Battle reports thread - King of the Romans PBM

[econ21]

This thread is for battle reports in the M2TW HRE PBM "King of the Romans".

[Lucjan]

Dietrich mounted his horse and looked about the men around him. Save for his own company of retainers he'd never seen any of them before in his life, and yet he was expected to lead them to victory against a stone fortification a thousand times their size and with every defensive advantage. He sighed heavily and felt the warmth of his own breathe stick to the inside of his helm.

Most of the preparation for the siege had been accomplished before he even arrived, but he soon realised how bloody a day this would be. Two siege towers and a ram had been arrayed against a stone fortress with a single entrance, surrounded by four defensive towers and the entire enemies force could potentially be mounted on the walls. The siege towers stood, titans on the field, a funnel through which men moved up, and carcasses came down. And then there was the ram, a wooden and leather inferno waiting to happen.

The captain formerly in charge of these men rode up to him. He was a noble of lesser station, probably the cousin or a nephew of a fief's lord, but he spoke respectably and presented himself with some degree of dignity to the steward. "Governor Dietrich, I have been ordered by Kaiser Heinrich to turn this over to you upon your arrival." The man handed him a scroll of little spectacle, save for being stamped with Kaiser's seal and tied with silk. Dietrich had an idea of what it was.

"Designation of army commandership?" He asked, breaking the seal as he spoke.

The other man nodded silently, and maybe even sensed a little of the steward's uneasiness. He started what almost seemed like the beginning of a ramble. "You know... they're not so sure about this anymore. Everything is fine and you get anxious just starving the enemy out, but when the day comes that you need to go spear to spear, you get nervous. And then there's the walls, the biggest weapon you've had for keeping the enemy in one spot suddenly becomes the biggest weapon they have for keeping you out. Kind of asinine really."

"I'll speak to them." Dietrich replied, and the man began discussing the current situation with him.

It didn't take long before the only available options became apparent and clear. They had no advantage in numbers, in quality of arms, in experienced men. A well deployed enemy would take them in the blink of an eye. The only option they had was to make the enemy blink both, and strike them when their eyes were shut. "We don't have much to go with." Dietrich started. "I want the spear militia on the eastern wall with a siege tower, they are, under no circumstances, to actually try to take the walls. Taunt the enemy, hassle them, keep their attention on that side of the wall. One of our archer units should move up to the front gate with the ram, supported by the other, while our spear sargeants wait for the enemy to get distracted at the gates then move up to the western wall with their tower. It's a fairly cut and dry plan, draw the enemy as far east on the walls as possible then scale the west side with our best troops." He almost cringed as he said that, their best troops being barely more capable than the militia.

As the final preparations were made, Dietrich rode up to the center of the line and delivered his speech to the ragtag host they were calling an army. Fine Germans! Today we carry out the first task of many in reuniting our fractured empire. Today we carry out not just the will of the Kaiser, but if we are truly meant to be the leaders of the Christian world, then today we carry out the will of God. Christians our foes may be, but they have turned a deaf ear to the edicts and laws of the Empire, and have proven themselves as both traitors and cowards. Their treachery will not go unpunished on the field this day. God spares no mercy for the wicked, and neither will I! A resounding cheer followed, nervous as the men were, and the march began.

The following battle, though it seemed as an eternity of anxious all wrapped up into a moment for the men involved, lasted no more than a few brief minutes. The siege that had been carried on now for two whole years would end in less than a quarter of an hour.

But it began with the creak of moving siege wheels, and Dietrich's call to "MARCH!".

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The ram moved foward and the archers spread into a loose formation to keep the casualties from enemy fire to a minimum.

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But as they approached the gate, the enemy commander launched a brazen assault through the gates, charging the ram and the archers with a regiment of the local militia.

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Dietrich's cavalry looked uneasy, some like they were about to panic, horses started to move and men leaned backwards, looks of inclination to flee on their faces. Without the ram the cavalry couldn't get through, and the spears assigned to take the walls would face the full weight of the enemy's defence. From the heart of his demoralised and panicing cavalry, Dietrich did the only thing he could think of. He ordered a charge. "Forward! Forward! The enemy commander has exposed himself! Take him! Take him now!" As the order was given it seemed to spark a little fire in the men immediately around him, drawing out a rush of adrenaline and pushing them forward rather than back, the rest followed suit. In moments they were riding through the archers loose formation and coming up, lances lowered, into a clustered charge of shoulder to shoulder cavalry with nowhere to go but straight through the open gate in front of them. The enemy commander, seeing the massed cavalry charge in front of him, was unable to calm the chaos that broke out in his regiment as they tried to reform near the gate. The cavalry drove into them with reckless abandon.

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Before the first ranks of the charge even knew it, they'd punched a hole straight through into the city. The enemy militia were overrun, their commander trampled beneath the hooves of a hundred or so cavalry, and all hope for the defenders had been crushed in a single decisive charge, straight through the main gates.

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"Quickly! Forward! Their archers are on the walls, don't get caught by their arrows! Into the side streets! Use the buildings as cover! Form up for a charge when they come down and let them have it!" Dietrich was barking orders everywhere now, the mass of cavalry had ceased to be anything relating to cohesive regiments and was now a cluster of armored horse and men, barreling into everything in their way with deadly effects. There was nothing the defenders could do now, when they came down from the walls the streets merely formed a channel for the cavalry to shove straight through. Two regiments of enemy archers and a regiment of militia were run down without a chance. It was a massacre.

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As they reached the courtyard, one lone spearman cowered amongst the cavalry, surrounded on all sides.

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The men paused, as if waiting for their commander's orders. Dietrich eyed the man from a distance, his horse plodding over the corpses in the street. It was an unforetunate thing to have to order, but he knew, in this battle at least, that an example had to be made. Thinking back to his earlier speech, he found its finale a fitting command. "God spares no mercy for the wicked, and neither will I."

The surrounding horsement converged on the man, and the battle was done. Perhaps the greatest witness to the battle was just a young boy, hiding in the top branches of a tree in the courtyard, looking down upon the conquerors with awe. His gaze fixated on the army's commander, his armor glinting in the sun. The chronicle of an Empire's revival had begun.

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((OOC - All in all a resounding victory.))

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((OOC - After the battle, unrecoverable losses amounted to a mere 25 archers and 37 mailed knights. Sacking the city earned us 2,000 florins. I think this kicks us off to a good start on the northern frontier and a good start to the game overall.))

[econ21]

The Siege of Metz

"Is that it?" thought Prinz Henry. He'd expected a great citadel. What lay before him was scarcely more than a walled compound. Architecturally, it was overshadowed by a fine monastery on a hill nearby.

Henry shook his head in disappointment, then turned to Sigismund's report. Sigismund had been welcomed into the Royal family unexpectedly. Henry was only 24, Sigismund 27. Yet, Emperor Heinrich had embraced the promising commander as an adopted member of his family. In part, this was because Heinrich had only two sons - Henry and Leopold - rather few to ensure succession in a time of plague and war. Both sons were told to treat Sigismund as a brother. But Henry in particular was instructed to pay special attention to the newcomer. Heinrich had confided that Sigismund, not Leopold, was to succeed to the throne if both Heinrich and Henry should die.

Henry skimmed the report and then looked sideways at its author. What had his father seen in the man that had made him so favoured? Sigismund was looking at the wooden castle in front of them, watching the enemy's movements closely. But there was no hesitation, no apprehension evident in the man's face. Sigismund looked every inch the conquering hero. Henry glanced back at the report; if only he could be so confident!

Sigismund had estimated the Burgundian strength at 60 knights, two regiments of town militia and one of archers. Henry's forces comprised 70 knights, 60 mounted sergeants, two regiments of spear militia and two of archers. He did not have much of an edge - an extra regiment of archers and some mounted sergeants, whose usefulness in the narrow confines of a castle was questionable. If only Henry could persuade his proud knights and their sergeants to dismount, but no - the minor nobles and their lackeys were too proud. "What do you think we are, English?!" a particularly obnoxious one had challenged the Prince.

Still, Sigismund was confident and Sigismund was no fool. They had to learn from Dietrich's victory at Hamburg. Horsemen could be useful in a siege. But they needed to pick their moment. Simply trying to ride into the castle through the gates would only result in two dead heirs to the throne. What was to be done?

"Father ordered two rams to be provided for us." Sigismund observed.

"Father"?! Henry still found it hard to get used to Sigismund calling Heinrich that. He wondered how Leopold felt about it. Did Leopold know he had been passed over? Damn it, focus, thought Henry. Sort out this mess first, let the succession take care of itself.

"Yes, two rams." said Henry, not getting the significance of Sigismund's observation.

Sigismund smiled lightly. "Give me one; I'll go round the back."

Henry stared at him. Sigismund's smile was infectious and Henry laughed. Christ almighty, Sigismund was right! Henry had been thinking of trying to barrel through the front, using one ram as a spare in case the first caught fire. But that was a strategy as subtle as going at the Burgundians with a blunt fruit knife.

"Take it, brother. And may God go with you." said Henry, trying to inject a note of solemnity. The chivalrous Sigismund nodded dutifully and shook Henry's hand firmly, as if in reassurance.

"I will meet you in the castle square." said Sigismund.

Watching the confident warrior leave, somehow Henry's had little doubt that Sigismund would keep his promise.

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Henry could see Sigismund's column march around Metz, heading for the rear, north gate. At first, the defenders ignored the flanking movement. Then Henry could make out the Burgundian archers heading from the castle square to the north. Right, if the archers are going for Sigismund, it is time to bust open the south gate, thought Henry. Let's do it now, before they have a chance to double back and shoot us to hell. Hastily, he ordered his half of the army to advance. But Henry did notice that the Burgundian archers failed to stop at the north gate, instead rushing out of the safety of the walls in their eagerness to fire on Sigismund's column.

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What do they think they are doing?

"Mistake." thought Henry, happily.

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Could Sigismund pull off a cavalry charge? Is the Pope Catholic?

Henry's battering ram reached the south gate, but Sigismund had no need of his ram - he pursued the fleeing Burgundian archers through the north gate.

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Sigismund is the first German into Metz.

With almost perfect synchronisation, Henry's battering ram broke through the front gate as Sigismund's knights rode in from the back.

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The Burgundian knights patiently wait for Henry's battering ram to breach the gate.

The Burgundians sent one regiment of town milita to the north gate to meet Sigismund, while the other regiment and their knights poured out of the breached south gate to stop Henry.

Sigismund had no intention of getting his riders bogged down fighting infantry from the front. So instead of facing the town militia approaching from the castle square, he led his knights on a wild ride south, skirting the castle walls, hotly pursued by the Burgundian foot. At the same time, Sigismund's regiments of spears and archers were racing into the castle, targeting for the rear of Burgundians chasing their commander.

To the south, Henry faced a stiffer challenge. As the Burgundians tried to sally out of the breached gate, Henry ordered his spearmen to form a schiltrom and brought up his own escort in support. But his plans did not work out as he hoped. The militia were too ill trained to quickly form a schiltrom and his own knights did not have sufficient run-up to mount an effective counter-charge. Instead, the southgate became a seething mass of men, hacking and cutting at each other. Henry was near the front, as the Germans pushed their way through the gate. But this was not good - this was not clever strategy, this was just butcher's work.

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A desperate struggle errupts at the south gate

Henry cut and thrust, but then heard a loud hurrah! Sigisimund had worked his way through Metz and was launching a charge into the rear of the Burgundians blocking the south gate!

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He's behind you!

The defenders of the south gate broke, helplessly caught between the butchery of Henry's frontal assault and the elan of Sigismund's rear charge. Soon all that remained of the defenders was the regiment of town militia that had pursued Sigisimund from the north gate. Again, Sigisimund refused to face them frontally. Instead, he pulled his men out north and calmly waited until the Burgundians were locked in combat with the Henry's column pushing in from the south gate. Then he launched a charge into their flank. The Burgundians capitulated almost instanteously.

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Sigismund waits for the last regiment of Burgundians to get locked in combat before striking at their long flank.

After the battle, Henry magnaminously spared the citizens of Metz from any abuse. Only a miserly 52 florins were gathered for the Imperial treasury from the occupation. Henry wanted to keep the respect of the chivalrous Sigismund. And anyway, the little castle really was rather insignificant - blackening the good name of the Empire to sack or exterminate it would only bring a few hundred florins.

But in truth, Henry cared little for Metz. What mattered was that he had weathered his first battle and emerged with some credit. He had taken a castle guarded by 366 men for the loss of only 55 Germans - 33 of them, unfortunate spearmen who had failed to form schiltrom in time to fend off the Burgundian knights. With some schadenfreude, Henry later learned that a small French army had been spotted south of Metz. The Germans had not only defeated the Burgundians - they had beaten the French in the race to the castle.

That night, Henry feasted well, drinking to the health of Dietrich, who had taught him the utility of cavalry in a castle assault, and to Sigismund, who had reminded him he had two rams.

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[OverKnight]

The Assault on Bern

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Otto von Kassel gazed at Bern from a hill near the castle. The wind whipped against him cutting through his cloak. Winter had descended on the Alps and still the rebels held out, with a limitless supply, it seemed, of food and patience. The Kaiser, not having the latter, had ordered an assault. Nearly 700 men lay waiting for them in that castle, two companies of knights, two units of crossbowmen, and four units of sergeant spearmen, their numbers barely reduced by the long siege. Otto commanded almost 900 men, and he had been ordered to take that hulking stone castle with less than an advantage of 200 men. Suppressing a shiver, Otto did not know if from the cold or the thought of what lay ahead, he turned and faced his Lieutenants. He spoke to Count der Stolze, who had led two companies of spearmen, plus his own household knights, from Metz.

"Sigismund, I am afraid that there is no rear gate for you to assault this time. Your Swabian militia spearmen will man the two siege towers placed to the right of the only gate. I'm also assigning you my unit of mailed knights to command. You are to follow behind the towers with the cavalry."

Sigismund nodded his assent. Otto continued, "My own sergeant spearmen will man the one siege tower to the left of the the gate and the ram itself. They have the best armor of the footmen, and I hope that protects the men on the ram as they will not have the towers to shelter them. I will follow behind with my escort and the mounted sergeants."

The commanders of the spearman and knights voiced their understanding while Otto faced the leader of the archers, "Jan, your men will be flanked out on either side of the castle, two units on their right, and one on their left. You'll have the ladders. I want your most reliable man to command that lone company."

"Ja General," replied the archer.

Having taken care of the disposition of the men, Otto spoke of the plan of attack, "I doubt those bastards in there will kindly open up the gate like they did in Hamburg, and as I just said, they only have one. However, that means that can't sally out to get our archers without impaling themselves on our spearman.

"I'm flanking the archers to draw some of their men away from the gate. The towers will go in first. The ram will follow after a short time, and then the cavalry."

Sigismund looked puzzled and interrupted, "Otto, without archers covering the advance of the towers, they'll be vulnerable. . .Ah, but you're smirking, what do you have in mind?"

