Stories thread - King of the Romans PBM

[GeneralHankerchief]

Ragusa, 1312

"You summoned me, von Dassel?"

"Yes I did, Luther." Dietrich von Dassel sat behind a desk in his study, barely visible over a mountain of papers, looking grim. Alexander Luther had no idea how much pressure the man was under, how much he had gone through to keep him safe. "Duke Hans is closing in. I cannot protect you forever. A move will have to be made."

"Closing in? Please explain."

Dietrich sighed. "While you have been out preaching that the Byzantines and the Pope are evil, I have been facing political pressure. The army I recruited to keep this Citadel - and you - safe has been discovered. I have come under suspicion. I have been called a traitor and a rogue. I have been forced to temporarily renounce my loyalties to Swabia in protest. Duke Hans and his army are coming to kill you and arrest me."

"I see," Luther said with far too much calm. "What are our options?"

"Option A is to give in and let Hans pass. I cannot let that happen. I have not fought against re-unification and tarnished my reputation for this long to give up and turn you in."

"And I thank you many times over for that," said Luther.

"Spare me," said Dietrich with a wave of his hand. "I have little time. The second option is to hunker down, quarantine the city, and refuse to let Hans in. It will be his move, but I believe that he will besiege us and start a full-blown civil war. I am confident that I can defeat him but I would rather not escalate that conflict to that level.

"Another option is to let you escape," Dietrich continued. "I do not believe this would be prudent. You are as safe as you can possibly be with me. Any journey to another Elector's protection - Fritz von Kastilien comes to mind - would be filled with danger and peril. I do not believe that you would get to sanctuary elsewhere, and even if you did you wouldn't be safe for long."

"So what is left?" asked Luther, this time with a tone of exasperation.

"March out with the army. Other Electors have been mentioning it for so long, so I might as well do it. You will come with me, we will take Durazzo, and replace Pope Abbate with a Pope who is not so pro-reunification."

Luther's eyes glowed. "Open war with the Papacy?"

"Yes. Times have changed since the Second Investiture Controversy. The College of Cardinals is under our control. The Pope has lost much influence. Excommunication does not mean as much, and it will be shorter-lived. And, as much as I hate the Byzantines, I do not want to fight a war with them. They are too powerful (thanks to Siegfried and Elberhard, damn them) and we are not as strong as we used to be. Deposing Abbate will accomplish our goals while still keeping the Reich intact."

"So," said Luther, rubbing his hands together in anticipation, "When do we leave?"

"Immediately. It is time to take matters into our own hands."

[Ignoramus]

Flanders, 1312

"I have had enough! No longer will I be a lowly Swabian, under the thumb of the Kaiser's brother.

I served him well, I supported him when he made his bid to become Kaiser, I bore disgrace for him, and how does he repay me? He sends me off to assault a city smitten with the plague! Surely he must have desired mein end and no less!"

After venting out his feelings, Wolfgang buckled on his sword.

"Assemble the men, Conrad!" he barked to his captain, "We are marching to Staufen!"

*************************************************************

Paris, 1312

A large throng of townsmen were busy in the centre square, reading the message that had been nailed to the Cathedral's doors.

"Swabians, how long do you languish under the thumb of one who seeks to flatter a Roman puppet? He has put the interests of the Kaiser and the Pope above that of Swabia. He is the son of Henry, once Kaiser of the Reich. He has shamed the memory of his father with his Papal inclinations.

Why is our Reich in turmoil? Is not his brother Kaiser? Why is he in Austria at such a time like this when he should be in Swabia maintaining order?

We have no future in the Reich of Elberhard, but we do in the Principality of Swabia, which bows to no one save Gott!

I do declare myself Prinz of Swabia, and renounce Kaiser Elberhard, Duke Hans, and their Greek and Papal conspirators altogether! Let us fight for Swabia!

Wolfgang Hummel, Prinz of Swabia."

[Warmaster Horus]

Outside of Thessalonica.

The City is under siege, and has been for the past two years. The Venetian town is attacked by the Bavarian Household Army Otto, led by Count Friedrich Karolinger.

The Count has received word that von Dassel was to attack the Pope. He has also received a copy of the Chancellor's report, which detailed the chaos in which the Reich is. And finally, Duke Steffen's missive [OOC:See TC's post in the Bavarian thread for more info] rests in Friedrich's hands. His aide, Jonas, stands by the Count's side in the Command Tent while he reads the letters. After, Friedrich speaks.

"Have you read this?" he asks, sighing.

"No, my Lord. But may I suppose that it is not good news?"

"This says that there is a traitor in the Reich" he explains, pointing to the first message. "That letter says that Hell has come for the Reich", pointing to the appropriate missive. "And that one instructs me to return to Bavaria as soon as possible", after showing his Duke's letter. "Dark days have come for us."

"Is there anything for us to do, my Lord?, Jonas asks. "Do you have a plan?"

"A plan? Oh yes, I do. The first step is easy: take Thessalonica. We will sack that town, bringing some apparently much-needed Florins in the Reich's coffers. Although I'm sure the fools in the Administration who managed to empty the Reich's coffers in the first place will only squander the money we bring back. Is nothing ever simple in life?"

"And then, if I may?"

"Then, we'll follow the Duke's orders, of course. After all, we are loyal soldiers of the Reich. But maybe..." Friedrich trails off, and then shakes his head, laughing.

"What is the matter?" says Jonas, ever the worrier for his Liege.

"I've got a new ending for my plan. But just wait and see, friend. Just wait and see."

"Very well, my Lord."

[Tamur]

Night had closed in around the camp. Fritz sat alone in his tent, occasionally sipping froth off a stein. He gazed down at the parchment sheet in his hand.

Belger butchery - partially destroyed, 30% equipment lost
Kierkeg weaving house - completely destroyed, all equipment lost
Town hall - light smoke damage
Volger tannery - no structural damage, product loss

The list went on down the page. Fritz sighed. All that work for nothing. All those magistrates bought off or coddled into complaisance. The Saxon Army was not meant to be a peace-keeping force!

