Stories thread - King of the Romans PBM

[econ21]

Somewhere in the Eastern Med, 1334


Jurgen Zimmler was a strange sort. He was a proficient bosun - strong even for a sailor - and had an ingratiating manner. But there was something not quite right about the man, with his greasy hair and shifty eyes. When suitably inebriated, Zimmler would tell tall tales about his sexual conquests that made the other sailors laugh out loud. But inwardly, the crew were left feeling uneasy about how much of the cruel exploits was false and how much might possibly be true. The younger sailors gave Zimmler a wide berth. More than one boy had left the ship under a cloud after a falling out with the man. The older sailors had learnt not to cross him. His enemies had a strange habit of disappearing from the ship in the night, never to be seen of again. Why the Captain tolerated Zimmler’s dark presence was never understood, but there were whispers that the bosun had some kind of hold over the Captain.

The arrival of the Kaiser’s party on the ship lightened the mood of the crew. Elberhard liked to fraternise with the men so there was never a shortage of wine and his lewd tales from his youth rivalled Zimmler’s in excess, although they lacked the undercurrent of violence. Whether it was because of the presence of so eminent a rival, or because of the knights patrolling the deck, Jurgen Zimmler seemed positively subdued. He moped around the ship, with a distant look and a mind clearly elsewhere.

*****

“What the @#$%^&!!! are we going to do with her? Stuck on this boat with a hundred @#$%^&!!!ing rough men!” exclaimed Elberhard.

Eue listened intently from outside the cabin, sitting on the wooden stairs. She heard her mother’s incisive voice:

“You must assign one of your men to watch over her, to never let her out of his sight. Who do you trust most?”

Not Nikolas, not Nikolas, anyone but Nikolas, prayed Eue. The Kaiser’s old mentor had always struck Eue as a creep - sweaty, pompous and patronising. What her father had ever learnt from the man, Eue could not imagine.

“Well, I would trust Captain Jan with…”

“With the Reich’s Treasury, yes dear, I know. But that did not turn out awfully well for you did it?” cut in Linyeve.

“All right, Mein Herr then.”

Eue gasped - Mein Herr, the Nubian shieldbearer who never spoke? This was intolerable!

“Mein Herr? Are you sure?” she heard her mother sound surprised.

Please, mum, please - stop him!

“Yeah, no one better to watch your back.” said Elberhard emphatically.

“All right, Mein Herr it is.”

NO! Eue screamed in her head.

Her parents turned at a faint sound coming from outside the door, but when Linyeve came out and looked up the stairs, they were empty.

*****

Eue would not look up at Mein Herr. She lay on her bunk, her face buried in a book. Elberhard looked awkwardly at his rude daughter and shuffled. He cast a glance at Mein Herr. The Nubian stood, starting forward, serenely. My God, thought, Elberhard, these two are made for each other.

“All right, love, then … err … I’ll leave you two to get on with it.” The Kaiser made a quick exit.

Eue watched her father leave from the corner of her eye and then risked a glance at his shieldbearer. Mein Herr stood without blinking, standing as if on parade. She kicked the door closed with her foot, leaving the Nubian on guard outside her cabin. She turned back to her book, but as the minutes became hours, the impassive and exotic figure outside her room started to exercise her mind far more than the dull and familiar scripture in front of her.

While walking after lunch, Eue’s curiosity got the better of her.

“Can you talk, Nubian?” she said, acidly.

“Yes, Princess.” said Mein Herr. His voice had a thick accent, deep and rich, as if drenched in molasses.

“Why do they call you Mein Herr?”

“My name is Maina. Perhaps it is their little joke.” Eue swore she could make out the twinkle of a smile in the corner of Mein Herr’s eyes. She could not help but think the joke was on the ignorant Germans.

“But they don’t like you, do they? Is it because you are a schwarzer?” pressed Eue, insensitively.

“Maybe. Or maybe it was the manner of my arrival.” said Mein Herr coolly.

“You were caught in battle - you were one of the enemy.” stated Eue.

“Yes, I was caught in battle. But not before I killed three of your father’s retinue.”