Otto chuckled, "We have spent too much time in this camp dicing for me to get anything past you Sir! The towers are merely a distraction. We don't have a large enough advantage in men to slug it out on the battlements. The towers will serve to cover the troops until they get to the walls. The focus is on the ram, the towers will draw fire away from it and make sure as many of the schwein as possible stay on the walls and not move to the gate. A few moments before the gate is shattered, our spearmen will leave the towers and rush it. I hope to overwhelm the men there before reinforcements arrive down from the walls.

"Once we have breached the gate and entered the castle, I hope to catch their men coming off the walls, they'll be out of breath and disorganized, easy to break. I hope their commander, seeing this, will decide that those archers are just a distraction. He'll redeploy his men to the more imminent threat. Jan, that is when the archers will scale the walls! Once they're up there the archers on their right flank will be in a perfect position to fire down into the courtyard. The unit on the left will have to advance into the Castle a bit.

"Once those pieces are in place, there's not much left to do but converge on the courtyard. Cavalry, flank them if you can, and don't, don't get ahead of the spearmen! Infantry, stay together. Archers put as many arrows into that courtyard as you can!

"We don't have the advantage in numbers here for a proper siege assault, we have to rely on deception and timing. See to your men, emphasize this, and remind them of the pillage that awaits them!"


The host was drawn up as ordered. Otto, with Sigismund riding beside him, rode down the line surveying the troops. Stopping in between the Bavarians and Swabians, Otto motioned for the Count to speak.

"Men of Bavaria, follow von Kassel to the death. I know the bravery that lies in your hearts; do not allow fear to set in. I know the Swiss better than most; I have traveled around Bern many years ago and I know the valour which these mountaineers show. But they are only mountaineers, not city dwellers. Their skills are of little use against valiant Bavarians.

And to my fellow Swabians and Burgundians; follow me lads, follow me, and there will be honour and glory for us all in equal measure.

For Gott, the Kaiser, and the Reich!" (OOC: Contributed by Ignoramus)

Otto grinned at Sigismund, "Finer words were never spoken my lord!"

Raising himself up on his stirrups, Otto bellowed to the army, "You heard the Count! Together there is no force on this earth that can stop the Reich! We will storm this castle! We will sow confusion and fear among them! They will run before us, and they will die! For the Kaiser! For the Reich!"

"For the Kaiser! For the Reich!", echoed the host in a thunderous cheer.

Turning his horse to the castle, Otto drew his sword and pointed it toward the gate, "Attack!"

Spearmen heaved against the siege towers and they began to move ponderously forward. The assault on Bern had begun.

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Arrows and bolts began flying towards the siege towers. Men, Otto's men, began to fall. A few fire arrows found the ram, and Otto cringed inside. The ram was the key, if it burned, he would be unable to bring his cavalry into play and the battle would be lost.

"Go for the towers," he muttered trying to will it so.

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As if in answer to Otto the siege tower to his left blossomed into flames, its men abandoned it, holding their shields aloft for some small protection as they began to march to the gate. Otto swore, diversion or not he hated to see a tower burn. The ram continued on its way, but with the left tower gone it was coming under heavy attack. Time to offer another target. "Cavalry forward!", yelled Otto.

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"Sch**ße!", Otto screamed. Missiles were falling among the cavalry now, a knight to his left was thrown from his horse as a crossbow bolt tore into his shoulder. The army was taking heavy losses. But over the din of battle, Otto could hear the reverberation of wood striking on metal. The ram was at the gate! Otto could hear a horn blow to his right, Sigismund was ordering the men of the last intact tower to the gate.

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The gate was breached! Otto bellowed, "All spearmen into the gateway!"

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As the human wave of troops poured through all organization was lost, but the gambit had worked, only one enemy unit of spearmen opposed them. Otto could see, however, troops rushing along the battlements to the gate towers, they would be emerging from the stairways very soon. The momentary advantage in numbers and momentum would be lost if decisive action was not taken, "Cavalry, charge!"

Knights, nobles and mounted sergeants rushed to join the chaotic melee at the gateway. It was far from ideal use of cavalry but they were needed to punch a hole through the spearmen.

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Reeling from the onslaught, the surviving rebel spearman, and a few crossbowmen caught fleeing the walls, began to run to the safety of the castle courtyard. Otto spurred his horse after them, they must be run down before they could reach the square! The Imperial army surged forward, glad to be rid of arrow fire and finally killing the enemy.

Almost too late Otto realized that half of the rebel knights were charging forward to cover the retreat of their footmen. "Cavalry halt! Spearmen forward!", Otto cried, praying that the spearmen, already down to half strength would be able to hold.

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A repeat of the battle at the gate ensued with spearmen and cavalry from both sides engaged. As Otto fought for his life, he heard the sound of arrows striking metal and flesh. Looking up to his left, he saw that two units of his archers had indeed scaled the battlements and were now firing down into the castle yard! Wheeling to his right, he saw the other archer company making its way through the castle from the west.

The rebels were momentarily stunned by this development, and Otto took the opportunity to charge their captain. The man took Otto's first sword blow on his shield and struck back quickly, the slash glanced off Otto's shield and caught him on the side of his helm. The world went white.

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A Bavarian spearman skewered the captain before he could deal the killing blow. Otto regained his senses and saw the rebels were falling back, disheartened by the loss of their leader. "Hold! Let the archers earn their keep!", he yelled as he tasted blood in his own mouth.

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The remaining rebel knights, arrow bit and desperate, charged out. They were followed by crossbowmen, drawing their swords. They were both repulsed by bloodied Imperial spearmen. Seeing that he had broken the back of his enemy Otto called for an advance by his horsemen, "Finish them!"

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As he was gutting one of the few crossbowmen left in the square, Otto looked up and saw the last company of rebel spearman engaged with his archers on the wall! Gathering his remaining men he charged to releive them, but he was too late. An archer company had been slaughtered and they were running for their lives.

The rebel spearmen, now free of their bloody work, looked down and saw the host in front them. They saw that their comrades were slain and that they were surrounded. Making their way down the stairs of the nearest tower they threw away their spears, freshly covered with the blood of German archers, and raised their hands in surrender. The battle was over. They would be spared.

Otto paused, the castle was his, the day was his, but at a terrible cost. His grand plan had devolved into a bloody mess. A cold rage filled him. Those schwein had killed his archers, adding to his losses, even knowing they were defeated. And now they wanted mercy, fresh from that deed!

"Kill them all!", Otto commanded as he spurred his horse toward the rebels. Screaming in fury, in pain, and in triumph the Imperial army followed him. The battle was over very shortly after that.

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Bern was sacked with 1566 florins going to the Imperial coffers. 541 civilians lost their lives.

The Butcher's Bill:

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Starting Troop Levels:

Ending Troops Levels:

[TinCow]

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The Steward of Bavaria surveyed the army before him. It was a strong force, capable of breaking a large army on an open field. “Such a shame they’re behind walls,” Mandorf growled. He looked with displeasure at the Franconian force.

They had erected three great rams with which to bring down the walls of Stettin. The construction had been done properly and they would do the job admirably. Such a shame that there were only two regiments of foot to man them. Half the damned army was cavalry and two of the four regiments of unmounted men were simple peasant archers. The rest were fine quality cavalry. Magnificent specimens of German soldiers… who would die quickly in a pitched street battle against massed spears.

Mandorf shrugged, if this was the army that Dietrich supplied him with, the Duke of Franconia would have little cause to complain when they needed fewer stables to house them. “At least I won’t be responsible for butchering good Bavarian sons.” Mandorf looked down at the rough map sketched in the dirt before him. He called over his second in command.

“Take two rams and the knights to the east wall. Break through there and destroy whatever opposes you.” The Steward of Bavaria pointed with a stick at a mark indicating the front gate. “I will attack with the remaining ram…” he moved the stick slightly left, “…here.”

A look of confusion crossed the Second’s face. “You have something to say?” asked Mandorf, with little enthusiasm.

“Sir, a flanking maneuver is most wise, but why does the direct assault go against a wall rather than the gate? It will be far more costly to repair such a breach than to simply replace the doors.”

Mandorf snorted. “Yes, but it will not be Bavarian money that will be spent fixing the damage, will it? Besides,” he gestured at the view before him, “this place is a hovel. There is nothing worth possessing here anyway.”

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He looked over at the Franconian force. “Well, let’s get this butchery done with. I long to return to Bavaria. These northern lands have the worst wine I have ever encountered. I do not know how Dietrich tolerates such places.”

Mandorf swung up into his saddle. “Time to smother these rebels in Franconian horseflesh.”

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[GeneralHankerchief]

Florence, 1114

The messenger was brief.

"Mein Kaiser! Sergeant Anshelm has spotted a large group of brigands immediately to the west of here!"

Kaiser Heinrich sighed. "Again?" This would not be the first time that he had to deal with brigands near the Reich's newest Italian possession. The last time, the guilty party had been blocking the road to Rome.

"It's different this time," said the messenger. "They're bigger... stronger. They are, how do I say this... I am not a learned man you see..."

Heinrich had a pretty good idea of what the man meant. "A legitimate opposition?"

The messenger nodded. "If what you just said means a worthy enemy, then you're right, mein Kaiser."

Heinrich looked at his captain of the Florentine garrison. The captain, expecting an order, finished the Kaiser's sentence before he even started it.

"Muster the garrison, mein Kaiser?"

Heinrich smiled thinly. "Not yet. Get them ready though. I'm going shopping first."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

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The shopping that the Kaiser referred to was that of recruiting mercenaries in order to make the task of defeating this force of brigands slightly easier. Ordinarily, the Kaiser would have frowned upon such tactics, but his own force was of particularly low quality and the money was coming easier than it had been in many years.

The mercenaries immediately began to prove themselves, however, when the regiment of crossbowmen hired started firing at the enemy long before the peasant archers were in range. They were accurate, and powerful too.

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Despite this, the enemy army (for it truly was an army, especially if Heinrich's scraped-together force was to be considered one) kept coming as if nothing had happened. This in itself was strange, but there were many other signs that the Kaiser had noticed.

First of all, the way it was set up, the way they deployed, the way they marched, seemed... professional. As if this wasn't just some ragtag band of farmers that didn't like life under the Reich. And then there was the army composition. Sergeant spearmen? Those were currently the top-quality units recruited in Innsbruck. Pavise crossbowmen? Staufen was far away from making those shields for their archers. And then there was the commanding regiment.

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Feudal Knights! Heinrich could only dream of having those men defend the Reich! How could simple brigands afford that kind of armour, that kind of decoration for their horses? And their leader! This Alcabe de Buona wasn't decked in a simple suit of armour; no, he had a worthy commanding uniform on! Something was up.

The battle progressed, and Heinrich soon put his thoughts about Signor de Buona away and concentrated on winning. The added crush of mercenaries was a large help, and numbers soon trumped skill. The rebel commander ordered his men back in order to reform and probably make a concentrated push. However, Heinrich wasn't about to let that happen. He charged straight for the enemy knights, which had taken a beating from spears as well as arrows.

The melee quickly broke into individual engagements, pitting Heinrich's elite escort against the mysterious Feudal Knights. Heinrich hung back for a minute, then saw a fight which could use his intervention.

However, de Buona was thinking of the same thing and angled right for the Holy Roman Emperor.

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The result was a one-on-one clash between the two commanders. They eyed each other before striking, neither wasting any unnecessary breath on speaking.

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The duel began, and another thing that struck Heinrich as odd was how experienced and polished this man was. Usually, when he fought cavalry duels against rebels, the men were sloppy and easily defeated. But de Buona hung tough, and actually gave the Kaiser (who wasn't getting any younger) a difficult fight.

However, experience eventually paid off and Heinrich smote de Buona, causing the rebel commander to fall off his horse, who promptly toppled on his former rider. He could only look in pain as the rout commenced.

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~~~~~~~~~

After the battle, the semi-conscious de Buona heard the approach of several riders to his position. The lead one dismounted, and walked over to him. The man removed his helmet, and de Buona was staring into the eyes of his vanquisher.

"I have an excellent surgeon as part of my staff," he said in a brisk voice. "I can perhaps arrange it that you are healed by him."

De Bouna, voice long gone thanks to the large animal crushing his diaphragm, nodded. Hopefully he would last that long; the previous several minutes had been spent by him saying silent prayer.

Kaiser Heinrich looked at him happily. "Excellent. Perhaps if you are cooperative enough, I can even arrange you being sent back to Pope Gregory for no ransom."

De Buona widened his eyes in surprise. But... how did he know?

Evidently that was all the Kaiser needed to see. He clapped his hands excitedly and looked over at his escort. "Excellent," he proclaimed, "that's all I need! Surgeon! Please assist this man, perhaps we should get this horse off of him first..."

