ago but you didn't. You could have voted for Savvas again but you didn't. And you could have let the Caesar go through with his plans for me... but you didn't. You've ended up being the closest thing to a patron we in the Order have had. Ironic given our earlier differences."

Aleksios nodded, "Yes, irony tends to accumulate the longer one lives. I did what I thought was best for the Empire, and though opinion on what exactly that is varies, it worked out more often than not."

The Basileus sighed, "Though it is all still balanced on a knife's edge. One push and the Empire could still fall apart."

It was Makedonios's turn to nod. "Yes it could. I've tried to do what I can. I gave your son an 'out'. I've tried to administer my duties fairly. Sometimes I wonder if we will ever be 'stable.' There seem to be so many competing visions that all swear they are the right path."

He takes a quick pause while he thinks. "Besides thanking you, the other reason I wanted to see you is to ask if there is anything you want. I guess it could be related to what we were just talking about. I'm sure you've had plenty of us, myself included, begging you for one thing or another. Well, I now have a little more than half a term left and I have a small measure of power. So... what do you want Your Highness? I always found it funny that you didn't really ask me for anything when you switched your vote. So, here's your chance after the fact."

The Basileus again raised an eyebrow, "'Small measure of power'? The position isn't quite what you thought, is it Megas Logothetes? You can't really understand that until you've done the job."

He leaned back, thinking, "I am content. I have addressed most of the pressing matters at hand. However. . .the Walls of Theodosius need to be renovated and enlarged, but that would be quite expensive."

The Megas allowed himself a small laugh. "Oh I'm not complaining. I'm the one that asked for this and I'll do it the best I can for 15 years. The hard part was realizing that no matter what you do, you'll never make people happy. They will always assume that their part of the Empire is severely neglected. At least you didn't have to deal with 'private armies' during your term..."

With another chuckle, he composed himself before addressing the next item. "As for the walls, I've looked into it. Unfortunately, now that the Crusade is no longer self-funding, the Empire only takes in between seven and nine thousand florins a year. Those walls cost twelve. I have 6 'turns' left. I might be able to sock away two grand a year and start them before I leave but I can't promise anything."

Aleksios shrugged, "That is why I did not prioritize them. As for making Senators happy, I gave up on that a long time ago. One man's happiness is usually another's misery. The best that can be hoped for is that they are content, or at least not rebellious."

The Basileus stood and walked over to Makedonios.

"In lieu of the Walls, there is one thing I will ask of you."

Believing it would be rude to stay seated while the Emperor stood, Makedonios got up with the aid of his cane. He faced the Emperor and stood straight. He said nothing and waited for the older man to speak.

Aleksios looked about, despite the room being empty, and then whispered something quietly to Makedonios.

Normally stoic, the Grandmaster's eyes go wide. Wondering if the Emperor was joking, Mak just stares at him for a moment. When he notices that the Basileus is quite serious, he lets out a whistle. "Remind me to never get on your bad side Your Highness. I'm not sure how I can help, but if I can, I will."

Aleksios turned and picked up the bust of Crown Prince Mehmed, examining it for a moment, before responding.

"Good, you have my thanks Megas. Was there anything else you wanted?"

He answered quickly, "No Your Highness I know we're both busy so I will get going." With sincere respect in his eyes, Makedonios had one last thing to say. "I just wanted to tell you that years ago, after you denied me your daughter's hand, I was furious with you. I even took a small amount of selfish pleasure whenever you had a hard time politically. But, time passes, things happen, and feelings fade. I just want you to know now that I can't imagine an Empire without you. And I truly believe we will be the worse off for your passing. It has been an honor to serve you Your Highness."

Aleksios set the bust down and turned to face Makedonios again, "Thank you, but there will be an Empire without me. Above all else, faction, creed or House, good men like you must make sure of it."

He extended a hand, "Good fortune, Megas Logothetes."

Makedonios grasped the older man's hand. "Go with God Your Highness."

The Megas gave his Emperor a respectful nod, turned, and left the room.

[Ramses II CP]

Thebes, 1129

There had been no blood spilled in the Senate, and that was the remarkable part. A war had been declared, a war that Vissarionas ek Lesvou had, in his heart, been truly delighted to see begin at last... but the Caesar had recanted and sworn peace. He would now become a weak Emperor, with his power openly challenged and reduced by the Senate. Likely he would be all the more vicious for it when he came to power, but that was for the future.

For now, Vissa faced a very simple problem, he was cut off from the Empire. Stranded in the south by the abrupt rebellion of 'his' city, Cairo, of which he had not yet informed his soldiers. No supply lines, not even any reliable lines of communication, and he with only his bodyguards. Their tour of the Orthodox holy sites was long complete, but Vissa had not yet found what he was actually seeking in the desert. There was no peace of mind for him, not even in his sleep, and though he had, perforce, attended the emergency Senate session to see the Caesar humiliated even that had not improved his grip on himself. Something inside Vissa had just spun out of control and nothing he could do seemed to make it stop spinning. Thinking itself was difficult, and those befuddled thoughts sometimes simply seemed to erupt into words without any reason to them. His guardsmen were distraught, and Rafi was beside himself, but their efforts never actually penetrated the mental haze surrounding Vissa.

