Stories thread - King of the Romans PBM

[GeneralHankerchief]

Damascus, 1242

The Cathedral of the Virgin Mary located in the city was not part of the new, rapid re-Christianization movement taking place. A great number of smaller places of worship had popped up since Damascus changed hands some years ago, but none could match the splendor or grandeur of what had been there for a millennium. Built by the Romans in the Second Century AD, the Cathedral had seen its share of history over the years. It currently housed the Crown of Thorns, Conrad Salier having lent it to the Diocese prior to his departure to Rome.

Today, however, seemed like just another ordinary day inside the Cathedral. Mass was taking place; the usual Gospel passages (Romans 20, others) were posted for all to see, and Communion was being administered.

Conrad and his aides having taken Communion first (being King of Outremer did have its benefits), they silently returned to their pews, and, after prayer, observed the rest of the congregation.

"Lots of Arabs getting Communion today," whispered Wilhelm de Lannoy.

"Good," Conrad whispered back. "The Word of the Lord is spreading."

"I don't like it," said Hugo Bresch, Conrad's veteran warrior. "It seems like the number jumped at once. Unless a priest gave a particularly powerful sermon a few days ago, I suspect foul play is involved."

“Rubbish,” said Frederick Weinmuth, Conrad’s chief of staff. “You’re paranoid and need to get to church more often, Bresch.”

Conrad was annoyed. “Can we be silent? In case you haven’t noticed, a holy ritual *is* taking place.” Hugo muttered something under his breath but the matter was not pursued further. The remainder of Mass continued without incident.

Following the priest’s exit from the main hall, the congregation rose to depart, as did Conrad’s staff. He, however, motioned for them to sit, saying that he wished to observe the Crown of Thorns before leaving. The three men, especially Hugo, reluctantly returned to their seats. They all knew better than to annoy Conrad while he was in church.

Conrad, however, was focused on other matters. He could not help but linger on what Hugo had said, and noticed how many of the Arabs present were taking their time leaving the church. Perhaps one of them would try to kill him, after all. Conrad had brought no weapon to church, but put his senses on high alert as he silently prayed for peace. Which one would attack? Was it the one lingering by the altar who had badly fumbled an easy song in the hymnal? The one currently ambling down the aisle, about to pass their pew, who had turned east during the reading of the Apostle’s Creed? The one behind them, who had arrived late? The one diagonally in front and to the left of them, who had held up the Communion line? The one still in his pew off to the side, who kept his face hidden?

As it turned out, the answer was all of them. After the last people had departed the cathedral, those five Arabs plus three more drew knives out as one and charged at Conrad’s group.

They were badly outnumbered and out-armed. The only member of Conrad’s group with a weapon of any kind was Hugo, who drew out a longsword. Conrad saw with displeasure that one of them was the mountain of a man, Achmed, the mute one. Another, the one with his face hidden, was the also-powerful Hamid. He was suddenly giving orders in Arabic. This assassination attempt was obviously not designed to fail.

“HELP! ATTACK! IN THE CATHEDRAL!” Frederick screamed shortly before the tussle began. It was not out of cowardice; he was just trying to even the odds.

The attack came. Hugo was able to hold off three of the potential assailants by holding out his sword; they could not compete with his reach. That still left five. Wilhelm ducked behind the pew; if the attackers were to come for him they would have to go over the top. Frederick was desperately fighting off one trying to plunge his knife in. Most were going for Conrad, however. The King of Outremer, thinking quick, had counter-rushed three men coming at him from the side, surprising the men and spilling the fight out into the center aisle of the Cathedral.

Elated at his success, Conrad tried to wrestle the knife from the closest man, but he wasn’t giving it up easily and now the other two were up and closing in on him. Realizing that this was a battle he could not win, he kicked the first man in his privates and retreated a few steps back. The man was hunched over in pain, blocking the aisle and impeding the other two’s momentum. Conrad had earned a brief respite.

Back in the main pew, a series of wrestling matches were occurring. Somebody had decided to climb over a pew and try for Wilhelm, who was still hunched and ready. However, the pew had slipped and gone askew, causing the man to lose his footing and trip onto Wilhelm. Both were now on the ground, fighting for the knife. Frederick now had Hamid gunning for his throat and it was taking the full strength of both of his arms to try to push the knife away. Despite this, he was still losing.

