Stories thread - King of the Romans PBM

[AussieGiant]

Ragusa 1268

Standing in his stirrups Arnold shaded his eyes to better look at the Sicilian encampment.

"%&$&ing Hell. They really think this is some type of joke don’t they!!!?

There was complete silence from the Duke’s party and his Bodyguard Captain. All of them knew it was a rhetorical question but designed to have someone answer, and then have the Duke vent on them.

“But your Grace they could be lost.” The Priest voice was full of hope that his explanation would be understood.

And audible groan could be heard from the other members of Arnold’s retinue.

“WHAT THE @#$%^&!!!ING HELL DID YOU JUST @#$%^&!!!ING SAY!!!??”

Before he could respond the Duke continued.

“Did I just hear you say they could be @#$%^&!!!ing lost!!?? LOST!!!?? WHAT @#$%^&!!!ING planet are you ON priest!!?

LOST!!?? What on God’s little green earth gives you the impression they are lost!!? Have you spoken to them!!? Look, they have even set up jakes!!”

“But, your Grace…”

“BUT WHAT?! Do you think men who are lost take the time to dig shiet HOUSES!!??

“Well no your Grace, but…”

“BUT WHAT?! Do you have any idea what you are talking about Priest!!??”

“Well no your Grace, but…”

“Mother of Merciful gods!! Will you just shut up then!!

“Yes your Grace.”

Sitting in silence for sometime the Dukes next order was not forthcoming.

Leaning across his saddle Grom whispered loudly to the Priest.

“That went well...did you actually engage your brain before speaking, or was that some blinding bit of insight sent to you by the Lord Himself?”

Before a response could come out of the priest’s mouth, Arnold yanked his horse’s head around and started off towards the Sicilian encampment.

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

Upon seeing the six riders approach, the Sicilian encampment suddenly looked like a hornet’s nest.

Within minutes a group of 20 riders where galloping out to meet the Duke’s party.

As the two groups approached the Captain and Duke moved slightly forward to speak.

“Duke Arnold, a pleasure to finally meet you” said the Sicilian.

His answer was met with stone silence and a grim stare from the Duke.

The captain’s face slowly betrayed his anger at the lack of response.

Staring at the Duke with increasing offence as no answer was forthcoming, the Captains face began to turn red at the insult being accorded to him.

Finally the Duke responded. “Are you married?”

The confusion on his face evident at the strange question; “What do you mean Lord Arnold?”

“ARE YOU MARRIED CAPTAIN!!?” The fury in Arnold voice cracked over the Captain making him flinch in his armour.

“YES!!”

Reaching into his saddle bag the Duke pulled out a bag of coins.

“Who’s the second in command here??!!!” No one answered. Dropping the bag on the ground in front of the gathered Sicilian’s Arnold turned back to the Captain.

“Defend yourself Captain!!”

“WHAT!!?”

Managing to duck the half speed swipe Arnold took at the Captains head the entire area burst into action.

Swords were drawn en mass, but with a practised move the four members of Arnold’s retinue, minus one horrified priest, quickly moved to block the twenty or so Sicilian’s in the field.

“IF ANY ONE OF YOU SCUM WANTS A PIECE OF ACTION I’LL KILL YOU!!” Grom’s huge frame dominated the gap between the two opposing groups.

Only the barbarians bludgeoning voice and the grim look of the Dread Knight and his two companions forced the Sicilian’s into no action.

Circling each other warily the Duke spoke softly; “You’re a fool Captain, and for that you will die.”

Arnold quickly took the measure of the Sicilian. It was going to be a short fight he thought.

“Your Grace, what are you doing!!??” The priest’s voice cut through the silence as both groups watched the unfolding duel.

With a quick lean in the saddle, a clean miss from the Captain, and a brutally fast counter strike by the Duke, it was all over.

The Captain’s headless corpse remained in the saddle for a few moments before clattering to the ground.

Riding back to the Sicilian’s, Arnold stood in the stirrups as he had done an hour before when observing the encampment.

His voice full of venom and strength it carried to the army some one hundred yards distant; “The money is for his wife and family, make sure it goes to them. If not then I’ll find out and you’ll follow him into the after life.

You’re trespassing!! Get off my land or there will be more bloodshed and it won’t be Austrian!!!”