And now they were 'laying siege' to Thebes, all twenty one of them. In essence this meant camping east of the castle, where there was a well, and placing scouts along the north and south roads so that supply trains could be headed off. There was no way Vissa's men could forcibly enter the castle if the men inside chose to hold out and hope for reinforcements, but given the arrogance the Egyptian armies had shown so far it seemed quite likely that there would be a sally, and soon.

The northern scout reported a supply mission on the road. Without needing orders the men assembled and walked their horses north to block the road, but this time Vissa positioned them to intercept the supplies in clear view of the castle walls. Let the hungry men within see their food taken, and perhaps, just perhaps...

A horn sounded within Thebes, and the gates were drawn open. The garrison, which Vissa had been unable to judge from without, now revealed itself to be two companies of hardy javelin men and a solid company of Nubian spearmen. Those javelins were the real danger, they could drag a man down off his horse even if they didn't penetrate his armor. Vissa's guardsmen destroyed and fouled whatever could not be carried off of the supplies and sent the Bedouin dressed cart driver running towards the castle with his camels while the Egyptian companies assembled. Then, as soon as they sent the driver inside and began to march forward, Vissa rode away.

He had Rafi hurling stones at their pursuers with his sling, and he deliberately slit one of the bags of grain to slowly spill it's contents across the desert as they rode off with the enemy infantry in pursuit. The captain of the Thebes garrison was visibly in a fury, screaming at his men and whipping them up to chase the Greeks. Vissa's men rode just ahead of the Egyptians all the way to an outlying farm where the fields had recently been heavily irrigated and were thick with clinging, sandy mud. Placing the field in the direct line of march between the enemy foot and his men, Vissa sat back and waited. The two companies of javelineers marched around the field, but the Nubian spearmen and the garrison captain waded out into it.

At which point Vissa and his men galloped back to the castle at Thebes and in through the open gates. The cart driver, in truth Vissa's guardsmen Stephen, removed his Bedouin head wrappings and pulled himself up onto his mount behind Rafi before locking the gate behind him. Thebes was taken without even a battle. At the castle square Vissa dismounted to discuss matters with some irate representatives of the local government in rough Arabic.

The local spoke first, obviously angry, 'Captain Rashid will be back you know! He'll lay a true siege and recapture Thebes, slaughtering all your men!'

Vissa erupts in a hollow, unpleasant laugh, 'No, I dare say Rashid will not be back. His men are just discovering that the well out there is fouled and there are no supplies left in our camp to sustain his three hundred men. Indeed, if Rashid is very lucky he may still be alive at this moment, but I would not care to bet on the matter, and after they deal with him his men will return to their homes and regular meals just as quickly as possible. No one is coming to save you.'

The local man was obviously taken aback, but he looked around and drew courage from the swelling number of citizens in the square before replying, 'There's a lot of us here, Greek. What makes you think we'll live under you? We'll no more welcome you than Cairo did.'

Rafi, whose Arabic is better than Vissa's, looks anxious at these words, and watches Vissarionas carefully. A grim look falls over Vissa, but his speech is still emotionless, 'There will be no riots here. Do you hear me? No riots! Rioters will be put to the sword.'

The local sneers. There are now close to three hundred men, with a smattering of women as well, in the square and more can be seen coming down nearby streets. He retorts, 'What swords? There are twenty of us for every sword you carry. I'm the governor you know, I'll call up the militia and we'll put your men out ourselves you fool!'

At that, the governor of Thebes turns his back on Vissa and opens his mouth to shout at the crowd,

'Give these Christians their due! As the Caliph commanded at Cairo, make it so here and leave none alive!'

In a flash Vissa has ridden up behind him and split open his head. His guardsmen are momentarily shocked to see their general kill an unarmed man, but the mood of the crowd immediately turns ugly as stones and rotten produce begin to plink off Vissa's armor. Rafi looks on in horror, trying to shout to Vissa above the noise, but only one clear, empty voice can be heard.

'Clear the square men! Give them the fear of God and Byzantium! No riots in Thebes!'

It is Vissa. He swings his sword wildly through the crowd as they press close, and blood flies in the air. Instantly his guardsmen in their heavy armor press forward and an unimaginable slaughter begins. At first the people seem to be holding their own, but this is an illusion of sheer numbers. They carry no weapons to injure the guardsmen, and are not trained to tear men down from horses which kick, scream, and bite in their own right. It takes less than a minute to clear the space around Vissa, and costs the lives of dozens of broken civilians. There is a momentary pause for breath, into which Vissa says,

'This is the battle for Thebes men. Go out and win it.'

