The Diary of Kaiser Heinrich
Frankfurt, 1119
The siege engines had been constructed for some time now. Theodericus der Bartige and his army had arrived from Magdeburg roughly a fortnight ago and they had long since made themselves comfortable. And yet the siege still dragged on, without me ordering an assault on the former capital of the Reich. Why? It's not like I wanted to. Every day I knew that more and more good Germans were suffering under the atrocities of their Polish occupiers. Every day also brought me one day closer to my own final judgment and the termination of my earthly affairs, of which there was so much yet to accomplish. So why did I hold off for as long as I did? Because the time was not right.
Finally, one day, when I woke up, I heard the patter of water ceaselessly drumming against my tent. The feeling in my bones confirmed it: The time was finally right. I immediately sent messengers to both the officers in mine and Duke der Bartige's army to prepare for an assault.
So why today? I certainly heard that question enough, whether being muttered from the annoyed lips of my soldiers, or being more questioningly asked of me by my trusted lieutenants. The answer, I told my men in the traditional pre-battle speech, was exactly the reason why they were so miserable: the weather.
"I do not like this Biblical deluge any more than the rest of you, men!" I roared to them over the howling winds and crashing thunder. "But I guar - *BOOM!* - I guarantee you that the Poles over there like it even less than us! Their strength lies in their cavalry, their horse archers! Should they try anything in this weather they will find that their horses will quickly become bogged down in the mud and they will not be able to see what to fire at, and even if they do their arrows will almost certainly not hit their target! Besides!" I continued. "This is our home city over there! There is a man in there that led his troops onto German lands and told them to start killing German men and raping German women! There is a man in there that is personally responsible for the death of a Duke of the Reich, Vaclav Premyslid! Do you mean to say that you - soldiers of the Reich all - are going to let a little rain get in the way of our long-coming revenge?! I think not, men! Bartige's men are behind you! Together there is no stopping us! Now: forwarrrrrrrrd... MARCH!!!"
The regiments tasked with carrying my siege engines took ten steps forward and disappeared into the mist. I had been frugal with my construction, ordering only two sets of ladders and one battering ram. Really, it was only the ram that mattered: Once the gates were down, my men would be able to swarm into the city and our superior infantry would make quick work of the Polish defenders in the narrow streets. The men manning the ladders would be bait, bait to draw the Polish infantry away from the gateway.
While they were tasked to be bait and draw the attention of the Poles, however, I did not nearly imagine - or hope - that they would be this successful. The Poles' next move proved to be a shock: the city gates swung open and the same horse archers that had so menaced poor Premyslid's army now stormed out of the city and into the open ground, ready to menace my ladder carriers and the rest of my stationary army.
"Damn to the depths of Hell!" I swore out loud. The rest of my bodyguard gave me a confused look. "Our crossbow troops are the ones carrying the battering ram!" I yelled at one of my couriers to ride as fast as he could towards the Duke's advancing army and order him to send me his foot archers as fast as they could. If we didn't get some counterfire on those horse archers, the day would get a lot miserable for the rest of us, even in spite of the weather.
The horse archers would not be the only pressure on the ladder troops, however. The gates of Frankfurt swung open a second time, this time bringing out the Polish general and his escort. Przebor Zdeb, conqueror of Frankfurt and killer of Premyslid, came out, heading right for my out-of-position spears.
"That's it," I muttered, stirring my horse up into action. "My bodyguard, charge! He does not deserve to die in Frankfurt!"
However, upon seeing a cadre of 60 heavily-armed horsemen headed straight for him, Zdeb and his escort abruptly turned around and headed back into the confines of the city. Evidently he had just wanted a better look at our men's placement, and due to the weather/low visibility he had to get up quite close.
Bartige's archers had arrived and I immediately ordered them to concentrate fire on the horse archers which were proving to be moderately effective against us despite the weather. With no further sallies from the city, I ordered the ladders to the walls, in addition to sending the battering ram forward. The bait was set, and the Poles were taking it quite well.
At this point I had little to do in the battle, as I was simply waiting for the rammers to do their work. I could barely see anything in front of me, with the occasional flashes of lightning providing the only illumination as to how the fight on the walls was progressing. I started drumming my fingers on the saddle impatiently. Here, finally, the waiting got to me. Now that things were finally in motion again, the realization of my age and all the things I still had yet to accomplish was finally catching up to me, and it was doing so all at once.