“What?” Eue could not hide her surprise. Yes, Mein Herr was a brute of a figure, but how could such a primitive man slay three of the Reich’s finest knights?

Mein Herr took in her expression: “Yes, the others, they did not believe it either.” he explained: “So I challenged them to a joust.”

“What?!” said Eue, even louder. The idea of a Nubian at a joust seemed even more unlikely than Mein Herr’s previous claim. “You could joust?”

“No, Princess. I was in the Tarbardariyya. I was a foot soldier. I wielded an axe. I could not use a lance nor ride a horse.”

“But you fought a joust?”

“I fought four jousts - to prove that my account of my capture was true.”

“You killed four more of my father’s knights?”

“No, no, Princess.” Mein Herr reassured her. “I only killed three more. The first three jousts.”

“And the fourth joust?” pressed Eue.

“That was against your father.” said Mein Herr, matter of factly.

“WHAT???!!!” Eue was now purple at the latest of these absurd tales.

“Yes. He saw me kill three of his champions in a row. He was not happy. He said some bad words. Then he came onto the jousting field. His guards tried to stop him, but your father is a reckless man. He came on.”

“Hah, and he knocked you down!” said Eue triumphantly.

Mein Herr smiled: “No, Princess. I brought down his horse. And then I put my axe to his neck.”

Eue’s eyes were bulging and Mein Herr smiled.

“Princess, I may be a schwarzer, but I am no fool. I would not kill the Emperor of the Reich in the middle of his army camp. I gave your father my axe. And he gave me this position. There was a vacancy. Sir Paul Mulner - his previous shieldbearer - was one of the six knights I had slain.”

Eue looked cross. “But how - how could you defeat six knights while just on foot with an axe?”

Mein Herr gave an easy smile: “Princess, you know the game “chicken”, right? Two people charge at each other and the one who flinches first, loses? Well, jousting is not unlike that. Yes, a couched lance is a formidable weapon. But once you are past the point, the knight is helpless. And a Tarbardariyya axe can take down the heaviest horse or the heaviest armour. You’ve just got to know when to duck.”

Eue pulled a face at the mental image of the Nubian’s axe striking a fine warhorse or German champion. She sized up Mein Herr. He was staring straightforward again, with a serene expression. Eue smiled.

*****

“Who do you think I will marry?” said Eue.

Mein Herr gave the Princess a withering look. “Princess, it is not my place…”

“Yes, yes, you don’t speak, I forgot.” said Eue lightly. “Except… you do talk, don’t you? Rather a lot, in fact, when it is about your axe wielding exploits. You’ve learnt rather a lot while you have been with my father, haven’t you? You’ve learnt our language, how to ride, how to survive in a court full of prejudice and intrigue? You were always at my father’s side - I suspect you know more about matters of state than most of our Electors.”

Eue paused. “So tell me, I know I am a commodity, a tool, one of the few instruments of power my father still wields in this disloyal and chaotic Reich. Who do you think I will marry?”

Mein Herr remained impassive.

“Do you know that absurd little man, Hummel, had the temerity to ask my father for my hand?!”

Mein Herr looked Eue: “Do not underestimate a man such as him, Princess. Duke Athalwolf underestimated him, your late uncle Hans underestimated him. His ambition is so great, it leads people to dismiss him. But to achieve great things, you first need great ambition.”

“Fine, we’ll put Hummel on the “maybe” list, then shall we? Pros - vast, overweening ambition. Cons - dirty backstabbing little traitor. Fine. Who’s next? Ah yes, Duke Arnold. What do you think of him?”

Mein Herr remained impassive.

“Well, what I think is that the man is so desperate to get hitched, he’d marry one of his pachydermic namesakes if they could bear him offspring.” Eue thought she could see the corners of Mein Herr’s eyes wrinkle at this declaration. “But I think he and my father may have burnt their bridges over Prague.”

Mein Herr seemed to tire and said with a slight air of mischief: “What about Dieter von Kassel, Princess? He is closer to your age and you did get to know him in Outremer.”