Their commander's black mental haze takes hold of the well trained men, and even as the crowd at last shrinks back of it's own accord, realizing their mistake, the Byzantine guardsmen advance. The crowd continues to struggle for a moment, but when one of the war horses bodily hurls a screaming woman through the air with it's mouth the mob breaks and tries to flee, a thousand or more terrified Egyptians scattering and trampling one another in the streets.

Rafi, having leapt from Stephen's saddle during the discussion, rushes up and clings to Vissa's sword arm as his master attempts to join the fray,

'Stop them Vissa! You cannot do this! Remember Antioch!'

There is a glimpse, the briefest glimpse, of shock and pain on Vissa's face before the blank void descends over his visage again, 'Remember Cairo Rafi. Word arrived this morning. The city rebelled, but before it did so estimates are six thousand citizens and two hundred soldiers died in the riots.'

'Does their blood count less because I did not stain my hands with it? How many more will die when we must lay siege and take the city again? There will be no rebellion here, no riots. Now, leave me to my work!'

So saying, Vissarionas ek Lesvou rode off among the screaming civilians of Thebes, killing all he could reach.

...

Hours later Thebes is quiet. Vissa's exhausted guardsmen are resting, but Vissa himself still sits in the governor's office examining papers and trying to organize a detail of locals to clear the streets and count the dead. The number will likely approach seven hundred. In the midst of sorting through these piles of documents in a foreign language a squinting Vissa realizes that Rafi has come into the room. The young man looks... scared.

'I'm leaving Vissa. What you did today... who you've become since Cairo... I can't stay Vissa.'

There is again an instant of pain visible on Vissa's face before the mask overcomes it, but his voice is perfectly controlled,

'Where will you go Rafi? Cairo is gone, and the roads north are held by rebels. We're alone here. We need every hand here. I need you.'

'Tell me then, Vissarionas ek Lesvou, in whose service I have honorably counted myself for decades, why? Why were the people here killed? Why was Thebes taken?'

Vissa shakes his head before answering, 'Why? I have set aside the question of why Rafi, because I have decided it has no answer. Why were the Christians of Cairo butchered? Why was the Crusade called? Why did God let Cairo rebel? Why did Cairo reject me? Why did Al-'

Vissa's voice rises on the last words, and then breaks off before resuming in a flat, dead tone, 'I have given up on why Rafi, and so now I stick to what. What could I do to help Byzantium and the Order when I was unfit to govern Cairo? Secure the Holy Sites and capture Thebes. What could I do to prevent riots at Thebes? Sack the castle. So, tell me, what can I do to keep you here?'

Despair and tears fill Rafi's eyes. In a small voice he repies, 'Nothing.'

Vissa nods once, 'Then go and God preserve you. Do you remember the last time I asked you why Rafi? Why, if God is great, must we live this way? It has occurred to me, here in the deserts, that perhaps God is not great. Perhaps he is cruel, and vicious, as the ancient Greeks thought of their gods, and maybe he selects his favored servents for just such qualities, and rewards them where they work his will. Perhaps I have pleased God here, now Rafi, when all that I have done before did not.'

'Consider this, my friend, at Cairo I spared the people the sack of the city and preserved my own innocence. Yet, despite this, blood ran in the streets every day for three years until the rebels threw Methodios out. I was blameless, my hands were clean! But the price of my innocence, of my immaculate hands, was six thousand dead civilians and three years of misery for twenty two thousand more. If I had sacked the city five thousand might have died and my soul would have been stained once more, but order would have held and riots would not have blackened the lives of so many for those years.'

'The total cost of my innocence, then, was exceptional misery for nearly thirty thousand human beings, and death for over six thousand. Look at my hands now, Rafi. I carry the blood of many today, at least dozens, more likely hundreds, but tomorrow those who remain will awaken and be content under my rule. There will be no riots, no misery, and no more death. I cannot help but think that this is what God wants, and I must put what He wants ahead of what I want, ahead of my innocence and bloodless hands.'

'Have you ever wondered, Raphael, what happened to the God of the old days, who would destroy a people so that he could give their lands to his chosen tribe? I think that God still works among us, and my question now is simple; What can I do to please him? I will give why unto his hands and trouble myself with it no more.

'Go with God Rafi. You might want to leave your ek Lesvou garmets in case the rebels are checking people on the road. I will pray that God guides you safely out of here and back to the Empire.'

Vissa's blank eyes then fall back to the documents he was examining. He has trouble enough reading Greek, and puzzling through badly written Arabic sometimes mixed with loan words from the local dialect is giving him a terrible headache. When next he looks up, Rafi is gone.

No reliable word reaches the Empire of the fate of distant Thebes other than the brute fact of it's capture.

[flyd]

Constantinople, 1140

A pin drops out of the clothing of a Varangian guard, and its impact on the marble floor echoes through the Magnaura. All the Senators turn in his direction. Embarrassed, he quickly picks it up, and again stands at attention.

