Stories thread - King of the Romans PBM

[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…”

[Privateerkev]

Edessa 1276

A long line of men snaked into the city. Battered and demoralized survivors of the latest battle. They were joined by refugees from surrounding towns and villages. The word of the defeat had reached the surrounding area and panic had ensued. The horse lords were back and no one wanted to be out on the countryside tonight. In the city, soldiers wandered around looking for others from their unit. Cranes lifted ballistas into the newly completed towers. Crossbowmen climbed up onto the walls and collapsed exhausted. They were ordered to sleep at their posts on the walls in case they were needed. There were not enough survivors to provide a rotating shift so everyone who could stand was still on duty. Among the line of surviving soldiers were carts baring the injured and the dead.

Searching these carts was Jan. His whole unit of bodyguards had been lost in battle, including his Teutonic Knight, Maximillian and his grizzled old veteran, Gunther. Finally, he found a cart with Max lying in it with Gunther walking alongside with a bandaged arm.

"Thank God your alive!", said Jan. "How is Max?"

"He'll live but he will need to rest for awhile. I am sorry that we could not stay with you throughout the battle." Said Gunther with a look of shame on his face.

Jan replied, "Nonsense, I am sorry about what happened to everyone but I had to get to the King to see if he was still alive."

Gunther stood up straight as he could, "Did you get to the King? How was he?"

Jan lowered his head, "He was already gone. I did not have time to try to heft his body onto my horse so I took his box." With that he reached into this cloak and pulled out the box. He still could not believe what was inside it.

Gunther inquired, "What's inside?"

Still with disbelief and awe, Jan said, "Its the crown of thorns Jesus wore. This will have to go to whoever becomes the next King of Outremer. This was King Otto's. He passed it onto King Salier. If Salier gets his wish, it will pass to Count Zirn. I'll write Chancellor Matthias as soon as I am done looking over things here and tell him about it. I will keep it safe until it is decided as to who it goes to." Jan put the box back in his cloak. But Jan's hand stayed on the box as he bowed his head in thought. "I should not have this. This is the King's and the King should still be alive!" Looking around the City Jan said, "Gunther...we have enough men here. Well, we will when the reinforcements arrive from Chancellor Matthias. We need to strike that Mongol general and show him justice! I have already sent word to the Chancellor and his reply should arrive soon."

With that, the leading elements of the reinforcements arrived. One rode up to Jan and delivered a letter baring the seal of the Chancellor. Finally, Jan thought, I have a reply to my request to attack the depleted Mongol army. Jan undid the scroll and read,

Jan,

Your request does you credit, but you are hardly ready for another battle. All your retainers are dead, and it would just take one stray arrow to finish you.

I promise you, you will have your retribution, but not this year. I need you to look to the defense of Edessa. There are three more Mongol Armies out there, and we must conserve what is left of our forces.

King Salier failed, for whatever reason, and we will not compound this failure by striking out without an advantage.

Chancellor Matthias

"Damn it!", exclaimed a very irate Jan. "They are sitting just over that hill!" The line of soldiers filing into the city slowed down to hear their count lose his temper. "This is unacceptable! That pagan scum should not be able to sit there warm and safe in his camp while the King is dead! Gunther! Rally the men! We are going to attack the Mongol camp orders or no orders!"

Jan had taken to pacing up and down the street looking over formations of men who were either standing in line or splayed out in the street exhausted or wounded or both. He was getting worked up to the idea. It might mean being stripped of rank or worse. I don't care. I owe that man everything. This is the least I can do for him.

"Sir!" Jan was interrupted in thought from Gunther. "I share your feelings concerning the King. He was a good man. And that general does deserve justice. But the men are utterly exhausted. They need a good night's sleep. They need to bind their wounds and mourn their dead comrades. They need some hot food in their belly. We need for all of the reinforcements to arrive and for them to be integrated with the older units. If you take these men into battle now, they will shatter against the enemy even though we outnumber them. You told me to give it to you straight and this is as straight as I can give it. This army is combat ineffective."

Jan stood there taking in everything Gunther said. Finally he resigned himself. "Your right Gunther... your right. Its just... I failed him Gunther. He gave me so much and I failed him. If only we got there sooner."

"That is utter bullocks sir!", counciled Gunther. "This army was made up largely of militia. They are not up to a forced march and could not have been pushed harder. There was nothing more you could have done. Sure, you could have run us off by ourselves on our horses or maybe force marched the professional soldiers. But that would have split our army. You kept the unit intact. The King was dead by the time we arrived anyways. You did exactly the right thing in what proved to be an impossible tactical situation. We need to rest and refit. We need to see to the defense of the city. And then we can plan for the general's justice. But first, you need to get some rest."