Fritz threw the list on the ground, sat back in his chair, and glared at the spectre of Stettin's gates closed against him.

[Stig]

Ansehelm looked out of the window of Thorn Castle, he heard that everywhere in the Reich people were revolting, but would you walk through Thorn you would not believe that to be true.
Thorn was living, blooming. Merchants were coming into the city selling their goods, citizens were happy and even tournaments between local hero's were held as if nothing was happening.
In other cities churches had been burned, or people had simply spoken against the church, but in Thorn this wasn't even seen, people went to the little chapel with smiles on their faces.

Yes Thorn really seemed like the only city where people were still able to think clearly.

But deep inside himself Ansehelm knew better, yes Thorn was a happy place, and yes little was happening here, but in the last 2 years many men resigned from the armies, as they would rather tend to their families. While Ansehelm allowed this, this did mean that he now had far less troops, and there were still two large Polish armies near, he would have to split them and fight them in turns.

Next to that Thorn might be happy, but all other parts of Franconia aren't, and Ansehelm was in no position to travel to those cities, as he had no-one to take over command of the Teutonic Army.

Best thing to do might simply be stay in Thorn and defend that to the last men, leaving to fight some foolish Civil War might mean loyalty to the Reich, but loyalty to Thorn is more important than that. Thorn had already once fallen into the hands of the enemy, and since it was Ansehelms city he had no intention having to desert the people again.

Atleast the Teutonic Knights were still with him, mostlikely because Thorn meant much to them, it was the start of the crusade on Moscow.

[FactionHeir]

Hans surveyed the men at the camp.
All of them Imperial troops levied from all across the Empire to defend the emperor and his interests he thought to himself Loyal men who would give their lives to defend the empire against rebellious knaves and heretical villains, even if they were German

The times were grim. Dassel departed Ragusa before he could stop him, Luther in tow. Bavarians and Franconians opposing his suggestion to stop him by helping the Pope defend Durazzo that they had been holding ever since his own chancellorship, which prevented the godfearing Venetians from attacking Austria.

And now this idiot Hümmel is turning against me too
Hans had heard the news from a merchant friend passing through Paris that Hümmel had attached messages calling for rebellion. No doubt his target would be Staufen to control the Ducal seat and the most advanced citadel of Swabia.
Why must all horrors occur at the same time and when I am growing old, too old to defend the empire at all fronts at the same time

Still standing atop a small hill and surveying his men, Hans knew that he would have to return to Swabia and face the rebellion himself, lest he wished to return to a hostile place, seceded from the empire and a lunatic ruling over what Henry, his father, had made prosper.
It was once again time to write letters appealing to the populace' loyalty and hearts and to unsheath the sword.

"Men, it is time we march. These are dark times and the traitor Hümmel is attempting not only to declare himself Duke but also secede Swabia from the Empire. We cannot allow this to happen. For Swabia, for the Emperor, for the Holy Roman Empire!"

[Privateerkev]

On the Adana/Aleppo border: 1312

King Jan sat in his command tent. He had moved his army north from Aleppo and his men needed to rest. While the men sat and slept, the King read through reports. Things did not look good. Dassel was moving an army towards the Holy Father. Constantinople was sacked. The Byzantines and the Reich were on the brink of war. Unrest ran rampant throughout the Holy Roman Empire. Desertion was prevalent even in the King's own army.

And through it all, the King led an army behind what was now hostile lines, on what seemed an impossible mission. Count Matthias had gone missing. While there was little friendship left between the two men, Matthias was one of Jan's Crusaders and a comrade in arms. Jan was the closest to the area so he volunteered to go look for the wayward Count. A letter had just arrived from an old friend with some very important information. If Jan could confirm the facts in that letter with his own investigation, things did not look good for those still left in Outremer.

Gunther came into the tent, "My King, the men are ready to move again. What are you orders?"

Jan sat back and thought for a moment, "We're going to enter Adana. Tell the men to be ready for anything."

Gunther had a look of worry creasing his face, "Sir, there are reports that we are on the verge of open war with the Eastern Roman Empire. Do you think we should go deeper into their territory?"

Jan stood up and started packing away his things in order to get ready to travel. "I have reason to believe Count Matthias needs our help. I might not be able to save the Reich from imploding, but I do have an army command and I am going to put it to good use. We are going to march into Adana whether the Byzantines like it or not. And if we find information that confirms what is in this letter, we will march to Caeserea. Any Byzantine army that gets in our way is to be considered hostile and treated accordingly."

Gunther only nodded and left the tent to carry out the King's orders. The King stood there in thought. Everything we have all fought for is collapsing. Everything is falling apart. All we have left is death and honor. If I must face the former, it will be in service of the latter.

Jan's thoughts traveled to the captive Count and what the young man had to be going through. As he continued to pack, the King said to himself, "Hold on a little while longer Matthias. We're coming for you."

The King said a prayer for Matthias and left the tent as workers came in to collapse it for transport.

[Tamur]

Fritz von Kastilien slapped his gloves into the palm of his left hand, over and over and over again. His gaze seemed to be focused on nothing but air. Then he smiled suddenly, crookedly and laughed.

"White flag. Jonas, go see to it."

A young man who had been standing nearby ran to a golden stallion and galloped quickly down the road and towards the walls of Stettin which lay across the valley from them.

"The rest of you!" Fritz yelled, turning to his assembled commanders, "Get your soldiers in order. We show them today that a white flag means nothing after disobeying a master. I hope your weapons are sharp. We march on the city in five minutes."

Commanders scrambled this way and that, leaving Fritz alone, except for his dog which lay panting at his feet. He turned again and watched as the small figure of Jonas and his horse draw closer to the city. He began slapping his gloves in the palm of his hand again, over and over and...

Fritz stopped. Jonas had toppled from the saddle. His horse reared up and then its legs too buckled under it. Fritz looked on with his gloves held in mid-swing as the horse rolled over Jonas, and lay still.

A distant cheer was carried to him on the wind, and the white flag disappeared.

Gloves fell to the ground. Eyes narrowed to slits. Face reddened to near scarlet. Then Fritz let out an explosive curse, a howl of rage, and yelled for his horse to be brought.