To de Buona it appeared that the Kaiser's voice was trailing off, but that was only because he was fading from this earth.

~~~~~~~~~~~

That night, back in Florence, the people around the Kaiser noticed his grim, resolved mood. His wife would fall asleep watching him staring out the window toward the south again. Towards Rome.

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[Ignoramus]

Bern, 1118

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It was a cold and crisp day at Bern, and soft flakes of snow were gently falling. Inside the stone castle, Sigismund shivered as he mounted his horse.

Outside of those gates were over 700 Milanese wanting to kill him. And not only kill him, but also every single man that fought with him.

He sighed as addressed his men.

“Soldiers, we are going to sally forth and utterly drive the Milanese back into the plains of Lombardy.

Do not be dismayed by their numbers men; I have good news for you men. Otto von Kassel and 60 knights are only a few miles distant.”

Sigismund smiled at the cheering of his men. They were an eager lot, and he felt confident that they would be victorious – if von Kassel arrived in time.

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Sigismund organised his men to sally out of the gates. He would lead the sally, with the Spear Militia directly following him. Behind them stood the Sergeant Speamen, more experienced soldiers than the milita in front of them. In the vanguard stood the Mailed Knights followed by the Mounted Sergeants. Sigismund placed the Peasant Archers on the walls.

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A shout came from the captain of the archers. “My lord Count Sigismund, the Milanese are within bowshot! Shall we fire upon them?”

Sigismund smiled to himself, “Yes, and let each arrow tell.”

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Meanwhile, Otto von Kassel and his knights were riding at full pace through a pine forest near Bern.

“Faster noble sirs”, shouted Otto, “we must assist Count Sigismund in his sally.”

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Back at Bern, Sigismund gave the order, “Open the portcullis, we sally forth.”

The portcullis creaked as it was slowly raised.

Sigismund nudged his horse and he and his retainers issued forth out off the castle.

“Follow me, men,” commanded Sigismund.

The spearmen and horsemen followed Count Sigismund and issued from the Castle.

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As Sigismund and his retainers exited from the gatehouse, the Milanese archers rushed forward to shower the issuing Germans with arrows.

Sigismund called to his retainers, “Follow me, and let us teach these peasants that their arrows are no good against German valour.”

So saying, Sigismund kicked his spurs into his horse and rushed towards the enemy.

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Lowering their lances, Sgismund's retainers made short work of the Milanese archers who dared fire upon their lord.

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Meanwhile, Otto von Kassel and his knights had reached the monastery of St. Boniface, on the outskirts of Bern.

I can see Count Sigismund and his men, exclaimed

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Sigismund had lined his men up for battle, and he was surprised that the Milanese had made no attempt to hinder him from doing so.

He glanced anxiously to the west, and to his delight he saw Otto von Kassel and his knights atop the hill of the monastery.

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Exhorting his men, Sigismund exclaimed, “Mein soldiers, see that banner to the west? That is von Kassel and his knights!”

The soldiers cheered heartily at the sight, and charged at their opposing line of Milanese spearmen.

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At the monastery of St. Boniface, Otto von Kassel's retainers and his accompanying knights were feeding their horses at the monastery's stables. Otto von Kassel was talking to the abbot about the strength of the Milanese.

“Von Kassel!” shouted Rupert von Aachan, a knight of Otto's train, “The battle has begun!”

Otto von Kassel rushed our holding a large sausage in one hand and a mug of beer in the other.

“Hurry!” mumbled von Kassel, as he skulled his beer and snatched a bite of his sausage, “Mount your horses!”

It took a few minutes for the confusion to cease, and finally the knights were on their mounts.

Otto addressed his knights and retainers, “Men, we just took that castle. It was paid for in Imperial blood and I'll be damned if we let those merchant schwein take it from us! Sigismund is the anvil and we are the hammer! Charge into their rear and flanks and scatter them! Ride them down without mercy, so that the few fortunate bastards who survive will spread fear of the Reich and its soldiers among their countrymen! Forward!"

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Back at the scene of the battle, the Milanese spearmen countercharged the Imperials, and a bitter fight ensued.

Sigismund exhorted his men to keep firm and not to break ranks. “Gut soldiers of the Reich, when the Kaiser hears off how you fight today, he will hear of one or two things. Either he will how you good Swabians and Bavarians fought like lions and sallied forth against the might of Milan, or he will hear how you fled as cowards from the foe!”

Inspired by Sigismund's words, the spearmen exerted themselves to the uttermost, but even so a few could not help but cast aside their weapons and flee.

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Otto's retainers and knights left the abbey witht the monks praying for an Imperial victory.

“Faster, my sirs, faster!” cried von Kassel to his men.

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The knights that accompanied von Kassel were the first to reach the enemy, and they charged fearlessly into the right flank of the Milanese spearmen.

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Meanwhile, Sigismund and his retainers were engaging the Milanese reserve. They were most obstinate in their resistance to the Count.

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Finally, they saw the hoplesness of their situation, most threw themselves at the mercy of Count Sigismund. A few, however, attempted to escape with their captain, Francesco.

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The remaining Milanese now fled, each attempting elude the swords of the Imperial cavalry. Count Sigsimund, however, commanded that only the flat of their swords were to be used, and that no futher blood should be shed, instead ordering the knights and sergeants to bring the Milanese back as prisoners.

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Captain Francesco was the last prisoner to be taken. He was finally tracked down, and received a sword blow to his head, knocking him unconscious.

When he was finally brought round, he was looking into the kind eyes of Count Sigismund.

“You fought well, mein freund, but I am glad that it was I who was the victor. You and your remaining men are free to leave unharmed and with their weapons. Consider it a kind gesture on my part.”

The Italian was stupified. He was expecting to be killed, or at the very least held for ransom.

“I thank you, Count Sigismund, he said, I shall tell of your generosity and chivalry to my lords. I am humble to receive such a favour and praise from an enemy of mine.”

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As the Milanese were marching off, Sigsimund said to von Kassel, "Go back and fetch your sausage, and then come and join me in the keep."

[Ignoramus]

*Battle of the Alps*

To be written.

[Ignoramus]

*Battle of the Savoy Pass*

To be written.

[OverKnight]

The Assault on Milan

A gray twilight spilled over the foothills and plains of Lombardy. Dawn was coming, but had yet to arrive. Men moved through the failing shadows towards their goal, the city of Milan. The sleeping locals they passed would have been shocked to see the Eagle of the Reich emblazoned on the standards that were now being unfurled in the burgeoning light. Those few who had been awake to see the passage of so many men had been silenced by scouts and outriders. The city was unaware of their arrival.

The army of the Reich, 675 men strong, stopped for a moment on a wooded hill overlooking their target. A man on horseback spurred himself ahead of the force and gazed toward the city.

It's good to be out in the field again, thought Otto von Kassel, Simpler, much simpler. I do what I'm told, I attack where the Chancellor says attack, and it is he who has to worry about the consequences.

Peering towards the gatehouse closest to him, Otto saw a torch drop from an arrow slit. He chuckled darkly. I may not agree with Sigismund on his course of action, but the Chancellor is competent. Our man is there to open the gates. What would have taken years with siege, we'll do in a day. The man is fast.

Turning from the city, Otto trotted over to his captains, "No ruses this time. We run for the gate as quick as possible, our spy will open it for us and in we go! There's a Milanese lordling running the show with some retainers of his. He's got two units of Italian spear militia, two units of Genoese crossbowmen and a chewed up company of mercenary crossbowmen. The bastards will be scattered all over the city and we'll kill them piecemeal! Knights, you may pursue those who run, but don't get too far ahead of the spearmen. Infantry, try to keep up. Archers, get in shots when you can. No time for a speech, form up!"

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As his force approached the city in the dawn light, Otto was amazed that they hadn't been spotted yet. From what our agent said, this man Cataldo was supposed to be a confident defender, perhaps too confident.

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Suddenly, a scream went up from the walls in front of him. Shouts of alarm broke out up and down the defenses. In the distance a church bell began to peal. Otto swore and had his bugler signal the charge.

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This was no close order march, but a wild sprint to Milan's sabotaged gate. Otto's retainers and knights made it into the city first. Pausing briefly in the gateway he spyed a unit of crossbowmen frantically trying to redeploy off to his right and a company of spearmen pouring off the walls, some still pulling on their armor, to his left.

"Cavalry to the right! Kill those archers!"

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"Infantry to the left! Engage the spearmen!"

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Otto spurred his horse towards the crossbowmen. He expected them to be dead and trampled by the time he arrived, but they fought resolutely. Charging into the fray, Otto hacked at one of them, cutting through the man's neck and the strange shield on his back at the same time.

"They're just bowmen! Kill them now!", bellowed Otto, but they fought on for a long time until the sheer number of horsemen overwhelmed them.

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"Christ on the Cross! Why don't I just recruit an army of them and not waste time feeding horses!?", Otto swore at the knights. "Nevermind! Back! Back to help the infantry!"

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The Imperial army swarmed up the roadway after the routed spearmen. Otto, looking up after skewering a militia man, saw the Milanese lord and his retainers charging toward them. There's something oddly familiar about this, Otto thought before yelling, "Cavalry hold! Spearmen forward!"

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The Milanese commander, Cataldo, having tried to catch the Imperial horsemen disorganized and isolated instead found himself charging into a spear wall. Once the spearman had absorbed the charge, Otto screamed, "Knights, forward!", and the counter-charge broke the Milanese nobles and killed their leader.

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The routing spearmen turned to try to save their master but were repulsed. Otto's cavalry pursued but were met by the remnants of the garrison. As horsemen began to fall, speared by the militia and hacked at by more of those stubborn crossbowmen, Otto cried, "Go past them! Past them! Infantry engage!"

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Most of the cavalry were now free of the melee. Otto yelled, "Turn and flank them!"

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Finally, the spirit of the defenders broke. What was left of the garrison turned and ran or surrendered on the spot. The din of battle subsided and all Otto could hear was the moans of the wounded and the church bells ringing in the morning air.

"Take them prisoner!", Otto commanded, "I won't fight cornered men today. We need all our men to garrison this city. I doubt the merchant schwein will let their capital be occupied without another battle or two. After we secure the captives, then we can pry open their vaults and take some restitution. Milan is ours! The Reich is whole!"

The men cheered, whether for the prospect of plunder or patriotic zeal, Otto did not know.

Milan was sacked, providing 10,955 florins for the Reich. 2,981 souls who opposed reintegration into the Empire were put to the sword.

The Butcher's Bill:

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[Ituralde]

Defense of Vienna

"The men are ready for the sally, mein Herr!"

"Tell them, that they will have their fight, but it won't be us attacking. Looks like they finally got around to assaulting our walls."
Leopold stood on the battlement over the gate, his gaze directed at the Venetian column advancing towards the city. Ever since the reports had come in that the Venetians had withdrawn the larger part of their infantry from the siege, he had tried to get confirmation of this. Finally a spy had reported that the attacker's force had indeed been diminished and Leopold had immediately ordered his men to ready themselves for an attack in the morning.
It seems that the Venetians had gotten information on their own preparations and were now marching on the city. They had a ram built and also some ladders.
As their force consisted mainly of Mailed Knights and the bodyguard of Allessandro Selvo their general, their only two units of infantry were now manning the siege equipment. Peasant Archers were pushing the ram and Italian Spear Militia was ready to scale the walls.

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"Looks like a straightforward attack, Rainer. Let's organize a straightforward defence then."

"Jawohl, mein Herr!"
Leopold was already leaving the battlement to saddle his horse and address his men. With the Venetians heading straight for the south gate, that would be the place to meet them.
He organized three of his Spear Militia in a box around the gate, ready to give a sharp welcome to anyone coming through the gate. The walls around the gate were manned by Town Militia and Spear Militia respectively. The Spear Militia positioned to the left of the gate were the ladders were to be expected. The rest of the Town Militia was arrayed behind the Spears to charge once combat has begun. Leopold and his bodyguard blocked the main causeway to the city square to lend their support to the Spears directly in front of them.

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Soon enough the Italian Spear Militia was scaling the wooden walls, while the ram hammered at the gates of Vienna. Fierce fighting erupted on the battlements, but it looked as though the Imperial forces could hold.

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The gates had been breached.
"Steady men, Steady!" cried Leopold to the assembled Spears that would have to take the charge from the Venetian cavalry and had to hold.
Furiously the Venetian cavalry charged through the gates and their commander even threw his Peasant Archers into the fray.
"Advance!" yelled Leopold once the fighting in front of him had ensued.

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A glance to the walls showed that the Imperial troops had held and the remaining Italian Spear Militia was already fleeing the field.
"Rainer! Get a messenger up the walls. Let's put those ladders to use, shall we! Tell the Spears to get down there and block the gates from the outside. That vile oath-breaker will not escape from my city!"

While Leopold charged forward with his bodyguards, the other Town Militia was already in contact with the enemy horsemen. Already many of them were pulled off their horses and the battle seemed to go bad for the Venetians.
As though sensing his doom, Alessandro Selvo ordered a hasty retreat. Unfortunately before the Spears had closed off the gate.

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"Damn coward! Ride! Ride hard, Ritter of the Reich. I will not let that traitor escape!"
Spurring his horse onward, Leopold led his retinue out of the gates in hot pursuit of the Venetian cavalry.

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Alessandro Selvo made good use of his head-start though and was able to escape the grasp of Duke Leopold.
Disheartened Leopold and his men return from their pursuit. He meets up with Rainer at the Towns Square where the captured Venetians await their fate.
"Mein Herr, what do we do with the prisoners?"

Leopold glances briefly over the men in front of him. One of them is a young noble, a retainer of Alessandro Selva surely. Leopold fixates him with his gaze:
"You have entered my lands under the cover of goodwill! I gave you assistance and trusted in the power of our alliance! You betrayed your word, you have lost your honour. There's nothing left for me to do, but to hand you the fate of every traitor!"
He turns to Rainer, a determined expression on his face. "Kill them!" Rainer looks at his master as though to object. "They're traitors and oath-breakers, they deserve nothing less!" Without another glance to the prisoners Leopold leaves the town square, while Rainer instructs his men to do the grizzly business.

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[OverKnight]

The Defense of Milan

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Otto von Kassel was sitting down to his breakfast porridge when a messenger intruded, "My lord! The Venetians are bringing up a ram to attack our east gate!"

"What!", said Otto slamming down his spoon, "Did they bring up reinforcments during the night?"

"Well. . .no", mumbled the messenger, "That company of crossbowmen has decided to attack."

"They're idiots! Oh well, this will let me end this farce! Have our 'garrison' drawn up, archers to the walls next to the east gate. . .

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. . .and my retainers to the south gate. I'm going to finish my breakfast."

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With Otto's men in position, the brave, but stupid, Venetians began their assault.

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Despite suffering losses the pavise crossbowmen were able to bring the ram to the gate. In their haste to enter the city, however, they failed to notice the cavalry charging toward them through the mist.

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It would be their last mistake.

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All the Venetians were killed or captured.

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Otto surveyed the bound prisoners in front of him. From the little Italian he knew, he understood that they were begging for their lives. They mentioned the chivalrous Chancellor Sigismund, known throughout Europe for his mercy towards prisoners.

As the morning mist burned off, Otto looked east past his captives, squinting into the sun. He could see a large dust cloud on the horizon. A much larger Venetian force was on its way. This victory was only temporary.

"Of course you may join your comrades", Otto told the prisoners, "You have fought bravely and will be released. After, of course, we hack off your thumbs. I will not have you firing crossbows again!"

