Battle reports thread - King of the Romans PBM

**Cecil XIX** · 10-05-2007, 23:11

“So it has come to this again. It seems the peasants and the nobles alike want to keep their city to themselves”

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Edmund Becker addressed his army.

“Men! We have Hungarian wolves at the wayside, just waiting to pick to pick off good Imperials who have the courage to go and fight. So let’s take this city quickly, and make sure to keep the walls intact! Now, to battle for the Reich and Saint Michael!”

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Though there was a heavy rain, it did little to obscure what needed to be done. There were five towers to take down, and cannons to do it.

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Once that was done it was a simple matter of advancing on the walls. The rebels had only one unit of archers to contest with and they futilely spent their arrows on the walls.

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In Edmund’s haste to make sure the ladders were properly placed, he was very much surprised to see the enemy Knight’s riding forth from the city gates and attacking his Zweihanders.

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“That it, they’ve given us an opening! Infantry, cavalry advance!” Soon Imperial soldiers were swarming into Bucharest without so much as splinter having fallen from the gate.

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On the walls, the rebel foot archers were firing their last salvo.

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Again, the Imperial cavalry surged forward. They would be ready when the rebels tried to flee back to the city center.

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That did not take long, as the men defending the walls were all peasants and levies. A few units broke almost upon contact.

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But the battle was far from over, with many enemies standing between the Reich and control of the city.

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Becker quickly hatched a plan to send the infantry through the main road,

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While having the cavalry flank them by moving along a side road.

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This led to the cavalry almost being flanked, but Becker was prepared for that too.

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Still, the fighting inevitably degenerated into chaos.

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Becker ordered the cavalry to extract themselves from the fighting and approach the city center from another direction while the infantry pushed through.

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After that, the rest of the siege was textbook. The infantry and the cavalry moved in from multiple directions, surrounding the then outnumbered defenders and wearing them down from all side. Unfortunately most of the remaining soldiers were knights, and they took a heavy toll before falling.

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**GeneralHankerchief** · 10-08-2007, 00:45

The Diary of Dietrich von Dassel

Durazzo, 1314

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No really, I thought, rolling up the scroll and burning it. What a waste of paper. If raising an illegal army, housing the greatest threat to the Papacy (Alexander Luther), and marching that army on Durazzo, de facto capital of the Papacy in the name of Luther's teachings with the intent of killing the Pope wasn't grounds for excommunication, everyone might as well just coast into Heaven right now. I laughed. Wouldn't that be something?

As far as marches went, it was a rather fun one. The men were clearly motivated, and we may have heard Hans's screams of frustration at the fact that he couldn't catch me from here. Plus, after that assassination attempt on Luther, we actually gained men who wanted to join the cause, which was a welcome rarity in army marches. Granted, the fellows didn't have much experience... or armor... or weaponry. However, they did have zeal, and there are some occasions where zeal counts for the most.

If only the most zealous were always the most well-equipped to fight...

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Anyways, we finally arrived at Durazzo. It was a beautiful day, clear skies, all that. We were also somewhat surrounded and definitely outnumbered. But the nasty part of it would come later. Now came the catapults.

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We brought six of the shiny, lovely, wooden things with us from Ragusa to Durazzo. I remembered back in the Diet when Jan von Hamburg was flapping on about them and how there was no possible way they could be used to keep the peace in Ragusa, which at the time was my main excuse for housing that large army. I simply ignored him on that point. Ignoring him is fun. I must make a note to ignore him more often. Perhaps me completely ignoring him will actually ruffle his feathers a bit. That would be fun to see.

Before the catapults began their salvos against Durazzo's poor walls I had a couple of things to do. First of all, I had to address Luther. He was our religious ace in the hole, after all. I was confident in my generalling skills that day, but still, I was outnumbered by quite a bit. I told him to use all of his religious mojo to pray that second, massive army away, or at least delay them a bit. He seemed taken aback at my request but considering how I had sheltered him for the past few years and the fact that I was dressed in my full, intimidating, battle regalia he complied.

The second thing was to make the usual inspiring speech to the troops. I had this sort of thing in my mind for a while now. One's head generally gets overloaded with inspiring speeches when one gets stuck with garrison duty for a number of years. As a result, it came out a little over-the-top. Of course, I had people with zeal on my side, so maybe it was perfect.

"Men!" I said, in a nice, manly, let's-get-down-to-business tone, "Before us lies our goal! Durazzo, home of the puppet! Durazzo, home of the old crone! Durazzo, home of that Byzantine!!!" They cheered at that last bit. I grinned behind my helmet. I love it when something in a speech goes right. "We come here today," I continued, "A persecuted people, chased by our own kind, chased by people determined to run the Reich into ruin just to complete their own misguided agendas!" More cheering. I felt like a Kaiser. Oh wait, scratch that. I felt like a Duke. Actually, some Dukes are really having some problems nowadays. Scratch that too. I felt like... a popular leader. Let's leave it at that.

"They have tried to take everything away from me! Gentlemen, look at me! I am without a County. I am without a House! Men, they were even trying to rob me of my freedom before we made our march! But *#%! it, I have an army. And an army is all you ever need in life!!! We are the Army of Light, for that is what we bring to the world! Light, knowledge, and the truth! Nobody can take that away from us!!!" Cue army going beserk. Cue me nervously scanning the horizon searching for that huge Papal army scheduled to grind us into oblivion. Cue me not seeing anything and silently praising God and Luther (not necessarily in that order) for siding with me today.