Oh how those whoresons will pay...

[econ21]

Rome, 1316

“How many of us are there, brother?” Jan the Teuton inquired.

“A score, brother Captain.” answered the veteran gruffly.

Jan inspected the men crammed into the cellar - a core of retired Teutons, aged but still hardened. The rest were a mix of retainers, servants and youths.

“Who’s this?” asked Jan, facing a red faced innocent looking young man.

“Helmut Grubner, Sire” supplied the veteran, adding with scarcely concealed embarrassment. “He’s my gardener.”

Jan raised an eyebrow: “Can he wield a blade?”

Helmut Grubner held up a lethal looking glaive and proceeded to whirl it effortlessly around the crowded cellar.

Jan smiled at the display of skill. “Any other man and I reckon he’d have taken off a few heads!” he said with admiration.

“Aye, I dare say, he could take them all off, if you’d asked.” said the veteran proudly.

Jan looked around the room, at the eager faces. The retired Teutons had seen too much of violence, but it was as if they missed its absence. The others - well they seemed eager and fresh enough. It was not ideal, but it would do.

“What’s the quest, brother Captain?” the veteran Teuton inquired.

Inwardly, Jan sighed. The things the Kaiser had got him to do in Rome! Release the traitor Peter von Kastilien. Negotiate with the officious fools running the Imperial civil service. And now this.

“We must rescue a lady in distress.” said Jan, in a clipped voice.

The men in the room, young and old, seemed to come to attention at these words, straightening their backs and clasping their weapons more firmly.

“And may I inquire who is the lady in question?” probed the veteran.

“The Empress Dowager Theodora.” announced Jan.

There was a collective gasp around the room and, not for the last time, Jan was grateful he was working with a band of brother Teutons whose loyalty to him was unquestioned.

*****

Captain Jan’s motley band of volunteers arrived at the Empress Dowager’s Palace to find the gates unguarded and signs of looting everywhere.

Even the fine gardens had not been spared, with bare patches of earth exposed where once there had been beautiful and rare shrubs and statues.

“Draw swords.” muttered Jan, as his men picked their way through the debris and moved towards the front steps to the palace.

A few figures scampered around the periphery, keen to avoid a confrontation with what they took to be armed authorities. Jan viewed the looters with disgust. One of the bigger specimens cried out a Lutheran curse as he took to his heels.

A tired, bowed old man appeared at the window of the palace and then hobbled out to greet Jan on the steps. He was dishevelled and covered in dust:

“I am Posca, servant of the Empress Dowager Theodora.”

Jan bowed slightly at the dignified, but worn figure standing bravely in front of him. How did the Greek know that Jan was not a Lutheran, keen to put to the sword any residual vestige of Byzantine influence?

“I am Captain Jan, of Kaiser Elberhard’s retinue. I come at my master’s orders to escort your mistress to safety. But I fear I am too late.”

“Captain Jan, the Teuton, yes, I have heard of you.” said Posca.

Jan looked stunned - how could this old man have heard of him?

Posca patted the Captain on the shoulder: “Don’t look so surprised, my mistress knows who her friends are, and her enemies. She is well, but in hiding. She would very much like to see you. Come with me and I will take you to her. But you must come alone. To travel with your men would attract unwelcome attention.”

The Greek looked at Jan’s band of aged Teutons and civilians: “And, with all respect, Captain, I am not sure your band could handle that attention.”

Jan acquiesced. He was used to taking orders and there was something about the shrewd old Greek that commanded deference.

****

Posca and Jan began their journey at night. The darkness shielded them from curious eyes, but it also revealed the lawlessness of the capital. Gangs of men roamed the streets and the calm of the night was interrupted by screams. The old Greek took Jan on a route through back streets and alleys, successfully evading the Lutheran mobs, until suddenly their luck ran out. They emerged into a small square that was home to an armed gang of several dozen disreputable looking men. The thugs approached the two travellers menacingly.

Jan stepped in front of Posca. For the old man to speak a word in his thick Greek accent would doom them both.

“Well, well, well - what we got here, boys?” said one of the thugs, a large man carrying an axe which he toyed with in his hands.

Before Jan knew it, they were surrounded. Flight was impossible; fighting amid so many grappling hands equally futile. Still, the Captain had a mission and he would not fail his Kaiser.

“I am on Imperial business, by order of Kaiser Elberhard.” he declared, trying to summon every ounce of his natural authority.

“That useless @#$%^&!!!er!” spat the ringleader of the thugs. “What the @#$%^&!!! does he want you to do? Surrender Rome to the Greeks?” The ringleader turned to his gang, basking in their admiration for his great wit.

Jan flushed. One of the other gang members pushed aside Jan’s cloak, as if to begin to disarm him. He saw the black cross of the Teutons on Jan’s coat of arms.

“Wait a minute, boys, he’s one of them Teutons.” said the man.

“So what?” said the ringleader.

“Well, didn’t they all desert from the Kaiser’s army after that @#$%^&!!!er gifted away Outremer?”

“That’s right!” “Yeah!” muttered other gang members.

The gang leader smiled. “Oh, I get it - you are one of us, Teuton: a deserter!”

Jan’s face was a bright pink, but the night hid his fury from the gang.

“Imperial errand my arse! Who sends out one soldier and an old man into these streets on an Imperial errand anyway?” reasoned the gang leader.

He stuck his face close to Jan’s and revelled in his superiority over the helpless knight.

“Don’t worry, son. We forgive you. And God, well if Luther’s right, he may even forgive you too.” the gang leader stood aside and waved Jan on. “Proceed unmolested.”

****

When he finally arrived at the safe house, Jan was surprised to see it was an undistinguished town house. It was the sort of place that might belong to a lawyer or senior civil servant. It was affluent enough to be strongly built and in a well protected neighbourhood, but not lavish enough to attract special attention from looters. An old woman opened a slit in the door and looked at Jan warily. Posca induced her to open the many locks and bars on the front door then led Jan deep into the house. It was deserted. No courtiers, no guards, no servants. It seemed to Jan closer to a morgue than a palace.