Otto chuckled darkly as the prisoners began screaming, he called for a chopping block and an axe.

After the deed was done, and the Venetians' digits were placed in their coin purses, Otto spoke again, "Now go! Tell that army to the east what awaits them if they come here. Next time I will cut off more than just thumbs!"


The Butcher's Bill:

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[Kagemusha]

Battle of Kamienski

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Dietrich of Saxony was not happy. He sat on his war horse on a hill near the village of Kamienski, to South East from Stettin. A beutifull valley opened under his eyes,as he sat on his horse looking at a dust cloud in the distance, created by rapidly advancing horse of one of his scouts.The ground was lovely,but he had no missile troops to protect the hills he had deployed his men on.

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The scouts had spotted the enemy force and the reports sayed that there were nearly 200 Polish mounted noblemen coming at his way with about 100 Nobles on foot. He had little over hundred Spearmen and about same amount of Peasants as his infantry and Adolf Von Mahren´s and his own knights,amounting 62 men on horseback.
He had the high ground,but what to do with it? The Polish were known of their use of missiles on horseback so they could just run around his force,hurling missiles from their horses,while the heavier German Knights couldnt catch them. There were only glumps of trees on the hills,so he Dietrich could not protect his force by going inside an forest. Dietrich sat there for a while looking around and thinking.
For a little while he forgot the Polish army aproaching the battlefiield and the upcoming battle.He didnt think of the last years marching around the Reich on muddy roads with his men, building watchtowers and waiting for the message from Kaiser that he wouldnt be the Duke of Franconia anymore. In his eyes he saw his beutifull wife,smiling at him,like she had done on many quite evenings,when they were with each other smiling talking and doing what lovers do.
Dietrich woke up from his thoughts,as he heard the loud yell from the aproaching messenger: "The Polish are coming! The Polish are coming!"
Quickly he called to him,Von Mahren and the captain of the Spearmen.
Dietrich spoke with determination in his voice:

"Gentlemen. We are not here to die today! We will beat the Polish here today.Captain! Take command of the Peasants also and deploy your men to that ridge between these two hills."

Captain looked in Dietrichs eyes and nodded like a man who is going into a certain death and started to turn around to give orders to his men. But before he could,Dietrich continued:

"Captain, listen carefully. You will be our bait with your men. I will deploy my Knights on the other side of this hill we are standing so the Polish wont see us from the valley. Von Mahren will deploy his Knights,there behind the other hill on your right side. When the Polish Nobles see that there are only few men on foot on a hill against them, they will come right at you. Now listen carefully,since what you do then can decide the battle. When The Polish cavalry aProaches your men, you order your troops to run. And you will keep running untill you reach the highest spot on the ridge. Then turn around and fight and hold the line.I will attack the Polish right and Von Mahren their left flank. If God will´s we will trap them and the day is ours.If not,then atleast no one can say we didnt try."

Dietrich stared the captain of the Spearmen for a second and continued:

"Did you understand my orders?"

Captain nodded,looking same time worried and anxious.

"Then go man and give your orders to your men!"

Dietrich turned towards Von Mahren and sayed:

"My good man Mahren, what we are about to do could be the last thing for both of us. Do you have any questions?"

Mahren answered briefly:

"My Lord! Nothing to ask.Lets run down the Polish scum!"

Dietrich smiled becouse of the determinanation of the younger man and continued:

"Remember.Wait untill the Polish get in melee with our foot men.We cant let them escape or we are Finished.We will meet at the center once the Polish have been slain. Good luck and may God be with us all."

Von Mahren nodded and started galloping towards his men.

The Battle ensued first like Dietrich had planned.The Polish Nobility charged the Spearmen and two units of them were trapped between the Spearmen and German Knights. Third Unit of the Polish Nole cavalry charged the same mass and routed Dietrichs peasants, but Dietrich rallied them with his warhorn after some time. Dietrich charged and formed up and again and again and again. He saw how on the right Von Mahren fought like a beast with his men,giving blows to right and left. But the Polish were no peasants and they just kept on fighting untill also the dismounted nobles entered the fray. Dietrich and his men were covered on blood of their own and their enemies,while forming up again and again. While after each charge there was less and less of them. Finally he had only three of his knights with him and he saw that there were not much more men left of Von Mahrens Knights. Dietrich thought that it was just matter of time,when the younger Lion or himself would be struck down to the mud.
But suddenly as Lord himself had watched over the German army.The Polish commander was struck down by one of the remaining spearmen. This cutted the backbone of the Nobility of Poland,that had so far fought equally to any German. The Polish still outnumbering the tired Germans,broke of through and rode away,while the few German Knights led by Dietrich and Von Mahren charged after them.

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The ridge was a grim site of butchery.Dead and dying men and horses with the ground coloured red from the blood. The Polish horses were faster, so after short time Dietrich ordered his knights to turn around and finish of the reminders of the Dismounted Polish.
Dietrichs tired men,what was left of them had captured only few prisoners,but as there were not many of them left themselves either. Dietrich had no choice,but execute the prisoners and move his army of the area before another Polish army would arrive.

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The Butchers bill:

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[Ignoramus]

Battle in the Alps

[Ignoramus]

Defence of Bologna

[Ituralde]

Battle of the Danube Crossing

Duke Leopold sat on his horse staring glumly ahead. The river Danube flowed through the valley in front of him, where a massive stone bridge spanned a narrow gap. Gottfied von Holstein had set up his army just opposite the bridge where it occupied a formidable defensive position. Steep hills rise to both sides of the road giving plenty of high ground to the defenders and promising vicious uphill fighting for any attacker.

Today the attacker was Leopold and at the thought of this he felt his anger rising. He had adressed the Chancellor with his request for a field battle against the Venetians. Instead he now had to adress an aspiring guildmaster with a rag-tag retinue of Archers and Crossbowmen. Leopold would have preferred to deal with the Venetian struggle first, before turning to von Holstein.

The man had long been a rival of Leopolds tax policies in the City Council. When war had broken out, not only with Milan, but also with Venice and now even Poland, trade, the life blood of the city of Vienna, had trickled to a near halt. The guildmaster was rightfully upset at the lowered trade revenues, but when he had mustered a small army and occupied the strategic river crossing close to Vienna he had gone a step too far.
The man had never possesed enough backbone to oppose Leopold in this way, but the recent sieges of Vienna had shown Leopolds vulnerability and further damaged the trade. He had hoped that with the Venetian thread banned from Austrian lands, Holstein would see reason again and turn down his weapons.

His orders from the Chancellor were clear though. He had read through them so often that he could repeat them from memory. He was not happy with this situation and hopefully soon the reforms proposed by Prince Henry would be passed in the Diet and ducal affairs would be settled by the Duke in question and not by Imperial orders. At least Sigismund had agreed with his request and given him enough florins to muster mercenary forces to deal with this threat adequately.

Those were problems for another time though, currently he had an army composed of Missile Infantry and some peasants in front of him. The only real thread were von Holstein and his bodyguard of Feudal Knights. Leopold couldn't imagine where he had taken the money from to lay his hands on these kinds of superb fighters.

Lazily Leopold raised a hand to signal the advance. There really wasn't anything to do for him than cross the bridge as fast as possible.
The Mercenary Spearmen would be the first across the bridge, no need to waste precious Austrian soldiers in this fight. Slowly the column of Austrian soldiers set in motion while the Rebel defenders were already preparing their bows, ready to deliver the first volley.

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Leopolds plan relied solely on the initiative of his fighters. They had to cross the bridge as fast as possible and attack any Archer in sight. Luckily the narrow gore did not provide too much maneuverability for Holsteins Feudal Knights. His men had to keep momentum and push forward, if they were halted for just a second the Rebel arrows would take their bloody toll. Seeing that the Mercenary Spearmen were already hesitating halfway across the bridge as they anticipated the hail of bolts and arrows that would soon come in their direction Lepold bellowed a cry of frustration and anger and spurred his horse onward. If those Mercenaries were scared of Missile attacks he had to show them that their leader was not!

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Bolts and arrows rained down on Lepold and his retinue as his horses had gallopped to the fore, taking the punch from the Rebel projectiles he urged the Speamen forward: "Charge! Charge you coward dogs! Take the bank!"
Immediatelly the Spearmen rushed forward. Seemingly intimidated by this display of valour von Holstein panicked and ordered a hasty retreat. He was not willing to face the Austrian charge head on, but instead ordered a retreat to the ridge just west of the road.

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Leopold urged his men onward now that the bank was clear and the enemy was on the run it was important that they don't loose momemtum. He ordered the Mercenary Spearmen up the ridge to follow von Holstein, while he took the Town Militia with him in a wide berth to eventually attack the Rebels flank. His Miltia Spearmen were ordered to support the Mercenaries where necessary.

Once the Mercenaries had crested the ridge, von Holstein ordered his army around and let his Missile units attempt a desperate charge, led by him and his Feudal Knights. His end came quickly at the hands of a Mercenary Spearmen.

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Leopold had also brought his men in position and now charged the flank of the remaining mass of Peasant Archers, Peasants and Crossbowmen. With their leader killed in the initial assault and pressure from several sides, the enemy soon succumbed and tried to flee the field.

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All except a unit of Hussars were throwing down their weapons and asked for quarter. With half his army occupied with securing the prisoners the Hussites had enough time to set up position further west on the river bank and opened fire on the Mercenary Spearmen following them, who had just driven back a futile attack of von Holsteins followers.

With the prisoners secured Leopold urged his horsemen onwards to destroy the last pocket of Hussite resistance. With Austrians swarming over their position the Hussites were quickly dealt with.

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Meanwhile von Holsteins followers had mustered up the courage for another attack this time on the Town and Spear Militia left behind to deal with the prisoners.

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Their charge was quickly broken however and finally the last of the Rebel scum fled the field.

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Gottfied von Holstein had already met his deserved fate and Duke Leopold gave the orders to have the other captured ringleaders executed to serve as an example against future rebellion!

Although Leopold had disagreed with the Chancellors plans, he felt delighted to have beaten von Holstein so thoroughly in this battle. The City Council and the merchants would consider it twice before they raised their arms against his rule again.
His delight lasted only a short while though as he remembered the Venetian forces to the South. If the Chancellor gave him the orders he would be ready to strike at them in the field. If not, he would have to wait at them once again, hovering like a coward behind Vienna's mighty walls and have to kill every last one of them once they attack.
This once again brought an evil smile on his face.

[econ21]

The Siege of Bologna, 1138

Henry watched his young son Hans sleeping peacefully and thought of the slaughter that the day would bring. What kind of sick world were we bringing children into, he thought? Slowly, he turned away to refocus. The coming battle required all his attention.

I wonder what siege equipment Sigismund has provided for me this time, Henry mused with a vague feeling of foreboding? Henry had been pleasantly surprised when his father had provided two rams for him at Metz, but he had struggled to take Dijon with only the one ram and two ladders provided by Sigismund.

Henry saw the engineers lounging outside the manor he was bivouacked in and stiffened, approaching them with a lofty air:

“You fellows, let’s see the siege engines you have constructed then.”

One thickset man with curly hair slowly turned to look at his jowly companion. Both gave each other blank looks, then the jowly companion rubbed his arm across his dripping nose and cleared his throat awkwardly:

“Well, you see, Sir, it was like this. Count Sigismund just told us to come ‘ere. He didn’t say nowt about building anything. We thought some of your French lads were goin’ handle that side of things.”

“What?!” yelled Henry. “You are siege engineers. This is a siege. You are supposed to build siege engines. How can you not get that?”

The jowly engineer narrowed his eyes together and repeatedly more slowly, as if Henry were an idiot. “Like, I was saying, Sir, we thought some of your French lads…”

Henry turned and threw his hands up in the air, then stalked back inside the manor. Inside, he cursed like a trooper, unaware that his son Hans had risen.

“Why are you banging your head against the wall, father?” Hans inquired curiously. Henry stopped abruptly. Aww, don’t stop, Dad, thought Hans, It’s funny.

Henry shook his now rather sore head and instantly regretted it. Oh well, Hans was old enough to understand, he supposed.

“I am supposed to take this city - Bologna, your grandfather’s old estate - today but I have no siege engines to get us over the walls.” Henry explained. And, silently adding, we’ll be stuck here, making me look like an idiot while Dietrich bathes in the adoration of the Diet for his victory. Dietrich was Henry’s greatest rival as a commander - ever since Dietrich shot to fame with his stunning capture of Hamburg in a coup de main, it was clear that he was the man to watch. Henry had been left scrambling in the man’s wake, trying to rival his accomplishments. It would not do for a future Emperor to be outshone by his generals. Dietrich’s self-imposed exile had removed the pressure from Henry, but the Franconian Duke’s heroic defeat of the Poles showed he was back with a vengeance.

“Is there no way you can take the city without siege engines?” inquired Hans.

Henry thought. No, it was hopeless. There were no Imperial agents in Bologna that would open the gates for him. But wait…there was a small Venetian relief army nearby. Already it was marching to reinforce the garrison. Henry brightened and spoke to Hans:

“Remember the funny story I told you about the Nubian?”

Hans nodded, sitting expectantly. “Tell me it again, father.”

“Well, the Nubians live in a hot dry place and often have to travel far from any known water source. So, when they get thirsty and don’t know where there is water, do you know what they do?”

Hans jumped up: “Catch a monkey!”

“That’s right.” said Henry. “They trap a monkey and put some salt in front of it. The monkey loves the salt and licks it greedily. But then what happens?”

Hans shot up again: “The monkey gets thirsty!”

“Indeed, the sun is burning and the salt makes the monkey very thirsty. So then the clever Nubian lets the monkey go and races after it, as it leads him right to the nearest watering hole.”

Hans smiled contentedly, but then said puzzled: “That’s a funny story. But what does it have to do with capturing this city?”

Henry smiled back and said enigmatically: “You have to wait here, my son. I’m off to catch me a monkey.”

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Henry saw the Venetian relief force approach - they seemed to be moving at a run. Three regiments of missile troops, including pavise crossbowmen, and one and a half regiments of Italian spear militia. They would be the devil’s own job, if inside the city manning its walls. But out in the open, they would be easy prey.

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Lacking any cavalry other than his own escort, Henry repeatedly charged the Venetian missile troops. It was not a battle, it was a slaughter.

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His mercenary spearmen charged the Venetian spear militia, but the Italians’ hearts were not in it - all they wanted was to get inside the safety of the settlement walls. Like a thirsty monkey running for a watering hole, Henry thought.

“Stop men, hold back. Let them go. Follow them at a distance.” Henry restrained his escort. It was important that the fleeing relief force not be completely caught and destroyed in the open - they had to make through the city gates. Timing was everything - close too soon and they would be destroyed before they made it; close too late and the gates would be closed in Henry’s face.

Damn it, they were rallying under the castle walls. That’s it, we have to go in now.

“Forward men, smash through them” cried Henry and pray that the poor fools manning the city gates take pity on them.

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For a minute, Henry thought the city defenders were going to let the relief force die outside the gates, like Vercingetorix did to his women folk and children at Alesia. But the Venetians were made of softer stuff than that legendary Gaul and slowly the gates opened to let the routing Italians through.

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“Onwards, men, onwards.” Henry urged his men through the gates. Soon they had run down one regiment of Italian spears. But out of the corner of his eye, Henry could see the other regiment appearing behind him. It had manned the city walls after entering, but now that Henry was inside, the Venetians were coming down off the walls and slamming the city gates shut behind the trapped German cavalry. The Italian spear militia lowered their spears and set off towards Henry’s men.

Henry decided to press on, racing his men forward, away from the pursuing spears and towards the city centre. He needed to put a decent distance between his cavalry and the spearmen behind him. Everything depended on turning on the enemy behind him, but getting a good charge off in a crowded city street was a tricky matter. Henry needed time and space to pull it off.