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"Anyway, enough talking!" I concluded, because I really wanted to take the city before that other army decided to show up. "Catapults, show 'em what you've got!!!"

And they did. The lovely, shiny, wooden things did their work and launched those rocks at the enemy's walls, which vibrated so much from the impact that they sent the poor men on them flying. Of course, Pope Abbate or whoever was actually commanding the men saw the danger in this at once and gave the order to promptly abandon the walls. I remember turning to my aide, Friedrich, and remarking that I take back everything I ever said about artillery. He just shook his head.

I kept them firing long after it was necessary, grinning. Say all you will about the Reich's current state. The people of Durazzo, especially those who live on the north side of the city, will still say that we're pretty damn powerful. It felt good. Plus, it gave me some time to think about how to assault the city, where a large Papal army was waiting for us.

Mainly, I thought about those Religious Fanatics that had joined us halfway through and where they would fit. My first inclination was to use them as shock troops; they certainly had that required zeal. But then I realized they didn't fit the other definition of shock troops: effective. Forlorn Hope were good shock troops. They were effective. These Lutherans were like Forlorn Hope, only they suck. But then I realized that - hey! - the walls were abandoned and I wouldn't need any shock troops, period. Eventually I decided to put the Lutherans in reserve and use them as a buffer where extra manpower was needed.

"Sir?" Friedrich tugged my arm, snapping me back to life. "The northern walls are pretty much gone. Should we go in?"

I stared at the walls. The assessment was quite accurate.

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But then I saw that the gates, while now completely redundant, still stood. I couldn't have that, now, could I?

"Not yet," I said. "Tell the catapults to bring the gate down."

"Sir? You do realize that-"

"Just do it," I snapped. "Catapults! Bring down that gate!"

They did so. I grinned. We were ready to go in.

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Our men marched in, slowly, relaxed. There was need to speed up. After all, the walls - or what was left of them - were abandoned. There was no army behind us pushing us to move in. We had all the time in the world. I liked that. It's rare in war when you can be so organized in the middle of a battle. I ordered my units in and they went exactly where I placed them. Amazing.

A lone regiment of Papal Guard was standing at the entranceway to one of the main streets, daring us to pass. I laughed. Did they expect to be like the Spartans at Thermopylae? Did they expect to hold back the crush of my men? I ordered most of my infantry in to break them. The people in the numerous regiments of Dismounted Feudal Knights, Armoured Sergeants, and Zweihanders inevitably slipped through the cracks and sent the Papal Guard fleeing. The Papists would have to find another way to beat me.

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The main vanguard of infantry continued to move up the main street, occasionally encountering resistance. I dispatched a smaller group consisting of the Lutherans and two regiments of Armoured Sergeants to take a side street in support. Once enough area was secure, the archers and cavalry moved in. Order was progressing nicely, with the vanguard almost reaching the end of the main street. They were facing a minor resistance in Italian Spear Militia, who were being roundly defeated. Then I saw some movement that was rather surprising.

Cavalry - it had to be the Pope, since that was the only horse unit in the place - was moving, ready to back up the Italians and slam into my Zweihanders. But then I saw the Pope (poor lad, he was German, after all) move past the main action... right onto the side street where the Lutherans were ready to intercept him.

I laughed out loud. Pope Abbate was alone, without infantry support, against nearly two hundred and fifty pissed off Lutherans who had been taught for the past years that the man deserved to die. Zeal would certainly account for a lot in this skirmish.

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It was almost comically quick. The poor guy was right at the front of his unit when they ran into the Lutherans. His men put up a valiant fight but they simply couldn't reverse the fact that their leader was an old fat guy who had no military experience whatsoever. He fell rather quickly and a humongous cheer went up among the Lutherans, buoying the main group (who had intercepted potential infantry support).

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Anyway, the fight continued until it was a brutal showdown in the town center between us and the majority of the Papal infantry. I received a report from the catapults saying that the enemy army was finally in sight and that it was beginning to savage them with long-range weapons of its own. I ignored it. Killing the guys in the town center mattered now. After reading Kaiser Heinrich's reports on defeating the Papacy and taking Mediterranean settlements in general it seemed like this was the hardest part. I spent most of my time alternating between watching the battle and breaking into houses to steal food.

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The fight dragged on, blah blah blah. We lost some, they lost some. I received another report from the catapults. Time to get serious. I broke into one final house with a delicious scent of cake emanating from it, ate a slice, re-mounted my horse, and gave the final orders to the cavalry:

"Charge, boys!!!"

The Papal infantry was already at the breaking point, pressed to the limit by our men. That final cavalry charge, 150 horses screaming in, was simply too much. They died easily. Clockwork.

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"Men!" I screamed to my army after it was all over. "You have been vindicated! Re-unification lies in ruins! The puppet is deposed! You have exercised the Reich's authority and I salute you for that! The final Papal army approaches. Enjoy your spoils, make them remember this day forever as the day where they were too slow to prevent this from happening!"

And then, I exercised my final atrocity against the city of Durazzo.

"Kill them all."