They arrived at a rear room and Posca ushered Jan into the presence of the Empress.

The Empress was sitting in a dark corner of the windowless room, staring emptily into space. Her hair was unkept and she showed no interest in her visitor.

“This is Captain Jan, your Highness” said Posca. “He has been sent by Kaiser Elberhard to take you to safety.”

The Empress did not react, so Jan strode forward into the dimly lit room and spoke boldly:

“Your Highness, at this moment, the Pope-killer Dietrich von Dassel sails for Italy. He is bringing his Lutherans here. They are frenzied by blood. You are not safe. Kaiser Elberhard instructed me to take you north for your protection.”

“Kaiser Elberhard?” said the Empress Dowager vacantly. “I rather hoped it would be King Jan who came to rescue me. He was such a sweetie.”

Captain Jan looked alarmed. The Empress Dowager raised her eyes and took in his embarrassment. Jan stuttered: “King Jan was rather preoccupied, your Highness - what with the rescue of Matthias Steffen and all.”

Warmth and energy seemed almost visibly to enter the Empress Dowager’s body: “Ah yes, I heard about that. Nasty business. I trust Matthias is well? No limbs missing? I rather feared Nikeforos would start hacking off bits and throwing them to the Diet.”

After listening to Captain Jan’s reassurances, Theodora silenced him and returned to the matter at hand. She smiled, archly:

“So, Elberhard wants to keep me safe? Like he kept my husband safe? Like he protected Constantinople? As safe as poor Abbate? Tell me, Captain, don’t you think I would be better off without your Master’s “protection”?”

The Teuton tried to stammer out a response, but Theodora rose and fixed him with her eyes.

“Captain Jan, forgive my foolish jests. I am not worthy of your protection. I was merely a beast to be used for breeding. I was to give birth to a boy who would be both Caesar and Augustus, who would rule the world. But poor Siegfried is dead, the Pope is dead, the alliance is dead and I … I am finished. I have no more role to play on this earth.”

Jan opened his mouth to protest, but Theodora was in front of him and placed a finger over his mouth, shaking her head.

“No, listen. I am not worth your protection. But there is something in this city that is far more valuable to your master than I. You must secure that, not protect me.”

Jan looked puzzled and Theodora laughed.

“Oh, men of chivalry such as you and your master are so adorable! In a time of chaos, they dutifully stride forth to protect some worn out old woman. And give no thought to the florins that must fund their future. Simply adorable.”

The Teuton’s mouth opened.

“You have the Kaiser’s seal?” Theodora demanded.

Jan nodded and the Empress gave him a letter.

“Take your men to the Imperial Treasury. When the guards see your seal and this letter, they will let you empty the Treasury. I have some merchant wagons you can load up. Do it tonight and your visit may go unobserved by onlookers. When you leave the Treasury, you will travel as merchants under escort heading to market. If challenged by the mob, cut through them. If they think you are only protecting market goods, they will not risk their lives to stop you.”

Jan’s heart was beating, though whether it was from the thought of smuggling out the Imperial Treasury or the close proximity of the striking widow in front of him, he could not tell.

“Posca will meet you outside the city and take the caravan north. You will return to this house.” the Empress Dowager concluded: “Then you can fulfil your quest for the Kaiser and bring me out to safety.”

“I will do as you command, your Highness.”

Theodora clasped Jan on the arm and smiled appreciatively. Then, as if recalling something, her gaze became clouded and she turned away. She returned to the isolated seat she had been sitting on when Jan arrived and gazed at the wall, as if addressing no one.

“After your quest is done, you will return to Outremer, Captain?”

“Yes, your Highness, the Kaiser will need every blade out there.”

Theodora stroked her chin with her hand: “Yes, these are terrible times. I fear you will end up walking in the blood of those I used to call my countrymen. It will be hard on the Kaiser. I believe, like Siegfried, he came to regard the Eastern Romans as brothers. You must tell him - in such times, a person must do from duty some things that others would see as a betrayal. Are you listening to me, Captain? You must tell your Master that. You promise? When you think of me, remember those words and tell them to the Kaiser. You swear?”

Jan was puzzled, but made an oath. Satisfied, the Empress Dowager dismissed him.

*****

As the caravan left the city, Captain Jan felt exultant. It had all gone exactly as the Empress had said. The Treasury guards had reluctantly surrendered their charge. Whatever their inner loyalties, they could not dispute the authority of the Kaiser’s seal and the word of the Empress Dowager. Jan had made sure the florins were well hidden beneath miscellaneous market goods in the merchant wagons Theodora had provided. His motley band looked every inch a merchant escort, but with weapons drawn the Lutheran mobs showed little interest in accosting them.

Now Jan could make out the aged figure of Posca, waiting outside the city gates with a band of horsemen.

“No problems, Captain?” said Posca, urbanely.

“No problems, Posca.” said Jan, happily.

“Good. You have done well, Captain. I will take the caravan north from here. You do not need worry - these riders will protect me. They are not as brave as your band, but they do not know the nature of our cargo and they are being handsomely paid for their services.”

Jan tried to make out the mounted escort which lurked in the darkness behind Posca, but could see little. Once again, the old Greek inspired confidence and Jan did not worry.

Posca continued: “You must go back now. You see the fires burning in the city? Who knows when the mob may learn of my Mistress’s hiding place? You must bring her back … whatever the cost.”

Jan nodded: “You can count on me.”

Posca smiled. “I know.”

Jan turned and began the journey back into the city.

*****

When Jan and his band arrived back at the safe house, it was deserted. Frantically, the Teuton searched the corridors, until at last he arrived in the room where he had met the Empress Dowager earlier in the evening. Gingerly, half fearing to find a bloody corpse on the floor, he entered the chamber.

He looked around. It was deserted. Then he saw a note on the desk. It was written in an elegant feminine script:

Captain Jan,


Tell the Kaiser what I told you to say:

In these terrible times, a person must do from duty some things that others would see as a betrayal.


And tell the good citizens of Rome:

I will be back shortly.