“Oh, please!” said Eue crossly, her face going red. “The man does nothing but talk about his horse. Angus this.. Angus that…I must charge these Papists because Angus needs some exercise!”

“Very well” said Mein Herr in his deep, rich voice: “Better put him in the “maybe” pile with Hummel then shall we?”

Eue threw her book at the Nubian, but it was some minutes before the smile left her face.

*****

The ship was dead in the water. There was no wind. But it was fine, warm day, so Elberhard organised a swim in the balmy sea water. After weeks at sail, the passengers were delighted to find a distraction, although their swimming ability meant that more than once proud knights had to suffer the indignity of being rescued by common sailors. After the men had returned from the sea, Linyeve took Eue into the water, watched by Elberhard and Mein Herr. The Nubian taught Eue to float effortlessly on her back and then provided an inflated pigskin to help her learn the rudiments of swimming. The freedom provided by the open sea exhilarated the princess.

As she clambered back on board the ship, Eue gratefully hugged her Nubian swimming instructor but was immediately reprimanded by her mother.

“Eue! What are you thinking? Get back to your cabin, now!”

Red faced, the Princess fled to her cabin while Mein Herr cast his eyes down in front of the wrathful Queen. Amidst the scandal, no one noticed the bosun slink down the stairs towards the Imperial quarters.

*****

Mein Herr’s reputation for being mute protected him from a prolonged tongue lashing from Linyeve and he quickly made his way downstairs to stand guard outside the Princess’s cabin. His heavy physique moved gracefully down the wooden steps and his sharp ears allowed him to pick up muffled sounds coming from inside the Princess’s cabin. His skin prickled and instinctively he knew something was terribly wrong. Without thinking of the potentially fatal consequences that might befall him if he were wrong, Mein Herr slammed his foot against the cabin door - breaking the lock and kicking it open.

Inside, Jurgen Zimmler, the lanky bosun had Eue by the throat. Mein Herr drew a small axe from his belt. The bosun spun round, holding Eue in front of him, a knife now clearly visible, pressing against her neck.

“Stay back! Stay back or I’ll cut her!” Zimmler hissed.

“It’s ok, it’s ok.” said Mein Herr, soothingly, in his soft, treacly voice.

Zimmler was coiled like a spring, breathing heavily. However, Mein Herr was not addressing the bosun, but rather the Princess, whose eyes were wide with fear and whose mouth was covered by Zimmler’s large leathery hand.

“No one is going to get hurt.” purred the Nubian in his rich, gravely accent. He smiled at the Princess and spoke slowly and gently. “Remember what I told you about the joust? It’s like a game of chicken. You’ve just got to know when to … duck.”

Eue used all her strength to bite into the bosun’s hand and throw herself towards the floor. She felt a rush of air above her and then heard a dull clunk. The bosun’s grip seemed to loosen and Mein Herr sprang across the room, grabbing Zimmler’s knife arm with both hands, then snaping the limp sailor’s wrist with a wrathful energy.

“Go!” Mein Herr picked up the bosun’s knife and bundled Eue out of her cabin, shutting her out with what remained of the broken door. The Princess ran, not looking back as, knife in hand, the Nubian advanced on what remained of the bosun.

*****

None of the crew ever knew what happened to Jurgen Zimmler. Like some of their comrades who had crossed the bosun in the past, the man just disappeared from the ship in the night, never to be seen again. But he was a strange sort and no one mourned his departure.

[Ignoramus]

Staufen, 1334

Wolfgang smiled as he went to address his men.

"Men, we are besieged. The loyalist, Erhart Ruppel, has surrounded the citadel and has cut off our escape. However, we are secure in the finest citadel in the Reich, and adequate precautions have been taken to ensure our survival.

Firstly, the walls have been fully repaired and are in ready state of defence. No loyalist will find their way in here without arrows, bolts, and shot tearing through them.

Secondly, the granaries are well stocked with grain; we certainly shall not starve, although rationing will be necessary.

I am confident that soon the loyalists will see the futility of their cause; they have not a leg to stand on.

That is all men; remember your duty to myself and Swabia!'