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**OverKnight** · 10-11-2007, 14:47

The Battle of the Iron Bridge, 1316

The bridge over the Orontes north of Antioch was called Pons Ferreus by the First Crusaders, the Iron Bridge. An imposing name, even if the bridge was just stone. The locals called the river it crossed the Farfar, and so the bridge had been Latinized into its current name. Still, despite the inaccuracy, Matthias was pleased with it. It was a good place to make a stand, at the Iron Bridge. The Crusaders would need Iron to make it, an iron will and strong weapons to turn the tide of the Greek advance. As pleased as Matthias was to return to the field, he was outnumbered and outclassed in cavalry.

The Greeks were anxious to secure their line of supply to Antioch. They were willing to spend quite a few Florins on mercenary cavalry to ensure this and the destruction of one of the three remaining Imperial armies in the East. They needed the bridge, which is why Matthias had asked to come here. Adana might be gone, Outremer almost overrun, but he now held something they wanted. That gave him, tactically at least, the upper hand.

Matthias turned to his troops and spoke.

"Crusaders! Germans! The Chosen of God! We make our stand here! We have been pushed back by the Greeks. We sought to abandon our Covenant with the Lord, and we have been punished for it. We have almost lost the Holy Land, our sacred trust. But now, now, we fight back! No more retreat. No more gifts. No more diplomacy. We draw the line here! Now is the time for Blood! Now is the time to reforge our Faith and our Honor in the Crucible of Battle. Glory to God and death to the Greeks!"

A cheer went up among the men, hope rekindling in the hearts of men who had almost lost it. Matthias prayed it would be enough. Faith was a powerful weapon, but only if channeled properly. He looked north, he would have his answer soon.

Matthias had placed his spearmen in front. The knights and zweihanders were behind them, ready to charge in once the lines met. The crossbowmen were on the flanks, their firing lines angled to form a kill zone in the middle of the bridge.

The Byzantines led with bowmen and infantry, as they charged across the bridge, Matthias ordered his spearmen forward to cap the exit of the bridge with a V formed by the two units. They arrived just in time to meet the Greeks.

The spears held, barely, and Matthias ordered his heavy infantry to join the maelstrom at the head of the bridge.

It was a vicious melee, but the Imperial foot had the advantage of positioning. The Byzantine foot stuck on the bridge and unable to make it to the the front line were mercilessly cut down by the crossbowmen.

The infantry soon fled. The Kwarzimen, held in reserve to pursue the expected routers, were thrown into the battle. Rather than give them room to fight and bring the weight of their horses to bear, Matthias ordered his infantry onto the bridge to block them. The crossbowmen would do most of the killing this time.

It was touch and go, but the horsemen broke as well. Matthias giddily ordered a general pursuit, laughing as he killed the fleeing Byzantines.

The Teutonic Knights were ahead of the rest of the Imperial forces when the Greek cavalry rallied. They charged into the Teutons.

Matthias, swearing at his own stupidity, ordered the foot into the fight as he counter-charged with his own retainers. He was taking losses he could ill afford. Fortunately, the Greeks' resurgence was temporary and they once again broke.

The Butcher's Bill

The prisoners were ransomed for nearly four thousand Florins. Matthias was tempted to send them to Hell, but he did need reinforcements and money was tight.

After the battle, Matthias was content. The Greeks had been bled, the line had been held and he had found a good place to make a stand. This time, he would not be taken by treachery, he would not be dislodged. He would hold the Iron Bridge.

**GeneralHankerchief** · 10-12-2007, 04:04

The Diary of Dietrich von Dassel
South of Bologna, 1318

We had arrived at Bologna a week prior, but I had declined to attack up until now. This delay was most certainly not my doing; if I had it my way we would have kept right on marching and bit the enemy right in the rear. Of course, if I had it my way back in 1300 I would have been Chancellor, the Kaiser would have been forced to Diet opinion, and we might not have been in such a terrible position in the first place.

Upon seeing the Byzantine army for the first time, my men - my hard-core veterans! - went and got major cold feet. Leading the dissent were the Balkan Archers I had picked up at the start of my march and, more surprisingly, Alexander Luther's very own Religious Fanatics, the same people that had killed Pope Abbate in a frenzy. Now that the odds were slightly against us, they had done a 180 in their opinions; now Luther didn't matter, the Cause didn't matter, defending the Reich didn't matter. They simply would not attack because I was apparently throwing all of their lives away for nothing.

Not even the most passionate speeches by Luther nor the nastiest threats by me could move them from their position. After the third day of the impasse I finally decided to just let them desert before the defeatest sentiment spread to the rest of the men. Of course we were facing bad odds, that was the idea! The Reich needed this kind of victory, and we were the ones that would deliver it to them!

The next few days were spent by me scouring the countryside in search of some less-cowardly men, for with the desertion of the Fanatics and Balkan Archers we were definitely screwed. Eventually I found some Mercenary Spearmen and Pavise Crossbowmen, men not quite devoted to the Cause so much as money. They saw the odds but instead of deserting they simply raised their prices. I was forced to comply.

Finally, after the seventh day, we were ready to move in. And so we did, with me still asking myself whether I was a *#%!ing idiot or not for making this crazy move. Obviously, I kept that sentiment to myself. I didn't want any more men deserting or doubting me.