Just as he was approaching the city centre, he halted. He did not want to attract the garrison to him before he had control of the south gate once again. He needed the gate to bring up his infantry.

“About turn, men. Let’s do it.”

His escort turned back up and set off towards the Italian spearmen who had closed the south gate on them. As his horse built up speed, Henry wondered - could they do it? Could they get off a proper cavalry charge? Then he noticed the Italian spear militia in front of him - they were hastily forming a schiltron. Clever fellows, Henry thought admiringly, then with alarm, he thought: this could get messy. Just as Henry started to panic, the lances of his knights came down and the unfortunate Italian spearmen were caught by a ferocious charge.

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The brave Italian spear militia were overrun in seconds. After that, the end was not in doubt. Henry’s men reopened the gate and a mass of German infantry advanced towards the Venetian garrison, now concentrated in the city centre.

Henry’s escort ran down a couple of ballista’s who were too slow to reach the centre.

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A few brave Venetian knights tried to stem the tide of German foot.

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Then the battle bogged down in a struggle through the street leading north to the city centre. Venetian armoured sergeants battled their German counterparts. Henry despised battles of attrition and whipped his horse through the narrow city streets, aiming to approach the city centre from the east. However, a second regiment of Venetian armoured sergeants had anticipated his move and was rushing to block him. Blast it, thought Henry - about turn again, we’ll approach from the north instead. The greater mobility of the horsemen eventually paid off and Henry was able to burst through into the city centre, into the rear of the first regiment of Venetian armoured sergeants.

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The second regiment of Venetian armoured sergeants was still huffing and puffing far away in pursuit of him. When it finally came up, it was alone. Henry was able to position his cavalry in a side road, so that the Venetians were trapped between Henrys’ horse to the west and the German infantry to the south.

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Frozen with indecision, the Venetians started to fall to the German crossbows, until eventually their brave captain recognised the inevitable and sued for terms.

The butcher’s bill:

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Henry released the captured Venetians and occupied Bologna, giving him a reputation for respecting his enemy. For taking a city without siege engines, he would henceforth be regarded as a siege expert. And, to little Hans at least, he would always be known as a man who could tell a tale.

[Ituralde]

Battle of Graz

Leopold had been travelling hard the past days, from the Danube crossing over Vienna he had headed south directly. Accompanied by nothing more than one company of Mercenary Crossbowmen and one of Frankish Knights he was supposed to attack the Venetian Councillor Bartolomeo who had brought the same troops to the field. Curse Sigismund that chivalrous bastard! was all Leopold could think of at the moment, while he waited for his outriders to pin down the exact location of the enemy. It would come to battle today in the surroundings of the border village of Graz. It had been good to show Imperial and Dukal presence this far south where nothing but Venetian armies had been seen during the last years.

I have the men in Vienna ready to crush that Venetian upstart underfoot! His reports had indicated that Bartolomeo was treated as the successor of his father in the post of Doge and that he wanted to cement his aspirations by dealing with the Austrians where many others before him had failed.
If only Sigismund had given me enough men I'd be swarming over these hills and ferret him out!
Duke Leopolds scout had been looking for the equally small Venetian force and so far the Councillor has avoided Leopold.
Chivalry! What was the man thinking. Rumour had it that he had to duel it out with Alessandro Selva instead of shooting him to pieces by his accompanying army. Chivalry was for the tournament field or for open diplomacy. But on the battlefield. You won. Period. You did everything you could to achieve this goal, especially against those Venetian oath-breakers. They deserved death, and Leopold would be giving it to them.

A rider appeared on the outcrop of the ridge and advanced towards Leopold.
"My lord, the Venetians have set up camp two miles to the East!"
Excellent!
"Let's move men and teach those merchant dogs a lesson, coming to our lands uninvited!"

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Bartolomeo had set his men up on one of the rolling hills, while Leopold advanced with his army from the south. He turned to the leader of the Mercenary forces: "Let your Crossbowmen advance in a straight line. Loose formation and open fire as soon as you're in range! I will take the Frankish Knights over the right flank. You just keep shooting at them. Try to target their Knights, I want them wounded or dead before we charge."

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With Leopold's forces set up on the flank of the enemy, Bartolomeo adjusted his troops slightly. His main line was still facing the Crossbowmen however and he had sent his own Missiles forward, wich opened fire. Several volleys of crossbow bolts were exchanged, before the Venetians withdrew closer to their lines.

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Target those damn Knights! They're cavalry is outnumbering us, we have to even out the odds.
As ordered by Duke Leopold the Mercenary Crossbowmen now concentrated their fire on the Frankish Knights making use of the armour penetration of their bolts.

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It was a slow exchange of volleys, but slowly the Frankish Knights lost more and more men to the Austrian bolts. At the same time the Frankish Knights were obstructing the Venetian Crossbowmen who were decimating Leopolds Missile troops. Slowly the number of cavalry turned in favour of Leopold. Not wanting to waste more of his Crossbowmen he ordered the charge. The Frankish Knights were supposed to charge head on, while he would try to outflank the enemy and strike at their back.

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Once the Frankish Knights had engaged, Bartolomeo ordered his retinue forward to join the fight. This gave Leopold exactly the time he needed to form up a charge into the Venetian rear.

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The impact of Leopolds bodyguard crushed the Venetian resistance. Councillor Bartolomeo was killed during the charge by one of Leopolds retainers, who had surely earned his spurs this day. Shocked by the surrounding Germans and without a leader the Mercenaries soon turned to flee.

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"Chase them! Chase them! Let none escape!" Leopold urgeds his followers onward to capture not only the fleeing Crossbowmen but also all of the remaining retaineres of Councillor Bartolomeo.
Every last captured men was put to the sword by the Austrians. Leopold wanted it to be known that every Venetian setting foot on Imperial soil again had forfeit his life and would not be spared. This of couser entailed any Mercenary company foolish enough to collaborate with the Venetian enemy.

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[TinCow]

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"They've been camped up there for months, m'lord."

Maximillian Mandorf squinted, but the fog was too think. For a moment he thought he could see movement, but it was gone before he could focus on it.

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He turned and looked at the Bavarian woodsman. "Archers?"

The man shook his head. "Not that I saw, but nearly every one I saw had a crossbow." He looked up the hill. "They'll give it to you good when you go up the hill."

Mandorf barked an order to the nearest militia sergeant; the entire line began to move. "That's why we're not going up the road."

...

Half an hour later, the view was reversed. The militia had taken their time in climbing the hill, but they had avoided the road held by the brigands. With the army now assembled on the top of the hill, the situation had been reversed. The crossbowmen were now below, with the militia on top.

Nuremburg was a town of merchants, few men knew how to use a bow. The few that could be found were largely hunters from the local forests. They were peasants and unskilled in battle, but with this height advantage, they could shoot nearly as far as English longbowmen.

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The unarmored crossbowmen began to fall fast. Realizing their predicament, they charged up the hill, desperate to close the distance and return fire. The arrows continued to bite though, and both groups had lost nearly a quarter of their number before they were in range.

They had just begun to crank back their primitive crossbows when Mandorf raised his sword and yelled. "For God and the Reich!"

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The thin lines crumpled in bloody mess. Those on either side who had survived fled for their lives. The German knights rode them down without mercy. When the carnage was over, Mandorf rode back towards the militia lines. The archers were already showering the remaining armored spearmen.

A flicker of movement from the top of the hill startled Mandorf. His sword was halfway drawn when he saw the line of knights emerged from the fog. The Steward of Bavaria lifted his visor in amazement. They were of the Teutonic Order.

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One knight rode forward and gave a respectful bow. "Good morning, my lord. We were surprised to hear the sounds of battle so close to Nuremburg. Is this perhaps something that we could help with?"

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Mandorf looked back over his head. Half of the enemy spearmen were dead or dying. They continued to try and advance up the hill, but walking into the heavy rain of arrows was making their progress slow. "It appears that the militia is capable of finishing these ruffians. They've been harassing travelers on this road for years now, some of these men have lost friends. They have little cause for mercy."

The knight nodded. "As it should be. Those who prey upon unarmed men have forsaken the Word of God." Both men paused and watched for a few moments. Half a dozen men fell in only a few seconds.

"By chance do you know if Hildegard von Bingen is still in Nuremburg?" Mandorf looked over at the Teuton and nodded. "Yes, today she is, but she is riding out with me tomorrow. We shall not be back for some time."

An archer came running up, red-faced and breathing heavily. He bent over and took several deep breaths before speaking. "Sir... the... boys.... out of... arrows."

Mandorf looked over at the knight. "Pardon me a moment." He lowered his helm and spurred his horse forward.

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...

The Steward of Bavaria was still wiping blood from his sword when the Teuton rode forward. "Might I ask where you are traveling to?"

"Everywhere. I have recently been appointed Chancellor and I need to see the Reich for myself. There is only so much that can be done from my manor. With so many wars on all fronts, there are no regiments available to keep the roads safe for the commoners. This was but one of several groups of vagabonds that have been extorting good Bavarian Christians for years now. I mean to bring them to justice." Mandorf shrugged his shoulders. "Perhaps I will go west to Swabia afterwards, but I have not decided yet."

The knight paused to consider this for a moment. "We have come a long way to see Hildegard. We have heard she has visions from the Lord. It would be a shame to have to return to Frankfurt without having met her. Perhaps... would you accept our company on your travels?"

Mandorf smiled broadly. "I had hoped you would offer you services, Sir..."

The man put out his mailed hand and the two men shook vigorously. "Welf, my Lord, of the Teutonic Order."

"I would greatly enjoy the company of true Knights of Christ on my travels. I have taken vows of my own recently and no longer feel the same connection to my friends that I once did."

Sir Welf nodded. "Those of us who give our lives to the Lord have a clarity of purpose that bothers some of the less faithful. We would be honored to act as your guard during your Chancellorship. Perhaps when your term is over, you will consider joining our Order."

"That is a long time from now, Sir Welf. Come, let us spend one last night in Nuremburg. If we leave for the city now, we will still have time to hear evening Mass."

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[GeneralHankerchief]

Outside of Florence, 1142

Ah, Kaiser Heinrich thought, a proper battlefield.

This was the first time in many years that the Kaiser would be facing a professional army on a true field of battle. Ever since his automatic Chancellorship the only foes for the picking were random brigand parties and the occasional city garrison, although the Milanese in Genoa gave him fits and annihilated his entire bodyguard, save for Captain Ludwig.

Here though, it was finally different. He was facing a large Milanese army, commanded by a proper man of nobility. The field would be mostly open and flat. It would come down to the army's strength and his generalship.

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The stakes were high for both sides. Not only was the Milanese heir to the throne (although it was little more than two islands now) present, but this was their final army on the mainland. They had besieged Florence in hopes of gaining a toehold onto the mainland. If this army was to be defeated then they would be crippled for quite a long time.

Meanwhile, on the Imperial side, the Kaiser had just suffered an embarrassing defeat in a bid for his second Chancellorship. If he was to lose this battle then his reputation would never recover and his plans would be useless. In addition, the Imperial heir, Prinz Henry, was also present. If things were to go terribly and both royals were to die, the Reich might very well be plunged into civil war trying to figure out who would rule.

Right now, however, that was not on the Kaiser's mind. He was focused on relieving his beloved city of Florence. He would not be alone in this task. The city's garrison, over 500 strong, was sallying out to assist Heinrich in this operation.

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Their placement would be crucial. The way the Kaiser had deployed, making the Milanese face him, put the garrison in the one spot of the battlefield that wasn't flat and open. It also happened to be in the Milanese rear.

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In the best-case scenario, their presence would go unnoticed and they would slam into the already-engaged Milanese being pushed to the limit by Heinrich's army. In the worst-case scenario, they would simply keep several Milanese regiments occupied while the Kaiser defeated the main body of troops in front of him. He hoped that the garrison commander realized what his objective was, in any case.

Heinrich's main plan was to simply walk right up to the Milanese army and crush it. Nothing subtle. He hoped that Prinz Henry was paying attention, as the Prinz had just gone behind his back in the most recent Diet elections, all but securing Maximillian Mandorf the Chancellorship. The Kaiser prided himself on being up front and a man of action, and was slightly disgusted that Henry was turning out to be the opposite.

The march took place, but before the main engagement a fierce archery duel took place. The Milanese had superior weapons and numbers (Heinrich caught Prinz Henry muttering something about Staufen and pavisses), so his archers were tasked to do little more than absorb fire until he deemed the time right to attack with the infantry.

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Anxious, the Kaiser ordered the charge quickly and the melee was on.

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With the Florentine garrison being tied up in the woods, the Milanese enjoyed a small numerical advantage which was beginning to tell. Despite spotting some men running for the rear, Heinrich could see that his line was cracking. He motioned to Prinz Henry, who trotted over.

"Now, we charge in and push things in our favor."

Seconds later, the Prinz was still dumbfounded as he watched the Kaiser, followed by his escort, charge into the thick of fighting. A second later he recovered and followed his father into the melee, both of them catching and mauling a regiment of Italian militia trying to flank.

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Captain Ludwig, armor stained with blood, rode up to the Kaiser and the Prinz.

"Where the hell did they come from?"

A glance towards Florence provided the answer. Apparently the worst-case scenario with the garrison had happened.

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Several regiments that had routed the Florentines were making their way down the hill. Things were not looking good for the Empire.

"We'll never survive against that," Heinrich said to both escorts. "Let's overturn this line and free up the infantry. CHARGE!" Waving his red-gleaming sword high into the air, he plunged into the main battle line, several quicker horsemen following.

Prinz Henry just looked at Captain Ludwig, who shrugged. Was the Kaiser being this reckless on purpose? Also shrugging, he lead the rest of the cavalry into the fray.

The Imperial advantage lasted exactly three seconds. A series of loud swears signalled the arrival of Count Manno, the Milanese commander, and his escort. Now it would simply be which side's leader would go first.

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This was not terribly difficult to figure out. The two Imperial escorts were battle-hardened and extremely loyal, not to mention being more numerous and of German stock. Meanwhile, the Milanese were known for counting their money more than for their fighting prowess. Add in the fact that they were very hungry, having lived off of the Italian countryside for years, and the outcome was inevitable. Manno's cavalry ran, with Heinrich and Henry giving chase. Eventually the Milanese heir was slain, providing the turning point for the battle.

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Unfortunately, the Imperial army had no other cavalry, and the two escorts' mounts were too exhausted to provide chase towards the fleeing Milanese. The victorious army could only watch, trying to catch their breaths, as a significant remnant of their foe, spurred on by their second-in-command, headed for parts unknown.

Intelligence reports that the army circumvented both the Papal forces and Genoa, and passed out of our line of sight to the west of Milan itself. I assume that they are in the whereabouts of Marseille now, the Kaiser wrote in a letter to Chancellor Mandorf that night. In the future, I request more cavalry so the job can be properly finished.

He sealed the letter and sent it off. There. Now to move on to more pressing matters.

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[GeneralHankerchief]

Rome, 1146

The Eternal City:

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It was in panic like only a few times before in its storied history. Once Kaiser Heinrich's army had crossed the border into Papal territory, word had spread like wildfire that he was coming straight for the Seat. After all, where else would this cagey old man be going? Surely he wasn't taking his army on an excursion to see the sights of Campania.

The people's fears proved to be right. Some time after the Papal borders had been violated, the city had awoken to find an Imperial Army knocking at its door.