With that, the Duke turned and rode back towards the Citadel without a backward glance.

[flyd]

Edessa, 1272

It had rained during the night. It usually doesn't, but it had, and everything was wet and slippery. Like every other early morning, Fredericus von Hamburg was up, performing some sort of inspection, review, or other useful task. This morning, it was the walls.

He walked along the eastern wall with some of his most trusted bodyguards (or, as trusted as they could get in the short time, the turnover for his bodyguard group was rather short). The Mongols were the topic of discussion.

"I don't know what they're hoping to accomplish," said one of them, "this wave seems similar to the others, and they didn't stand a chance."

"We should not underestimate them," added another, "the last wave insisted on pressing forward and ended up being surrounded. The leader of this one might be a little smarter."

"And do what exactly?" responded the first, "Not press forward? Stay back, sit in the desert until... what?"

"Until we attack them," Fredericus interrupted.

Everyone looked at him as they reached one of the gates.

"Let's head to ground level to inspect the gate," he added, and then continued, "I made the mistake last time of thinking that the Mongols could be induced into attacking. I guess they thought they could find an easier target somewhere along, but we were prepared. We'll be even better prepared this time, they might end up avoiding us altogether. We have to attack."

"But why? If they avoid us, have we not already succeeded?" said one of the bodyguards as the group approached the stairway in the gatehouse which was wet because the roof was not built to cope with the amount of rain that had fallen.

"Because it is glorious to fall in battle to defend the Outremer. You may have other chances, but I..."

Fredericus von Hamburg (the Brave, the Crusader, the Honorable...), Ex-Chancellor of the Holy Roman Empire, Count of Hamburg, Crusader Count of Aleppo, Grand Crusader and Knight of the Holy Roman Empire, on that day, the twenty-third day of August in the year of our Lord one thousand two hundred and seventy-two, did slip, and being unable to regain his balance, tumbled down the stairway, losing his life.

[Privateerkev]

Edessa 1272

Jan walked into the city. All around him was teeming with activity. Finishing touches were being put on the huge walls. Work had already begun on making the towers tall and strong enough to hold ballistas. Provisions were being stockpiled. Regiments were training in the courtyard. The city was preparing for the Mongol horde that was approaching. But all of that could wait because Jan had something else he had to attend to.

With Maximillian and Gunther in tow, Jan strode through the streets and up to the chapel. By himself, Jan strode inside. It was empty except for the body of Fredericus von Hamburg. Jan walked up to his father and kneeled at the casket. On his knees, Jan thought of his father. He never knew him very well. His father was always distant. Jan knew his father loved him but Fredericus was not one to show it. Well, he showed it in other ways. Like when he was Chancellor he kept Jan from joining him at Edessa during the second Mongol wave. Fredericus had said he did not want the whole Hamburg line to die at once. When he was kept away from the action, Jan was devastated.

All of Jan's adult life, he had been trying to win his father's approval. It was why he was so headstrong. Why he was so outspoken. Why he took risks in the Diet and on the battlefield. Jan thought that if he proved himself, his father would be proud of him and let Jan join him in battle against the Mongols. It was why he had picked a fight with Duke Arnold.

As Jan knelt, he remembered what little his father had taught him. He remembered his fathers plans to become Duke and secede Franconia from the Reich. For some reason though, Dietrich gave the Duchy to Gunther Kastilian. Fredericus had traveled to Outremer to find glory and took a young Jan in tow. But, as many do, Fredericus found God in Outremer and became a changed man. He taught Jan that it was out here in Outremer that one could do good work. He said the Reich was filled with self-serving men back home that would sell out Germany for a handful of florins. Jan grew up learning that the Kastilians were just going to destroy their House with their own selfishness and ineptitude. And that only a couple of men could be trusted to do what was right like the King and Ebelhard. Jan remembered his father's last words to the Diet. He had said that it was time for Outremer to become a house.

His father was right. The people back home had no idea about the Holy mission. All they cared about was expanding their duchies until their borders became impossible to defend. Fools like Lothar questioned the expense of Outremer. In order to secure its future, Outremer needed to be made a fifth house. Crusader Counts needed to be loyal to the cause and the cause only. Otherwise, they are still susceptible to the whims of their Dukes. Only by becoming a house, could Outremer guarantee that its holy mission would be fulfilled. But Jan was not that naive. This would not happen quickly or easily. It might take Jan's whole life. It might not even happen in Jan's lifetime. But, Jan thought, I can start.

