Stories thread - King of the Romans PBM

[Ituralde]

Deep in Imperial territory, 1245:

Siegfried retched a final time, as the stench of his own vomit slowly arrived in his nostrils. He was leaning off his horse, but still couldn't tear his gaze from the lonely eye on the ground, which was staring back at him. A fleshy cord was connecting it to the eye socket of what once had been a hare. The body flattened by a wagon wheel, its intestines squeezed upon the road.

He hadn't felt quite well ever since a messenger had brought him a scroll bearing the Emperor's seal. It had interested him ever since, why the Emperor was interested in him. The fourth son of the Duke of Franconia could count himself lucky not to be sent to some monastery and spend the rest of his life in devout contemplation. But suddenly, Emperor Jobst himself had taken an interest in him and every explanation he had so far come up with had left him a little more nauseated.

Finally, he managed to tear his gaze from the dead animal and focused on the men standing around him. It was a small entourage, but he knew most of the men well enough to recognize their uneasy looks. Straightening up he stared down at them, a feat he had learned long ago, although some of his companions were well larger than him.

"As far as you are concerned this has not happened! Have I made myself clear?" His gaze lingers for a moment, before he continues: "And now get me some water, will you!"

As the first gulp of water washed the vile taste out of his mouth, Siegfrieds thoughts once again turned to the encounter ahead of him. What was it the Emperor saw in him. Was he to be used in an elaborate ploy or another to then be discarded later on, or was this an opportunity for genuine advancement. He hoped for the latter, but believed it to be the former. Still, as the fourth son of the Duke of Franconia he couldn't be too picky, besides, you couldn't deny the Emperor. Not yet, anyway.

[Northnovas]

Governor’s residence Damascus 1242

“Meckle, I think this consulting with the soothsayer is not good for you or the image you are presenting to this family.” Karl was continuing an ongoing topic with his wife about a gentleman that she was consulting on occult matters.

“Karl, I have told you many times that this man is able to see into the future. He has told many things, things I want to know for this family. He said a son will come to us. There are great things ahead for you and my brother Arnold. I was told that he can reach the spirits of the dead. I want to speak with my father. It is unfair what he done to me.”

“Enough! It appears that this person has influenced you somewhat or the ladies of the house. It is nonsense to speak with the spirits. That kind of talk can you into trouble, our faith is much stronger to believe in such things.” Karl toned his voice down and continued.
“Great things will come to a man who trust his faith in God and obeys his Kaiser and Duke. It is with hard work, he is only telling things you want to hear. Of course a son will come that is what we want to carry the Austrian family line. I will have no more talk of this and I want you stop consulting with this magician”

“Gihadji is his name” cried Meckle in frustration. “If you want me to stop seeing him then I only ask one thing that you meet him and see what he says is true or not”

The Count thought for a moment, “Alright I will this afternoon, briefly and then put an end to this nonsense before everyone starts talking.”


Latter that afternoon at the residence

Karl knew this was not a good idea and had no use for such nonsense. However, he loved his wife dearly and this was the only issue that has come out since she has been travelling with in the Outremer. If he did not put an end to this soon there will be talk and embarrassment from the nobility. There has been a few of these individuals “preying” on the his peers and to only accumulate wealth as they leach and telling their clients of good omens and luck. A good opportunity comes along and these magicians fool them to say it was there doing. They only remember the good and not bad misinformation.

Karl came into the parlour where Meckle was talking to a man. It was quick to make the assumption that this was Gihadji the Soothsayer. He was tall and slender looking, he had the look of the Horse Lords but not quite. His skin was more olive colour, and he had very little facial hair except some scarce hair on his chin. He looked to be in his 50’s and his eyes were very dark. He had a calmness about him and almost approachable yet mysterious. His clothing was nothing extravagant, tan coloured robe and a head dress that was unfamiliar.

“My lord, it is a great honour to meet you” Gihadji made a low bowing motion.

“Yes, I am sure it is” said Karl has he went to sit in the main chair.

“Karl this Gihadji, the man I wanted you meet and listen too. I will excuse myself and let the two of you talk.” Meckle curtsied towards her husband and left the room closing the doors.

The soothsayer sat down across for the Count and began to speak.
“My lord, I know that you have some doubts of my abilities but I come from a family that as for many generations been able to see into the future and assist important people like yourself.”