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The outnumbered garrison had quite a task to do even before it set off to do battle with the Kaiser's forces: calm the people. Eventually, Guido de Avena, commander of the garrison, made his way to the city square, got everyone's attention, and made the following announcement:

"QUIET!", he boomed. "God will see us through these hard times. After all, the Kaiser has no siege equipment, and by the time he builds enough to overcome these walls, good Pope Gregory will be here and dispel this monster forever!"

Meanwhile, outside the city gates, Kaiser Heinrich gave his orders.

"Ballistae, forward!"

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The sound of bolts hitting the gate suddenly set the city back into a panic. Guido, fed up, directed his forces to the point of battle. This was not supposed to be happening!

The Kaiser watched the ballistae work with uncontained satisfaction. At long last, the gates broke open and the road to Rome and redemption was clear.

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As the men walked down to road to the city, a spontaneous cheer erupted for their gallant leader. Few knew how long he had brooded and dreamed of this moment, but all knew that he still harbored some resentment towards Pope Gregory.

This is my moment, he thought to himself as he entered the city personally.

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Guido de Avena marshalled his forces in a desperate attack to try to drive the Imperials out and kill the Kaiser, but his opponents' morale was quite high. After all, how many men could say that they took part in the capture of the Eternal City? It was hopeless. This was a day for Heinrich. Guido was quickly swarmed and fell victim to hundreds of spear-thrusts.

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The yellow-and-black steamroller continued to plough the way to the very city square that had been used as a point to calm the people of Rome less than half an hour ago. From there, a horn sounded, and Kaiser Heinrich and his escort charged triumphantly in, cementing the Imperial victory.

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Victorious, Heinrich turned to his men.

"Take whatever you want. This is a day of celebration. However, leave the churches alone."

Cheering, the men proceeded to loot the city.

This is the easy part, the Kaiser thought to himself. What will be difficult is predicting and dealing with Gregory's revenge.

[Dutch_guy]

The scribe cursed, why had he been ordered to recheck all these seemingly ancient documents? At least a dozen pieces of parchment always seemed to be under those he had just picked up, what tedious work this was, not to mention he had to re-write them all. Times like these he really hated the job, even though he was paid quite generously

A dusty and fairly heavy bit of parchment caught his eye, neatly curled up bound with his master’s seal it was carefully placed at the bottom of the chest he was going through. Overwhelmed by curiosity he quickly gazed through the room, checking for any unwanted visitors. He didn’t want to get caught opening a seemingly private and important looking note bearing the Knight’s seal, his master was good to his subjects, but he knew he shouldn’t try to push his luck. Rumours concerning the sudden disappearance of his predecessor hadn’t passed him by, and the fact he had been found stabbed in the chest with a pen was telling enough.

Still, his curiosity got the better of him and he quickly broke the seal. Various little drawings were found on it, names and numbers of troops, and even of individual soldiers. Drawings which looked like battle formations were also present, although he had no idea what to make of that. He had never been one of military mind. Still reading on, his eye was caught by what seemed to be some kind of report, of some kind of past battle. As he liked the good war story like everyone else, he read on:

North of Magdenburg, 1140 AD.

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[/URL]

Finally, noble lords, have you granted me permission to lead a force in battle. A minor battle nonetheless, but a battle for the Reich is always of great importance, in this case our supply lines have to be protected, if we are to keep the flow of money and weapons to my dear friend von Saxony intact. These petty so called ‘rebels’ are in this way of this, and they need to die for it.

After assigning the various soldiers to their respective groups the assault began. It was to be a simple procedure; the two companies of cavalry would march to a patch of land to the left of the rebel force, and the main bulk of my modest force, the infantry, would march head on to the rebels, who had prudently decided to camp on a minor hill. Once the infantry had engaged, the cavalry would charge in the back and right flank of the engaged rebels, followed by myself, and my noble bodyguards.

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The infantry men, with the mercanary spearmen leading the force, soon were in sight of the rebels and were ordered to charge in. The mercenary troops charged into the waiting rebel spearmen, and the other two of the infantry companies were commanded to envellop the spearmen, and attack the awaiting rebel milita who were still unengaged where they to move and assist their comrads. The cavalry were ordered to start moving towards the melee, and charge the rebels in the flank. I would assist them, personally.

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It didn’t take long at all to break the rebels, the spearmen and now engaged sword militia were pinned down by the infantry force, and charged in the rear by the cavalry. The broke and fled.

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The enemy captain, in an act of unsuspected bravery, tried to make a last stand, but was promptly cut down by a group of cavalry.

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The fleeing survivors were soon cut down, to the last man. The assault had been performed in a perfect fashion, with the loss of a mere 10 soldiers, mostly of the hired band of spearmen.

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This concludes the report, noble lords.

Yours,

Günther von Kastillien.

The scribe put down the parchment, stood up, and walked out of the room. He was sure his master was going to want to see this, this seemingly lost and forgotten, albeit quite important, piece of parchment. Probably the reason I had to recheck all of these, he thought to himself, leaving a large pile of parchment behind.

[TinCow]

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

The two armored knights sat and talked for a long time. Even from a distance, Maximillian Mandorf could see from their body language that they respected, even liked, one another. Several more minutes passed before the clasped arms, turned their horses, and came back to their respective lines. Sir Welf made directly for Mandorf.

"They will fight," he said with a heavy sigh.

Mandorf nodded. "They are good men, I would not have expected otherwise."

It had only been a matter of time. The Kaiser's excommunication had caused unrest all over the Reich. Most had chosen to remain loyal to their feudal Lords, but some, like Sir Rolin, had found that their loyalty lay first with Pope Gregory. Mandorf admired them for their courage and sacrifice. Had he not been Chancellor, perhaps he would have been the rebel on the other side, leading a small rebellion against the Kaiser.

But I am Chancellor and I must protect the Reich, even when we are led by a man like Heinrich. Sir Rolin is fulfilling his duty to God and I am fulfilling mine to the people. Hildegard will damn me for sure.

Mandorf turned his horse to face the Bavarian and Teutonic knights. "Give them a clean death, men. They are good Christians and they do not deserve to suffer." Many men crossed themselves and murmurred quick prayers for forgiveness. Mandorf lowered his visor and led his Bavarians up the hill to the west, as the Teutonic Order advanced their horses into a trot, their lances held high.

It took several minutes to close the range with the enemy. As they approached, a line of crossbowmen ran forward and began loading their quarrels. The Teutons picked up speed, their lances moving to a slight angle. The crossbowmen began to get visibly nervous. Some fumbled and dropped their weapons, while others let loose straight into the groud. Most were able to get off a full volley though, and two of the Teutons were thrown from their horses. As if of one mind, the rest of the couched their lances and pushed their mounts into a full gallop. SOme of the crossbowmen began trying to reload, but most began looking around franticly for a means to escape. There was nowhere to go.

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The impact was extremely brutal. Men were thrown into the air, trampled under foot, and impaled on lance tips. Within seconds, they were all dead.

Less than a minute later, a similar act was occurring to the west. Mandorf led the Bavarians in a downhill charge against the commoners. They were brave and stood their ground, but few had true spears and they had not been trained to fight cavalry.

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Two horses were impaled, but the rest trampled over the pooly trained rebels. Half a dozen survived and ran for the woods. Within 30 seconds, Sir Rolin had lost half his army. Determined to die with honor, he led his knights into the attack against the Chancellor of the Reich. A fierce melee began.

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Sir Rolin's men fought bravely, but they were green and no match for Mandorf's veterans. They fell quickly to the Bavarian swords.

The remaining group of spearmen moved to protect their Lord's rear, but the Teutons had reformed. A full charge hit the spearmen before they could form a proper line.

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...

Sir Welf found Mandorf kneeling in the grass, praying over the body of Sir Rolin. He waited patiently until the Chancellor was done.

Mandorf stood, looking immensely tired. "Let us give them proper Christian burials. There will be no mass grave here. Every man is to have his own peace and his own cross." A few drops of rain began to fall and Mandorf looked upwards. "The Lord weeps."

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[econ21]

The battle of the Alpine Fort, 1154 AD

Henry was glad to be out the Diet and back campaigning in the field. He felt both powerless and useless in the Diet. Powerless because his father had exploited a loophole in the Charter to subvert the will of the Electors and have the Empire excommunicated in the course of an old vendetta against the Pope. Useless because Mandorf, the Chancellor, was intelligent and level-headed enough to do everything that could be done to cope with the resulting crisis. Henry had no role, except perhaps as a stand-in should his father fall in his assault on the Pope at Genoa.

So here Henry was, high in the mountains, west of Milan. A fort stood in front of him, small and squat, commanding the Alpine pass.Under his command was the recently formed Household Army of Swabia. By rights, it should have been commanded by Count Sigismund, but the chivalrous leader’s untimely death at a French assassin’s hand had robbed the men of their beloved leader. It was bitterly ironic - the fort had been built by Sigismund himself and now was being used by the French against men who still mourned him. What is more, Sigismund had done his work too well. The compact wooden fort was solidly made and robustly functional, now crammed with over 700 French soldiers.

Henry had over 1100 in the Swabian army, but no obvious way of leveraging his advantage. The walls and density of the defenders neutralised the potential edge that could be provided by the many German cavalry and crossbowmen. That left only the German infantry to be relied upon. Henry did have at his command the Empire’s first regiment of dismounted Feudal knights, but otherwise his men were an undistinguished lot. Henry wondered if he had made a mistake when governing Staufen in not prioritising building barracks to train armoured spearmen. Still his early emphasis on improving the lands had paid off and his home was now the first and only fortress in the Empire.

The Chancellor had ordered three rams to be prepared. Consequently, Henry divided his army into three groups - south, west and east - each with their own ram, as well as a regiment of crossbows, spears and of knights. Henry himself would lead the eastern force, marching north to the rear gate in the hope of enticing the defenders to leave the safety of the fort - as had happened before at Metz. The dismounted knights would support the first assault on the main southern gate. The eastern attack would breach a wall in the hope of overloading the enemy defence.

Unfortunately, the French could not be persuaded to sally out of the fort. Indeed, they retired to the centre of the fort - out of range of the besiegers’ crossbows. The Germans were able to breach the fort in three spots and to enter unopposed, but that still left much bitter fighting before the defenders could be overwhelmed.

The worst of the struggle was in the south, where a regiment of German spearmen was ordered to engage the regiment of mounted French knights garrisoning the fort.

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A mass of French infantry moved to attack the rear of the Germans and soon the spearmen were in danger of being overwhelmed. Belatedly, the Germans committed their dismount feudal knights to confront the mass of French infantry. In a bitter frontal struggle, the German knights fought well - losing a third of their number but killing three times as many as they lost.

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Nonetheless, the dismounted knights were not able to reach the German spearmen engaging the mounted French knights. The mass of French infantry opposed them was simply too great. Caught between that mass and the fine French knights, the German regiment of spearman was gradually whittled down. Eventually, only a handful of survivors remained. They broke and ran, but not before they had left a great pile of dead horses before them.

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As this first regiment of German spears ran, a second - sent from the north gate by Henry arrived to finish off the French knights and their unfortunate Captain.

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Henry himself led his escort through the north gate to support the third breach of the fort - in the east. The French had sent a regiment of spearmen to try to stem the breach, so Henry ordered his bodyguard to attack the rear of this force. Unable to charge, it was a risky tactic to use cavalry against spears, but the alternative was to allow the battle to degenerate into frontal attrition. The armour and experience of the German royal knights gradually told.

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The remainder of the German cavalry, Henry managed to direct into the centre of the fort. The French had moved all of their melee capable infantry out of the centre, into the south or east. Only two regiments of French archers remained. Soon the centre fell, as did the spearmen fighting Henry, leaving only the mass of the French infantry still locked in combat to the south with the dismounted knights. Leaderless, without a central refuge and with a couple of hundred cavalry to their rear, the French infantry soon lost heart.

Henry decided to halt the slaughter - the French had nowhere to run and the new Household Army of Swabia would need every man it could get if it were to continue to avenge Sigismund. Henry ordered the prisoners and wounded well looked after, then road back to meet with the Chancellor who was en route to Milan. Under the principle of a rotating command Henry had outlined for the Swabian army, Count von Salza would be the one to lead it onwards to Rheims. Quite what task the Chancellor would assign Henry, the Prinz was unsure. But in truth, his mind was not on that question. It was focussed to the south, on Genoa, where Henry’s father had trapped the Holy Father and was preparing to kill him without mercy.

The butcher’s bill:

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[Kagemusha]

Placeholder for Battle on Reinhards crossing.

[GeneralHankerchief]

The Diary of Kaiser Heinrich

Genoa, 1154

"Sir? The men are waiting."

I shook myself awake. Captain Ludwig, my second in command and close personal friend, was standing by my bed, uniform already on, prepared for battle. Outside my tent, I could already hear the unmistakable noise of men on the move, gathering what they need, ready to fight. How could I have overslept on this day, the most important of them?

In years past, I would have frantically jumped out of bed and rushed to put on my armour. However, in years past I also would not have arisen so late in the day. I found that the best I could do was a slow, agonizing series of moves to prepare myself which nearly killed my knees. Ludwig, also getting up there in his years but in better shape than me, stood by with a look of sympathy on his face. He knew that he would be facing this eventually, but knew better than to say anything.

Finally, when I was dressed appropriately and had scarfed down a quick meal, I asked Ludwig a question.

"How long have the men been waiting?"

Ludwig looked like he didn't want to answer, but I put a look on my face that made it clear that I wanted to know. Finally, he mumbled "about an hour and a half, Mein Kaiser."

An hour and a half. For me, a man who has lived his entire life based on a schedule, both politically and militarily, this was extemely discomforting. I sighed.

"Sir? Are you feeling all right? We can always fight the battle tomorrow."

I shook my head. "No Ludwig," I said sadly, "We must fight it today, now. Everything is in place. If we wait then my condition will only worsen. The only way it can improve is if we are victorious. Gregory is doing this to me, either through God or Satan. One way or another, it ends here, today. For the health and souls of us all, it must be today."

"Well then, Mein Kaiser, let us get going before we take up too much of the day."

"Not yet," I said with a touch of finality, "First we must pray." Together we knelt down, in our battle armour, facing the figure of Christ on the crucifix in my opulent tent.

"O my God, I am heartily sorry
for having offended Thee,
and I detest all my sins,
because I dread the loss of Heaven
and the pains of Hell,
but most of all because they
offend Thee, my God,
Who art all-good and deserving
of all my love.
I firmly resolve, with the help
of Thy grace to confess my sins,
to do penance
and to amend my life. Amen."

Finally we exited the tent, mounted our horses, and made our way to the battle line, which was still in magnificent order despite the two commanding officers not being present. I looked them over for a minute, admiring these men who served under me. They were loyal, and they were ready to do what their Kaiser asked them. They believed I was right and would follow me to the gates of Hell. Ironically enough, that is where some members of the Diet wished I would go.

So it ends here, I thought. How appropriate. The city that stood before me, Genoa, had been so intertwined with my long conflict with the Papacy that it had almost as much significance as Rome itself. Genoa was quite close to Canossa, that infamous castle that I walked to and stood outside for three days, wearing nothing but a hairshirt, begging for forgiveness from Pope Gregory. Since the quest to redeem myself began, Genoa had been a large military obstacle, almost ending my long journey in life thanks to a few dedicated Milanese spearmen. And of course, Genoa had been the key to legally declaring war on Rome. I had gifted it to the new Duke of Bavaria Otto von Kassel, who had promptly exercised his Ducal powers and declared that the Pope's army was unlawfully trespassing on his land. War followed, and now the man that represented all of my failures in life held the city.

