Stories thread - King of the Romans PBM

[Lucjan]

As light flooded the previously darkened room, the torch cast a warm, glowing light across his face. The diet floor was empty, the chairs vacated, the candelabras that adorned many of the tables had long been extinguished for the night. The room bore a chill in its emptiness, and Dietrich felt the need to progress to his seat at the head of Franconia's section, staring out across the circular arrangement of desks, chairs, and the oratory floor at the center.

As his gaze turned towards the map on the far wall, his thoughts went to the future of the Reich. He closed his eyes for a moment, reaching into the inside of his shirt to pull out a necklace with a silver crucifix. Holding the cross tight, he closed his eyes in prayer. Our father who art in heaven flowed from his lips as it has done a thousand times before. It was in these quiet moments of silence that he felt closest to his God. Not on the field of battle, where promises of heaven and glory inspired other men to great deeds, or in the churches and altar houses where he often donated to the Catholic faith, but in his own solitude, his own place of silence in the night. This place of aloneness was where he spoke to God, and it was the answers he made for himself in that state of silence that guided his life. The shrill creaking of the door behind him occurred almost simultaneously with the opening of his eyes. Then he recognised the footsteps.

"I've been waiting." He said. "I almost thought you wouldn't come, Conrad." Looking towards the open door to where the old man stood, he slipped the cross back into his shirt.

Conrad Schüsselen was a wiry man whose white thin hair was slowly baldening. It was difficult imagining the fragile person on a battlefield, and it is understood that although he has been one several campaigns, he was never a man of the field. His duty had led him elsewhere. Scribes and Runners were always needed. Behind the glorious charges of knights and deadly hails of arrows, small cogs twirled endlessly to supply an army with its needs and Conrad was the man who made those things happen.

Clothed in an elaborate gown that seemed several sizes too large for him, Conrad entered the chamber of the Diet. A throaty cough escapes his lips and immediately his right hand rises to his mouth, and a handkerchief tugged away in his sleeve for this purpose is pressed against his lips. Small specks of blood can be seen which are quickly wiped away.
"My Grace! I'm honoured to meet you."
A small bow with just the right degree of reverence to somebody of Dietrich's station is given, not an inch more. Then he straightens and looks at him expectantly.

"You needn't bow to me." Dietrich stepped towards the old man, and, as he approached, extended his hand in greetings. After tucking the bloodied hankerchief back into his sleeve, Conrad shook the duke's hand, a slight look of bewilderment on his face.

Taking note of his unusual attire, Dietrich opted then to light the candelabra on the table and deposit the torch in a brazier before returning to sit at the table. "I have a great deal of respect for you Conrad. You stand here, old and ill, some might say leperous, blood accompanying your almost every word, and yet still you continue to attend the diet and dictate your opinion to the electors. Rarely have I seen such devotion to a cause."

Before Conrad could muster a response, he continued more directly on the purpose of their meeting. "The diet today, the exchange between myself and the Kaiser, it is much like the battle of chivalry against corruption. I have made my point and the corrupt has been exposed as such, but there are things he can do which I cannot. One of which, I believe, has been to prevent me from meeting with Duke Leopold. Every messenger I have sent has failed to return, and I can't remember the Duke ever appearing for more than a moment in the diet. I understand that you, however, meet with him regularly. What can you do? What must be done to have you arrange a meeting between Leopold and myself? Somewhere safe, somewhere, somewhere like Hamburg."

Conrad von Schüsselen was truly bewildered by this breach of protocol from Dietrich von Saxony. It seemed that he was a man who beleived in protocol and order. Neatness, yes, besides being wiry the man was neat and seemed to like it.
"You honour me with your words, my Grace. My duty is to serve and try to fulfill this duty. Can't let myself be distracted by petty illnesses, now can I?"

He listened intently to Dietrichs words. Chivalry against Corruption, an interesting way to put it.
"Indeed the Kaiser has been acting strange lately. I did not get to know him as such a man from my time in Italy. You have heard my words in the Diet. It seems my requests fall on deaf ears with the Kaiser, but I'm just a simple Elector. Ignoring a Duke now, I think he has gone too far. You seek contact to my Liege, I think I can provide it. I don't know what happened to the messengers you sent, but I have secure communication channels established. Whatever message you want to have sent, I shall deliver it."

Conrad clasps his hand in front of him, ready to deliver a final bow. Was this all this meeting was about or would there be more?