“I am sure you have been of a great service to many let’s get on with this.” the Count already having no patience and regretting that he agreed to this meet.

“Yes, yes my lord, I am only hear to assure you that I come with sincere intentions.”

Gihadji then pulled some cards on the table that looked like playing cards similar to the ones that Karl remembered from his time in Italy. With his long slender hands he laid the cards out and shuffled them around all the time talking to the Count. He also told the Count that he could read the hands of people and advise them of their health and future.

The afternoon wore on as the Gihadji continued to explain the cards and what was in store for the Count. Though the Count kept his doubts to himself he went along with what he was being told. Even though his faith was great there was something tangible about these pagan beliefs. Asking or wishing for something material and not having God involved. Carrying that good luck charm gave a tangible hope.

The meeting finally ended in the late afternoon. It was getting near dinner time and Karl was getting hungry.

The conversation was wrapping up and Gihadji continued,

“.. there will be an heir for you. You will have success in the battlefield however, beware. I must remind you what the cards have told me. Careful who you have into your confidence for there could be a great betrayal the number 64 is not a good omen. Also be very mindful of the letters WITHS.

“Yes, thank you I will. I must leave I have other pressing matters and spent more then enough time with you today. How much?”

“How much!? Nothing my lord I ask nothing I have come on my own good will had the request of the Countess. I only wish to share my knowledge.”

“Alright, grab yourself a meal in the servant’s quarters before you leave. I would not want to have your services go unpaid.” With that Karl got up and left the room. Leaving Gihadji to head for the kitchen to eat.

Meckle saw her husband in the hall and approached him.

“Well?” she asked in anticipation

“Well what, there was nothing I need to know from him” said Karl flatly

A look of disappointment crossed Meckle’s face.

“However.” Continued Karl. “I do find the chap amusing I will let you and your ladies consult with him while we are in the city. But it goes no further he will not be part of our entourage when travelling to Europe. Hopefully you will get tired of the parlour games and see on your own accord that it is just amusement and nothing more and only by then I hope the rest of the nobility doesn’t find out and begin talking about the pagan magician of the Zirn’s.


Later that evening in the courtyard

“Ingo what brings you out tonight?” asked Karl. Who was very pleased to speak with Ingo the Rhinelander. Ingo had joined the Count after the fall of Damascus. He was a little older then Karl but was very wise and battle experienced in these lands. Besides a protector he was also mentor on military matters. The Count found great comfort discussing issues with Ingo since the passing of Duke Leopold. He did not get a chance to really learn from his father in law.

“It is a beautiful clear night and I wished to speak with you My lord if I may be frank?” said Ingo.

“Of course what concerns you?”

“Your meeting today with that magician character. I don’t like the likes of it and it will get people talking. Those kinds of traits are not for a noble of your stature.”

“Yes, you are correct Ingo but do not concern yourself. It is a matter to please the Countess while she is out in this god forsaken land. I wanted to meet him personally and I will see in time that she will grow tired and dismiss him.” Karl gave a pat on the back to his friend and reassured him that there was nothing to be worried about. However, he did not look to convincing.

“Very well my lord I know you know better of these matters. The horses are ready for our ride out tomorrow for some scouting and preparation of our forces in Adanna.” With that Ingo said goodnight and headed to his quarters leaving the Count alone in the courtyard to think things over.

[AussieGiant]

Budapest 1254

Two hulking figures could be seen walking their horses through the battlefield just outside the gates of Budapest. It was early dawn and the first rays of light were breaking the gloom of a moonless night.

The first man was dressed in chain mail and bear skins...and he was huge. At six foot six, he stood as tall as his horse and if it wasn't for the massive double headed ax slung on his back it might have been a comical sight.

The other was covered in night black plate mail from head to foot. Not a single piece of livery, markings or other armour type could be seen. It was an unnatural construction of armour to look at. His helmet completely enclosed his head, and from this came the hollow empty sound of his voice.

“I think you were right my friend. This is a place of death and destruction. We have chosen well it seems.”

The Black Knight was greeted with little more than a grunt in acknowledgment from his hulking companion.

As they approached the massive gates of Budapest, soldiers could be seen carrying bodies out to the mass grave lining one side of the battlefield. Crows and other carrion birds circled above in anticipation of a lucky morning.