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The way things were set up, the Bologna garrison would come in from the east and smash the Byzantine force. The one thing we had going in our favor was that about half the ridiculously large army consisted of peasant archers, men who surely knew my and the Army of Light's reputation. If we charged in and flanked them... maybe they would break. Maybe. The small men that were part of the Varangian Guard or the Kataphractoi would be harder to disperse, however.

Our men advanced slowly and deliberately for the time being. I wanted to conserve their energy, for once they got in range of the enemy's archers they would need to run if there was to be a significant impact to my charge. As such, the garrison of Bologna got to the fighting first and began to overrun the enemy Horse Archers placed on the extreme flank.

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The Byzantines, including the archers, held their positions as the Bolognans slowly overwhelmed the missile cavalry. Good. If they had turned and unleashed their arrows onto the flanking force... well... let's just say that there wouldn't have been a flanking force for long.

Our men stopped.

"Crossbows, take aim!" I shouted. I could hear similar commands being made in Greek on the other side of the battlefield.

Since I had given the order first, our bolts hit their targets faster. There was a moment of brief celebration as we saw some of their hundreds of archers go down, but it was short-lived. The hail of arrow fire was coming our way. Everyone braced themselves for the worst.

I sat up in my saddle, facing the storm. I remembered tales of Thermopylae, where the Persian archers had blotted out the sun, the Persian archers that were part of a numerically superior but inferior in quality force. The Byzantines here, the descendants of the same Greeks that had fought at that mountain pass so long ago didn't block the sun, but they came close.

Arrows came down everywhere, sometimes six or seven to a shield. Dozens of men dropped, but our missiles took the brunt of the casualties. I breathed a sigh of relief, grateful that it wasn't worse.

"Infantry, charge!" I roared, and they instantly ran, hoping to get to the enemy line as quickly as possible. "Crossbows, stay here! Keep firing!"

It was an amazing sight. The Byzantines got one volley off into the infantry before my men closed. And then, just over three hundred men charging scattered off three times that number of men, leaving the infantry to take the brunt of the charge.

All of those numbers and none of them want to fight Imperial infantry face-to-face, I thought. Amazing.

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My glee was short-lived. Our flanking force was closing in, yes. But so was theirs. Hundreds of Byzantine archers worked their way around the battle line, in our infantry's rear, on both my sides, between me and the infantry, and there was only my escort and crossbowmen to hold them off.

I charged into the closest regiment of archers, killing a good amount of them instantly and sending them running. Hopefully it would last and they wouldn't regain their nerve and come back. I spotted another nearby regiment. Lather, rinse, repeat. But this time it was tougher. The enemy held on longer, we had to kill more of them to make our point, and I lost a couple of horsemen.

After disengaging, I took a look at the greater battle situation:

- Our infantry was in good order, defeating the inferior Byzantine infantry.

- Many many many many many archers still lurked.

- The Bologna garrison was about to become a major thorn in the enemy's side (literally)

- I was about to receive more pressure. After turning around, I saw both some Kataphractoi and the Varangian Guard slowly making their way towards me.

"Oh dear God," I muttered. I guess this was the downside to having a reputation. Desperately turning to my infantry, I started screaming.

"Withdraw! Withdraw! You've killed enough infantry! Time to go after the meat!" My men looked around in confusion, and then saw what I was facing. Bless them, they ran. The Army of Light stuck up for each other.

There was a minute of me evading enemy archer fire, cavalry charges, and infantry engagements. Then, two things happened: The Bolognans, in the midst of their flanking push, struck down the enemy captain. Secondly, our Armoured Sergeants engaged the Varangian Guard. Of course they were getting slowly mauled but the important thing was that the enemy was pinned.

"Ride around the rear, then charge!!!"

My escort did so, breaking the famed Varangian Guard and freeing up the beleagured Armoured Sergeants. Unlike with the archers eariler on in the battle, my men spent extra time chasing down and killing every single person in this regiment.

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The process was repeated later on with my infantry and the Kataphractoi. They pinned, I charged. The enemy ran, I pursued. The meat was gone.

The rest of the demoralized enemy quickly routed when realizing that their captain was dead and that the elite units were no more. Our flanking action had gone spectacularly, and the rest of the battle was simply my exhausted men hunting down and destroying routers.

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At the day's close, we looked at the official casualty count: It had been a crushing defeat for the enemy. Around 85% of the enemy was not able to escape the field that day. Our losses were relatively few, and the Army of Light was ready for continued action. Plus, and most importantly, we were now more confident, all of us. There would be less desertion after they learned that they could do this.

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The final thing I had to deal with was the six hundred sixty nine enemy prisoners. That was quite a lot, and ransoming them would give us a lot of money to use for further operation.

"M'Lord," said Friedrich, my aide, "What should we do with them? We could use the money."

"Kill them," I said without a moment's hesitation. "If the Byzantines want a war, we'll give it to them. This sends a message. This sends her a message, wherever she is."

"Yes, sir," said Friedrich, bowing.

"We may not win this thing," I said to myself, "But we'll make it a fight. We'll make it a fight."

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**econ21** · 10-12-2007, 07:52

The storming of Antioch, 1318

Elberhard sat with his head in his hands. His time as Chancellor was coming to a close and the enormity of the ruin the Reich had experienced under his stewardship was overpowering.

“Chin up.” said Linyeve, breezily. “It can’t be that bad.”