"Thank you. Have Duke Leopold meet me in Hamburg as soon as possible. I'll temporarily delay heading out to begin work on the Kaiser's menial task of setting up watch towers in the Reich's interior, something that, were he not so blinded by his power, he would have made the regional responsability of the individual Duchies a long time ago. As for brother Leopold, travelling with a small retinue, he should be able to arrive without issue in a few short weeks. My captain, Godfrey, will greet him at the front gates."

Conrad performs his bow once again as he receives Dietrichs request: "Be assured that my Liege will receive my message and will meet you in Hamburg as soon as the siege of Prague is concluded."

Dietrich, looking down towards the candelabra on the table, stared into the core of the flame, watching it flicker and dance. He lost his concentration for a moment, as if thinking back to something in his past, before he looked back up. "Oh, yes. I almost forgot." He said, then, reaching into the gilded pouch attached to his belt, pulled from it a smooth, crimson colored hankerchief that felt of silk, embroidered with the House of Austria's coat of arms.

Offering the cloth to the old man with a respectful nod, he smiled. "I thought the color might help to make the severity of your condition a little less noticeable to the diet."

Conrad stepped forward carefully and extended a hand to receive this unusual gift. His gaze is cast down upon the handkerchief as he takes it and reverently turns it around in his hand. Finally, he looks up, a quizzical look on his face: "Thank you, your Grace, your attention is too kind. Although I believe this is too fine a material to be stained by my own blood."

"Then consider it a token of my appreciation. Do you have any questions for me, Conrad?" The duke asked, watching the old man closely, attempting to pick out any discrepencies in his responce with his movements. "You seemed surprised by my greeting tonight."

Conrad seemed to be a little nervous all of a sudden and began to twirl the handkerchief in his hands, before finally getting a grip on himself and tugging it away in his sleeve. "I was indeed surprised by your invitation tonight, but it was a pleasant surprise. I have been meaning to get in contact with you. Since you will meet Duke Leopold soon though, I'm not convinced of the necessity of this meeting. Surely he can discuss these matters with you in person. However..."

Conrad reached into his garment and pulled forward a scroll, sealed with the sigil of the House of Austria and handed it to Dietrich.

"... I can give you this, it should prepare you for one of the things my master has in mind for the next Diet session. Of course all things mentioned within this document are purely a base for negotiation. I'm sure your support in this matter will be appreciated by our House and every favour returned as soon as possible." He smiled a sleek smile and bowed his exact bow once more.

After reading over the document Dietrich smiled and stood to retrieve his torch from the brazier, making sure that any ashes left are out. "I will speak with Leopold on this matter deeply, but let him know that I am fully supportive of his ideas. The House of Austria has a friend in Franconia." He said, before offering the elderly elector a bow.

As he snuffed out the candle light at the table, he took one final look around the empty diet floor. "Conrad." He said, still thinking back to the elector's bewilderment in his greeting and feeling it may be best to explain his breach of regular diet protocol. "Do not be surprised by my informality today. We are both men of nobility and station, and you, being worthy of my great respect, I believe should also then be worthy of my friendship. And when the diet is closed, well, why worry about formalities between friends? I'll be leaving in a moment, no need to wait for me."

At this comment Conrad bowed even deeper to the Duke. "I'm just a simple servant, my Grace. Your offer of friendship is heartily accepted. I'm convinced that the friendship between our Houses will bear many fruits."
He turned around and left the Diet floor, already engrossed in his own thoughts again, a smug smile showed on his face, as he was quite pleased with his accomplishments tonight.

There was one last thing he had to do before he left. Earlier in the day the Kaiser had snorted and fumed about Dietrich's supposed lack of children. If the Kaiser wanted Dietrich so greatly to have a son, then Dietrich would have a son, but it would be a son who understood the errors of the Kaiser's judgement. Reaching again into the pouch he removed a small scroll, his eyes crossing over the petition for adoption before finally coming to rest on the Kaiser's table. He would have to accept, his remarks earlier that day really gave him no other choice.


This story was written as a cooperative work between Lucjan and Ituralde.

[TinCow]

The servant shuffled his feet and kept his eyes on the ground. He was visually uncomfortable with the conversation.