For a little while longer, anyway.

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The official commander of the Papal Army was one Falcone Olearius, but everyone present knew that the true objective was the Pope, and most likely he would have a larger escort of heavy cavalry than Falcone.

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"The hour of judgment has arrived, Hildebrand!", I shouted aloud, more to the men that to the Pope. "By the end of this day the Investiture Controversy will be over and we shall see whom God truly favors! I hope that you have had Last Rites prepared to make your passing easier!"

I doubted that last part, of course. It was starting to become common knowledge that the Pope was actually quite irreligious.

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However, it didn't really matter what his exact beliefs were. He had still managed to put most of Catholic Europe under his spell, claiming divine right to appoint all church officials, not to mention thoroughly humiliating me and putting the Reich in mortal danger. For years I had been chasing him, plotting against him, even meeting with him once. When the moment to strike finally arrived, he had poisoned the Diet so much that one Elector had threatened to kill me!

But now, he was here. And he was trapped. This day would right all wrongs once and for all.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

I was not alone in this fight. My faithful Duke of Bavaria, Otto von Kassel, and his subject Gerhard Steffin had brought the entire Bavarian Household Army and were assaulting the eastern side of the city. I hoped that their intervention would be decisive. I also hoped that Otto would survive this encounter. He had helped me through much of this, and I knew how much this crisis was harming him internally.

The plan for this battle would be simple - divide and overwhelm. Pope Gregory had with him a frighteningly large amount of Italian Militia and pavise crossbowmen, but if that number were to be split in half then their effect would be quite a bit less devastating.

Just as I was about to begin the assault, a courier approached me from the east.

"Mein Kaiser, Duke Otto's men are in position. Shall we begin the assault?"

I shook my head. "Not yet," I told the young man, "We must be methodical in this action. Tell him to wait for me to wheel the ballistae around. When they finish breaking down the eastern gate, tell him to signal me. We go in together."

The young man nodded and took off back to the eastern position. I sighed. He was full of youth, of vitality. Evidently this was his first action. By tomorrow he would be a hardened man, perhaps incapable of any other emotion other than weariness.

This has to end.

Most of the soldiers, myself included, were lost in our thoughts during the long, slow wait for the ballistae to break down the southern gate, move to the east, and break that gate down too. Mostly, I think, we just wanted something to happen. Death would be a welcome change from this endless waiting, this eternal suffering. Either way, salvation awaited every soldier present wearing Imperial colors, be it earthly or posthumously.

Finally, after what seemed like several days, a faint crack could be heard to the east. About a minute later, I spotted that same courier from earlier heading my way. I waved, indicating I knew what had happened, and turned to my men.

The moment, at last, had arrived.

I pointed to one set of ladders and one siege tower, and indicated that they were to go forward. As harsh as this was, their job was to simply keep the men on the walls busy, to buy time, to die while the bulk of the force made their way into the streets where the confused Papal infantry was still shifting. The walls did not matter. The city and the Pope did. I didn't want to watch as the men scaled the ladders, completing their final task in life, but I couldn't help it. These soldiers were supremely loyal, and were willingly about to die for me. Was it truly for me, though? Was there some higher cause that prompted them to be the shock troops, the side effort?

In the end, their cause, just like their objective, did not matter. They fought and died well.

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Meanwhile, the time for the main push had begun.

"All units TO THE GATE!!!"

For the first time that day, all of my men crossed into crossbow range, but thanks to them busy fighting off two regiments on the walls no harm befell the main body of troops making their way to the gate. Instead, they were met by a fierce, albeit numerically miniscule resistance. The Italians, realizing that they would soon be flanked and annihilated if they continued to fight immediately past the gates, retired slightly until they were on a narrow side street, thus nullifying our numerical advantage. The push to the center of the city would be a long, slow, brutal affair.

Unfortunately, I could do little more than watch as the men did their work and shout the occasional encouragement. I could only imagine that the sight for the infantry in the front lines was a wretched one, with reeking blood and corpses everywhere, and the feeling of sheer exhaustion, yet at the same time the knowledge that, if you rested, you would surely die.

Finally, several minutes and only a few feet later, I couldn't take it anymore. Sounds of battle were being heard to the eastern end of the city. I motioned to the escort to move. We would ride and view the situation personally.

On the way there, I took a look around me. Most of the buildings were boarded up, although there were some people looking out the windows at the carnage, some of them transfixed with a look that wasn't quite terrified, wasn't quite intrigued.

Finally, we arrived at the eastern gate, where a fierce melee was taking place, although it was mostly between cavalry, as the infantry had already been eradicated. Our men joined the fight, rolling over the unsuspecting Papal Mailed Knights. A second later, I saw Otto von Kassel, helmet off, waving me over. I sidled over to him.

"Heil, Mein Kaiser," he said grinning, "And thanks for the help! How goes the fight to the south?"

"Slow," I shouted, because another battle horn had just sounded, "But we're making progress!"

"Incoming!"

We all turned to the streets leading to the city square. For a second, I thought that the Pope himself had joined the battle, but it only turned out to be Falcone Olearius, his escort, and some rallied cavalry. All of our escorts (mine, Otto's, and Gerhard Steffin's), along with a hodgepodge of knights that were still alive, countercharged the Papal cavalry, hacking our way through until only Falcone and a few others remained. They fled back to the city square, leaving the Imperial forces alone again.

"They'll be back. Let's rest for a moment," I ordered the men. After sizing up the condition of my escort's horses, I signalled a man to ride back to the south and give a summary of what was going on over there. There was a series of tense minutes that gave absolutely no relaxation to the men. Oh well, at least the horses were catching their breaths.

We could see the center square from our point of view. Many of the men were watching it intently; hoping to observe Papal infantry running there and rallying. They would not be denied, and a small cheer went up among the men.

This meant nothing, however. The last time we were on the cusp of victory at Genoa, I had nearly died.

Another couple of minutes passed. The rider I had sent to report on the western developments came trotting back, horse clearly in bad shape.

"Mein Kaiser," he huffed, out of breath, "Your men have beaten back the Papal infantry. They were about to give chase but then the men on the walls came down and so our infantry was forced to turn around and engage them. Our infantry's backs are to the city square and are thus extemely vulnerable to a cavalry charge."

There was a pause at this. I believe that Gerhard's loud swearing expressed all of our emotions. Gregory's position was still not accounted for, and 46 heavy cavalry slamming into our men's rear would have quite an impact. We had little time to debate this latest turn of events, however, as Falcone, the remainder of his escort, and the Papal infantry that had just ran into the square came charging back.

"Forward, and this time don't stop!"

A few of our men went down, but more of theirs did. I received a blow to my right knee, and all of the pain from this morning came rushing back. Grimacing, I signalled to charge to the city square, where only Falcone had survived.

The swiftest of our men ran him down and ended his life just as he had reached the square.

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Our men stand over the corpse of Falcone. The main villain, however, had yet to be dispatched.

As the rest of us made our way into the square, there was a brief moment of calm, and then a collective gasp. Coming our way, from the opposite direction, was the Papal Escort. Gregory had declined to strike our infantry, giving up the possibility of a general rout and leaving us stranded. Instead, he had opted to charge straight for us.

Straight for me.

There was no holy radiance coming from this man; no Light of God reflecting off of his uniform. But there was still a great power emanating from the man who called himself Pope. His sword raised in the air, ghostly white horse, and banner he carried all held our men in a stupor for some amount of time. We would all die watching him kill us, in awe.

I was probably the last one to snap out of it, truth be told. I attribute it to my age. All around me I watched as the three escorts of the Reich battled Gregory's cavalry.

The young courier that Otto had sent to me before the battle began was one of the first to fall. He and his horse were still full of reckless abandon and had simply charged too far in. I caught a glimpse of his face, de-helmeted, before he fell. It had a shocked expression of one who clearly did not expect to die, yet was about to do just that. His eyes were already starting to glaze over.

Another second went by. More men went down. The tide of battle was moving me away from my own escort and closer to that of Otto's and Gerhard's. I would have accepted this turn of events and followed the flow, but at that very moment, I saw Gregory angling his horse straight for me. By the time he would reach me, I would not have been turned around and ready to face him. Muttering a quick final prayer, I screwed my eyes shut and braced for the killing blow.

...it never came. I opened my eyes and looked to see what was happening. Captain Ludwig, vigilant Captain Ludwig, who had proposed that devastating cavalry charge in this same city so long ago, had seen what was about to happen and moved to block the Pope. I could only watch as my friend and second did battle with my arch-enemy.

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After the initial block, Captain Ludwig and Pope Gregory duel.

It seemed very fast. Gregory recovered from the block rather quickly and slashed at Ludwig's arm. Ludwig dropped his sword in shock, and then the killing blow had hit. I saw my friend go down, his blood dirtying the Pope's uniform.

I didn't scream Ludwig's name. I couldn't. I was unable to do anything other than look at the man who had killed my friend. I did not comprehend that the Pope had just violated one of the Ten Commandments, or that he had done so at the expense of one so close to me, or that he was now continuing his charge for me. I was simply staring blankly as he did the latter.

I'm not sure what happened next. I felt a vague movement under me. My horse was doing what I was unable to. I only continued to watch as the Pope re-angled his charge based on this movement, which brought him in more dangerous territory. The next thing I knew, he simply fell, speared by an anonymous lance.

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Pope Gregory falls.

Otto, who had seen it happen, rode over to the Pope's body and removed the man's helmet. His eyes were open and he was still breathing. However, Otto ignored this, raising the helmet for all to see.

"The Pope is dead," he cried. "There is nothing to fight for!"

Gregory's escort fought on, although with little intensity. They were quickly dispatched, and once again we had full control of the city square. Otto rode down, alone, to the street where our infantry were bravely putting up a losing fight against the Papal forces. Once again, he held the helmet high.

"The Pope is dead! Gregory is no more! Lay down your arms! This battle is over!"

From what I could see of the Papal infantry, there was a great gasp, and then a grim realization that what Otto said what was correct. The sounds of spear and sword hitting shield ceased. Some men screamed in Italian, others in Latin. Some men cried "NO!" A few just sat down, infinitely weary and disgusted. It was clear that all the fight had been taken out of these men. The battle, for all intensive purposes, was over.

Otto, who had seen Gregory's fall but not Ludwig's death, rode back to me with a look of triumph on his face. Gerhard, too, came to my side, uniform scratched and dirtied. He would be knighted for his bravery.

"Mein Kaiser," Otto said, "Let me congratulate you today, on this day of your ultimate victory."

I nodded, but said nothing. Victory had never felt so horrible. So many people were not around to share it. The brave infantrymen that I had ordered to die in the opening stages of the battle. That young courier who had so much to live for. And of course, my good friend and advisor, Captain Ludwig.

That night I dined with the nobility, toasting the defeat of Gregory and victorious assault of the city, feeling absolutely no emotion. Gregory was still alive, being held prisoner in the city's palace. Tomorrow I would deal with him, as well as inform the necessary people of what had transpired here. But that night, I simply went to sleep, my knees crying out in pain as I dressed for the night. And this time, I had no one to assist me, no one to stand by.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

[GeneralHankerchief]

Rome, 1160

Prinz Henry, on his way to the Diet for the final day of deliberations, passed by the city's barracks and noticed a strange sight: They were empty.

The Prinz immediately grew nervous at this sight. The entire garrison, over 500 men, should have been out drilling by now. Henry changed course and went inside the barracks, hoping to find someone that was behind. He was not disappointed. A crossbowman with a broken leg was sitting calmly, not at all surprised by the Prinz's entrance.

"Soldier, where are your comrades?"

The crossbowman looked lazily up at the Prinz upon this question. "Why, they've gone to the river northwest of the city."

Henry's blood turned cold. Pope Accattus and his army was currently occupying the bridge on that very river. "On whose orders?!", he demanded, even though he already knew the answer.

"Your father's, Mein Prinz."

Curses. The old man was at it again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The barracks, several hours earlier

Kaiser Heinrich entered the sleeping quarters, making an awful racket by clanging his sword onto a random shield. The poor soldiers awoke to find their Emperor already fully-dressed for battle.

"Arise, soldiers of the Reich! We have some marching to do this morning!"

Some soldiers mumbled (under their breaths of course) that it would not yet be light out for another several hours, but they obediently got out of bed and suited for battle. This would be a brutal nighttime march a few miles outside of the city. Heinrich talked to the soldiers all along the way, describing their target and why they were fighting.

"Pope Accattus has gone behind my back and threatened the entire Reich, good soldiers. He has threatened our capital and he has threatened my life, and now the Diet is about to make sure that his reign is allowed to proceed without consequence. I cannot let this happen, and you are all going to help assert Imperial authority once more!"

Finally, they had arrived at their target - The Tiber Bridge. On the other side was Pope Accattus and his army, completely oblivious to the threat that faced them. While the Imperial Army was preparing for an assault, it seemed as if a shockwave had passed through the Papal camp, followed by frenzied movement to prepare.

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Finally, the Papal forces were ready, just in the nick of time. Their largely mercenary army had no infantry, only crossbowmen and cavalry, and therefore could not make good use of the classic bridge defense that had served many so well.

Instead, upon viewing a massed infantry charge across the bridge, the Pope ordered his Frankish Knights in to break up the disorganized infantry. Unfortunately, in the narrow confines of the bridge, numbers trumped skill and power.

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Next, desperate to break this infantry charge, Pope Accattus threw his own escort into the fray. Immediately he realized the folly that he just committed, but it was too late to turn back. The old Pope desperately fought on, to no avail.

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Pope Accattus faces to the many spearmen of the Reich.

Eventually, along with the rest of his escort, he fell, but at least his death was more honorable than that of his predecessor.

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After the Pope's death, the remaining Papal forces (the majority of the crossbowmen and a handful of cavalry) routed and were chased down by Heinrich's escort.

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Once the clean-up operation had been completed, Heinrich turned his men around and marched them straight back to Rome where they would catch up on his sleep. He, however, was preparing to face an irate Diet, although this didn't faze him much as there had been plenty of practice recently.

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[Dutch_guy]

The winter had only just begun, however, seeing as every lake in the near proximity was turned into ice one would have thought the winter to be in its prime. Günther couldn’t quite shake of the depression haunting his mind. It always came in the winter, when the days were short and nights long, but it bothered him more this time around. Yet another Polish force had been detected, again heading for Thorn. Under the cover of the winter snow, the Poles had again managed to sneak an army through the German lines. And again, Günther had had to order his army to head back to Thorn, and deal with them. How he hated these uninspiring battles. Even the enemy soldiers knew the outcome beforehand – no challenge whatsoever. And Günther absolutely hated that.

Promises of plunder, woman, and hot food were wasted on the men when they marched back to the castle of Thorn. Knowing they wouldn’t stay in the castle, they wouldn’t even visit it, but merely take care of the Polish threat, and then turn around for Breslau again. The men didn’t like it, but they were Germans, and they didn’t falter.

It was a clear day when the Germans marched up to the Poles, who were outnumbered at least 2 : 1, and commanded by the anonymous captain who went by the name of Vaclav. The enemy captain had positioned his forces as far away from the Germans as he could, and awaited the inevitable German assault.

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Günther, finally being able to vent his frustration on yet another poor Polish captain, ordered his archers to engage, and his large force of cavalry to make a large flanking movement. Ideally to attack the Polish rear, or at least cut of the Polish nobles from the main force.