He would have to be quiet and he would have to be careful. Ansehelm had become Duke and he was going to drive the duchy into the ground, Jan was sure of it. Jan was already feeling the pressure. Ansehelm had blamed Jan for CA 11.8 and claimed that it was an attempt by Jan to get him killed. The fool, Jan thought, I wasn't trying to get him killed, I just wanted him to stop murdering others. But, Ansehelm was paranoid and power hungry. He assumed the Kaiser would always be his little brother so he could get away with anything he wanted. Ansehelm had already made clear to Jan that he considered him a threat. Jan knew a recall order from his Duke was going to come for him and order him back to Germany. Jan would ignore it as long as he could. Outremer was his home. The Crusaders were his family.

Kneeling at his father's casket thinking all of these thoughts, Jan realized something. He realized that one of the reasons he was sad was because he now would never be able to prove himself to his father. He shouldn't have to prove himself to anyone. He had his God. He had his purpose. And he had a mission. If he wanted to do good work, he had to stop worrying about what others thought. Those that understood, would help. Those that didn't, would not help until they one day understood. Jan had started serving the King because his father had asked him to. Now he did it because he believed it was the right thing to do. Crusading into Jerusalem had changed him. Jan was always a pious man but now he was starting to realize that the mission was bigger than him. And he not only realized it but started, for the first time in his life, to be ok with it.

There was much to do before the Mongols came. For Outremer to become a powerful enough political force to fulfill its Holy mission, it first had to survive. And the Mongols were a threat to that survival. They had to be stopped. And the King had entrusted Jan with Edessa's survival. The Mongols were exterminating every city in their way. Well, they are not going to get this city as long as I am alive, Jan thought. With that sense of urgent purpose, Jan stood up, made the sign of the cross at his father's body, said a prayer for his father to find peace in heaven, and strode out of the chapel.

[Kagemusha]

Rome 1272

Few hours after his seizure in the Diet hall, Jonas Von Mahren sat on his bedside doing absolutely nothing. Just sitting there without any thoughts, emotions or anything. He just couldnt believe what had happened. First Erhart at the battle of Durazzo and now Sigismund at the walls of Bran. He still had daughters, but no sons, atleast men he had thought to be his sons. His wife had told him during an awfull fight after Jonas had came from Holy land that indeed the sons he thought as his were infact bastards of the Late Leopold, Duke of Austria that he had always considered his friend.

While Jonas had been separated from his family, most of his life, he had always loved his children, even after the claim that they were not his. He had kept contact with his remaining son Sigismund after the reveeak of his wife about the sons being from another seed. Sigismund had swore that whether Jonas was his father in blood or not,he would be his true father always.

Jonas had received an letter from his dead son the same day that he had been informed about the same sons death in battle. Jonas just didnt have any strength left to read the words of his dead son until now. He took the letter on his hand and looked at the Austrian seal of it, touched the rough surface of the scroll and opened it. He started reading slowly:

"Father,

I apologize for not having written to you in so long, but I've been busy with the AHA. Things aren't easy, but I am confident that before the Chancellors term ends the Reich will once again be reminded of the our family's martial prowess.

That being said, I've spoken to Mother and that business I mentioned before. She admits she has no proof, only her word. But what is more troubling is that Duke Arnold has independantly confirmed her story, and has called me brother himself. I did not press the matter further, but I cannot think of a reason for him to think this if it were not true.

It has been deeply troubling, not only that my mother could break the Lord's Seventh Commandment, but also that Leopolds barbarity could reach such heights. But I will not pursue the matter further, as I doubt there is any proof left to be found. I have done this out of a sense of filial obligation to you, an obligation that will not diminish. I am your son. Whatever blood flows through my veins will not change that.

Once Transylvannia is stable, I would very much like to visit you in Stettin. We have spent precious little time face to face.

Your loving son,
Sigismund"

Jonas lifted his eyes from the letter and breathed heavily saying out loud.

" Well son. Next time we will meet. It will be in heaven, or maybe in hell."