Empress Theodora

*****

Outside the city, Posca’s caravan turned south. Once into the countryside, Vardariotai stripped the wagons and loaded the gold onto their fast moving horses, then began the ride towards Naples.

In that city, many columns of Byzantine soldiers were already forming up and beginning the long march north.

[Warmaster Horus]

Outside of Thessalonica.

The City is still under siege. But...

"My Lord? We're abandonning the siege?", asked Jonas to the Commander of the Bavarian Household Army Otto.

"Yes, indeed."

"But, why? We've waited so long for the battle, it makes no sense."

"We are needed elsewhere, that's all there is to say. Now, make preparations for departure. I want to be left alone for awhile. I'm not to be disturbed. Of course, if von Dassel pops up, or another kind of major matter, then call. But not otherwise. Clear?" says Friedrich, choler rising.

"Yes, my Lord. If I may, you had a plan before?" risks Jonas.

"Before. But not anymore. We leave for Bavaria tomorrow, so you'd best hurry. Let it be known that any who is late will be left behind. Even you." Jonas then departs.

'What a lad', thinks Friedrich. 'Of course, I'm in a good position to talk about lateness... Ah, well.'

[Privateerkev]

River crossing at the Antioch/Aleppo border: 1318

Refugees were streaming across the river. The war between the Byzantines and the Reich was heating up now. Count Matthias had just won a major victory on the bridge to Antioch and now Antioch itself was surrounded by three Imperial Armies. Ordinary citizens were fleeing the region to escape the bloodshed.

King Jan strolled among the refugee column overseeing the vast movement of people. He had deployed his army to assist the refugees. Some soldiers stood guard so the refugee column would not be preyed upon by bandits. Others passed out food from their own limited supply. Another group set up an aid station to help the injured. It was towards this last, that the King strode towards.

This particular refugee column was from Antioch. They had fled when the city was handed over to the Byzantines. There were rumors that the Byzantines had not exactly been kind in their rule over their new city. The groups of injured gave those rumors some substance. Among the healers and nuns tending to the injured, was one woman clearly in civilian clothing. Middle aged and a little heavyset, she tended to a child's bandaged arm. The child was clearly in pain and struggled.

Jan ran over and held onto the child as the woman bandaged him. The child calmed down a little and the woman was able to finish tending to him. She looked up and noticed the King for the first time. "Thank you my King, he was getting restless."

"Please, call me Jan. And your name?"

The woman smiled in a way that melted Jan's heart, "Alfgarda. Pleased to meet you Jan, I have heard so much about you." She got up and curtsied. While hardly graceful, to Jan the movement was the very picture of litheness.

The group of injured were being tended to at the moment and all were resting. The two people got up and went for a walk as Jan's retinue followed respectfully at a distance.

"Alfgarda, that is a beautiful name. Are you from 'up north'?" Jan asked in the universal question that meant Franconia.

She grinned, "Ah, very astute of you. I am originally from Hamburg. Aren't you from there?"

Jan chuckled, "I haven't been there since I was a child. My father took myself and my two sisters with him when he went on the Second Crusade. I came of age on the way to Damascus. I have been out here ever since."

Alfgarda lit up, "The Crusades? That sounds amazing. I've read everything I could get my hands on about them. Weren't you on the Third Crusade as well?"

Jan answered with pride, "Yup, we retook Jerusalem from the Saracens. But enough about me, what brought you out here?"

Alfgarda brushed a lock of blond hair from her face and replied, "My family came here years ago to start up a business. My parents died a while ago and I have been running it ever since by myself."

"Don't you have a husband to help you with that?" Jan asked in a not-so-subtle attempt to see if she was married.

Alfgarda laughed a little, "No, I have never been married. I'm not a nun or anything. I just have always been busy working. That and I never met the right man." She said this last as she looked at Jan with a twinkle in her eye.

Jan blushed. But he returned her look with one of his own that told her all she needed to know. The two walked off into the desert blissfully enjoying each other's company in silence.

Max and Gunther looked at each other and smiled. They had always hoped that the King would find a companion. They believed he deserved to be happy. The small group stayed farther behind to give the new couple some privacy. Azim didn't know what was going on but was polite enough to be quiet.

[GeneralHankerchief]

Eastern Italy, 1318

Four large ships were docked off a deserted coast. Slowly, movement could be seen from the ships, movement in the form of rowboats approaching the coast. The first one to reach the shore was a lonely boat, filled mostly with Balkan Archers who had never seen the other side of the Adriatic sea. They got off their boat, looked around, started peering through the bushes and scanning the horizon for movement.

When nothing could be found, they made large, exaggerated movements with their arms and hands. Apparently it was the "all clear" signal as more movement could be seen from the ships. The rest of the men were beginning to depart for dry land, at last.

Eventually, Dietrich von Dassel, Alexander Luther, and the remnants of the Army of Light had reached the shores and waved good-bye to the navy men rowing the boats back to the small fleet. The people on the shore were the hard-core, the meat of the army. Austrians most of them, they had declined to stay behind and defend their homeland from invaders, instead opting to stick with Dietrich and Luther in hopes of furthering the Glorious Cause.

When they left Durazzo, sneaking past the massive Papal army lurking nearby, they had all assumed that the Glorious Cause would take them to Rome where they would depose Theodora, get the city working again, and establish it as a base for defense against the invading Byzantine forces. However, things had changed since they slowly sailed up the Adriatic.

At a distance, a lonely horsemen spotted the fleet and rowboats making their way back. That was his signal, and he spurred his horse on towards the coast, a large bundle of papers tucked under his arm. He made his way to the coast, where he was quickly dismounted and searched by the most fanatical Lutherans. Dietrich, even though he was expecting the man and knew this was the designated meeting place, did nothing to stop them, a sign of the massive need for security in these days.

Once he was searched to the Lutherans' consent, the man was allowed to approach Dietrich with his papers, which he gave to him without a word. Dietrich, motioning Alexander Luther over to a remote part of the beach, sat down and began to read.

"...regret to inform you that the Imperial Treasury has been emptied and the gold is unaccounted for..."

"...Kaiser's men have no knowledge of where the gold is..."