However, it was Hugo who drew first blood. One of the men he was fending off feinted, paused, and threw his knife at Hugo’s neck. Hugo easily parried it aside and quickly lunged at the now-unarmed thrower, stabbing him in the chest. He went down, moaning, and blood spilled on the stone floor and pews. Hugo turned to the other two men, who were now more cautious.

The three men chasing Conrad were now all up again and closing in on him. Conrad turned and ran down a pew aisle. He reached the other side with the men in about the middle. He gripped the end of the pew and with all his might swung the side. The pew moved, crashing into Conrad’s pursuers, buying him more time. He needed to find a weapon. He found some in the vigil candles (God forgive me, but this is a time of great need), and rushed over to them, grabbing a handful. He only had a split second of grace before he could fire them (Achmed was one of the men chasing him and had recovered instantly). Tossing all the candles in his right hand, he watched as they found their target. Achmed slowed, emitting a wordless scream.

Wilhelm had finally succeeded in wrenching the knife from his attacker’s grip and had managed to stab him in the throat. He turned around and locked blades for a second with a surprised Hamid, who had just overcome Frederick. Wilhelm quickly withdrew, his feet splashing in the blood created by three separate stab wounds. Six to three.

One of the men pursuing Conrad broke off from the chase and ran towards the altar, more specifically the Tabernacle off to the side. Grunting, he picked up the heavy golden box and staggered over to Hugo, chucking it over the heads of the two men he was holding off right at him. Hugo ducked, and the two men rushed him. One managed to implant his knife in Hugo’s back. Hugo, screaming, swung his sword wildly, lopping off the arm of his attacker. The man retreated back to the cathedral’s wall, groaning, and sat down. He was out of the fight, simply waiting to die. Meanwhile, the other two men still on Hugo were pushing him back little by little. Eventually he was back-to-back with Wilhelm, who was being marked by Hamid. The two men were surrounded by pews and attackers. Hamid grinned.

Finally, someone ran back into the church. It was the priest who presided over Mass that day, his white robes flailing as he ran. He couldn’t have been younger than fifty. Nevertheless, he did what was required of him. Hamid, who was completely focused on Wilhelm, never saw him coming. The priest began to choke him from behind. Hamid, surprised, flailed his arms for a minute, allowing Wilhelm to stab him in the stomach. Hamid went down but not before his knife found the priest’s shoulder. Both men went down, Wilhelm’s knife still implanted in Hamid as he fell, causing a large incision to be made. Wilhelm looked ready to vomit, but somehow managed to turn away and face Hugo’s attackers.

Three to four. Conrad ran over to the main action, eager to finally get a knife. As always, he was closely pursued by Achmed and the other man. In one fluid movement, he bounded over the bodies, picked up Hamid’s knife, and slashed, making contact with Achmed’s knee. Good. Maybe that will take some of the speed out of him. Achmed turned around to the other man and gestured rapidly. They switched positions, but Conrad struck as the other man was off-balance. The second that Conrad’s knife was in the other man’s groin, he was vulnerable. As he went down, the other man slashed, making a deep cut in Conrad’s arm. Conrad groaned, staring at Achmed. Both men were injured. After a second, Achmed charged but tripped over all of the corpses. He fell face-first to the ground, the blood splashing up onto Conrad’s shirt. Conrad switched the knife to his uninjured arm and quickly put the knife into the back of Achmed’s neck before he got up. Achmed did not rise.

“Exit’s clear!” Conrad yelled. “Watch for the bodies!”

The three men turned and ran for the exit doors. They were about halfway there when suddenly the doors to three confessional rooms opened. Out rushed Abdullah and two bodyguards. The exit was blocked. The two pursuing them blocked them from going out another way. They were trapped.

Abdullah, drawing a dagger along with his bodyguards, grinned. “One way out of this, Salier. You know it as well as I do. If you legalize the hashish, I might just let you live.”

“Ha!” Conrad spat back. “I would not allow myself to make your ‘generous offer’ be used as a crutch for me so soon.”

“So be it,” Abdullah said simply. He jerked his head in the slightest of motions. At that instant there were footsteps behind Conrad’s group. Hugo reacted quickest, spinning his sword around and making contact with his two attackers. They both fell in a pool of blood. After about five seconds Hugo joined them, his back wound finally getting the better of him. Hugo Bresch, poor Hugo Bresch, the veteran warrior who was against the hashish from the start, now became a casualty, a victim, of the substance. He died doing what he was supposed to do: protect the King of Outremer.