Upon approaching the gates the two figures were confronted by a unit of heavy foot knights blocking their path.

“Halt and be identified!!” The unit leader shouted the command with authority.

The Barbarian did as request, the Black Knight however flick the reins of his horse to his companion and walk steadily and silently towards the unit commander.

At this action, the ten man squad immediately drew weapons and prepared themselves for action.

Raising a jet black gauntlet the knight boomed in an unholy and echoing voice; “Calm yourselves children!!”

The men froze instantly, the feeling of cold ice ran through them at hearing the dark knights voice.

Stopping inches from the unit leader the knight continued in a harsh whisper.

“My friend here is the Berserker Grom, and I am called, in some lands, the Dread Knight Bane. WE...WILL...pass, or I will kill you, and your men....”

The unit commander could feel the icy breath of the Dread Knights words not more than a few centimeters from his face.

Time stood still for what seemed like minutes to the Austrian heavy foot knights.

Suddenly, the Dread Knight stepped passed the unit commander, caught the reins of his horse in one motion and proceeded past the Austrian soldiers.

Both figures moved through the gloom filled gates without another word.

------------------------------------------

Arnold stood from the tavern table surrounded by his captains, Sigfried and Sigismund.

Looking at the door in concentration, Arnold suddenly began walking towards it, collected his sword as he went.

Glancing around nervously the captains looked expectedly at Sigismund for an answer. With none forth coming they rose as one and followed the Duke outside.

Once outside the scene before them was both confusing and fearful.

Two of the most imposing figures any of them had ever seen were kneeling at the Duke's feet receiving a field knighting in the dawn gloom.

Turning towards his Captains, Arnold proceeded back inside the tavern. Halfway past them he said; “Men, we have two knew members of my retinue. Make them feel welcome will you.”

Both figures made there way inside the tavern leaving the captains in a state of awe and fear outside the tavern entrance.

Finally one said; “Christ on the cross, who, or what were they?”

One of the grizzled senior captains replied; “I've been around since Leopold was Duke and I've never seen or felt anything more chilling than those two.”

The other replied: “Agreed, but how did Duke Arnold know to meet them outside when he did?”

After some moments with no reply they we collectively left with more concerns than they ever had before.

[Warluster]

Frankfurt, 1252

It was a dark, foggy midnight. A heavy mist was hanging over Frankfurt, the City was asleep. Only the sound of dogs could be heard.

IN one of the dirty, horrible slums, sat a Danish man. A man who'd be hiding for 30 Years. He used to be a Lord of Denmakr, now he was a peasent. A simple peasent in Germany.

A knock could be heard, a knock which sounded through the house. The man jumped, drawing what was his hair from his face. He wore rags. The man grabbed a knife, his eye twicthing, he walked catiously towards the door.

A pistol sounded from behind him. He stopped, and a silence procedded, a silence, of uttermost dread. The man turned around, to find a man cloaked in blakc, his face covered, standing behind him, a small gun aiming at the peasents head.
"Sit" drawled the cloaked man, the peasent sat, but sat as if there was a bomb stuck to the chair. The cloaked man sat. No one spoke, as moonlight lit the room.
"I'm sorry..." started the man, but was stopped by the intruder by a raised hand.
"You did not fufill your promise, I thought you, a Count of Denmark, could at least provide some sort of... service." said the man, his voice like stabbing daggers at the Peasent. The man broke down, and dropped from his chair to the cloaked mans feet.
"I tryed too... It was too hard!" he cried, tears splashing down his face.
"Then how... how did He do it?" asked the man, speaking of some other man.
"He,he... must be working with the Kaiser!" declared the peasent, still sobbing.
"Don't you dare say his name!" hissed the cloaked man, and the peasent backed away fearfully.
"You are no more use... the Kaiser suspects something, though that was 10 years ago. I have new people serving me. I came here, not for your apologies, but to dispose of you." he whispered, drawing in the man.
"NO!! YOU CAN'T!!" screamed the peasent, a bang sounded through the air, and the man dropped dead, hitting the ground. The cloaked man walked over to the peasent, and kneeled. He grabbed the mans arm, and raised it. THen he gave him a knife, and finally the knife in the dead peasents hand, was sticking from the mans head.

The cloaked man whisked away, leaving a man, a man who had been at the forests of Frankfurt, 1218 with the then Prinz Jobst.