"...Empress Dowager has also disappeared..."

"...Furthermore, Bavaria will not lift a finger to defend Rome..."

"...Madness! Kaiser Elberhard is weak and a fool..."

"...several large columns marching north across the border with Naples..."

"...declare myself Prinz of the Holy Roman Empire, and will be acting as Kaiser until he reveals his spineless self..."

"...much more important things going on..."

"...trust you have a swift journey back to Swabia after you have tied up your affairs in Italy; I will see to it that Northern France is secure before Hans can advance against me..."

"...Count Becker has fallen in battle..."

"...dare use the death of Count Becker to silence political dissent..."

"...shall cast a poll for all electors - they can vote by absentee..."

"...Divine right to rule..."

"...degenerated into a farce..."

"...don't seem to realize the gravity of the situation we face..."

"...most of you traitors already are, I shall kill you..."

"......the fact I refer to her as my former Empress should be enough to tell you what I think of the matter..."

"...reports that a Byzantine army is besieging Bologna..."

"...At the next Diet, the King will urge for strong legislative sanctions to be leveled at Sir Dassel..."

After the last two snippets of Diet transcript and personal communications Dietrich threw the entire stack into the air in disgust. This was what the Reich had come to while he was sailing? Becker dead, the Byzantines turning Italy and Austria into a gauntlet, and still they were all bickering and determinedly sniping at each other? While the Byzantines were besieging Bologna? How far north had they gotten anyway? Dietrich buried his head in his hands.

"Answer me something, Luther," Dietrich mumbled. Luther, realizing Dietrich's thoughts, made a questioning noise but no more. "Are we to blame for all this?"

"This?"

"We, I mean. You. Me. Peter. Tancred. Our kind, the kind that simply stuck by our beliefs and took matters into our hands. Are we to blame for this?"

"I don't know, you still haven't explained what 'this' is."

"The entire mess. The division in the Diet. The rebellion in Swabia. The Byzantines threatening Bavaria, Austria, and what's left of Outremer. Is it our fault?"

Luther looked pensieve for a minute. He simply stared out at the coast, looking at the waves gently lap onto the shores and the fleet offshore preparing to cast off and head to destination unknown. Finally, he answered. "No. Well, not entirely. It's Siegfried's fault, Siegfried and Elberhard and Abbate and Jan and everybody else in the elite crowd who were sure they knew what was best. Re-unification would have turned us all Byzantine, you know that Dietrich. We would have gradually lost everything that was unique to us, everything that made us the Holy Roman Empire in the first place. They would have re-written history to make all those glorious conquests of Heinrich and Leopold and von Saxony and Hans, all of those would have been diminished, even warped into Byzantine intrigue. We would have died and watched from above as the world slowly turned into a sickening shade of purple, and we would be forgotten forever. The Byzantines knew it; they wanted it to happen. And they were so close to doing it the easy way, Dietrich. They had a puppet Kaiser in place and a puppeteer in the form of Theodora. But then we came along. And dammit, we made ourselves heard."

Luther pounded his fist into the fine Italian sand. Only Dietrich watched. The rest of the men were too busy doing their own thing, deep within their own philosophical conversations.

"The Byzantines wanted to wipe us off the map one way or another," Luther continued, with increasing conviction, "Is it a crime if we fight back doing so? If we make it bloody for them? They got the jump on us, sure. It's partially our fault that we're so weak; all of the internal strife. But we can get over that eventually. We can gloriously fight back and overcome this force and reclaim our heritage. It will cost many lives, sure. Becker is sure to be the first of many casualties. But when it's all over, he'll be a hero. We'll be heroes. We'll be known as the group that prevented Byzantine takeover and made it a mess for them."

Dietrich sighed and collapsed in the sand. It was all too much. War with the Byzantines, he never wanted any of that. Armies marching through Austria, deep into Italy, that was exactly what he tried to stop when he was marching for Durazzo. And then he got news about Constantinople about halfway through... and of course he couldn't turn back then, because he had Hans after him and a thousand passionate Lutherans urging him on and so he went on to Durazzo, conquering the place and massacring the inhabitants, and celebrating because it was the final hammer blow for re-unification, but in reality it was the last hurdle before all-out war.

"All I wanted to do was stop re-unification," he mumbled to himself in the sand. Now the very Reich itself was threatened by this Greek menace, a menace that had grown exponentially since 1320 because of those stupid, numerous "gifts" that Siegfried and Elberhard had given Isaac.

And what did he have? He had an army - no, a legion - of loyal followers, followers ready to do anything to advance The Cause.

Followers ready to die for a German Reich.

Dietrich left Luther in silence and crawled over to Friedrich, his aide, who was trying to start a fire.

"The men rest tonight," he said. "Tomorrow we move on Bologna. We've got to set this right."

[Northnovas]

Countryside Eastern Austria 1318

My fellow Austrians, I fear my days are numbered when I look upon the Hungarian host arrayed before me. The primary army numbers five hundred-sixty pavise spearmen, four hundred fifty dismounted feudal knights, four hundred eighty chivalric knights and two catapults with forty artillerists. There is also another army that is able to assist that consists of an assortment of archers, crossbowmen and artillery totaling eight hundred eighteen people led by a member of Hungary's royal family.

It pains to plead like this, but I beg of you to send every available man to assist me. As it stands the destruction of the 1st AHA and my own death seem very likely.

Count of Prague

Karl looked at the letter and dropped into the fire.
“Too late” he muttered to himself just staring into the campfire as the paper burned disappointed and frustrated by the current events. “If I had only been faster...”
“My lord, confirming the preliminary report from Bucharest, it’s not good” said Peter dropping his head and looking into the fire. He looked back at the Count and continued. “Count Becker is missing and the 1st AHA has been annihilated.”
“Damn! No survivors? How many Hungarians are in the area? We must fall back to Bran immediately. Just has the Count was to continue a galloping of a single horse could be heard coming over the hill. He must be one of ours to get past the sentries or a ghost rider.
The rider charged up to the men around the fire and came to an abrupt stop leaping off his horse in one motion and holding the reins with his right hand and presenting a letter with his left hand to Karl. The Count was impressed with this messenger he had not seen riding like that since the races in Damascus. Karl immediately recognized the Seal as that of Duke Arnold’s. He took the message and stepped over by the fire alone to read it.