The doors open. In walks in Basileus Ioannis Komnenos. The doors close and he makes his way to the Imperial throne. He sits, looks over the Senators for a moment, and begins to address them quietly, but plenty loud to be heard.

"First of all, I would like thank all of you who have attended father's funeral and expressed condolences. He was a great man and a good Emperor, and will be missed by all, even his opponents, few in number that they were. He will not be forgotten, but we must move on. Forty days of mourning have passed, and it is time to reopen this Senate session.

"Prior to opening the Session, I would like to announce my first act as Basileus, which is the appointment of a handful of new Senators."

As this announcement is made, a quiet murmur spreads through the crowd. A scribe hands a piece of parchment to the Basileus. He clears his throat, and begins to read.

"The following are now Senators of the Roman Senate, in order of seniority: Lucius Tarqinius Superbus, Appius Claudius Crassus, Servius Aemilius, Publius Cornelius Scipio Nasica, Lucius Cornelius Sulla, Lucius Sergius Catilina, Gnaeus Pompeius Magnus, Gaius Julius Caesar, Gaius Julius Caesar Octavianus, Marcus Antonius, Tiberius Caesar Augustus, Nero Claudius Caesar Augustus, Titus Flavius Caesar Domitianus Augustus, Caesar Lucius Aurelius Commodus Augustus--

"Ah. Well it goes on," he said and dropped the parchment, "there's like fifty more. No need to read all of them. So, with that, I declare the Session of 1140 open."

Isaakios chuckled. His brother did have a sense of humor after all. Wait, no he didn't.

"I would like to propose a Charter Amendment," said a toga-clad gentleman who looked suspiciously like Julius Caesar. "The following will be added to Section 2.7, powers of the Basileus: (20) The Basileus may disband twenty units per turn from any army."

"Second," said Nero.

"Second," said Appius Claudius.

"I will propose a Charter Amendment myself," said Catiline, "The--"

Isaak ran out of the Magnaura. He stood outside, pale in the face as if he had just seen a large number of ghosts, which it appeared was exactly what happened. He was approached by another man wearing a Roman toga.

"Isaak Komnenos," said the man.

"Who the hell are you?" Isaak asked him.

"I am Lucius Qinctius Cincinnatus."

"No, you're not. He's dead. He's been dead for centuries."

"Well, yes, that's not really important."

"How is that not important!?" Isaak screamed. "It seems important to me!"

"Look, just come with me. We need to talk."

How do you argue with a dead Roman politician? Isaak followed him.

"It is sad to see," Cincinnatus began to rant, "the Roman nation in this day. All its leaders hungry for power, worse than any we have seen. You know, back in the day, twice they called me from my farm, twice it was that they named me Dictator. What did I do? I fought the enemies, and went back home. 'You can have your lictors back,' I told them. Just like that. Would you ever see it today? No! Give any one of your Senators an army, and he will fight you. Give him a dagger, and he will stab you. Turn your back to him, and he will kick your children."

"Well, what I am supposed to do?" Isaak asked.

"Stop them!" said Marcus Porcius Cato (the Younger), who had joined them with a number of other prominent Roman statesmen. "Stop them from tearing the country apart!"

"Return to the old ways," said Marcus Tullius Cicero, "restore the Republic."

"Kill the tyrant!" yelled Gaius Cassius.

"Wait, what? He has done nothing, uh.. yet." Isaak said.

"But he will," said Cato, "he has armies, he is powerful. He wants more power. Same goes for the House leaders. They are powerful and bloodthirsty. There will be blood."

"Well, look, they need those armies to defend the people." Isaak argued.

"The Senate defends the people," said Gaius Marius, "armies whose allegiances lie with private individuals are dangerous."

"Wait, aren't you Marius? What are you doing here?" Isaak asked.

"What?" Marius said in surprise.

"Didn't you try to seize power?"

"What, me?" Marius muttered, "No, I just... I wanted to be Consul again. Sulla was the one who marched on Rome first."

"Well, maybe he wouldn't have marched on Rome if you hadn't been such a @#%$." Isaak told him.

"Hey, all I ever wanted was to ensure all my soldiers and people had land..."

"Yeah!" Tiberius Gracchus exclaimed in support.

"... and be Consul again," Marius continued. "To fight! To fight Mithridates in glorious battle!" he yelled and shook his fist.

"You know, you're not doing a lot to convince me," Isaak said.

"Yeah, can we get somebody else in here, please?" Cincinnatus requested.

"Uh, ah, yes. Here I am," Publius Cornelius Scipio Africanus said as he stumbled to the front of the crowd to speak. "Those who look to turn their swords on the Roman people are no friends of Rome. You must fight the enemies of the Senate and the People, not fight for your own power and glory!"

"Uh huh, yeah," Quintus Fabius Maximus said sarcastically.

"Ok, look," Isaak argued, "I'm sure Ioannis will do fine, and the House leaders won't let the power go to their heads."

"Kill the tyrants!" Cassius yelled again.