Elberhard looked up, exasperated. “Can’t be that bad? Think of what I have “achieved” during my term of office. I’ve given away a large chunk of the Reich. Seen my Kaiser assassinated. Watched my men sack the capital of our most faithful ally. Stood by as zealots killed poor Pope Abbate. Had my partner run off with the entire Treasury. Can there ever have been a worse King of Rome?”

Linyeve smiled, as if enjoying her husband’s discomfort: “Oh, I am sure there has.”

“Who?”

“Err… Nero, perhaps?” Linyeve teased.

“@#$%^&!!! off!” said Elberhard, emphatically. “It’s not my fault.” He whined. “The @#$%^&!!ing Bavarians killed the Kaiser. The @#$%^&!!ing Franconians started the war with Byzantium. The @#$%^&!!ing Austrians killed the Pope. And the @#$%^&!!ing Swabians are killing themselves! Only the @#$%^&!!ing crusaders in Outremer have been true.”

“Yes, and you @#$%^&!!ed the crusaders over, didn’t you?” said Linyeve, evilly.

Elberhard sunk his head back into his hands.

“Look” said Linyeve, seriously. “Forget about internal politics. You won’t have to worry about that for a while. There are far greater threats externally.”

“Whaddya mean?”

“I heard from my contacts at the English court. The Poles have been putting out feelers to all the Catholic powers. They are trying to organise a crusade against us. And not just any old crusade – not just each nation sending one to take one of our cities. But a crusade to crush the Reich completely. To take advantage of its weakness. Already our enemies are mustering fresh armies and preparing to cross our borders in concert.”

“Who is part of this alliance?”

“Everyone. Or almost everyone. The Poles have even brought the Orthodox Russians on board. The Hungarians have led the way with their destruction of the First Household Army of Austria. The breaking of the siege of Thessalonica has encouraged the Venetians to go on the attack. The Papacy is enraged by the extermination of Durazzo and the killing of the Pope. The surprise victory at Ajaccio is spurring the Sicilians to raise a massive army to do it right next time. The French can barely contain their delight at Swabia falling into civil war and rebellion. While the Danes have seen the arrival of Peter von Kastilien on their borders as the signal for a renewed drive on Hamburg.”

“And they are all going to work together?”

“Yes. While the Byzantines hold our attention in Italy and Outremer, the rest of Europe will fall on our flanks and rear.”

“@#$%^&!!ing hell!” sighed Elberhard. “What do I do?”

“Oh, that’s easy. There is only one thing for you to do." Linyeve said grimly: "You fight.”

*****

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After a night march, the Kaiser’s army had arrived at Antioch. Elberhard watched with interest the deployment of the two batteries of cannon. He had been impressed by the stories of this new weapon and was keen to see it in action.

“Target the gates” he ordered.

One volley and the gates were down.

“@#$%^&!!ing hell!” said Elberhard appreciatively.

He turned to Jan the Teuton. Jan winced, remembering the fury with which the Kaiser had greeted him on return from Rome.

“Captain – you are in command. Bring up the army through the gates.”

Jan looked puzzled, as Elberhard spurred his escort off through the gates.

“Where does he think he is going?” he muttered as the Kaiser and his men entered the city alone.

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As the army began to approach the city, Jan saw crossbows start to poke out of the adjoining towers and fire on his troops. Through the smashed gates, he could see Byzantine cavalry arriving to block the entrance.

“Sergeants!” Jan called out. “Through the gates! For God, for Kaiser and for the Reich!”

The armoured spearmen poured through the gates into the enemy cavalry. Although the Muslim mercenary cavalry holding Antioch for Byzantium was well armoured, its main advantages were neutralised by its caught stationary and in a confined space.

“Archers! Indirect fire – shoot over the walls!” ordered Jan.

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The fighting was bitter but brief. Soon the enemy were in flight and through the gates Jan saw the Kaiser’s escort pursue them.

As Jan entered the city, he was greeted by an exuberant Elberhard.

“Great scrap, eh?” said the Kaiser. “Right – bring the spearmen through the streets. But halt them just a little ahead of the walls. I want you to create a killing zone for the enemy cavalry. Place the crossbowmen on the walls, so they can provide support. I am going to move to the east side of the city, so I can hit them in the flank as they fixate on you.”

Jan saluted. Sounds like a plan, he thought.

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Even Jan was surprised by how successful the Kaiser’s tactics were. The Byzantine cavalry could make no impression on the German schiltrons. After the death of their general, the enemy seemed crippled by low morale. Typically they would advance – take heavy losses from the crossbows on the walls – and then flee after only the weakest pretence of engaging the German schiltron.

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After his men had expended about half their ammunition, Jan heard a loud “hurrah!” coming from the east side of the city. Evidently the Kaiser was making his move.

“Charge!” roared Jan.

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After the battle, Elberhard returned to Linyeve, his face flushed with pride.

“Well, it’s a start, I suppose.” she said.

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**Northnovas** · 10-13-2007, 13:09

Sofia Region – Road to Budapest 1318

The marched had started and the recruitment was slow. The Count had managed to organize a regiment of spearmen from the stragglers of Bucharest and what he had they were all veterans. The recruits were with the crossbow men. There were more recruits then regulars. Peter his logistics man was able to scrape equipment for them and a limited number of arrows. They were all good hunters with the bow. The Count felt fortunate to finish his Army off with some Reiters he had met recently met and some Knights.