The old man stood up and walked to an window,where the midsummer sun of Italy scorched the earth, the hills that were covered with shades of yellow and brown as the wheat fields were starting to be ready for harvest.

"I wish that the harvester man of eternity will soon visit me also. There is no point in living when my sons are dead and my family name will die with me. My God,what i have done to deserve this?"

the old man thought as sun touched his old and wrinkled skin.

[GeneralHankerchief]

Outside of Edessa, 1276

The hooded man made his way through the camp. It was two in the morning, the ideal time for activities of a stealthy nature. The entire army, including its officers, was finally getting some sleep before the engagement the following day. Nobody would be up late, nobody would be awake early.

Perfect.

Of course, there were exceptions to this rule. Most annoyingly for the hooded man, these exceptions happened to be stationed around his target's tent. The King of Outremer took his security seriously. The only more-guarded men in the entire Empire were the current Chancellor and the Kaiser himself. If he was attacking a lesser figure, the hooded man would take his chances but trying to enter Salier's tent would be suicide. Not what his organization wanted.

This would be only a small hinderance to a man of his caliber, however. There were plenty of other ways to get to his target; you just had to know where to look.

In the dark, his nose, not his eyes, guided him. He sniffed away, sifting through the different aromas permeating the camp until he found the one he wanted. Ignoring the all-too-present scents of the dying embers, armor being tinkered with, and urine, he found what he was looking for: the unmistakable scent of meat.

He made his way into the cook's tent where the smell briefly overwhelmed him. He stepped outside, ignoring the urge to cough. Giving in would not have been ideal. He stepped back in, more adjusted, and sorted through the various items of food present.

Eventually he found what he was looking for: The finest cut of bratwurst. This was certainly going to be his target's breakfast. Obviously the King would have the heartiest meal, and being one of the few people in the army who lived in Germany for a significant period he would have time to develop a liking for that disgusting food.

Why risk capture when you can be just as effective by going down a subtle path? the man thought. You're smart, Salier, but not that smart. There are a thousand different ways I can kill you.

He produced a small vial from his cloak. "Iocane", it read. After eyeing it up and taking a sniff, the man sprinkled it on the bratwurst.

Let's see how well you feel tomorrow. Satisfied, the man snuck out of the tent and the camp, undetected.

[econ21]

Acre, 1276

“@#$%^&!!! it.” muttered Elberhard. “@#$%^&!!!ing @#$%^&!!! it. @#$%^&!!! it all to hell”

Jan the Teuton looked at the Prinz with a pained expression. The Order regarded cursing as a sin and there were times when Jan believed Elberhard had been sent by God to try him. Today the Prinz was in a particularly foul mood.

“What ails you, my Lord?” Jan inquired.

Elberhard looked at Jan. “What ails me? You want to know what really @#$%^&!!!ing ails me? What really @#$%^&!!!ing ails me is …”

The Prinz paused and thought, before continuing in a surprised voice. “Well, lots of things really..."

"...This @#$%^&!!!ing place - the heat, the insects, the sand, the smell."

"...The @#$%^&!!!ing food, which tastes so @#$%^&!!!ing fine when coming down but then forces you to spend a week @#$%^&!!!ing on the john afterwards."

"...The fact that the @#$%^&!!!ing beer is always warm and the @#$%^&!!!ing wine tastes like vinegar."

"The @#$%^&!!!ing people! Half are Mohammadans who want to put a knife in your throat, while the other half are sanctimonious crusaders who want to stop you drinking, swearing or otherwise having fun. Sometimes it’s hard to know which of the two are more dangerous.”

Jan looked down at his feet, but Elberhard could not be placated.

“…The fact that I am stuck here in Acre when the rest of @#$%^&!!!ing Outremer is marching against the Horse Lords."

"...The fact that I am stuck here in Outremer when the rest of the @#$%^&!!!ing Reich is battling Poles, Hungarians, Sicilians, Spaniards and God only knows who else.”

Elberhard paused for breath and then continued with a new wind:

“… The fact that @#$%^&!!!ing elephant balls Arnold dominates the Diet with his screaming for a wife and nobody even notices that the heir to the Throne is unwed."

"... The fact that I stand second behind a Kaiser who is a young @#$%^&!!!ing nobody."