"I'm not going to kill anyone!" Isaak screamed, "I'm not going to restore or reform anything! I'm leaving."

"You must put the good of the nation ahead of everything else," Cicero said, "even family."

Isaak wasn't listening and forced his way through the crowd, but stopped when he came upon Marcellus Aemilius holding a dagger.

"Oh, is this supposed to be dramatic?" Isaak asked.

Marcellus nodded dramatically.

"Well, you didn't kill Servius, now did you?" Isaak told him.

"What? Hey, I tried," he pleaded, "what do you want?"

"Oh, whatever," Isaak said dismissively, "At least Brutus killed his friend. That would have made for a much better example."

"No, I never did kill Tarqinius, and wasn't all that fond of him to start with" said Lucius Junius Brutus.

"Ah, no, I meant Marcus Brutus and Caesar," Isaak corrected him.

"Yeah, I #@$&ing killed him," said Marcus Junius Brutus.

"Right, of course that's who you meant," Lucius Brutus said, "everyone always does. No one remembers me, and I'm the one who got rid of the real tyrant."

"Oh, so Caesar wasn't a tyrant now?" Marcus asked.

"Hey," Lucius responded, "all I'm saying is that it's arguable. You could make the argument either way. His overthrow wasn't even caused by the death of a young girl. What kind of a proper Roman tyrant is that?"

Lucius Verginius nodded in agreement.

"Oh, please! Like you gave a flying #@$& about Lucretia, it was just an excuse--"

"Hey, #@$& you! I'm not taking this--"

By this point, Isaak had quietly slipped away from the crowd, which was distracted by the argument between the two Bruti. He quietly and carefully walked along the street away from the Romans.

"Hey, he's getting away!" Cicero yelled. "Get him!"

Isaak started running, and they started chasing him. "Go away!" he screamed.

Constantinople, 1131

"Go away!" he screamed and leaped out of bed. "Bah, stupid classical education," he said.

[Ramses II CP]

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

(This is a coop with PK and I)

Antioch, 1134

Rafi, longtime companion of Vissarionas ek Lesvou, had arrived in Antioch destitute, starving, and ill. A kindly old woman, recalling his master, had taken him in off the street and spent a few days nursing him as far back to health as could be managed. Now he insisted on leaving, though his strength was not yet fully recovered. Walking through the streets of the city Rafi was impressed by the improvements that had been made since he was last present, but he had little on his mind but reaching the Grandmaster.

The door to the Order of St. John's headquarters in Antioch was guarded by two pleasant enough looking men who, nonetheless, had no recollection of Rafi and were forced to completely refuse him entry. Desperate Rafi asked one of them if he could simply wait until someone who would know him entered or left, and the guards agreed.

The Megas strolled down the street with his usual guards and aids in tow. Moving remarkably fast for a man with a cane, he strode up to the front doors where the guards immediately opened them. Out of the corner of his eye, Makedonios caught a familiar face. Recognizing him as the boy who was with Vissa on Nicosia years ago, Mak stopped.

"Excuse me, have I seen you before?"

Rafi jumps up from his spot beside the door and rushes towards Makedonios, giving the guards a good start, but clearly the spindly young man is hardly a threat even with the Grandmaster using a cane. Rafi kneels rather embarassingly at the Grandmaster's feet before speaking. His desperation is written all over his thin face.

"Please m'lord, if I could have a moment of your time, Vissa is in trouble! I've been his page for years, and I've never seen him like this, not even the first time in Cairo! There has to be something you can do!"

Makedonios looks down at him. "Please, you don't have to kneel before me. Get up and come inside. You can tell me all about it."

"Of course m'lord, lead on. Where can we speak privately?"

Rafi looks nervous, but he follows Makedonios willingly.

The megas moves his head in the direction of the front doors. "Follow me. We'll go to my chambers."

Inside the chambers of the Grandmaster Rafi looks even less comfortable than he did outside, but before Makedonios can even sit down the words start to spill out of him.

"Vissa is in trouble. Not that he's going to be attacked or driven off by Egyptians, but he's getting lost in his own head. This whole business of the Crusade just gutted him, and..."

Rafi hesitates, looking Makedonios directly in the eye as though to weigh his words before continuing. He looks down at the floor again, and says,

"...and there was a woman. There, in Cairo, before he brought back word of the trouble. She somehow comes into it as well. And the Patriarch. Lately there's been a lot about him as well, and Cairo, and blood, and he calls himself Vissarionas the Butcher."

Abruptly Rafi breaks off and his gaze again rises to meet the Grandmaster's eyes. This time he doesn't look back down.

"But I'm not making the slightest bit of sense am I? It's his dreams, of course. They're the key."

At this Rafi pauses expectantly, as though Makedonios should know what he's talking about.

Makedonios looked away and it seemed as if he was staring into a far off place. "Every soldier has nightmares."

He turned back to Rafi. "Your lord was on his own in an enemy held city for years. The strain he was under would have affected anyone."