His services, were dealed and done.

Kaiser Jobst's encampment

Jobst coughed and heaved, as he lay in his cosy tent. He was sick, very sick. So sick he sometimes fainted. The tent was littered with things marking his status. Seals, notes and letters bearing names.

Dieter entered, a long blakc cloak trailing behind him.
"Sir, are you al right?' he wondered, Jobstvomited into a bucket.
"Of course I am Dieter, just-" he vomited again "great" finished Jobst, his eyes bloodshot.
"What did you summon me for?" asked Dieter, his nose wrinkled from the smell.
"Dieter, I have a important task. You of course, are my most loyal servant" stated Jobst, coughing. Dieter nodded, "I need you to keep a eye on some troublesome men from the Diet. There is one, I think, who knows too much..." finished Jobst, looking Dieter in the eyes.
"Yes,sir. If anyone finds out, I am sure the consequences shall be severe. The Diet, for one, shall spit it out like duck-" The curtain to the tent opened, in came Lucas, eyeing them suspicously.
"Sir, this has gone too far." Lucas stabbed a accusing finger at Dieter.
"He, he is planning something. Yesterday, the Guards told me, he left the camp, and came back some 7 hours later." accused Lucas, speaking directly to Jobst.
"I was observing the Danes"
"I bloody well know you weren't!" roared Lucas, "you went to them, didn't you!? Or maybe Frankfurt!?" he roared,he turned on the spot, and left.

"Sir, I assure you I never went anywhere..." started Dieter,
"I know you didn''t. he is too tired from this whole... mess. All will be fine" finished Jobst, beckoning Dieter too leave.

Dieter stepped outside, the camp was in a fluury. THe two guards stood firm, and saluted. Nodding, Dieter walked away.
But not too soon, a figure loomed in the shadows of a tent. Dieter ignored the person, and soon, was gone.

All, for now. Was well.

[Warluster]

1255, Dijon, Jobst von Salza's Funeral

The air was still, it reflected the feeling in the crowd below.

Slowly, a steady thud of boots could be heard, as the trees waved, as if in mourning for their Kaiser. Germany's Kaiser. A group of heavily armed Knights came marching through the middle of the crowd.

Slowly, but surely, came six men, carrying a large wooden coffin, bearing in golden writing, the name Jobst von Salza. The men, were important Counts and Dukes of the Holy Roman Empire, those who had attended the Kaisers funeral, which was a must.

They were men, men handpicked by Jobst years before he died. Men he believed he owed favours too, or did a special thing for him. Those men were Siegfred, Lothar , Ansehelm, Friedrich, Gunther and Gerhad.

Following behind them, was several of Jobst's retinue. Lucas, Dieter and Jobst's wife, Heidindrudis and there daughters and son, Lyse, Meinburg and Athalwolf.

This group passed through the crowd, they were marching the streets of Dijon, a request made before Jobst was dead. "I want to pass through a crowd I nearly died for, and my friends died for" Jobst had said to Dieter.

The peasents, honored, never forgetting the times Jobst had saved them before he was even Prince. At least 5 times.

Finnally, the group passed up the stairs of the Church, and there was seated a host who had known Jobst, and the nobles of the Holy Roman Empire. The coffin bearers, their heads bowed. They gently placed the coffin on a large stand, and took their places.

A priest went forward, and stood there.
"We are here today, to honor the deceased Jobst von Salza, Kaiser of the Holy Roman Empire...." the man continued on for some minutes, finally, he finished with,
"We shall have speakers, and then a minute silence for the great Jobst von Salza. May Dieter please speak" and he sat down, Dieter walked forward, standing near the back. He stood, back to the crowd, then faced them.

"Mein lords, Jobst von Salza, born 1110, and died 1254, in battle. He was adopted into the Royal Family in the year 1140. Appointed Count of Dijon, he then procedded to fight off more then 4 Sieges by large French armies. He was thus, made Prince.

"Jobst, then, helped the Swabian Dukes to restore peace abroad Swabia, and sometimes Italy. After carefully thinking about accompanying the Crusaders, he stayed. After several peceful years, years when Outremer was established, several dramas happened, and kuch more, he was appointed, by the then Kaiser Henry, the commander of the European Imperial Army.

