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Thread: The Tournament of Frankfurt
The Tournament of Frankfurt
Some time in the decades shortly before the Time of Troubles the first Tournament of Frankfurt was held. The records of that momentous occasion were destroyed with the first taking of the city by the Poles but many of the more elder nobles of the Reich remember it happening sometime in their childhood. The earliest ones were nothing more than a general melee in a large, cleared area but many great knights and other nobles of the Reich participated for the honor of putting skill and strength to the test so close to the Imperial capital. During the Time of Troubles when the citizens of the surrounding area needed a distraction more than ever the annual tournament actually became even more popular and grew.
Now larger melees are fought in a large area including small resting areas where knights can rearm and prepare to get back in, towers to defend and fight over, and even and empty mock village. Knights from all over the Reich and beyond gather to fight for honor, and of course the ransom to be had from capturing their fellows. Elsewhere jousting lists have been erected for more ritualized but no less challenging matches, surrounded by stands, both plainer ones for the members of the middle class that can afford it and extravagant ones where noblemen and woman can cheer on their favorites or just discuss the events of the day
Although the matches themselves occur only in the summer a small market has grown up around the tourney site. There those with the money can browse the tent shops, or even have a blacksmith do last minute repairs on their armor. Of course, more than one small tavern has sprung up for patrons of the market and tournaments, and even a permanent one that caters specifically to the nobility, where any drink or dish can be had for a price, among other things if the rumors are to be believed. The nobles of the reich often find themselves meeting here after the matches.
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
Being barred from appearing before the Diet, Guy d'Ollioules, Lothar's representative to the capital, has taken up residence in the tavern where he conducts the day-to-day business of his master and gather all sorts of information on the Reich for the benefit of Provence.
Elberhard steps into the tavern, weary from practicing for the next tournament. Not immediately noticing Guy, he takes a seat and has a drink brought to him.
Two dark-mailed Knights of Osterreich have been drinking heavily in the tavern for some hours. It is not clear whether they are preparing for a bout, celebrating one won or commiserating a loss. At any rate they have been noisy and rowdy and the other patrons have kept a discreet distance from the armed men.
Eventually they rise unsteadily to their feet and begin to leave.
On their way out they smack a serving wench rather too heavily on the rump, causing her to drop a tray of ale tankards on the hard dirt floor. This gets everybody's attention.
As they pass Guy d'Ollioules the larger of the two staggers, apparently deliberately, into his back , jostling him violently.
The other is heard to mutter "Rebel scum!"
Eventually they rise unsteadily to their feet and begin to leave.
On their way out they smack a serving wench rather too heavily on the rump, causing her to drop a tray of ale tankards on the hard dirt floor. This gets everybody's attention.
As they pass Guy d'Ollioules the larger of the two staggers, apparently deliberately, into his back , jostling him violently.
The other is heard to mutter "Rebel scum!"
Overhearing the mutterings of the German lout, Guy rises and turns to him with a scowl.
"Apparently German bravery comes from piss-like ale and even then it is still found lacking... Tell it to my face, if you dare, you Emperor lapdog... And tell your companion to watch his step or his next may well walk him into his grave."
He then walks away to help the maid pick up the remnants of the tankards broken on the floor.
"Apparently German bravery comes from piss-like ale and even then it is still found lacking... Tell it to my face, if you dare, you Emperor lapdog... And tell your companion to watch his step or his next may well walk him into his grave."
He then walks away to help the maid pick up the remnants of the tankards broken on the floor.
Having his ale spilt on the floor, and almost getting it on himself, Friedrich von Eisler of Magdeburg, already half-drunk, tries to stand up to show these slobs from the Osterreich what's what. However, he is pulled down by his companion next to him, who quietly beckons him not to cause any unnecessary trouble. Clearly irritated by this, Friedrich orders new ale and goes back to discussing the whereabouts of the best looking women in the Reich.
Elberhard's eyes narrow at the commotio and he sets his drink down. A very slight sneer briefly crosses his face at the sight of a noble representative, even of a rebel like Zirn, stooping so far as to help a peasant serving girl. As the situation appears not to be about to escalate he loses interest and returns to his beer.