Rafi replies, speaking quickly now, "Oh I'm sure, but I mean, well, I thought you might already know... Vissa talks in his sleep. Constantly. Serving as his page and his bodyservant I've slept in his room for years, and you can always tell what's on his mind by what kinds of things he talks about after he's asleep."

Rafi looks back at his feet, uncomfortable with this line of discussion.

"After Antioch his dreams disturbed him, made him cry out, night after night. While we were first in Cairo his dreams were direct and purposeful until he met the woman. Then they were, ahh, private. During the Crusade he rested well, peacefully, for the most part. After we took Cairo, however, things turned ugly."

"Vissa began sleeping less, and when he did sleep he... he cursed God in his sleep. Out there in the desert his mind turned in on itself, and even without getting much rest it was obvious that something was eating away at him. Viewing the Holy sites just turned him deeper into himself. I believe he planned the siege of Thebes as a test."

"Then there was the emergency Senate session. Vissa came back from that with some letters from another senator about the Patriarch that obviously disturbed him. He read them over and over. Soon enough we captured Thebes without even a battle, just outwitting the hungry men guarding it, but afterward, inside the walls..."

Rafi looks despondent.

"There was this governor, you understand, and he was trying to get the locals to riot. I would've expected Vissa to talk to him, to bring him around and earn his trust. I was wrong. Vissa and his guardsmen, they just slaughtered them. All of them. He didn't shrink from it, or hold back when they started to run. Hundreds of dead, and the castle itself sacked."

"The worst was afterward. I would have expected... regret? Shame? Something. Yet he was content. Sorting through paperwork with blood still on his clothes. His eyes disconnected and empty. When he spoke it was clear that he believe he'd found some sort of new place in life. A new purpose."

"M'lord he said that God was cruel, and that God chose his servants for that capacity. If something isn't done he may just ride away south, into the desert, and never come back."

Makedonios listened to Rafi closely.

"Vissa always seemed to take on guilt that never was really his. I'm not surprised that he became consumed by it."

The Grandmaster's demeanor became stern.

"But that does not excuse his actions. If what you say about Thebes is true, then he has turned down the wrong path. He needs to get on the right one. I have authorized a small chapel for Thebes. Hopefully, the presence of Orthodoxy will bring Vissa some comfort. I'll make sure a priest gets assigned to the area."

Rafi's reply is deeply grateful, "Thank you m'lord. I know you are a busy man, I will try not to take up any more of your time. A priest is hopefully just what Vissa needs! With Cairo retaken my journey back to Thebes should be easier."

"M'lord, if you could, ask the priest to be... discreet. I would not want Vissa to get a reputation as a madman or a heretic."

Mak nods.

"Go with God Rafi and watch over Vissa. He's a good man but he has his demons. And some of those are of his own invention."

Rafi caught passage on one of the last merchant trains to escape Antioch ahead of the Templar siege. As they rode south he found himself wondering why there were so many Catholics on the road, but his thoughts quickly turned back to his master.

Thebes, 1134

Vissarionas ek Lesvou stood on the low walls of Thebes watching the sun set over the desert. It had become his constant daily habit; there was something extremely pleasant to him in seeing the great fiery orb swallowed up in the heat haze which it had, itself, spent the day creating. It gave the impression that the sun might be dropped into a hole carved just for it and never rise again, leaving the world in darkness.

In his hands were the letters Apionas Vringas had given him after the emergency Senate session. It had become his habit to read those again and again before the sunset as well, drawing out their meaning as the light failed around him. 'Here,' Vissa mused in his thoughts, 'truth can be had at last. God's own right hand working God's will in the world, to the Almighty's obvious and infinite delight. I am a poor servant, Lord, but I shall walk where you lead and fear no evil, for thou art with me. Amen.'

There, off to the north, the dust cloud of a rider could be seen, drawing ever closer. Vissa began winding his crossbow. A rider in Greek garmets, with a purple saddle blanket, befitting a messenger. As he drew out a bolt Vissa's eyebrows quirked, and he thought, 'Quick work Methodios. You are favored even above what I had expected. God knows, you do not lack the will to do what must be done.'

With only the slightest, most imperceptable hesitation Vissa fitted a bolt into his crossbow, keeping it below the wall, where it wouldn't be visible. When the horseman drew up at the gates and prepared to announce himself Vissa raised the crossbow and shot him in the throat. The corpse spilled into the dust of the road, still hold the horse's reins.

Climbing down without obvious haste Vissa opened the man sized access way beside the main gate and walked out onto the poor little road. The rider's tabard was the only thing that made him obviously Byzantine, so Vissa cut it off and tucked it into the horse's saddlebags. With no water or food the beast had poor odds of making it back to civilization. Still, it didn't pay to be careless. With the animal watching him cautiously Vissa removed his dagger and drew a thin, bloody line along it's right flank, which set it off running back the way it had come. With a quick search it became clear that the message had gone off with the horse, so Vissa left the body tumbled down in the dirt there and walked back inside the castle.