This was the Karl’s first battle against a European Faction. The scouts told them they were slightly outnumbered and it was mainly spearmen. Not what Karl wanted to hear; their level of experience was unknown. There was no avoiding he must fight.

The Count surveyed the ground it was a frosty morning and the light snow on the ground gave some disadvantage fro anyhow climbing. He rode up to the Crossbowmen.
“Archers, for many this is your first battle. All that I ask of you men is to concentrate on your tasks at hand. You were picked because of your marksmen ability. Keep your focus on your target and ignore everything around you. Listen to your Captain’s orders and good hunting. A roaring cheer went up from the men; these boys were ready thought the Karl to himself.
Karl then rode up to the Captain of the Spearmen. The Captain looked up to the Count and nodded to acknowledge I know what needs to be done.
“Protect them archers; I can’t have them leave the battlefield.” Karl said very quietly to the Captain.
“I will watch them as if there my own, my lord” said the captain as he turned to the Regiment and barked some orders.

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There were 3 Regiments of Spearmen and 1 Regiment of Feudal Knights. That was the unit that concerned the Count. All missile units concentrated on the Knights. They began to fall.

The cavalry charged!

They fled before coming to the Austrian line.

Spearmen were left and the Reiters and Crossbowmen concentrated on the formation coming directly to the Austrian line. The Hungarians were wavering. The Count’s tactic was working the Spearmen were being hit in the rear by the cavalry before they could set.

The morning was over soon enough.

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A victory no matter how small was all that was needed to build on for the recruitment drive to Budapest thought Zirn.

“My lord, we have prisoners. What are your wishes?” asked the Captain of the Spearmen.

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“Release them!” Karl ordered and rode off. The Captain had a bit of a quizzical look but followed through with the order not showing his utter contempt for the enemy and really knew little about the man he was following; Karl Zirn the Hounourable.

**econ21** · 10-16-2007, 00:34

Budapest, 1320

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“When the cannons fire, you run - right, Klaus?”

Young Klaus looked petulant: “What - run carrying this ruddy great pavise? Who do you think I am? Hercules?”

The older man, Conrad, started to wag his finger: “Look, idiot, we are about all the Count has got to rely on in this battle. Look around you - his army is a bunch of half trained militia. The Magyars will cut through them like a hot knife through butter! We have to get into the city and onto the walls. The militia will hold off the Magyars and we’ll do the killing. Right?”

“I am sorry, did you say something about butter? God, I’m starving.” Klaus looked distracted, and very hungry.

Conrad’s face turned red: “Idiot! Look, just run when … damn it, that’s the cannon! God be praised the gates are down in one volley! Now … RUN!”

*****

Klaus and Conrad puffed their way to the northern gateway to Budapest. Ahead of them, they had seen Count Lorenz be the first to ride into the city. It was said he had received a personal letter from the Kaiser himself, explaining the tactics used to take Antioch and was seeking to apply them here.

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The two German crossbowmen then clambered up the steps to the walls, pushing and shoving with the throng of other Germans racing to get into the city before the garrison belatedly plugged the breach. The gate tower had not been guarded. Count Lorenz had ordered two regiments of militia to make feints for the western and eastern gates, hoping to draw off some of Budapest’s ample garrison. The stratagem had had only limited success - two insignificant Magyar regiments had been roused at the eastern gate. But perhaps the confusion caused by the multiple threats explained the failure of the garrison to guard the key northern gate in strength. The Magyars were clearly trying to correct their mistake - for Klaus could hear the sound of fighting out in the streets. Clearly the German infantry spearhead, a regiment of Zweihanders, was meeting opposition.

When Klaus reached the top of the city walls, he turned to look at the combat below him. The Germans had managed to secure a perimeter around the gates, preventing the Magyars infiltrating their own archers onto the walls. In the streets, Klaus could see Magyar cavalry taking aim at the German infantry.

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Conrad could not believe the chaos and confusion in the German ranks. Crossbow militia, halberd militia, zweihanders and spear militia were intermingled and packed among the narrow city streets.

“Look!” shouted Klaus in alarm. In the distance, Conrad could make out the gleaming armour of chivalric knights coming to assist the Magyar cavalry. If the Germans did not get organised, this could get nasty, thought Conrad.

“Form ranks! Form ranks!” shouted the halberd militia captains.

“Form schiltron!” screamed the spear militia captains.

Slowly order began to emerge.

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As the Magyar horsemen were being worn down, Klaus heard the sound of horns and trumpets coming from the east.

“It’s the eastern gate - Count Lorenz has opened it from the inside!” said Conrad exultantly.

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Meanwhile, the two professional infantry regiments - the zweihanders and the armoured sergeants - had been extracted early on from the melee in front of the north gate and sent east down a side road.

“Where are they going?!” asked Klaus.

“Like us, they are too good to waste on in the carnal house down there. They are going to get behind the enemy.” announced Conrad. “If we can trap the Magyars in the streets, they will lose heart. Let the rebels get back to the city centre and they will fight like demons.”

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With their general dead, the Magyars trapped in the northern streets were slowly cut down and eliminated. The Zweihanders and armoured sergeants began to approach the city centre. There, a remaining Magyar cavalry regiment entered a Cantabrian circle, targeting the German shock troops.