[Northnovas]

Vienna Region 1346

The local noble had opened his estate for the Zirn’s to meet over the Christmas Holiday. The residence was full of activity. The 2nd Austrian Household Army had another victory and was being supplied to defend Vienna. Johann had left but returned to be with his family. A lavish supper had been completed and the guest had excused themselves from the table. Only the Zirn men remained Karl and his sons Johann, Jan and Maximilian. The debate between Karl and Johann developed some hard feelings and had been an issue for the past few months was ready to begin again. It was affecting both men especially Johann and his role in the family and the Duke’s House. This topic was never going to go away till an agreement could be reached. The younger siblings sat by the fireplace poking at the fire. This scene was getting familiar between the two men and the younger boys would try to ignore the debate but Jan was getting more interested in the discussion between his older brother and father. All the sons have the utmost respect for their father and each other.

Karl and Johann conversation was getting more heated then usual so much that the younger siblings turned their attention to the fire and not try look in the direction of the two men. Peter who was outside the room was also puzzled and embarrassed and prevented the help from entering the room to clean up. The Zirn’s would always have a debate but the tone of this one was different then others.

“No, I do not agree father, I can’t see it possible! Can’t you see what is going on? How can I accomplish this it is too much and will not discuss this further?” Johann was very angry with his father for not considering his request and to do his father’s bidding instead. It was not going to happen. He had a vision of the new Reich and the ideas that have been spoken the past few years in the places of learning and the streets.

Karl was getting tired quicker then usual and looking at his son knowing this was going no further tonight. Johann was more on edge then usual maybe it was the last siege of the city? It had a psychological effect on everyone. Karl was going to plea once more…..

“Enough father!” Johann raised his hand in a stopping motion, “I have am tired and will not discuss this anymore. I am retiring for the night.” Johann then left quickly out of the room not looking at his father or brothers and quickly brushing past Peter without a word.

Karl walked over to the fireplace were Jan and Max had been sitting quietly.

“Why is Joe so mad? Did he not get enough to eat?” said the youngest Zirn. Karl looked and smiled at the innocence of his son.

“No don’t be so daft. You are too young to understand these matters of importance just play with your toys. I understand it is not about food” continued Jan.

“Toys, you don’t call those figures of soldier’s on the table toys you play with all the time?!” shot back Max.

Shhhh! enough boys the hour is getting late. Karl sat in the chair and motioned his boys closer. They knew their “debate” was over and sat closer to hear what their father had to say. Karl looked at the boys wondering of the future that lay ahead the privileges of family and its pitfalls.

“Listen boys, Johann is upset because we are having a disagreement. He is young and full of new ideas and energy. There are great plans ahead of him and he is high favour with your Uncle Arnold.”

“The Duke!” exclaimed Max with a smile.

“Yes the Duke, having no children of his own you boys will take an important part in the future of this Duchy. You are all great-grandsons of Kaiser Heinrich and will all have a responsibility in the growth of this House. It is just Johann may have a larger role because he is older and he is seeing things differently. He may have some of the traits of your Uncle in his outlook but there is one trait that this family does have…..” Karl then stared over to the fire he got up and walked over grabbing a log. The boys walked over and picked up some small kindling.

“Loyalty, Trust and Integrity” Karl then reached in and removed a small ember from the hot bed. “You see boys this ember alone losing its glow. That is what happens when you do not work together.” Jan tried to light his stick with the ember but it would not light.
“Do you know why it will not light boys?”

Max reached to touch and quickly pulled his hand away. “Ouch it’s still hot” he quipped shaking his hand to cool his fingers.

Karl chuckled at Max’s wonderment. “Yes it is hot it still has some energy but not enough to light Jan’s little stick. Watch”

Karl then continued placing the log on the glowing embers. It started it ignite and flames grew from the log.

“See how the log ignites all those embers banded together and engulfed the log. That little ember could not light a little stick and on its own it may start off strong but cools off quickly and dies out. Why? Remember, cooperation is the key and utilizing the principles you have learned will keep you strong in adverse situations and overcome your enemies. Remember how important this is for the Austrian House and our family. Don’t forget and we will always remain together.”