Just off the main square a light scaffolding showed that tomorrow the work crews would be putting the finishing touches on the artless chapel the Megas had commissioned for Thebes. 'Past time to be gone on both accounts,' Vissa thought. A street deeper the quarters he had taken for his guardsmen were quiet. Striding inside, Visa announced,

"We ride tonight. Get ready."

[Privateerkev]

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

This story is a co-op between TheFlax and myself. It takes place a couple days before this battle.

Antioch 1134:

With the afternoon sun still high in the sky, a small group of worn travelers leave the relative safety of the Templar camps surrounding Antioch, heading for the city's gates.

Through the gates, the travelers could see hundreds of spearmen turned out and in position by the entry. A guard looked at the group and was not going to allow entry until one produced an impeccable document bearing a certain seal.

They are let in. Walking through the streets, the travelers notice the city is quiet. All citizens are taking shelter in their homes while all able-bodied men are in gear and assembled at the gate. The group knows the way to the Order's Chapter-House.

While one walks in, the rest stand guard outside. Because of the coming battle, most of the Order's men are out in the city preparing. The Chapter-House is pretty much empty. Makedonios is in his chambers looking over reports.

Relief overwhelms Anna as she spies Makedonios safe and well, for now. Ignoring all protocol and formality, she moves swiftly to embrace him in silence.

She felt light in his arms. While in shock at her show of affection, Mak had the presence of mind to swing an arm and knock his door shut. Not wanting to spoil the moment, he just holds her for awhile.

"Makedonios," Anna held him more tightly as she spoke his name. "I feared for the worse."

He moved a hand up to stroke her hair. Tired of using dry formalities by this point, he spoke her name for only the second time ever. "Anna, it's ok. I'm right here. I'm not even ill anymore." His illness had faded just a few months ago. His napkin and cane were gone. His voice was strong and lacking the usual coughs and sniffles. He stood straight and held her against him with ease.

Lightly, she moved from him with a step. Her previously radiant features were now downcast, she dared not meet his gaze.

"I failed. They told me God has abandoned us..."

He took a half-step towards her and put his hand on her forearm. "It is not your fault. Things have changed within the Templars. Iakovos's Uncle was high up in their ranks and he was our biggest proponent. He just passed away. With him gone, the papal bull giving them more privilege, and Adana being taken by the Turks, they had the perfect situation. I had the Order's forces spread out across the Levant and Antioch was open. They simply took advantage of us being distracted."

"I had thought that, if only I could be here, I could somehow alter your current predicament." Anna kept her eyes low, her soft voice holding a hint of shame. "I now realize something else than my misguided beliefs drove me here."

Keeping his hand on her arm, Makedonios waited for her to speak.

The room remained silent as Anna mustered the courage to continue. She was tempted to avoid the topic, yet she knew that if she wavered now, she might never get another opportunity to reveal the truth of her feelings to Makedonios. Anna knew she would be consumed with regret for the remainder of her life if she didn't follow through with what she had started.

"I know you mean the words you wrote me, and I share those feelings. I have struggled with my feelings for most of my life and I am wary of that impossible battle. The fear of losing you for eternity made me realized I could not simply ignore my heart as I have in the past."

While Makedonios leaves his one hand on her arm, he rubs her cheek with the other. "I always knew you felt that way. But it is very nice to hear it."

Anna places a hand over the one on her cheek and her gaze rises to his. For an instant, she seems to have regained the innocence long since lost in her youth. "I am sorry about that."

He smiled at her. "You have nothing to apologize for. You had your duty. I didn't understand that at first but I do now. You fulfilling your duty didn't change your feelings towards me. You've always been there for me. And it got me through the tough times." With that, he steps closer, leans in, and kisses her forehead.

"Tell me," She whispers. "when do you expect to face the Templars?" Anna wanted to ask how much time they had together, but this was as close as she got.

Makedonios looks up and thinks for a moment. "I have reinforcements on their way. They're on horse so it shouldn't be too much longer. A day, maybe two."

"I take it you will sally when your reinforcements arrive?" With the change of topic, Anna has regained her composure and it seems as she is back to her old self.

He nods while still holding her. "Yeah, the sooner I can break the siege, the better. But that won't be for a day or two. The preparations that can be made, are made. So, for tonight, I'm all yours."

Anna's features brightened noticeably, she gave Makedonios a warm smile. "I assume then you will join me for the evening meal?"

He liked seeing her smile. "Of course. We can do what ever you like tonight. And, with everyone out in the city preparing and resting, we'll have some privacy."

"Good." She moves a few steps away and then turns. "I should get myself ready then."