Karl Greetings,

I have heard of the news at Bucharest and the defenders. There has been a change in plans. Bran is to be abandoned and you must head for Budapest. There is no Austrian House Army to command you must recruit who you what you can from the land. Not only are the Hungarians at our door but the damn Byzantines are waging war against us.
I have spoken with Duke Steffen and he has ordered Count Karolinger to assist with the Bavarian Household Army Otto he has coming from Thessalonica and will meet with you in Budapest.
These are dangerous times for Austria I have my sister and the children with me they are safe. I am doing my best to secure the southern borders.
God speed. I will see you soon.

Signature and Seal of Duke Arnold.

The Count turned to his men “Budapest!”There was a stunned look amongst the men all thinking no Bran is our destination.
“Saddle up, were moving out!” shouted Zirn to his aide. “Hurray things are much worse then we though and we will not miss any action this time. Where is my geographer!!!?”
Ingo the veteran spoke up “We know our way we don’t need a map to Budapest?”
Zirn gave him a stare “Do you know ever village along the way then?”
Peter quizzically asked “Why? I thought we were in a rush?”
Zirn gave an exasperated look and then thought he should inform him of the plan.
“We have no army, no money and little supplies. If I am to prevent another city from falling it will be with an army of Austrian men who are damn ready to defend their country. I will recruit able body men to answer the call of duty to defend their home from the enemies breathing down our necks. I will plead to their honour and duty for the Duke. I will have an Austrian Household Army. Let’s move.”
The two men looked at each other and mounted for the recruiting drive.

The recruiters made their way along the country hitting every hamlet. Karl was almost embarrassed by the awe the locals held for a Crusader Knight returning from foreign lands and here in their hamlet.
The strategy was simple in each community he would meet with the Elders and filled them in on the political landscape. There would be a meal and the younger men would be there. He would offer them service not in the reserve unit or auxiliary home guard but in the regular force with the promise of advancement to those that demonstrate their loyalty to the Duke. Villages that were the best in cooperating would be aided in compensation by the Duke when the Reich is stable and peace is in the land. He appealed to all ages of men and women to convince their men to join.
This continued along the road to Budapest.
The Count did not forget the lesser nobles and would stop and plead his case to them they were much more indifferent and the Count did not receive the same warmth and affection that he felt with the peasants.
However, he needed the nobles and their horses because they could ride they would be the cavalry units that he so desperately wanted to complete his army.
This scenario continued all the way to Budapest. There was some mocking the “old man” and his rag tag soldiers but it was minor many citizens were afraid and having the Count coming through their community with whatever army gave them a sense of security and a willingness to do their part for Austria. They were not the best trained or best looking but they were loyal and determined to defend their homeland, their families.

[Tamur]

Fritz paced back and forth in front of his unit commanders, lips tight and staring at the ground. Then he began speaking.

"Men, we have been together through many battles, many miserable winter campaigns against the Poles and the Danes. But Ansehelm, as you know, has asked that I be stripped of my command."

"We know this, Count," piped up one of the younger commanders. "You told us months ago. Why bring it up again? The men are growing tired of all the talk."

"Talk!" Fritz stopped and shouted, waving his long arms about wildly. "It's no longer talk! Dieter is at Ansehelm's table this very moment asking why he has no army!"

The commander shrank back a bit into the group.

Fritz went on, half to himself. "And you all knows I will not give up my command..."

[econ21]

This story was written by TinCow

Rome, 1318

His legs ached from hours of standing, but he refused to sit. The only rest Johannes Tockler would allow himself to take was a few short minutes of leaning against the stone wall of the gatehouse. In a way, he considered the soreness and fatigue to be the mark of honorable service. Several of the other guards mocked him for it. They would snicker at his unbending vigil and one man, Ladislaus, liked to kick dung on his boots when his shift was over. Johannes did not care; they were slothful cretins and knew nothing of pride.

Figures were moving in the distance. Johannes raised his hand and squinted into the mid-day sun. Purple cloaks flickered around the edges of the men, marking them as Byzantines. The second man in line raised a horn to his lips and blew a long, two-note blast; their typical method of announcing a prominent diplomat on an official visit. Johannes straightened up, his chin held high, in a posture of Roman formality. Grumbles and the scrape of metal sounded from his right, where the other guards were hastily assuming their positions.

In truth, the event was not unusual. The ambassador had taken an immediate liking to the ‘Cathedral of Sin’ in Florence. It was unusual for him not to spend a week there each month. Even the recent unrest had not diminished his taste of Bavarian pleasures. Johannes wondered momentarily whether allof the ambassador’s ‘formal entries’ were announced with a warhorn.

The processional arrived a few moments later. It was easily three times the size of the ambassador’s normal guard. The Byzantine captain, Kostas Philanthropenos, stopped by the gatehouse, while his column filed through. He turned to Johannes and saluted

“Sergeant Tockler, it makes me sad to see you standing such a post,” he said in thickly accented German. “Surely your talents would be better used elsewhere.”

Johannes smiled. Despite the arrogant attitude the Byzantine emitted, he liked Kostas. “I thank you for the compliment, but we are short on manpower these days. The recent… difficulties… with the Imperial Treasury have caused many men to desert their posts.”

Kostas frowned. “Yes, this business with Empress Theodora is most unpleasant. Shameful, really. It is an insult to the honor of Byzantium. We are not a nation of thieves.” The captain shrugged and clapped Johannes on the shoulder. “But at least they have managed to find enough gold to pay you, my friend.”

The German shook his head. “No, I have not been paid for many months. My salary is enough to keep ten more guards employed and a score of hands is worth far more than my pair, no matter what you think about my merits. Besides, food and lodging are still provided by the barracks and I need little else.”

“Ah, an altruist to the core.” Captain Philanthropenos sighed and shook his head. “As I said, you should be elsewhere today.”