Having helped the maid pick up the mess caused by the Austrian louts, Guy then hands her a few coins.
"Here's to pay another round to replace the one that now quenches the floor's thirst..."
Bowing to Guy with a bright smile, she quickly heads back to the bar, signaling the bartender for another round.
"Here's to pay another round to replace the one that now quenches the floor's thirst..."
Bowing to Guy with a bright smile, she quickly heads back to the bar, signaling the bartender for another round.
The Austrian Knights have left the tavern, laughing at Guy's reaction as they went.
Later that evening a Polish merchant is savagely beaten and his stall vandalised.
Later that evening a Polish merchant is savagely beaten and his stall vandalised.
Since the incident with the Austrian knights, Guy d'Ollioules has gathered quite a ring of followers among the patrons of the Tavern. Among those are some who look at him as a strange animal, something out of the ordinary, some kind of freak : for who would and should care what happens to a wench. But others look up to him as an epitome of the knight, protecting the widow and the weak.
Still, whatever reason they chose to attach themselves to him, Guy has now an audience willing to listen.
"Well, well... My good friends, have you heard of the Diet lately and the debate that is held over there ? You must have heard, as I did, of rumors that the Kaiser wasn't totally "at home" in his head... Now, I begin to understand why he's so irrationnal, shall we say ?
The Empire's legislation leads to such conundrums that any sane man would go mad if trying to enforce it... How can you reconcile the idea of a man being an outlaw by your will and at the same time trying to apply to him that same law that you've cast him out of ? Try to answer that one and you'll be in an asylum in less time than it takes to say "Frankfurt"...
Is the Kaiser so far gone that he believes himself able to decide something is his simply because he decides it is so... But this is not a fairy-tale world and I fear our Kaiser has no power of that kind...
Have you heard him cry about how few Duchies the Reich counts this day ? If his hubris was not so great, I'd find a Duchy ready to raise the standard of the Reich if he would only put aside his pride and recognize that one can serve the Reich without being held by an oath to a man, be he the Kaiser...
The Kaiser'd also find of the greatest generals of this time, a man who has won almost single-handedly every battle he's been in, a man that has only struck at enemies of the Reich... He'd find that man ready to serve the German people if only he could put the welfare of the German people and the safety of the Empire before his bloated pride...
But enough of all this, next round is on me, my friends...
After a large round of applause, drinks are passed around and patrons gather in small groups, discussing the ideas spread by the Frenchman.
Sitting back in his booth, Guy wonders if the seed he's just sown will grow roots or wither and die.
Still, whatever reason they chose to attach themselves to him, Guy has now an audience willing to listen.
"Well, well... My good friends, have you heard of the Diet lately and the debate that is held over there ? You must have heard, as I did, of rumors that the Kaiser wasn't totally "at home" in his head... Now, I begin to understand why he's so irrationnal, shall we say ?
The Empire's legislation leads to such conundrums that any sane man would go mad if trying to enforce it... How can you reconcile the idea of a man being an outlaw by your will and at the same time trying to apply to him that same law that you've cast him out of ? Try to answer that one and you'll be in an asylum in less time than it takes to say "Frankfurt"...
Is the Kaiser so far gone that he believes himself able to decide something is his simply because he decides it is so... But this is not a fairy-tale world and I fear our Kaiser has no power of that kind...
Have you heard him cry about how few Duchies the Reich counts this day ? If his hubris was not so great, I'd find a Duchy ready to raise the standard of the Reich if he would only put aside his pride and recognize that one can serve the Reich without being held by an oath to a man, be he the Kaiser...
The Kaiser'd also find of the greatest generals of this time, a man who has won almost single-handedly every battle he's been in, a man that has only struck at enemies of the Reich... He'd find that man ready to serve the German people if only he could put the welfare of the German people and the safety of the Empire before his bloated pride...
But enough of all this, next round is on me, my friends...
After a large round of applause, drinks are passed around and patrons gather in small groups, discussing the ideas spread by the Frenchman.
Sitting back in his booth, Guy wonders if the seed he's just sown will grow roots or wither and die.
Two Austrian knights sit in the stands at the lists watching the jousting. One turns to the other.