With that, Jan bid Gunther good night. He clasped Max's hand and bid him a quick recovery. And then he turned around and headed to his quarters to pray and then sob himself to sleep.

[AussieGiant]

Eastern Austria 1276

……

The rain continued to fall, enveloping the Dukes small army in mist as they continued eastwards.

They had pushed on into the night, the Duke not saying a word, his lone figure a steady guide in the darkness.

The torches spat and hissed as there was not quite enough rain to douse them entirely.

Suddenly a muffled thunder of hooves could be heard as the Dukes outriders could be seen in the distant shadows, their torches dancing as they approached.

“Something approaches Duke Arnold!!” the scout, clearly spooked by what he saw or felt.

“Calm yourself man.” The Dukes voice steadied the veteran soldier as the entire column came to a halt. Bunching up, the regiments halted in a clearing as the remaining scouts galloped in to report, each one more distressed than the last.

Finally the last scout arrived, his horse foaming from the mouth after it’s break neck ride through the woods on the other side of the clearing.

“Something approaches my Lord!! It’s nearly upon us, prepare for battle!!” The scout continued riding to the rear, turning his mount only once a few hundred men where between him and the forest.

The moon cast an eerie glow on the men as they stood staring at the wood some hundred yards distant.

Then almost imperceptibly a faint sound could be heard…a moaning…the trees in the distance could be seen bending as if some giant hand was pushing them flat. A feeling of fear crept through the men; gently a wind began to blow into the clearing carrying with it a low moaning of what sounded like dying men.

The priest crossed himself and began to pray.

Hundreds of torches began to flicker and die, casting the area into sudden darkness.

The Duke rode out into the clearing as the wind began to increase, his own torch untouched by the wind; the moaning increased, causing more panic in the assembled men.

“HOLD!!” Arnold voice boomed out across the army, even men at the back could clearly hear their Dukes words. Their fear was replaced by one of horror as for a few brief moments the Duke's torch flared brilliantly revealing a menacing red glow to his eyes.

Then, as fast as it came, the wind and sound stopped.

The clearing was deathly silent, not a sound could be heard.

Moment's passed, then slowly the Duke's party rode up behind him.

Turning to no one, the Duke was gazing at some far off point to the East.

“Something has changed; I can feel a…disturbance.” There was only a chilling silence to his statement as a wave of fear passed over the group. Only the Dread Knight seemed oblivious to the effect it had on everyone around him.

Finally the Duke rode off into the wood, his men following with much trepidation.

[Stig]

Deep Russia, anno 1278

"Little Russians around, hey Sir?"
"Stop calling me Sir Helmut, how many times do I have to tell you?" Ansehelm was looking around while sitting on a rock. The Teutonic Crusade was now well on it's way into Russia, and was ready closing in on Moscow. Ansehelm reckonned it wouldn't take more than 4 maybe 6 years before they would be in Moscow. Moscow would be his, his moment of glory, he himself would be first to storm the walls, he would take the city square. While he had to thought of this he couldn't help thinking about poor Helmut. His cousing came along with him on this lonely mission, Ansehelm never knew why. He would dearly have given Helmut the command in some small, minor battle, but there were so little Russian armies around. Ansehelm hoped on loads of battles, but in reality he only fought 2 really. All Helmut commanded was the detachment of Light Cavalry, the most succesfull part of Ansehelms army, but he would never be able to command an entire army.
"Hah, Helmut can lead the road back to the Reich," Ansehelm thought, "it might be better for me to ride forward, to solve some political matters, Helmut is more than capable of bringing an army home. Or we could attack some Polish castle on our way back, Franconia is safe, but we could drive south and strike against Hungary. The morale is still high, and after we sacked Moscow it will even be higher."

But Ansehelm himself thought about the Reich, about his Heimat, it was now almost 15 years ago since he left, or so he thought, if one goes away as long as this he loses the count. But then, here he was safe from politics, from annoying people, from all that. Well, that isn't true, Ansehelm send scouts ahead, if there wouldn't be many Russian armies he himself would head back to the Diet. There was a route still open to the Reich, it was the one used by messengers, but it was dangerous, it would mean travelling through Polish territory, till he would reach Breslau, but it might also be needed. A Duke should be at the Diet Sessions.



to be continued...