I have held the Imperial throne since I was six, I thought to myself. A veritable lifetime with so much power should be nearly enough to shape the world to my liking. And yet now, only as the final sands begin to trickle away, do I really understand this and make up for lost time. Will it be enough?
Will it be enough?
After a wet and soggy eternity, I heard a loud crack that didn't sound quite like lightning. I told all of my men to be ready. As soon as I could make out the silhouette of a lone soldier, running for us and waving frantically, I leaped into action.
"The gate is down!!" I screamed. "All regiments forward! My spears in the front, the Duke's right behind! Into the city! Go go go go go!!!"
In the excitement, I took the stirrups of my own mount and urged it forward, almost as if it was on instinct. The rest of my escort had no choice but to follow, and just like that, the Kaiser had officially returned to Frankfurt.
What I could make out of the city in the rain showed me that it looked about the same after some years under Polish occupation. It was everything I could do not to jump off my horse and run into every single building there to personally assure my good subjects that their Kaiser was here to save them.
Instead, I nearly screamed myself hoarse urging the infantry forward. With me off to the side, my spearmen surged forward, an unstoppable mass that would hack their way right to the city center. At least, that's what I was hoping for. As it turned out, the Polish general Zdeb had tapped a very important unit to halt the wave of spears: himself.
Here is where the bait strategy from before came to fruition. Yes, the units that were tasked to take the walls failed to do so, and were all but annihilated in attempting to do so, but they had whittled down the Polish infantry and more importantly kept them occupied. Several good regiments that could have turned my glorious reconquest of Frankfurt into a bloody house-by-house fight were instead up on the walls, mopping up, and finding themselves terrifyingly out of position. And now, the only thing to stem the tide for the Poles was Zdeb himself and a regiment of foot crossbows that he kept in the city center as a last resort. The rest of the infantry and the horse archers - currently galloping as fast as they could in the mud back to the city proper - would be late.
My blood already up, I saw my boys going to work against Zdeb's escort and couldn't take it anymore. As Kaiser of the Reich, I could not idly stand by any longer while the conqueror of my (second) capital and murderer of one of my Dukes stood right in front of me, alive and breathing.
"Go in, boys! We kill them ourselves! We can't let the mercenaries have all the fun!"
It was a cycle of blood for my sword. As soon as the object claimed a new victim and got a red glint signifying its conquest, the rain would wash it off, leaving me to kill another horseman and once again give the sword a red glint, which would again be washed off, etc. Eventually, I was hoping that the game would end with the blood being washed off for good, because that would mean that there were no more Poles to kill.
We soon had more to worry about, though - the Polish soldiers on the walls and outside the city had caught up, and were heading straight for us.
As the rest of my bodyguard turned to deal with the new threat, I ordered der Bartige's spearmen to come up and sandwich the second wave, and personally turned my attention back to the rapidly-diminishing Polish escort. Though the mass of spears was simply too dense to allow me through, I was able to watch with grim satisfaction as Przebor Zdeb's men was whittled down to only him. Utterly silent as Zdeb finally fell, I only pointed to the heavens, signifying that Vaclav Premyslid had been partially avenged.
The rest of the battle was fairly unremarkable. Our soldiers grinded our way up the streets of Frankfurt as well as back towards the city's gates, slowly overcoming the Polish soldiers in our way. Eventually, Duke der Bartige personally joined the fray, adding his escort's significant weight against the Poles.
Eventually, I found myself in the city center, armor dented and bloodied in more than one area. It took four soldiers to hold me back from fighting any longer, one of them my trusted lieutenant Captain Ludwig, but I finally acquiesced to abstaining from personally causing further bloodshed. It was all I could do to watch as a combination of mine and Theodericus's spearmen slowly eliminated the last pockets of Polish resistance. My thoughts were drumming through my head as relentlessly as the rain was coming down as I was calculating the day's casualties and what it would mean for later on.
All in all it was a good victory today, if more costly than I was hoping for. Frankfurt was back in the Reich's hands - all of the Electors would be happy about that, at least. My army had taken the brunt of casualties, and while the Duke's force lost several spearmen, the losses were nothing he would not be able to replace. He would most definitely be happy about that.
I, on the other hand, while happy for him, was already worrying to the work lying ahead of me. The surgeon came up to me some time after the battlefield and said that a great proportion of my soldiers' wounds were not mortal and that they would be back in action sooner or later. They would make a recovery, then. Good. After all, they would be needed for the battles ahead. But the amount of men who recovered, will it be enough?
Will it be enough?
Re: V&V Battle Reports Thread
Originally Posted by TosaInu
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