Go for a drink at the tavern?
The other wrinkles up his nose in distaste.
No - it's full of Frenchmen.
Go for a drink at the tavern?
The other wrinkles up his nose in distaste.
No - it's full of Frenchmen.
Finishing another round of ale, Guy muses on how much the quality of the tavern's customers had improved of late.
Elberhard stalks into the tournament tavern, irritation marring his features. Sparing barely a dismissive glances towards Guy and his entourage, he finds a seat on the opposite side of the room and proceeds to lay into the first of what he expects will be quite a few beers.
*Those present at the Tournament have noticed a striking increase in official Imperial activity over the past few days. It has become clear that Heinrich's personal guards are gearing up for something, though what that particular something might be is still unknown.*
The Margrave together with five other men rushes into the bar again. Obviously furious, he barks out his orders to the servant. As she hurries off, the Margrave turns to his companions, still yelling.
"Blast that old fool! How dare he threaten us with excommunication now?! I should cross the alps and bash his skull in, 'Vicar of Christ' or not!"
The other men at the table looked nervously around, trying to calm Theodericus down to no avail until the servant returns with his drink. Chugging his mug, he calms down, but a while later he, slightly affected by the alcohol this time, returns to his screaming tirade.
"What has that man ever done for us, anyway? What has he done for me, his most loyal servant? I sided with him in the civil war, and look what that got me! Dishonoured. Defeated. Betrayed and BELIED TO!!! And now he tells me that if I try to avenge the MURDER of my people by those wretched poles" - Theodericus spits on the ground - "he'll EXCOMMUNICATE ME?!" He goes on without noticing all the attention he's attracting, smashing his fist into the table when he wants to underscore a point, and at other times throwing his arms around, often coming close to knocking down his own drink in the process.
"To HELL with him!! TO HELL with the Pope!, you hear me?! God will have No Mercy for false claimants of the Holy Throne, nor will He spare those who tolerates such blasphemies!"
He finally calms down for good, and gets back to his drinking. Relieved to see this, one of the other men suddenly takes off and disappears into the streets of Frankfurt.
"Blast that old fool! How dare he threaten us with excommunication now?! I should cross the alps and bash his skull in, 'Vicar of Christ' or not!"
The other men at the table looked nervously around, trying to calm Theodericus down to no avail until the servant returns with his drink. Chugging his mug, he calms down, but a while later he, slightly affected by the alcohol this time, returns to his screaming tirade.
"What has that man ever done for us, anyway? What has he done for me, his most loyal servant? I sided with him in the civil war, and look what that got me! Dishonoured. Defeated. Betrayed and BELIED TO!!! And now he tells me that if I try to avenge the MURDER of my people by those wretched poles" - Theodericus spits on the ground - "he'll EXCOMMUNICATE ME?!" He goes on without noticing all the attention he's attracting, smashing his fist into the table when he wants to underscore a point, and at other times throwing his arms around, often coming close to knocking down his own drink in the process.
"To HELL with him!! TO HELL with the Pope!, you hear me?! God will have No Mercy for false claimants of the Holy Throne, nor will He spare those who tolerates such blasphemies!"
He finally calms down for good, and gets back to his drinking. Relieved to see this, one of the other men suddenly takes off and disappears into the streets of Frankfurt.
The Austrians in the tavern are sympathetic to the Margrave's plight. After all, they say, did not the Holy Father thumb his nose at the Prinz in the same way in forbidding the invasion of Hungary?
Elberhard steps into the tavern and takes a spot at his usual table. A minor Austrian knight, who has been in the tavern for some time judging by his difficulty in standing, sits down next to him and whispers something, of which the only words that can be heard include "Prinz" and "the rebel Zirn". Elberhard shoots him such a look of disdain in response that he staggers off, muttering under his breath about immigrant upstarts from the west of the Empire.
Rumours have reached the jousting lists and the tavern as to the capture by Prinz Leopold of Lothar Zirn, rebel Count of Provence. The Austrians at the Tournament are rejoicing and there is a swagger in their step. In the tavern, two Austrian knights propose a general toast to Reich, Kaiser and Prinz.
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