Jan looked into the fire and threw his stick into the flames “loyalty, trust, integrity”

Max following his older brother’s lead and threw his stick into the flames “cooperation.”

Karl smiled down at the boys and in his heart he knew the Johann also understood.

Johann got to his room and was relieved to be alone. The room was warm and a glow with the fire roaring in the fireplace. He prepared to retire for the night and got to thinking of his after supper conversation with his father. He poured himself a goblet of wine and standing by the fireplace watching the flames leap from the logs, he stared deeply into the flames thinking; euphony came to him.
Maybe the old man is right I think I am being too short sighted he is always looking ahead. I must look further then my own needs. I was a little harsh and should apologize for what I said we have been arguing far too long. He thought of getting dressed and going back to his father but thought an apology over breakfast Christmas morning would be better when they are both rested.

He commenced his evening prayers and he prayed for his father and retired for the night.

Johann awoke it was Christmas morning, the sun light was penetrating through the window and a fire was roaring in the room the servants had been in to prepare the room for him to start his morning. There was activity outside his room but something did not seem right.

Johann quickly dressed and walked out into the hall there were servants quickly walking down the hall some weeping. “The master is gone.” He heard them crying. Johann quickly went to his father’s quarters.

When he got to the room his father was lying in his bed the priest was there, his mother and brothers weeping. The priest looked over to Johann with a sad look.

“He’s dead!?” Johann was stunned it felt like an out of body experience and only one thought raced in his head I didn’t apologize. The guilt of leaving on bad terms was overwhelming. He fell to his knees. How could he have left his father in that state last night? He prayed

“Forgive me father, I will honour your request.”

Johann composed himself has his mother came over to him. He hugged her and his brothers then thought; he must get back to Ragusa and his Uncle Arnold only the second man he admired after his father. Peter and Ingo arrived to the room. Johann directed his attention to them. Your last act of servitude is to prepare the funeral arrangements for my father.

Both men were heavy with grief has they completed their final orders.

[OverKnight]

The continuation of this story.

Elsebeth calmly surveyed Matthias.

"Yes, it is me. Does my appearance shock you?", she focused on his eyepatch and grey hair and smiled, "I have not aged as gracefully as you."

Matthias grunted, "I was simply taken aback by your unexpected arrival here, particularly in such vestments. The last time I saw you in Rome, you had taken no vows."

Elsebeth cast her eyes down and smoothed her robes.

"Ah, yes, I am a Bride of Christ now. Much has changed in the years since last we met."

Matthias, playing for time, crossed to a sideboard and poured two glasses of wine. Offering her a glass, he spoke, "Indeed, so why have you traveled back east after so many years?"

Taking the glass, she drank deeply, and replied, "I have come back to be closer to Otto. When I heard that you had liberated Adana, I took ship from Ostia. I had been at a small convent there since the fall of Rome."

"You've been in Greek territory all these years?"

She nodded and finished her wine in a gulp.

"Yes, I was in Rome when the Byzantines stormed the city. It was terrible. Fortunately, the Kaiserin Theodora intervened on my behalf, and I was saved the depredations that befell the other inhabitants."

Elsebeth sighed, sinking down into a chair, "Of course, I was not to be completely trusted, Theodora had soured on Germans at that point. There is a tradition in their Empire. Inconvenient nobles are bundled off to isolated monasteries and 'encouraged' to take vows, and so that was my fate."

Matthias sat opposite her, "Why stay there? Why did you leave now?"

Shaking her head, she responded, "I was being watched and. . .before the death of Siegfried, I had become a confidant of Theodora. I. . .advised her on how to skillfully bring her influence to bear on the Electors. I served much the same role as I had with you. Once unification was destroyed, my service was remembered. It saved my life in Rome, but there are few Germans who would shelter me. Some might even seek to do me harm."

Elsebeth paused, glancing up at Matthias, "A woman with power is a rare thing, I felt it wise to seek out another like myself. In hindsight, not my best decision. When Kaiser Elberhard, God rest my nephew's soul, arrived in Italy, it loosened Greek control. I was able to escape when the time came."