"The army, was immdediatly in strife. After ambushing a large Danish Army, details which are still mysterious, and many heated discussions started in the Imperial Diet. That, mein friends, is where I joined Jobst, and I still loyally serve his dieing wishes."

"Afterwards, when Kaiser Henry died in the year 1242, Jobst became Kaiser. The years following, were stable. Mainly, he devoted his time to helping the Russian Crusade start off. And of course, commanding his beloved EIA."

"As we all know, Ulrich Hummel became Chancellor, and deposited the Reich into a horrible well. He thus, commited suicide, after the Diet voted him out. Kaiser Jobst assumed his rightful role of Chancellor, and worked to restore order. He did, and when all was well, he retired from the position."

"And thats where he leaves you my friends, he grew up in a time, when Kaiser Heinrich reigned, when the Empire a mere seedling. And he died, Kaiser, ruler of what is today a world superpower. My friends, I hope you remember him. He of course, left me, and a few others, things to do. He left a letter, written shortly before the tragic battle, where he was struck...
I shall read out to you this letter...

"
I write this to all mourners, all those I leave behind. But things are left behind, things I want done.

Firstly, I write to dear Anshelm. I leave you, probably under siege in Thorn. You may not know, but I devoted these last years of my life to helping you with this Crusade. I wished to accompany you with the Crusade, but I say one thing, do not hear the words of others. The Crusade, you must complete, to lands unknown. You were, what I consider, supportive, and I wish you good health, and good luck.

Secondly, I write to Lothar. I owe you much, you may not know it as well, but you have done many,many favors, showing unwavering support. I leave you, Steward of Bavaria, with a newly captured Castle. I always said i would repay you. I offer you the hand of my daughter, Lyse von Salza. THis is one of my final wishes.

Fourthly, and lastly, Siegfred. You have been with me for only a few monthes, in this year of 1253, but I know great things await you. And I have several wishes. First off, please, if Lothar wishes it, to let Lyse marry Lothar. And lastly, you are now Commander of the EIA, which is to now be called the KIA. Kaiser's Imperial Army. It shall of course, pass owndership with every Kaiser. I leave you with a Empire, look after it.

And one more thing, Dieter. I say, remeber the mission. of uttrmost importance, it is!

I never publicly announced, but Dieter is to be hold a new position. He is now the personal serveant of every Kaiser, and his line of spies shall serve the line of Kaisers. Please uphold this Siegfred, but he has one more mission to perform, before he is yours.

Good luck all, and farewell!

Dieter, crying, bows his head, and a minute silence passes. A minute, to remember all happy and sad moments of Jobst von Salza's life.

And that, that is the end of his reign. As he passes into the true Kingdom of Heaven. Dead, he fades from this earth. Forever gone.

But never truly defeated.

[Ignoramus]

Adana, 1256

Things were taking an ugly turn in the Reich. Who knew what terrible events his actions would now cause?

"Alea jacta est!" shouted Wolfgang, as he raised Kaiser Hans' standard.

Wolfgang addressed his men, "Men, from now on, we serve only Kaiser Hans, the true Kaiser, and declare Siegfried von Kastillien and all who serve him as traitors. War may be forced upon us, but we will not waver in our determination to do right. Gott mitt uns!"

[AussieGiant]

ROME 1256

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Coop story between myself and PK

Arnold and his retinue had found exactly where Jan von Hamburg was to take ship back to Outremer. The Duke of Austria was determined to confront the young Franconian and make him take back his insults or die.

They had found an inn near the wharf that would hold the ship taking Jan and his Teuton Knight to sea. Huddled around a table near the fire pit Arnold and his two companions were talking in hushed tones. The sheer size and presence emanating from the three was enough to ward off all other patrons. Every table around them was empty save for the scattered remains of food and drink left by patrons who had made a quick departure once the three figures had sat down.

“This trumped up piece of merde is going to pay for his words!”

Arnold smashed his mailed fist onto the table sending the empty goblets crashing to the floor.

The tavern was immediately still as the patrons glanced nervously to see if the three men would cause trouble.

Grom the barbarian, stole a glance at the Dread Knight and mouthed the word “merde” in confusion. He clearly had no idea what the word meant.

Glancing quickly back at the young Duke, Grom's face fell back into its stoic form as Arnold continued his fuming.