The pavise crossbowmen were helpless to intervene - they were out of range.

“All right you maggots, off the walls! Get down to the city square or do you want to just stand around, watching the others get the glory?” screamed one of the crossbowmen’s officers.

“Glory?!” muttered Conrad, “What an ass!”

The crossbowmen dutifully filed down the stairs and off the walls, but before Klaus left, he saw Count Lorenz’s escort come charging in from the east, riding hard for the Magyar cavalry. While the Cantabrian circle protected the Magyars from return fire, it hopelessly disrupted their ability to evade melee.

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As the crossbowmen came within range of the city centre, they heard the boom of the German cannons. Every available man in the German army was now pouring into the central forum, overwhelming the last defenders.

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In the sacking of the city that follows, 4688 innocents lose their lives - and 15904 florins are looted. For this victory, Count Lorenz will earn the reputation of being a promising commander and identify both a promising veteran warrior and a shield bearer among his retinue

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**Cecil XIX** · 12-11-2007, 05:56

Count Lorenz soon reached the crest of the hill, and he paused to survey the scene before him.

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Muttering a curse to himself, he called the rest of his army forward in a double line.

Meanwhile, Edmund Becker was busying himself with saving the remnants of his army. There were still a few who remained alive outside the walls, but if any of the enemy were to get through it would prove disastrous. Fortunately the bulk of the Polish army was reorganizing in preparation to receive Count Lorenz, leaving only a heavily depleted unit of Lithuanian cavalry to finish the job. Becker quickly raced to closest ballista tower, where he personally directed their fire at the enemy.

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By then, the bulk of Zirn’s forces were nearing the city. Unfortunately, it looked like the Polish reinforcements were ahead. However, they left themselves completely exposed by remaining in a column. With the Pole’s main force still some distance away, Count Lorenz ordered his men to run forward and rout the enemy with all speed.

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As Count Lorenz’s men rushed to engage, the ballista tower was soon able to rout the Polish missile cavalry. Becker quickly rushed out of the tower.

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“Open the gate, let the rest of the men inside! Quickly, quickly!”

Becker then received a message informing him of Lorenz’s actions.

“That’s good, tell him to stay near the walls. Get the rest of the army over there so we can give them support fire!” The order, given, he rushed to the southeast corner of the city.

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As the rest of Edmund Becker’s army followed his orders, Lorenz Zirn’s army quickly routed the Polish reinforcements.

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The lesser army was dealt with easily enough, and the larger army was bearing down upon him albeit in a disorderly manner. Perhaps they were still reeling from the battle with the Bohemians or perhaps they underestimated the strength of Austria.

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Regardless, as Count Lorenz instructed his army to face the attackers he took notice what the Polish Captain was doing.

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Lorenz quickly spurred his own knights to action, and quickly charges the Polish Captain’s men before they could call up support.

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[/IMG]

The captain did not live long to regret his mistake.

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This had a major effect on the tired Poles, and a few regiments began to run immediately.

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Edmund had seen this happen from the rather spectacular viewpoint provided him by Prague’s walls. With the battle swinging back in the Reich’s favor, he quickly got back on his horse and rode out for a more personal examination. The sight that greeted him was very welcome.

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Edmund rode quickly to greet Lorenz Zirn, stopping only to relieve his stress for a few moments.

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Soon he was able to wave down Count Lorenz, who rushed to meet him.

“Count Edmund! Good to see you’re still alive!”

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“It will take more than this to kill me. How goes it, Count Lorenz?”

The two rode back to Lorenz’s guards, discussing their various parts in the battle. As Lorenz took up position at the head, his head darted to look over Becker’s right shoulder, Lorenz pointed behind Becker and shouted “Behind you!”

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Edmund quickly turned around to see fifty heads headed right toward. For a second his life flashed before his eyes, but then instinct took over.

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After a few seconds it became clear that the Knights were not interested in taking Becker’s life, but merely fleeing the field. It was merely a poor choice on their part that they chose to flee directly into Lorenz’s bodyguards.

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Once that was taken care of, Lorenz turned back to where Edmund was.

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“Lord, I am not at home upon the battlefield.” Thought Edmund. “Perhaps if I get a faster horse I can catch Contzel and the children before they reach Mahren.”

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***

From the Diary of Edmund Becker:

What I reviewed was not actually the battle report itself, but rather an account of Polish forces in Silesia shortly before my battle. The army I noted was probably heading east to Magdeburg. Still, the battle should have gone better. Alas, I fear I have not the patience for these things.

Regardless, I have accomplished what I set out to do. I have already spent the money necessary to construct a City Hall, and by releasing the prisoners my stature as a noble and just Elector has risen, drawing immigrants and refugees to Prague.

**econ21** · 12-11-2007, 16:22

The battle of ~~Ragusa~~ Zagreb, 1338

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Gustav Peters, intrepid explorer from Antioch, gazed through his lenses at the Hungarian army deploying in front of him. Although the Germans had deployed on higher ground, the enemy had taken up position around a small fort. The motte of the fort provided some elevation for nearby infantry.

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“@#$%^&!!! it!” swore Elberhard. “They just want us to come and get them. This is not going to be easy.”