“If I were, I would not have had the pleasure of your company; and that would have been a loss I would have sorely missed.” Both men laughed heartily. Johannes was genuinely grateful for the compliment. A life of duty and virtue was a reward in and of itself, there was little enough of either in the Reich in recent years, but knowing that his actions were acknowledged as such by others brought warmth to his heart. He knew his father would have been proud of him.

The Tockler family had been shepherds for generations. They owned a small farm in the northern foothills of the Odenwald and had passed it down from father to son for as long as anyone could remember. Johannes’ own father had been the ninth generation of Tocklers to work the land, and he had talked often of how proud he was to pass on a legacy to his own children. Much of the surrounding land was owned by Baron von Adelmann, who lived in Weinheim, two days ride to the east. Unlike those men, the Tockler land was a freehold, a highly unusual privilege for a peasant family.

The Tockler men had told their children for generations about how that privilege had been bestowed on them by the Kaiser himself. As a boy of 16, the progenitor Tockler had saved Conrad II’s life during the defeat at Vienna in 1030. Three Hungarian knights had cut their way through the Kaiser’s bodyguard. All that stood in their way was a single levied peasant boy with a rusty spear. Instead of fleeing, he stood his ground and held off the knights for several minutes. When the rest of the Kaiser’s guard finally broke through, they found two bloodied Hungarians dragging away a third, who was mortally wounded. The boy himself stood unharmed in front of the Kaiser, his spear broken, but still leveled at the enemy.

In gratitude, Conrad II had bought the title to the Tockler farm from their feudal Baron and bestowed it on the boy. From that day on, the Tocklers had been vassals to no man, and had survived and prospered by the sweat of their brow. Johannes himself had been named after his famous ancestor, and as the eldest son he had been destined to inherit the family land from birth. Yet, the life of a shepherd had never sat well with Johannes. When he was 14, his father had taken him to sell wool in the market in Weinheim. On the road they had been passed by a contingent of Teutonic Knights from nearby Frankfurt. They were riding south, to Venice, where they would take a ship for Outremer.

Johannes never forgot the sight of their white surcoats, shining steel armor, and powerful warhorses. For months afterwards, he could think of nothing else. Yet he was shamed by the thoughts and prayed for forgiveness each night. He knew that his duty was to his family and the farm, but he could not shake the thought that he was destined for something greater, something more important. The guilt he felt over this was unbearable and he cried himself to sleep on more than one occasion.

One night, three months later, his father took him aside after dinner. “Johan, you are a man now. It is time for you to begin your life.” With that, he had handed him a long, wrapped bundle. Inside, Johannes had found a finely crafted sword and scabbard, its polished steel shining in the candlelight. He had been so overwhelmed with emotion that he had simply stared at it, mouth agape. His father simply smiled. “I know you do not want to be a farmer and a shepherd. There is no shame in that. Our family was founded upon the virtuous actions of a soldier. Now it is your turn. Take this sword and go forth into the world. Protect the innocent, punish the wicked, and above all live with pride. God will guide your hand.”

The next morning, a squire in the service of Baron von Adelmann came to take him to Weinheim. He served the Baron for a time, and then made his way to the Frankfurt, the old Imperial capital. In 1261 Johannes joined up with a small group of Teutons who were on their way to Outremer, in response to the Pope’s call for the Third Crusade to recapture Jerusalem. They journeyed over land to Venice, and from there took ship to the citadel at Acre. He was spotted by an Imperial recruiter within moments of disembarking and joined a regiment of armored spearmen in Karl Zirn’s army. After Jerusalem was recaptured, he transferred to a unit under Jan von Hamburg’s command and followed him for many years. Even at such a young age, the future King of Outremer was a shining example of chivalry and duty. Inspired by his example, Johannes quickly gained a reputation for bravery and, above all, honor.

He held the line, unflinching, against the Mongols on the day that King Salier had fallen. His unwavering stance rallied his terrified men and allowed for an orderly withdrawal from what would otherwise have been a complete rout. For his actions that day, he was promoted to Sergeant. He served in King Jan’s armies for the next ten years; never the most skilled fighter, but always the first into battle and the last to leave it. His men loved him for it.

Then, on a trip to Antioch, he met a young girl, fresh off the boat from Venice. She was from Prague and had accompanied her parents on a pilgrimage to Jerusalem. Fate and dysentery had taken them from her off the coast of Cyprus, and she had been abandoned in the streets of the teeming city. Johannes saw her wandering the streets, hungry and dirty. He took her in and, for a time, they were happy. She gave birth to a daughter, the light of his life, but the plague visited the city two years later and neither was spared. Devastated by the loss of his wife and child, Johannes had left Outremer and returned to the Reich. He had gone straight to the Imperial capital of Rome and, with the aid of a letter from King Jan himself, was welcomed into the city guard, where he had been ever since. He found pride in his station and it showed in his work. Rome was the seat of the Kaiser and a Holy City in its own right. There was no better way for him to spend the remaining years of his life than serving in its defense.

Johannes looked at Kostas and his face darkened. “I have heard rumors that Byzantine armies are marching on Bologna. Is there any truth to this?” The Captain’s eyes narrowed, but before he could reply a scream came from up above. Johannes looked up, but his vision was impaired by the bright sun overhead. He raised his hand to block the light, and saw a glimpse of a large object falling through the air in front of him. It was the body of one of the guards on the gate ramparts.

He reached for his sword, the same blade his father had given him so many years before. The scabbard was heavily worn and the grip had been replaced three times, yet Johannes still polished it until the blade gleamed bright. “To arms! To arms!” He cried, and turned towards Kostas. “You must get to safety! There are men inside the…”

The cold steel of a dagger pierced his throat and severed his windpipe, cutting off his words with a bloody gurgle. Johannes grasped at his neck, but his fingers could not stop the surge of blood that spewed forth. As he sank to the ground, he stared wide-eyed into the face of Kostas. “I am sorry, my friend. You should not have been here today.”

It took several minutes for Sergeant Johannes Tockler to bleed to death by the gates of Rome. It was long enough to see the vanguard of the Byzantine armies pass through the open portcullis.