"I want you two to do is keep that Teutonic sack of pig shiet away from me so I can take out Jan myself. If you have to kill him then so be it, the fact he insulted me and refused to apologies means his life is forfeit in my view.”

“My Lord, do you think it wisse to attack another member of the Diet?”. The cold hiss of the Dread Knights voice came through the grill of his great helm. If it seemed strange that he always wore his unnatural suit of black obsidian plate armour, then again no one ever mentioned it, not even Grom who was the only person to be seemingly unaffected by his presence.

“WISE!!! What is not wise my black suited killer is Jan's words to me in the Diet!! THAT WAS NOT WISE!!!”

Moments passed in silence.

“Tonight, when Jan comes to the wharf I will confront him and seek satisfaction. Occupy the Teuton and make sure he allows honour to be had.” Arnold stood, looking at them, his intensity was like a blade running from his eyes to each of his followers.

“Get ready. We leave in half and hour.”

--------------------

The docks were deserted save a few men on odd errands. It was dusk and the ship taking Jan and his Teuton Knight was due to leave in an hour.

Arnold, the Berserker and the Dread Knight stood entirely still waiting in the approaching gloom.

Time passed without any perceptible move from the three figures.

Eventually the sound of hooves could be heard.

Then, into view came the young von Hamburg and the Teutonic Knight, both riding war horses and fitted out in full armour.

“GET OFF THAT HORSE AND PREPARE TO DEFEND YOURSELF JAN!!” Arnold voice cut through the silence like the crack of thunder.

“Are you seriously considering a duel Arnold? Are you mad?” Even in the face of the young Dukes dreaded visage, Jan's voice was steady.

“Mad...I'd say your mad, given I've killed men for less offenses than you have committed.” Arnold drew his father sword and raise his shield as he took a step forward.

“Lord Jan, this is ridiculous, if the Kaiser hears of this you could both be sent to god knows where in punishment.” The Teuton expertly moved his horse between the two nobles. Drawing his sword he pointed it at the Austrian Duke. “I'm sworn to protect him with my life Duke Arnold. I will not allow you to fight him.”

In one sudden movement Grom unhitched his Great Axe and swung it clean through the head of the Teutons horse. Man and beast were sent crashing to the ground is spray of blood and gore. Only years in the saddle allowed the Knight to expertly avoid being crushed by the one tonne animal in full armour.

“That's not going to happen Teuton.” Grom smiled at the sight of the headless horse. Looking back at the Dread Knight, Grom's smiled at the carnage of his huge swing. “Not bad hey!?”

“Ahh Grom, it's not over fella, I think you've annoyed him.” Bane's casual tone was warning enough. Grom snapped his head back and amazingly saw that the Knight was on his feet and charging the Barbarian Berserker. His hand and a half sword raised above his head for a killing stroke.

In the blink of an eye Grom raised his steel axe handle catching the blade inches from his face. Astonished at the strength of the smaller man, Grom quickly gained the upper hand when it came to a straight test of strength.

Sparks flew as the barbarian began exerting his massive frame on the point where the two weapons met. Suddenly the pressure was gone as the Teuton side stepped and put some space between himself and the hulking northern ogre.

Circling they began the dance of death. Speed and technique against sheer strength.

--------------------------

Steel clashed on steel behind the two Germanic Lords as they eyed each other in hatred.

“You're going to regret your words Jan. Now get off that stinking horse and face me like a man.”

Without a word Jan dismounted, hitched his shield and drew his sword.

Calmly Jan looked Arnold in the eyes and said; “Ok you butcher, lets see whether what you did to those Hungarian prisoners, you can do to me!”

Arnold eyes widened in rage.

With a suddenness that defied all reason their blades meet, sparks showering the battle ground in the fading light.

--------------------------

Sweat ran down Grom's spine. He'd never faced someone this skilled. Normally by now a mistake would have been made and at least some part of his opponents body would be lying on the ground completely detached from the rest of his opponent.

That seemed to not be the case tonight. Realising fatigue was setting in Grom knew he had to gamble or the fight would end with him bleeding from some mortal wound.

Sweeping his Axe in slower and slower arcs he knew he had to goad the Teuton into over extending himself.

Finally the Teuton took the opening. With a last burst of speed the Knight began thrusting the point of his hand and a half sword at the Berserker's eyes. Swaying from side to side Grom could feel the point pass within inches of his head each time. Suddenly the point of his opponents blade dropped, too late the Berserker felt the point of the blade pierce his shoulder, sliding through his ring mail and leather jerkin like a hot knife.