Matthias sat in silence, thinking. He spoke after a moment, "Whatever has happened, you are welcome in Adana. We all consorted with the Greeks before the split. I myself spoon fed them Caesarea, much to my later regret. It is good to have you here."

Oddly, his words did not have a calming effect on her. Elsebeth paled at the mention of Caesarea and her grip on the wine glass became white knuckled. She abruptly stood, and crossed to Matthias. She gingerly brushed back some hair from above the patch over his right eye.

"Does it hurt?"

"What?"

"Your eye," she said, a tear running down her cheek.

Matthias looked up at her quizzically, "No, not for years. What are you getting at?"

Elsebeth looked miserable, she whispered, "I told her. To gain favor, I told her."

"What?!", asked Matthias again, anger rising in his voice.

Elsebeth drew herself up, regaining the composure and poise of a noblewoman. She swallowed and spoke clearly, "I told the Kaiserin of your plans to hold Adana. To defy the Kaiser and prevent the handover to the Greeks. I told her, and that most likely led to your capture. I am sorry."

Matthias batted her hand away from his head and stood bolt upright. A fire burned in his good eye as he loomed over Elsebeth. Swearing he turned and in a rage swept the contents of the sideboard to the floor. Once, twice, three times he brought his fists down on it. Lowering his head, he drew in a ragged breath.

"Get out," he seethed in a cold voice, not bothering to look at her, "You may stay in Adana, but you will remain out of my sight."

Elsebeth tentatively approached him, arms reaching out to him, "I'm so sorry, I didn't know, I only wanted to stop you from doing something. . ."

"Get out!", screamed Matthias.

She left, head held high.

Matthias bowed his head after she was gone and prayed, but found no peace. The past could not be left behind. It came back unexpectedly, raw and sharp, carried by dark tidings and unexpected revelations. No matter how many times he thought himself reborn, it would still be there.

[econ21]

Nuremburg, 1346


“What is he like?” inquired the Empress Dowager Linyeve.

Sir Charles de Villiers thought for a moment: “His family are minor nobles from Luxemburg, they have conducted much trade with England. While the chaos in Swabia has been ruinous for the Reich, it has provided opportunities for those who know how to seize them. Armies have many needs and the disruption of regular trade routes provides rich profits for those who can work with unscrupulous generals.”

“Yes, yes - he is rich, I get it. But damn it, Charles, do you think that is all I care about?” reprimanded Linyeve.

Sir Charles raised a sceptical eyebrow and Linyeve scowled at him, although half in jest.

“What is the boy like?” Linyeve insisted.

“Not much to look at, but shows great promise in martial pursuits. He is brave and already has scars to show his martial practice. Involvement in his family’s affairs has given him some skill in organisation. He appears religious and earnest.”

“It sounds as if he would be fine as a soldier, but as a husband?”

“You are asking a soldier, not a woman, your Highness.”

“Bah. Very well - I will meet the boy. And what of you, Sir Charles? What will you do now?”

“My services are no longer required in the Reich, your Highness. I will return to serve our native England - perhaps in the Levant, to liaise between her new Crusader provinces and your Kingdom of Outremer.”

Linyeve smiled: “A most excellent idea, Sir Charles, I wish you well. For my part, Germany is my country now and I will not leave her although I fear I too am surplus to requirements. However, I do still have a young family to raise.”

The Empress Dowager sighed: “Speaking of which, I must break the news to Eue. I thank you for bringing this young man to my attention, Sir Charles, and we will speak again before we depart. But now you must wish me luck.”

*****

“No, I won’t do it!” Eue shouted at her mother. “The boy is a parvenu from a family of war profiteers! An upstart creep, using us to crawl up the greasy pole!”

“And we are using him. Your father had many virtues, but being good with money was not one of them. He has left us virtually penniless and while the Reich is fighting for survival, it has no money to lavish on orphaned royalty. Besides, after Theodora’s stunt, it will be a while before foreign Empress Dowagers become popular causes in the Reich!”

“You want me to marry someone just for their money?” Eue demanded.