“I will repeat this one last time.” Maximillian Mandorf stared hard at the man. “Tell that uncultured Polish bastard that I expect some proper hospitality in this God-forsaken town. Tell him that I want proper lodgings for my men and a full haunch of beef for each of them this evening. And tell him…” the Bavarian’s face reddened and his voice began to boom “…that if one more Polish peasant delays our march or demands a toll for a river crossing, I will personally geld him!”

The servant continued to stare at his feet. Mandorf gave him a three-count before exploding. “What the hell are you standing there for? Get out and do your job! If you come back here one more time without having done what I said, I will strap you to the top of the battering ram when we reach Stettin!” All color left the man’s face and for a moment it appeared as if he would faint. The man recovered well though, turning an involuntary backwards step into a proper about-face. He left in a hurry.

The room was silent for several moments, then Mandorf exploded into laughter. “It is a farce! A mockery of proper order!” He bellowed deeply for several moments, then shook his head with a broad smile. “Kaiser Heinrich is a more astute politician than I gave him credit for.” He turned and looked at the robed figure in the corner. “You disagree?”

The priest replied in a pinched voice, as if suffering from a cold. “Imperial politics are not something I concern myself with; I care only for spiritual matters.”

A huge smile crept across Mandorf’s face. “Yes, I’m sure you do.” He stood up and crossed the room. “Well, I am feeling very much like a sinner at the moment.” The Steward of Bavaria grabbed his crotch. “Would you like to hear my confession?”

A look of horror crossed the priest’s face. Mandorf erupted into laughter again. “You do not appreciate my affection, Charles?”

The priest sputtered out a response, “It is not a lack of affection, my lord, I… I am just concerned that such things might be seen!” His voice dropped into a whisper, “We are not in your private estate, who knows what eyes and ears could be spying on us, here in Poland?”

Mandorf waved his hand dismissively. “Do not concern yourself with such matters. These Poles are ignorant buffoons and my men are completely loyal.” His eyes met the priests’ and he gazed at them deeply. “Besides, you have not answered my question.”

The priest shifted in his seat. “It seems to me that the Kaiser has managed to offend everyone in every way possible.”

“Offend? Ah, but he has done anything but!” Mandorf turned and began to pace the room. “He demonstrates his displeasure with von Saxony by denying him command of the attack on Stettin. Yet the Duke of Franconia cannot be publicly offended as the rights to Stettin will surely be given to his House. Furthermore, he cannot protest too greatly at the command, lest he risk offending me and the House of Bavaria.” Mandorf paused before a window and looked out. “At the same time, he removes me from my lands, and orders me North, away from the Milanese and that bastard in Rome. While I am up here, I am unable to effectively agitate against the Usurper and I am exceedingly far from the Italian lands which I concern myself with. Yet I too cannot be publicly offended. I have been given a military command that was unexpected and not mandated by the Imperial Diet. This is a high compliment and, combined with the previous allocation of Bolognia to Bavaria, I cannot honorably express displeasure. Any protest I make also risks offending von Saxony and the Franconians. If I were spurn a military command the Kaiser has felt they were not fit for, I would be making myself out to be superior to them!”

Mandorf turned back to the priest, a slight smirk spreading across his face. “Yes, the Kaiser knows exactly what he is doing. Franconia’s interests lie only in the north and Bavaria’s lie only in the south. We are natural allies, yet with this act the Kaiser drives a wedge between us. At the same time, the difficulties between Swabia and Austria continue, preventing them from forming any kind of coherent bond, despite their similarly compatible interests. In the south, both Austria and Bavaria desire the Italian lands, which will undoubtedly prevent us from reaching any kind of long-term alliance. Thank the heavens that the assault on Bern went well. If Sigismund had died under von Kassel’s command, our relations with Swabia would have been greatly damaged. Yes, the Kaiser knows what he is doing. He plays us all off against one another. As long as we squabble amongst ourselves, he may do what he wishes.”

The priest considered this for a moment before speaking. “You speak of this as if it is undesirable, yet the Kaiser has been exceedingly kind to Bavaria and none in the Reich has more of a reason to hate Pope Gregory than him. Surely a more powerful Kaiser is a boon to the House of Bavaria?”

Mandorf raised an eyebrow. “So much for restricting your thoughts to spiritual matters. Yes, you are correct. We have no reason to oppose the Kaiser at the moment. However, politics is a fickle beast and interests change as rapidly as a whore’s lover. The Kaiser is looking to his own interests in the coming years. He will be prepared no matter what course the Houses take.” The Steward of Bavaria glanced down at the priest’s robes. “Speaking of whores…”

The priest gaped. “My lord, please, this is not the place!”