Once the archers started their deadly barrage, the Polish missle cavalry were sent in to deal with the archer attack. Spears were thrown at the German archers, and some hit home. However, the Polish hadn’t counted on the German cavalry, approaching from behind.

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Captain Vaclav had not even thrown his first javalin, or issued his first order, when the superior German cavalry charged in from behind. Decimating the Polish force, and spearing the unfortunate captain.

Immediately after the death of the enemy captain, Günther ordered his archers to shoot fire arrows at the demoralized enemy. Chaos ensued when the Polish spearmen were hit with the dreaded fire, and they weren’t able to turn the vicious cavalry charge. Let alone the impetuous feudal foot knigts, eager to get up close and personal with the fearful Polish spears.

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The routing Polish were hunted down, many falling to the persuing cavalry, and or surrendering to the feudal knights.

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The battle didn’t last long, and the sun wasn’t even setting when the last Poles were rounded up, stripped, and were ordered to dig the graves of their worthy German overlords and unlucky comrades.

All in all, about three hundred graves had to be dug, forty German ones and a little over 250 Polish graves.

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When the sun had completely set, and the Germans on their way to main camp, another 150 bodies were littered on the frozen battlefield. Polish soldiers not considered worthy enough to be bought back. What a barbarous tribe it is, will they ever learn ?

If not, we’ll have to make them.

[FactionHeir]

Battle of Thessalonica plains, December 1178

The Hungarians had been pursuing them into Venetian lands ever since one of the men Adalberth had brought along to the escape from Budapest was spotted while collecting wood in the sparsely covered mountains west of Sofia. Hans had hoped that the Magyars would have stopped at the border not wanting to offend the Venetians, but luck was not with him today, nor any of his men, for they would all have to fight to the last to see the dawn - possibly even in a Hungarian prison camp. There was no route for retreat. They had been surrounded by a host of over a thousand, maybe two thousand Barbarians and he, as the commander, would have to find a way to break through one of these lines. If he was lucky, they'd be able to escape into Byzantine lands. If not, god would have mercy on their souls.
With the sound of hooves and boots approaching, Hans raised his sword to inspire his men.

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He even felt that a light hearted joke would raise the poor morale among his entourage that numbered only 25 men and himself.

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He was glad that he knew Hungarian tactics from his battle at Budapest and knew it would be bloody. A fact he did not intend to keep from his men.

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Hans placed his bodyguard behind a snowy hill, hoping to exhaust the Hungarians as they marched towards him. To his surprise, the enemy lines of crossbows numbering in the thousands ran in front of the main army with a single magyar cavalry regiment leading the charge towards his position. Feeling that this was the time, Hans called for his men to ride proudly into battle and charged the cavalry, hoping it would be a good shield against the enemy crossbows. He was right.
Many of the enemy horses fell as their brethren unleashed a host of bolts that darkened the horizon without regard for their presence. Only few managed to hit Hans' men.

Seeing that several regiments of nobles were approaching from both flanks attempting to encircle him, Hans forced his men backward, breaking from the melee and charging up against the similarly eager nobles. Again, the Hungarians were foolish enough to let their men be caught between him and their own missiles and took heavy losses. Maybe soon they would be able to find a breach in the enemy lines? Hans wondered, but right at this moment the enemy captain approached on his horse attempting to thrust a sword into the absentminded young man. With quick reflexes, Hans managed at the last moment to avert the blade and in turn stab his through the side of the captain, dismounting him. In horror, he noticed that the Hungarians did not break as their commander lay dead.

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Without much hope of surviving in his current situation, Hans again forced his men to break from melee and allow him to reassess the situation. His bodyguard was down to some 10 men now and all of them were injured, including him. A few more fell as the Hungarians restlessly pelted them with bolts from afar. Morale was terrible, but Hans knew they would be able to break through the enemy lines soon. With the vigor of youth, he ordered several charges into the enemy infantry in an attempt to break them. His men took heavy losses but ran their lances through over a hundred magyar bodies.

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Alas, with one of the spear units routing, Hans finally saw an opportunity to escape from the vast horde of Magyars, but he would have to be quick about it. He had several bolts sticking out of his armour and blood was seeping through, coloring the proud Imperial eagle red. Adalberth was heavily wounded and Hans had to bind him to his own horse while another soldier tried to cover their retreat. That man soon fell, hundreds of arrows and bolts piercing his body, but his death allows Hans and Adalberth to break through the last resistance of the routing spears and escape certain death

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[Cecil XIX]

The First Battle in the Campaign for the Voivoideship of Transylvania.

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The scouts of the Austrian Household Army gave Sigismund ample warning of the approaching Huns. Though facing the entirety of their forces in the area, in truth he was somewhat relieved to be fighting a defensive battle. Ever since he was confronted by a large Hungarian host and forced to flee his heart had been aching for some great victory to overcome the disappointment, though at the same time it was perhaps making him more nervous then he should have been. The enemy had the initiative, and taking it from them would be much easier than holding it himself.

The night before the battle, there was a meeting in his command tent between himself, his retinue, and the nineteen captains of the AHA. On the wall behind his seat stood the coat of arms of his homeland Mahren, magnificently displayed.



They were all organized around a large table in the center, where a map of the nearby terrain lay along with markers representing both the AHA and their Hungarian foes. Thanks to the intelligence provided by an imperial spy named Andreas Ermolt, they were well prepared to formulate a strategy.

“The good news,” Sigismund continued, “is that the enemy army immediate to us is of medium strength compared to the other two.” Sigismund motioned to the markers on the table. “A couple of catapults, a few dismounted knights and militia, and some scant mounted knights and Hungarian nobles. Our first objective will be to overwhelm this army with all possible speed and secure a good position against their comrades.” He paused, more for emphasis than any real concern.

“After that it will get tricky. The main force should have twice as many catapults, their infantry will be proportionally weaker than the first force but more numerous, and their cavalry has quality and numbers similar to our own. Besides that we will have to worry about one hundred and eighty dismounted knights directly behind us, who could do quite a bit of damage.”

“This is not to say that we are in trouble, of course. The main force may attempt rush to the defense of the advance guard and leave their catapults behind. That would allow our crossbowmen to pick them off as they approach, leaving them tired and decimated when they finally reach us. I am also confident that with our superior numbers and ample cavalry we could easily crush the first force before assistance arrives, no matter how fast.”

“If they are patient and advance so as to bring their artillery to bare, then things can a tad more dramatic. We will have no choice to head at them full force, much as we will with the advance guard. This will probably be a good deal more hectic, but with equal cavalry and superior infantry we will still carry the day. It would also allow us to sick the archers upon the two units of dismounted knights earlier, and even knights will be hard pressed to advance against fire coming from more than twice their number.”

“No matter what happens, we will be victorious tomorrow. The only question is how the remaining battles will leave us. No then, get some rest. Dismissed.” The captains filed out, leaving Sigismund’s retinue. “I trust there are no objections here?” Sigismund asked as they stood up.

“None, m’lord,” remarked Karl as he got up from sitting to Sigismund's left. “I especially like the part where the archers get to chew up some knights and spit them out. No offense to you, of course. As for old Frodric here, I doubt he has much interest in field battles. Isn’t that right?” He punctuated this statement by reaching past Sigismund and giving giving the man sitting there a strong pat on the back, waking him from a subtle slumber in his seat.

“…It’s Frederick, I told you before. You’re also wrong in saying I have no interest, as I am well qualified on how to face artillery in the field as well as using it in sieges.” He clumsily stood up as he continued. “And it’s true that you want them taken out as soon as possible, especially since Sir Sigismund is their most likely target. Now if you’ll excuse, I’m very tired.” With Sigismund’s leave, he departed the tent. Karl shrugged, and left as well.

That left Ludwig, who had been observing the meeting over Sigismund's shoulder. Finally meeting his gaze, Sigismund spoke. “You don’t have to worry, Father. I remember what he talked about, and I am still an agreement. Any difficulty it brings us will just make the triumph more rewarding.” Father Ludwig nodded slowly, and somberly exited the tent as well.

As he retired to his quarters, Sigismund couldn’t help but smile.

“Here’s hoping I can pick up some more characters in Hungary,” he said to no one in particular.

***

The follow day, it rained. And it rained. And it rained.

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Before the Hungarians could decide what to do, the Austrian Household Army had already advanced on their position, forcing them to fight or abandon the battle. Fortunately, they choose to stand their ground. In his mind, Sigismund was quite glad to see the enemy’s catapults reduced by the foul weather, and thought it a sign from God.

Before the battle was joined, Sigismund addressed the army as was customary.

“This is a glorious moment in the history of the Empire. Here we dutiful Germans will write a new page of the Imperial chronicles, a page where we will live forever. Remembered and honored down through the years, celebrated in tavern song and bawdy tales. And that’s just if we die here!”

“And remember, good Germans, that we are not just fighting for our homes and families, good reasons though they may be. We are fighting for the idea of a new Roman Empire, universal and holy, where all men are equal just as they are in the eyes of the Lord! Germans, Italians, French, Czechs, Swiss, Poles and even Hungarians all have a place! The men before us stand in the way of a united Christian empire, and they must be defeated before they can be our brothers! And now, let’s to the foe! I feel hungry already, and war gives me an excessive appetite! Let’s to the battle, and then the feast!” At the last, the AHA erupted in large roar. Even his nearest guards could not hear Sigismund whisper “Father, mother. It won’t happen again.”

As the battle began, Sigismund deployed his infantry and cavalry as far forward as possible. The archers he placed on his right flank, to guard against approaching forces.

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Immediately he ordered his army ahead at full speed, so that they could take the hill and be ready for the reinforcements. In response, the Hungarians moved forward as well.

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Between the sound and fog of the rain and the issuing of orders, Sigismund failed to notice that the Hungarian nobles had decided not to pepper the cavalry with arrows. Indeed, he was quite surprised when one of his guards blocked a sword aimed for Sigismund’s head, though he recovered quickly. The Teutons moved to flank the nobles, the mailed knights turned to face the town militia.

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The reduced visibility in turn made the eventually joining equally chaotic.

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Soon the Hungarian’s left disintegrated, and the Austrian cavalry was free to flank the main line, such as it was.

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Meanwhile, the cavalry on the right had gone too far without being given orders. In the fog they did not notice the bulk of the enemy army until they were right in front of them. To far to even see the rest of the battle, with a shrug the knights charged the enemy. They opted for a hit-and-run strategy.

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But those responsible failed to remember the ample enemy cavalry. This included a unit of mailed knights with the advance guard that had not been engaged and had turned around to attack the german knights from behind.

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Though the knights routed, most of them escaped and within short order they had rallied. Meanwhile, the Hungarians had yielded the hill. Unfortunately, between the crossbowmen and the fleeing knights much of the Hungarian forces were drawn away from the hill. The unoccupied infantry were drawn up in order to attack.

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While this was going on, the rain progressed beyond annoyance. Imperial soldiers gave a good account of themselves as always, but the difficulty in seeing what was going on lead many soldiers to pursue their beaten foes as if they were the only enemies on the field. This resulted in some awkward locations for skirmishes.

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Similarly, the battle line was also quite chaotic. As Imperial and Hungarian forces clashed, the rallied feudal and gothic made a poor attempt to flank a unit of mailed knights.

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Fortunately the Austrians get their first good news, when Captain Istok of the advance force fell to the Teutonic Knights. Istoks forces soon ceased to be a factor in the battle.

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Unfortunately, at this point the battle was complete chaos.

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Even the archers could not escape grim melee.

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Fortunately, the Gothic Knights succeeded in defeating Captain Boldyszar of the main force.

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Unfortunately the battle was still not over, as Hungarian catapults decided at last to have their say.

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Sigismund cursed silently. He ordered his tired guard to wheel from wherever the hell they were and attack the catapult with all due haste. As he approached, he noticed that the mailed knights had momentarily stopped.

“Come on, you lot! There are two division of catapults, and two of us!”

Together, they plowed through no less then five fleeing regiments of Hungarians before attacking the catapult crew.

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During the melee, Sigismund was only vaguely aware of the battle the raged around him.

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The artillerists soon died or fled, and Sigismund rode forward to see the battle progressing nicely.

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There was still a few moments of hard fighting, but eventually the Hungarians gave way and the Reich took the field.

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***

After a short time, the army had reassembled. As he reviewed the army whilst on horseback, it was obvious to Sigismund that they were badly depleted. The official report confirmed this.

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Half the army gone. Though Sigismund was not seriously considering withdrawal, this was still a serious matter. As he pondered the difficulty that awaited him, a squire rode up him excitedly.

“Sir, sir! Our scouts have just discovered the prisoners that the Hungarians took! They're all alive, one hundred and eighteen men!”

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Sigismund joyously laughed out loud. This was almost a fifth of the casualties.

“Very good! It seems our friends the Hungarians know when to show respect to a worthy foe! Let us return the favor and let our prisoners free as well!”

At that moment, there was silence in the entire Austrian Household Army. In their entire history, such an order had never been given. But they were good soldiers, they quickly recovered and went about their orders.

Back at camp, the good mood was somewhat tempered as the reality of the situation began to sink in. Sigismund was received in earful from Karl in private, but that was balanced by Ludwig’s silent approval of the mercy that was shown by both sides. Sigismund even conducted an after-action analysis with his captains, and they were able to draw up a few conclusions on what mistakes could have been avoided.

“So then,” Sigismund thought to himself as he read the final report. “Firstly, we agreed that the rain was most likely a great deal worse than anything the catapults could have done. Unit commanders were largely left to their own initiative, and forced to rely on simply skill at arms rather than good strategy. The two units of knights charging the main army, as well as the largely unguarded crossbowmen, were both tactical mistakes due to the large amount of enemy cavalry.” He paused. It was clear that having leaving the two units of dismounted knights to the crossbowmen was a much better idea. The enemy’s cavalry would have had to go completely around in order to intercept them their. He had also forgotten a cardinal rule of keeping casualties low: Ganging up on few enemy units with as much force as practical. The rest, was simply due to the confusion and poor perception caused by the storm. At least, that's what he told himself. A part of him knew that he still had a lot to learn about calm in battle.

Sigismund sighed, and stood up from his modest desk to give the camp one last look around before going to bed. While on his inspection, he happened to notice the man who had saved his life in the early moments of battle. He walked up to the man with a pace that was borderline undignified, and when the man stood up to attention Sigismund spoke.

“I’m glad that there are men who can watch my back when I am not. You… You said your name was Welf von Tyrol, correct?”

“Correct, mein Count.” the man replied rigidly. Like most general’s bodyguard, he was lesser noble who had seen countless battles.

“Welf, eh?” Sigismund chuckled. “It seems our fathers both had high hopes for us. Well then Welf, I could use an advisor who’s seen his fair share of battles. How about joining my personal retinue as a veteran warrior?”

At this, Welf relaxed somewhat. “Why lord, I would be honored.”

“Excellent! I’ll have my adjutants fill you in come the ‘morrow. Get a well disserved rest, Welf.” They parted ways, and Sigismund continued with his inspection. It was a heavy trust he placed in this man, but he had a hunch that this Welf would help he not end up like his brother or namesake.