“Not just for his money. The boy has great promise - Sir Charles has assured me…”

“Sir Charles!?! Well, why doesn’t Sir Charles damn well marry him then!” Eue stormed.

“Listen, Eue - you must understand your situation. You have gone from being the most sort after woman in the Reich to being a near outcast. The young men who lined up to court you - that Hapsburg boy, Karl Zirn’s eldest - will not look at you now. You must adjust to your new situation in life. It is a man’s world, my dear, and you must find the most promising man to attach yourself too. And in these violent times, it is martial men who offer the most chance of advancement.”

“And boys from filthy rich families?”

“Filthy rich helps.”

[Northnovas]

Ragusa 1346

Johann had found comfortable lodgings a few miles from the Citadel. There was very little movement on the road with the sickness spreading across all of Europe. He was fortunate to get this place whose owner’s were weary of travelers. However, once the young man’s family name was recognize he was given a place to stay.

“Bloody hell” Johann though to himself holding the last message from the Duke.

He had left Vienna to take command of the 1st AHA in Ragusa under the Duke’s orders but it has been one major disappointment. He left with high hopes that he was to get away from his father’s shadow and prove his worth. Unfortunately his father’s death this past year did not leave the two on best of terms. Rather then take command of the 2nd AHA and stay in Vienna he returned to Ragusa as originally ordered. This wandering the countryside with no command was making Joahnn feel very unappreciated.

“Another damn message, what is it this time head for Timbuktu?” Johann thought to himself. He had been alone a lot quite lately. “It is damn maddening back and forth without an Army and because of this sickness I have not even seen Uncle Arnold. He is bloody quarantined.” His only contact with the Duke had been by correspondence and healthy messengers. Only miles apart and they have had no met each other.

Johann opened the seal message

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Johann,
I have new orders you are to return to Vienna to assist in the situation there. The Hungarians have besieged the city and no commander as sallied forth. My situation has improved but there is much sickness here in Ragusa. I feel it would be best for you to return to Vienna and fight the Hungarians.

Uncle Arnold

Johann stared at the message and then thought. He crumbled the paper and threw them into the fireplace. “Sickness, mmph,” thinking, “The Hungarians were father’s enemies not mine. I will make my own. I am heading into Ragusa to command an army... and find out what is going on with Uncle.”

His decision had been made he was continuing on his original orders. Sickness or Venetians he was heading for the Citadel.

[GeneralHankerchief]

Rosenheim, 1350

The journey from Prague to Italy had been a long one for Herrmann Steffen. Having come of age in Nuremburg in 1344, he rushed to the Austrian city to assist in its relief from the Poles. Everything went fine, Edmund Becker had not recommended knighthood, and ever since then he had been cut off from the events that concerned him most; on the long road to Italy.

In all fairness, he probably would have been there by now had it not been for the Plague. The dreaded sickness - which was labelled by some as the Black Death, its casualty count approaching the Byzantine genocide in Italy and the War of Reformation deaths - had knocked out every major center in which Herrmann wanted to resupply. As a result, his party, fueled by Herrmann's paranoia, had resulted to living off the land, which had slowed progress down significantly.

The hamlet of Rosenheim was, in 1300, a thriving market town; a budding center of commerce, situated roughly halfway between Nuremburg and Innsbruck. That was before the bad times. Years of war had whittled down the population, and the Byzantine takeover of the majority of Italy had severely hampered trade. Little by little Rosenheim was abandoned as its residents moved farther into the heart of the Reich or the nearby cities for protection. By the time the Black Death hit, it was a near-ghost town.

Herrmann and his party viewed the town from a nearby hill, surveying for signs of possible activity or sickness. All of them were filthy beyond belief after foraging for food and tromping through the wilderness. One of them still had a dribble of juice, no doubt from undercooked meat, rolling down his chin.

"Okay," he said, "Who do you want to send, Herrmann?" It had been Herrmann's policy to send only one of his retinue down at a time into towns in case of infection.

"Town looks pretty empty to me. Nobody left for the plague to kill. I'll go down myself; I need to ask questions."