“This is the place if I say it is the place!” Mandorf snarled. He placed his hand between the priest’s legs, the robe giving way to reveal a decided lack of bulk. “Or would you prefer that I inform Cardinal Scherer of your… peculiarity?”

The priest’s eyes began to water. “My lord, Maximillian… you promised!”

Mandorf grabbed the priest by the hair. “And so did you. I swore to keep your secret and you swore to preach the righteous word of God; to undermine support for the Usurper from your pulpit. Those you convert in Stettin must be loyal to the Kaiser, not to Rome! Yet, I have heard reports of your sermons and they have been decidedly lacking in the fiery rhetoric I have been expecting.”

“But, but, my lord… I cannot simply speak of it openly, it must be done subtly and often in private! If Scherer hears of open sermons against Pope Gregory, I will be as damned as if he knew…” His gaze moved down to where Mandorf’s hand rested.

“Yes, well, then you had better start giving more convincing private sermons, hadn’t you?” He pulled up the priest’s robes, revealing an entirely feminine body. Mandorf smiled. “Let’s call this… practice.”

[Ituralde]

It was an unusual chilly morning and his breathing turned into small clouds of mist as Leopold looked over the battlements. The sun was not fully over the horizon yet, but soon it would rise through the cool morning air and bask the surrounding countryside in its warmth. Soon it would glisten off the standards and weapons of his adversaries, but right now the only thing revealing the Venetian presence in the surrounding hills were small spirals of smoke rising from several fires. Judging from their position all major roads to and from Vienna were blocked by the Doge's army.

He should have known something was up when the guards on the merchant trains coming into Austria had been doubled. Brigands and robbery in the Alp passes were supposedly endangering the Venetian merchants. In a motion of goodwill he had granted the Venetians access and even supplied them with scouts to traverse along the Danube. Hah! What an gullible idiot he had been. A small detachment of cavalry had just marched up to the city the previous month and demanded that Vienna surrender to the Doge. Leopold could not believe his ears! Surrender to the Doge? Had they not been allies just minutes ago? But soon the fires had sprung up around the city and the army sent into the Alps had just arrived in time to support the intruders. Vienna was completely surrounded and all that stood between them and the city was Leopold and a large assembly of Militia.

"Mein Herzog! Mein Herzog!" Rainer, a burly man in his midfourties, an aged retainer and veteran warrior pulled Leopold out of his revery. "They are ready mein Herr, for the demonstration." Leopold tore his gaze away from the Venetian encampments and looked at Rainer. It was hard to suppress a sigh but he followed the aged man into the courtyard. He had to pass a small construction site where workers were still attempting to improve the fortifications. Leopold had ordered Stone Walls to be build and they had progressed nicely, however with the city cut off no more stones from the quarries arrived and the masons had to make do with the little they got.

Assembled in the courtyard besides some guild leaders and dignitaries of the city stood five men, looking somewhat uneasy that they were the center of attention. Each one of them had a crossbow dangling from their belts. The guilds were eager to show off their new capabilities for defending the city. Had the Venetians arrived later Leopold might have had a regiment or two of those men at his disposal. After a brief demonstration of the Peasants skill the guild leaders mumbled something about merely a dozen of them being ready now. While not enough to make a difference should the Venetians attack, Leopold could at least man the towers with those men and hope they inflict some damage on the enemy.

Once again his thoughts were far away as a spindly looking clerk explained something about tension and recoil effect to him. Not only his situation in Vienna looked grim. The Reich was at war against Milan and would soon attack Rome itself. Every voice of reason was needed in the Diet and he was not able to attend. He could only hope that his messengers had made it through, but everything else lay in the hands of Chancellor Sigismund.
He could understand the hatred against Pope Gregory it had filled him in the first years of the investiture crisis, but now he had begun to understand that the will of god was not to be questioned by mere men. God's representative on earth had spoken and the following events had proven him right. The Reich had lain shattered and in ruins just years ago. They had worked hard to regain its former glory and accomplished some things. Although Leopold still felt left out on the recent expansions of the Reich. Prague, one meager city had been given to his control, while everyone that had taken a look at the profits generated by Vienna should know that he would have been the best choice to turn their Italian possessions in the cash-machines they could be.
Instead he was now besieged by those merchants, unable to muster a professional force for his defense or strike at those traitors directly, while excommunication loomed over their every heads and all they had worked for so hard could be shattered in mere instants.