"...And that I take orders from a pip squeek Chancellor who is another young @#$%^&!!!ing nobody.”

Jan continued looking at his own feet as if they had become worthy of great study and sustained contemplation.

“…But most of all, what really @#$%^&!!!ing ails me is that is the fact that I am a completely @#$%^&!!!ing useless @#$%^&!!!er that nobody would notice if I dropped down dead.”

Jan looked up. “Sire, might I suggest you speak to old Niklas Gruber, your old mentor, about your discontent? He might be able to advise you?”

Elberhard rubbed his head. “@#$%^&!!! it! You are right! It’s about time that old @#$%^&!!!er started earning his money! I’ll go to him right now!”

As the Prinz left the room, Jan let out an audible sigh of relief.

*****

Niklas looked at the angry young man sitting in front of him.

“You need to go home.”

Elberhard looked up, shocked. “Leave Outremer?”

“Yes.”

“For @#$%^&!!!s sake why? I’ve devoted my life to this @#$%^&!!!ing place!”

“As next in line to the Throne, you cannot devote your life to one part of the Reich. You must broaden your horizons. And your political constituency. Return to the fatherland. Ask the Chancellor to reinstitute the idea of a Prinz’s army. I am sure they will find something for you to do.”

“But what of Outremer?”

“Outremer will survive. It has many able generals. King Salier and Chancellor Steffen have already indicated your services are not required against the Horse Lords. Sire, you are not needed here. But you have your own needs and above all now, you need a change.”

“But what of my commitment to Outremer? I would be seen as abandoning the place!”

“If any say that, tell them - Outremer is not a place; it is an idea and that you will always hold it close to your heart. As your father did.”

Elberhard looked at Niklas. @#$%^&!!! it, the old man was really earning his money today. The Prinz exhaled and smiled. He stood up and patted his mentor on the shoulder.

“Thanks. Really, thanks! Now, that’s that sorted, I am going to get well and truly @#$%^&!!!d.”

And with that the Prinz walked out the door as if he had not a concern in the world.

*****

Niklas Gruber walked cautiously through the tavern. It was in a rough part of town that he seldom frequented. The old man looked at the suspicious faces around him, the furtive glances. Then he saw the person he had come to meet - sat in a corner of the tavern, cloaked in black.

Gingerly, Niklas sat down and muttered nervously.

“It’s done. I have persuaded him to leave Outremer.”

The black cloaked figure did not respond.

“When will you release my grandchildren?” Niklas asked, aggressively.

“Patience, old man.” said the dark figure. “I will keep my word. Your grandchildren will be freed when the Prinz is back in Europe. Now go.”

Niklas stared angrily at the figure, then reluctantly rose and turned to leave the bar.

When the old man had left, the dark figure rubbed an old wound on his leg and muttered to himself.

“Excellent - one down; one more to go.”

And with that, his mind soared to Edessa where King Salier was preparing to challenge the Horse Lords.

[AussieGiant]

Eastern Austria 1276

After dispatching the rebels in less than an hour, the Duke's force has spend the entire afternoon chasing down the deserters and putting them to the sword. Arnold's House Hold regiment was now making its way through a winding track towards the main highway in drizzling rain.

“It tell you he’s pissed”; Grom’s words caused the Priest to flinch in horror at his choice of words.

“Grom, I’d hardly describe the Duke’s mood in that way, it’s more than likely the rain that has causes his unhappiness.”

The Dread Knight had fallen back from riding next to the Duke upon hearing whispering behind him. “Bad mood due to the rain Priesst? Did you ssee the way he ended that poor rebel Captainss’ life?”

Grom snorted in response to the question; “&*% me with a rubber chicken, DID I!!? He nearly took my arm off with that last stroke. The armourer’s been working on Leopold’s sword for hours since then.

I tell you, the messenger came in just after the battle and rumour has it the Mongols have killed King Sailer, butchered the army, plus…and this is what is giving our beloved Duke the shiets… Elberhard’s just gotten married to some English tartlet!!”

The group was quiet for some moments collectively gazing at the back of their Lords black clocked armoured figure.

The rain increased.

Finally the priest rode forward towards the Duke.

Quietly Bane said to the Priest as he rode forward; “I hope you know what you’re doing…”