A pause. It was highly unlikely that Herrmann's fear of getting sick would take such a 180.

"...but, you're all coming with me. Surround me, facing outward. Nobody is going to touch or breathe on me, I can guarantee that."

With knowing smiles, Herrmann's retinue, accompanied by their leader, packed their things and made their way down into Rosenheim. Walking down the main street, they surveyed their surroundings. The stench of death still lingered in the air, although it was only faint. More overpowering was the feeling of general emptiness. The buildings lining this street and others were meant to be filled.

They weren't.

One man approached the circle of soldiers making their way down the street; an old priest, still clean-shaven on the face but long and wild on the scalp. He stared at them, mumbling, and finally approached them. The wall around Herrmann tightened.

"What brings you lads to Rosenheim? Is this the newest, most powerful army the Kaiser sends to deliver Italy from the Byzantines? Oh, truly, better times have befallen us."

"Relax, old man," Herrmann said from behind the wall. "I am Herrmann Steffen, first of four sons of Duke Lothar Steffen of Bavaria. The young generation is alive and well and ready to continue the fight. Our armies are still large and powerful. My men and I have been called down to Italy to provide additional tactical as well as cavalry support to Count Fredericus Erlach. We require provisions for the journey as towns along the way have been few."

"Provisions?" The old priest laughed. "Hah! You're many years late, lad. Sure, we had lots of provisions - at the turn of the century. Times have gotten worse since then, however."

"As they have for everybody. The Reich still survives."

"The Reich, maybe, but not this town."

"You still live. Tell me, is there anyone who can aid us? Surely those remaining who are not sick would jump at the chance to do business with travelers, as this town used to."

"Well..." The priest scratched his unkempt mane, trying to remember. "The leading trader, Gruber, got old and died a few years ago. He had five sons, but four of them went off to war and couldn't continue the family business. Their youngest, not yet of military age, got sick and passed away. The second leading trader, Demetrius, was robbed and beaten to death during the Cataclysm by a few deserted soldiers mistaking him for a Greek by his name. He had no heirs. The third leading trader simply lost his business and died penniless.

"And then we go to the minor moneymakers of Rosenheim. Two young gentlemen, appropriately named Hans and Dietrich, took their religious differences to the extreme and slaughtered each other. Both had pregnant wives and young sons. Both families starved to death the following winter, unable to provide for themselves. Our butcher, Ruprecht, moved away to Franconia. His brother stayed, trying to maintain the family business for a while. Then of course, he got sick and died.

"We lost our blacksmith to the Plague. Our main merchants, our government officials, our clergy, minus me. Anyone remotely connected with business is either gone or dead. Had you come earlier, I would have been able to direct you to our last remaining farmer in the area, one Jens Heinztelman. He had a nice little crop going in the area, was able to feed himself, his wife, his four kids, and still have some left over to sell to us. Last month he got sick, just him. In a fever-induced madness the second night of his illness, Jens Heintzelmen picked up a hatchet and killed everyone else in the house, screaming loud enough for us in town to hear. By the time I got to his place he was covered in blood, muttering something about demons. Right in front of me he picks up his bloody hatchet and implants it in his neck. Now, of course, his farm is ruined, already being reclaimed by nature.

"Young Steffen, if I could be of any help to you I honestly would. But I've watched the town die around me. There aren't very many of us left, and we pretty much keep to ourselves for fear of getting sick. We fend for ourselves, provide what we can. But can we give enough food for a dozen young men on their way to Italy? No sir, we cannot."

A long, terrible silence followed the close of the priest's speech, one that lasted for over two minutes. Herrmann's protective circle broke apart, each man taking a few steps, surveying the destruction that the priest had just described, now being able to visualize the horrors that must have taken place. Herrmann just stared, taking everything in.

"How far to the nearest town?" he finally asked.

"About fifteen miles to the south," the priest said.

"Get back to your horses." Herrmann turned to his men. "We move out immediately."

Several minutes later they were ready, bidding goodbye to the priest and departing the town of Rosenheim, heading south, wondering if the town fifteen miles away had a similar story to tell, wondering if they had fared any better.