But he would not give up without a fight. The clerk had just finished that the new techniques could punch a hole into a plank of wood a hundred meters distant.
"Punch a hole! That's what we're going to do. Punch a hole in their shiny armour once they try to scale our walls! And then, then we'll bring the fight right to their doorstep! I will see the city of Venice under our control and their coffers plundered by our soldiers or I will not be Leopold of Austria!"
He laughed, laughed for the pure joy of it, while at the same time hoping that the defense of Vienna might hold and that he would carry the day once the Venetians attacked.

[GeneralHankerchief]

Sylvio Miracola, special Messenger of the Pope, was shocked at the amount of hostility that was present in the atmosphere as he made his short ride to deliver a message from Pope Gregory to Kaiser Heinrich. Gregory had given him a blessing before he had departed, but Sylvio had the distinct impression that this land was outside of God's control. The skies were gloomy, the roads were a mess, and he had come down with a sudden cough as he rode to Genoa.

The hostility was even more open once he arrived in the city proper. The guards at the gates spent an inordinately long amount of time checking his papers as well as his person, and finally let him pass with scowls on their faces. He received the same treatment upon arrival at Heinrich's residence, and even the Kaiser himself displayed little hospitality to this ambassador to the Pope.

And that was before he had read the message.

"His Holiness Pope Gregory hereby summons me to meet with him and discuss recent events by his headquarters on MY land??!!?! Tell me, messenger, since when did His Holiness acquire such cheek?"

"His Holiness would ask the same to you, Your Highness," Sylvio piped in. He was under protection of the Pope, and thus cared little about etiquette.

Heinrich stared at him for several moments, apparently deciding whether this ingrate was for real or not. Finally, he sent the messenger off with his reply.

Two days later, Heinrich and his entourage, including Captain Ludwig, rode out to the Pope's location. They were more numerous than what was usual for this sort of meeting and much more heavily-armed. The Kaiser finally arrived at Pope Gregory's tent, more than three hours late. He would at least have some say in the pace of this meeting.

The Pope's retinue was just as numerous, and some of them were even armed. However, all were respectful and silent. The only voices to be heard that evening would be the Kaiser's and the Pope's, and the Kaiser began the meeting without any of the respectful greetings that the Pope was probably accustomed to.

"So, Your Holiness, what troubles you enough to summon me to meet with you on my own land?"

Pope Gregory smiled for a moment, and then spoke. “Ah, Heinrich, I see this time you do not come to me wearing a hairshirt and walking through the snow. Tell me, how is your eldest son, Henry? I had such high hopes for that man - I thought perhaps he would be the one to finally remove all trace of the wounds caused by the Investiture Crisis. And yet I have heard such a disturbing report from one of my inquisitors, Bandius de Bargio. I hope the report is misinformed - after all, de Bargio is more used to rooting out foul spirits than conversing with Princes.”

"Henry is quite fine," said Heinrich, eyeing the Pope. "And please tell your inquisitor that there is a difference between supporting the Pope and knowing when an invited guest oversteps his boundaries."

That was all the Kaiser said of the matter, not mentioning that there was currently Diet discussion about hunting down and executing all inquisitors that made their way into Imperial territory. Gregory continued, shrugging.

“Before we get down to why I have summoned you here, I must protest at the action of your men in blocking the roads around Genoa. What do they think they are doing, trying to confine my army to its camp? I have 1300 men with me - do they think a single regiment will stop me passing down a road if I have a mind to do so? Do you think to stop me returning to Rome? Do you dare to believe you can reclaim it, now that the Sicilians who helped evict you from it are no longer at my side?”

Heinrich chuckled for a second. "Believe me, Your Holiness, if I had it my way the road back to Rome would be wide open. I would even send regiments to make sure that your journey back would go as smoothly as possible. If you wish to return to Rome then just give the word. I shall pass it onto Sigismund. In the meantime, you are violating Imperial borders."