The left flank of the Hungarian line was secured by the fort. The right flank was protected by several regiments of Hungarian nobles - horse archers with formidable close combat ability.

Kachig Istvan, Armenian mercenary captain, cautioned the Kaiser: “Most of those men are good soldiers, Sire - Hungary’s finest. We should not rush in.”

“What are we? The Reich’s @#$%^&!!!?” retorted Elberhard, bitterly. But he knew the Armenian was right. The cataclysm had seen many of the Reich’s veterans killed in brutal wars - external and internal. The victories of the invaders had seen their armies rise in experience and morale.

“All right - Peters, I want you to sight our cannon. Go for the rear most cavalry unit - the Magyars. That’s their general. With any luck, we can take them out. They seem to have left their bombards behind for now. So fire all ammunition, then Kachig will send in the crossbowmen.” Elberhard looked at the early morning sun. “We’re in no hurry.”

*****

“Bull’s eye!” Elberhard roared with the appreciation as Gustav Peters reported the result of the second volley of the cannon. “Now let’s see how “Hungary’s finest” fight without their general!”

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The cannon discharged all its flaming ammunition into the centre of the Hungarian lines. The enemy just stood there, stoically, soaking up the punishment. After the battle, Peters estimated his two cannon had killed 100 of the enemy.

“All right - your boys have done all they can, Peters. Send them back to the baggage train. And send word to Sir Karl Zirn. Tell him, he is missing all the fun.” ordered Elberhard.

The next stage of the battle then began, with the German pavise crossbowmen advancing in loose formation to skirmish with the Hungarian line. For some inexplicable reason, the Hungarians began to shift to their right - weakening the forces deployed around the fort on the left. Elberhard saw his chance.

“Mr Peters, care to join us in a cavalry charge?” Elberhard asked the explorer. Flustered, Gustav hastily mounted his horse. His heart was pounding as the Kaiser’s escort began its slow advance on the enemy line.

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They trotted past the skirmishing crossbowmen and even started to mount the motte of the fort. A panicked Gustav held up his lens - he could see the whites of the enemies’ eyes. Why don’t we charge now? wondered Gustav. He never received an answer. For whatever reason - whether it was forgetfulness, miscalculation or the difficulty of climbing the snow covered slopes - the Kaiser’s escort simply walked up to the enemy lines and began fighting. It was an ineffective, wasteful melee.

Gustav looked to his left and saw the mass of the Hungarian army turning about and marching back towards him, returning to secure their left flank against the fort.

“@#$%^&!!! it!” Gustav heard Elberhard roar. “Pull back! Pull back! @#$%^&!!! it, let’s do it again - properly this time!”

The German cavalry withdrew back down the motte. Turned and then approached again, this time running at full speed from the start.

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However, although the German cavalry hit the enemy line at the charge, the snow and slope sapped the impetus out of their charge and the result was no better than the first attempt. All that saved the Germans was that the Hungarian infantry lacked the long spears that would have been most effective against the Kaiser’s knights. Both sides were trapped in an inconclusive melee.

“@#$%^&!!! it!” came the familiar cry from amidst the sound of battle. “Ride through them! Ride through them! With me! Follow me!”

Gustav saw Elberhard lead his horse forward through the enemy infantry, seeking to break through to the rear of the enemy line. Gustav spurred his horse after the Kaiser, but saw several knights fall to the blows of the infantry they tried to bypass.

Soon the Kaiser’s retinue was free of the enemy frontline. In front of them, they saw the crews of two Hungarian bombards hastening to man their war machine.

“Charge!” shouted the Kaiser and the chase was on.

Once they had ridden down the unfortunate artillerymen and some skirmishing Hungarian pavise crossbow militia, Elberhard turned his escort around and began to race back up the motte, but this time from the opposite side - straight into the rear of the enemy’s lines. As they crested the slope, Gustav could see almost the entire Hungarian army had surged forward to engage the German main line.

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The ensuing battle was bloody, scattered and disorganised. The morale of the Hungarians had been fatally undermined by the early loss of their general and coming off worse in the initial exchange of missile fire. Gradually, the dismounted Imperial knights broke the Hungarian infantry.

However, the Hungarian cavalry were less easily disposed of and a tense moment came when the Hungarian chivalric knights made their presence felt - threatening to turn the German left. Gustav could make out a mass of shining silver rumbling forward to meet the threat - the Reich’s sole regiment of Gothic knights, kitted out in the finest armour known to man, were intervening.

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By hard sacrifices from the mounted German knights, the enemy cavalry were halted and then overwhelmed as the German infantry joined the fight. However, small bands of Hungarian knights still roamed the battle field - exacting a heavy toll on disorganised German regiments. The Kaiser’s escort - now joined by that of Sir Karl Zirn - played a key role in countering these brave enemies.

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After the battle, Elberhard rode into Zagreb with Sir Karl Zirn and his eldest son. Sheltering from the snow and ice, the two veteran crusaders reminisced about their younger days in the dust and snow of Outremer. Elberhard was happy to see Johann Zirn was following in his father’s footsteps as a warrior of chivalry and piety. Gustav Peters reported to Sir Karl Zirn on his scouting of the road to Ragusa, then the Kaiser bade his farewells and began to return northwest, to the begin preparations for the Diet and a campaign to recapture Rome.

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