Pain exploded through his body, Grom's eyes misted over and he fell back clutching his bleeding shoulder, roaring in agony at the wound he had just taken. It was at that moment he started to feel the familiar pull of the red rage begin to take him.

Raising his sword for the finishing stroke the Teuton's mortal blow was block by the shield of the Dread Knight.

“It's over Teuton. You've done well, but you're finished. Let our masterss fight thiss out.” The Dread Knight was deathly still his sword drawn but held low.

The Teutonic Knight staggered back. The final blow had not fallen and now before him stood the deathly figure of Bane the Dread Knight. In the rapidly approaching gloom the black knight's outline was becoming harder to make out with each passing second.

His thoughts drifted to the stories he had heard of the Dread Knight. Speed was his forte, he was reputedly faster than any man alive and could gut a man in seconds should he need to.

Through his helm he could hear the ringing clash of the two nobles battling it out not more than 10 yards away. The man he was sworn to protect was in mortal combat.

“That's not possible Bane, I must protect my lord or die trying.”

The Dread Knight calmly responded; “If you attack me you know you will die.”

Slumping in feigned exhaustion the Teuton waited for Bane's reaction.

The Dread Knights sword dropped just slightly.

With a sudden movement he leaped at Bane, dropping his sword and reaching for his dagger. With shocking speed the Dark Knight dropped to one knee, bringing the tip of his sword up to catch the Teuton cleanly in the throat.

Blood fountained from the back of the Order Knights neck, and with amazing bravery he pulled himself along the Dread Knights blade to bring his dagger to bear. Bane's eyes widened in shock at this amazing feat, his red rimmed eyes showing fear momentarily.

Then, with a ear splitting roar and the crack of metal on bone, Bane glimpsed Grom's massive double headed ax slicing directly above his own head taking Teutons helm from his shoulders.

The body slumped to the ground. Blood pumping from the gaping wound where a head should be.

“Jesus Mother of Merciful Gods, did you see that Bane?”

The Dread Knight stood from his kneeling position and surveyed the headless corpse.

Glancing at Grom; “Yes I did. It was the most disturbing thing I've seen in some time.” said the Dread Knight quietly.

--------------------------

Some distance away the struggle continued between the two Reich Nobles.

Shield and sword were nicked and scarred from numerous hard blows. In the distance the crash of boots could be heard as the city watch was drawing near.

“I'll have your sanctimonious head on a pole Jan, take back your insult or I'll kill you here and now!!”

Jan knew not to respond. Saving his energy and breath for his own defence was far more important that swapping words with this crazed killer from the east.

He must be tiring thought Jan. The pace of the fighting had been blinding. Faster and more precise that anything he had encountered before.

Arnold was not the strongest, the fastest or the most technical, BUT he was a combination of all three that was something Jan had ever seen before.

And then it came.

As if in slow motion a vicious series of combination attacks began that completely opened up his defence. In one last act of defiance Jan raised his shield edge and caught the Duke under the chin of his helm. The Dukes head snapped back, but not far enough to prevent him from bringing down a terrific blow on the exposed shoulder of Jan's sword arm.

Smashing aside the shoulder plate and slicing through the mail and padding, the young Dukes sword bit deeply into Jan body.

Slumping to the ground in exhaustion Jan's head was swimming in agony. In the distance he thought he could hear shouting and the hammering of metal on metal.

--------------------------

“Goddamn it!!!” roared Arnold.

“Rome would have to have more troops in it that just about any other god forsaken City in Northern Italy wouldn't it?!!” The accusing tone of his voice made it seem as if Grom was at fault.

“To be fair my Lord there was thirty of them, what were we supposed to do? Fight all of them?” Grom's bandaged shoulder was be attended to by a attractive young women and he was only vaguely paying attention to the crazed figure of the Austrian Duke pacing up and down his enormous study.

“We'll find him my Lord.” Bane tried to sound convincing, but the idea of traveling to Outremer when there was perfectly good Hungarian's to kill sound like hard work to the Dark Knight.

“Indeed we will Bane. Indeed we will.” The Dread Duke could be seen gazing into the fire place lost in thought.

His eyes glowing red from the fire...or so it would seem.