Early the next morning:

As a young man, Makedonios held up his sword. To his left and right were comrades but they were few in number. The Turks came streaming down the mountain like a wave. Someone yelled behind him that one of the supporting armies had abandoned the field. Cut off, the small group braced for battle. A cloud of arrows came in and blotted out the sun. The young man hunkered down behind his shield and heard the sounds of the arrows hitting the ground. When the sound stopped, he dared to look up. A Turkish cavalryman was charging at him...

Makedonios sat up in bed in a panic. His breathing heavy, he felt his face. Instead of a gaping wound, there was just the scar. It was the same nightmare he had every night since the battle at Manzikert. The breathing calmed down a little. Dawn light was just starting to leak through the windows. Out of the corner of his left eye, he noticed the light illuminate a shape under the covers. Grinning at the thought of what had happened last night, he saw her stir a little. Leaning over, he ran his fingers through her hair and kissed her sweaty cheek.

The kiss moved her to a wakeful state, as she gently opened her eyes and blinked a few times. With one hand she rubbed lightly her sleepy eyes, before lying in silence with her gaze lost in the ceiling, as if deep in reflexion.

He looked down at her and smiled. He moved his hand to her shoulder and let it lie there. "Good morning."

Anna tilted her head in his direction and attempted to return the smile, but her features were unmistakably etched with concern.

"What's wrong?" As he asked, he came back down to her level and leaned on his elbow while still keeping his one hand on her shoulder.

"We..." She hesitated, trying to find the right words. She gave up and answered flatly. "This."

The smile faded from his face. "What about this?"

"The consequences..." Anna once more opted to revisit her reply. "Do not misconstrue my words, I do not regret what we have done, yet I worry about the future now that it has been done."

His features lightened and he nodded. "I don't regret anything either. As for the consequences, we will deal with them as they come. I went into this with both eyes wide open." With his next words, he smiles more. "And you certainly didn't seem to be worrying about consequences when you pushed me onto the bed last night after supper."

She smiled lightly at the memory his words brought, yet her voice remained somber. "Nevertheless, I am thinking about them at this moment. I don't want to see you hurt in anyway by this."

He stroked her hair. "You're assuming anyone will find out. And even if they do, I don't care. Last night was more than worth it."

Anna's gaze returned to the ceiling. "They will, they always do."

He simply shrugged. "Who's going to tell anyone? I'm certainly not. This place has been empty all night since everyone is camped outside. And even if someone finds out, I'm not afraid. Things will be ok. You just need to have a little faith."

She turned her head away. "I could not face Ioannis without telling him. I have broken the oath I made before God, I doubt blind faith will help me now. Makedonios, we can't leave this up to chance. This is serious."

Mak grunted. "Ioannis is the last man I have sympathy for. If it wasn't for him, we would have been happily sharing this here bed for years and you know it. He took advantage of the political situation at the time and got you forced into a marriage for his own benefit. Something tells me God would understand, considering the circumstances."

He pauses while thinking for a moment. "But if you have to tell him, I understand. Your the one that has to live with him. I'll deal with whatever fallout that comes from this. With the coming battle against the Templars, I have much more important things to worry about than his hurt feelings."

Anna replied with a muted sigh. "Of course. That was inconsiderate of me. You cannot even be sure of what the next few days hold for you, and here I am prattling about political repercussions." She shifted herself in order to face and beamed a comforting smile. "You fight your battle and I will fight mine, I will take care of my husband."

His hand touched her face as he returned her smile. "I'll understand if we can never do this again. But I'm glad we finally did."

She nodded slowly, still deep in thought, nevertheless, it was obvious she was in agreement with Makedonios' statement.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

I know what I am about to say is assumed with every story. But, due to the nature of this story, I will make it very clear. Absolutely no one has IC knowledge of this story unless one of our characters gives it to you.

[Privateerkev]

Antioch 1134: A couple of months later:

Makedonios read over the latest letter he had received. Staring at it for a moment, he thought fast. The Megas got up, opened his chamber door and called for his shieldbearer and veteran warrior to come in.

"Nick, Ioannis! I need to see you."

The two men walked in and shut the door. Nick was a massive hulking dark skinned Greek who had guarded Mak for years. Ioannis was a grizzled middle-aged vet with a serious air about him. Both would do anything for Makedonios.

"Nick, you have a family right?"

The big man smiled. "My wife Maria and I have 8 kids. A new one seems to appear 9 months after I appear home on leave." With that, he grinned wider.

Mak nodded. "Alright, I need her help with something. Can you get her family to take care of the kids for a month or so? Maybe more?"

"Sure. She'd love to help. What do you need her to do?"

"Just bring her to our back-up rendezvous spot in the capital."

He then turned to Ioannis. "I need you to travel to Nicosia. Go to the Kykkos Monastery and speak with Esaias. Tell him I sent you. He owes me a favor. Tell him I'm bringing him a visitor and to make preparations. He'll know what it means. Then go to Constantinople to meet us." He looks at both of them. "I'll take the rest of my guards and make my own way to the capital on official business."

"Clear?"

Both men nodded. They knew better than to ask for details that did not have to do with their specific tasks.