Conrad had no time to weep. He was bleeding freely from his arm and Wilhelm had taken quite a few bruises. The path to retreat was now open, but then all the deaths would have been meaningless. Abdullah would escape and surely organize another assassination attempt, and the next time Conrad wouldn’t have Hugo to protect him.

Without warning, Abdullah and his men charged, catching Conrad and Wilhelm unprepared for a moment. It was enough. They wrestled the two remaining Germans to the ground, the thin layer of blood between them and the hard ground somewhat dulling the impact.

Knives flew everywhere. Conrad took another slash, this time to the leg. Neither had any time to grab Hugo’s sword, and so they were forced to defend themselves at close range. The fighting soon got dirty. One of Abdullah’s men spat in Wilhelm’s eye, temporarily blinding him. Wilhelm took half a second to wipe the spit away, and his attacker used that short period of time as an opening. He plunged the knife in the German’s throat. Wilhelm, crying out silently, did the same in retaliation.

Conrad did not notice. He was too busy with his own battle. A knife was drawing perilously close to his own throat. In desperation, he bit the man’s hand, for his own weapon was being used to fight off Abdullah. Conrad rolled away, managing to grab a second knife from one of the many corpses on the ground.

He took stock of the situation: He was outnumbered, injured in two places, and facing relatively fresh and unhurt foes.

Jesus, grant me strength, he thought, and for a second, his wish was granted. The pain in his arm seemed to wash away, and with all his might Conrad threw both knives at Abdullah’s remaining bodyguard. The aim was off on one, but by luck (or the will of a higher power) that was the one that was blocked. The second throw’s aim was true and the knife embedded itself right in the man’s heart. He was dead before he hit the ground.

It was down to Conrad and Abdullah. The two men stared at each other, and for the first time in his life Conrad was able to stand Abdullah’s bottomless eyes for more than a second. Abdullah was no longer grinning; his face was the epitome of hatred. He raised his knife and flung it. For a third time Conrad was wounded; this time it was in the shoulder. Moaning, he went down.

He opened his eyes and stared at the cathedral’s elaborate ceiling. It seemed to change before his eyes into a blue sky complete with white puffy clouds and white doves flying across his field of view. Is this a hashish vision, or is my life flashing before my eyes?

Suddenly, the brightness of the vision turned dark, and the ceiling returned. A moment later Abdullah’s face, once again grinning, blocked his view. He had picked up another knife. Conrad somehow found the strength to crawl back to avoid Abdullah’s final blow. Finally, though, he came across a roadblock – a corpse – and could crawl no more. Abdullah’s face came into view once more.

“End of the ro-OOMPH!” Abdullah’s speech was interrupted by Conrad shoving his hand in Abdullah’s face. His other hand was busy groping around for a weapon. He had to work quickly, Abdullah was strong and had position, both of his hands were working to get Conrad’s out of the way…

Abdullah finally did so and recovered his vision. In that brief moment he saw Conrad, tired and bloody but still triumphant, holding a longsword and stabbing it forward. Abdullah screamed and fell, adding his blood to the drenched cathedral floor.

Conrad paused and eventually got himself up with the help of two pews. He did not observe the carnage, and slowly limped out of the Cathedral of the Virgin Mary, seeking medical attention. There would be time to grieve later.

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

Some time later, before the masses arrived, a dark, hooded figure stepped into the church. A barely-conscious Abdullah was the only person still living to witness it. This figure seemed to know this fact and made his way straight for Abdullah.

“Rise, Abdullah. That wound is nothing.” The man’s accent was indistinguishable, but his voice was that of poison.

Somehow, at these words Abdullah’s wound did not seem to hurt him anymore. He rose slowly but without a grimace.

“Do you wish revenge on the man who did this to you?”

Abdullah nodded, being unable to speak. After all, the man had just saved his life!

“You will not go back to the hashish. You are done with that silly substance and that foolish cartel. You will go to work for my associates. We are much more powerful and influential than any illegal operation that deals in drugs. We work behind the scenes and control the Reich’s affairs from afar. And we… deal with those Electors that do not cooperate. Your Salier is a target. Will you work with us?”

“Yes, of course… my master.” Abdullah did not consciously remember saying that last bit, but it just came out and he did not correct himself. He did not wish to correct himself.

“Good.” The dark figure clapped his hands. “We will begin immediately. Your first assignment is regarding Ulrich Hummel. He is becoming somewhat of a liability…”

Abdullah, fully reinvigorated with life, followed his new employer, his new master, out of the bloody cathedral and into the light of the day.