“Enough of this talk of borders and blockades - I will leave Genoa with or without your men's permission, and as soon as I'm ready. But let us talk instead of why I have summoned you here. I wish to personally convey my injunctions regarding your Empire. I know it is no longer yours to command, and you must suffer at the mercy of those buffoonish Dukes and your Diet, but what am I to do? I cannot address each Elector individually and anyway, you - not they - were chosen by God to rule your kingdom. Even if the monkeys usurp the role of organ-grinder, it does not mean that I must attempt to converse with the simians! So, now I tell you, Heinrich, King of the Romans, my four demands.”

“First, I remind you that you have not yet fulfilled my injunction to end your alliance with the Kingdom of Sicily. Quite why you remain loyal to these pirates is beyond me. Do you not remember that you lost Rome due to their intervention? They have certainly forgotten any pretence that they were acting for the good of the Church.”

“Second, no German army has joined the crusade against the Sicilians. I have overlooked this for a while, as you lacked a fleet to reach Tunis. But that is no longer true. Why are you content to let your brother nations take the lead in bringing down these godless Normans?”

“Third, you must end hostilities with Milan. Your mad friend Maximillan is quite wrong on this point. I have no sympathy for these Milanese - normally, I would not suffer them to be mentioned in my presence; they rank even lower in my estimation than your Empire. Milan started this war and they have paid a steep price. But enough is enough. You have driven them out of every settlement on mainland Europe. There is no need to persist in your attacks. Let no more Catholic blood be spilled; if they defy me by attacking you, they will join Sicily in being cast outside the Church.”

“Fourth, you must end hostilities with Venice. Venice is a powerful Catholic faction - perhaps the mightiest faction in Europe. They vie with you for dominance in Europe; such is the nature of the mighty. Do lions not fight for the pride? Do stags not lock horns for the herd? But, as in nature, these struggles must be kept limited - it will not serve the good of the species for its leaders to both be mortally wounded. So it is with Christendom. If your Empire and Venice fight a total war, Catholicism will be weakened from within. The Orthodox nations, the Muslims, the pagans, will all benefit and rejoice. And again, if for her part, Venice continues hostilities, know that she too will learn of God’s displeasure.”

After Gregory concluded, an aide whispered something in Heinrich's ear. The Kaiser nodded and made a motion with his hand dismissing the aide, replying.

"It's funny, Your Holiness. You question my continued allegiance to the Sicilians when you state that they were instrumental in me being removed from Rome. Yet you were instrumental in making them who they are today. But you still excommunicated them. Obviously, opinions change over time. Sicily is now our only friend on the Italian Peninsula, thanks to your machinations. I will not break our allegiance, and I will not waste lives attacking far-off cities while our main cities are in danger.

"I wonder why you called the crusade on Tunis, of all places. Is it just because Sicily now holds it? Or is it because nearly every faction on their way to the place will march through our lands? Why did you excommunicate Sicily? Was it strictly a power play because they had allied with us?

"As far as Milan, you have finally said something of merit. I hold you to your promise and will report your intentions to the Diet. The only thing that worries me are the two armies still on the mainland. Perhaps you could send your inquisitor to their locations and... inform of what has transpired.

"However, for Venice, I have little mercy for them. They were our allies - they betrayed us. They must pay. You may blather all you wish about this war being bad for Christianity but the bottom line is that currently, we are out for revenge. I do not intend on terminating hostilites with the Venetians until their namesake city is in our possession, and some Electors may even want more. Until that happens, your threats fall on empty ears."

Heinrich finished, sipping some water. He waited for the Pope to blast him for his stance on Venice, but no words came. The two leaders sat across from each other, saying nothing, just eyeing each other, perhaps sizing each other up. This intense staring contest lasted for over a minute when the Pope finally broke it, speaking soberly.

“So, it seems we have said all that we came to say. May you ponder long on what I have said, Emperor Heinrich, King of the Romans. Your Empire has made great gains thanks to the impetuosity and aggression of the Milanese. But they say a creature may inherit the qualities of the thing it consumes. Ensure your Empire does not inherit the vices of your Milanese victims, Heinrich.”

The Kaiser rose and departed, this time managing a proper goodbye. "God's Grace be with you, Your Holiness."

The ride back to Genoa was quiet, the Kaiser once again lost in his own thoughts. However, one thing escaped his lips that only Captain Ludwig heard:

"Last we met, I was begging him for forgiveness. This time, we were equals. The next time, he shall be the one begging me."

(Thanks to econ21 for agreeing to play Pope Gregory)