Ragusa 1342

The journey from Nuremberg to Ragusa was the most impressive experience Duke Arnold's Priest had ever seen. Newly elected and emanating energy and passion for the position the Duke was a sight to behold. He had managed in his later years to temper his fierce and dreaded characteristics with a more lenient and patient approach. Of course just below the surface was his old demeanor, but this new aspect to him allowed people to at least approach him without fear of losing some part of their body if things didn't go well.

As his retinue and body guard had left Nuremberg, messengers and outriders poured back and forth from the Duke's mobile council to every corner of the Reich. The various personal banners of the nobles from Outremer, Franconia, Swabia, Bavaria and Austria mingled with the Royal Messengers of the Kaiser and Prinz to form a never ending queue of requests, pleas and outright demands.

As the light faded on each day the troop put down a massive marque and the work continued late into the night.

Drafted to write the Duke's most personal correspondence the Priest had little sleep throughout the journey and his hand ached from the continuous reading and writing it took to deal with a Reich that was teetering on the edge of collapse. Reports of all kinds had to be read, collated and responded too and most of those could only be signed by the Chancellors hand himself. The problem was that in addition to all that, there were the personal reports and visits to be received and answered by the man himself. There were literally just a few minutes sometimes in which important decisions had to be made. Those decisions were sending men to their deaths by the thousands, yet these demands were part and parcel of Duke Arnold's like and to date they seemed to be working in the Reich's favour. The general's were performing amazingly well under his oversight.

Venice had been relieved, as well as Antioch and Hamburg, Austria was fighting back and Duke Steffen was conducting what seemed to be psychological warfare with the Byzantines in northern Italy.

Where he shouldn't be he was, and what he shouldn't be doing he did.

Somehow everything was getting done and it was taking every single resource at the Dukes disposal. His entire retinue was marshaling The Chancellors Office as only they knew how. The men of the Exchequer and War Office has simply refused to budge when they were told that they had to leave Nuremberg for the long and arduous journey to Ragusa. In true form the Chancellor had stormed out of the meeting and sent Grom and Bane in his stead. The Duke had barked out clear instruction to the two of them and it had taken about 7 minutes for his left and right hand men to convince all 40 staff that leaving for Ragusa was the best course of action given their alternatives.

Sadly after so many decades of inactivity The Chancellors Office had been a shell of it former self, however by the time they had reached the outskirts of Ragusa things had begun running smoothly.

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One of the many letters the Priest had read was the pending arrival of the daughter of a minor Russian noble. Somehow after the incident the previous season with the Russian diplomats arm being broken, the Duke had become acquainted with some of Russia's minor nobility in attendance for the Diet. Having just won the position of Chancellor it seemed at least one aspiring father wanted his daughter married to the new Chancellor. Arrangements had been made and the woman would be arriving at the docks of Ragusa about the same time as the Duke completed his trip.

Now, having crested the final hill between Nuremberg and Ragusa the Priest could see a ship docked at the harbour flying a Russian flag.

“Well I never!!” The surprise was clearly etched on Sigfreid's face, the military engineer had known the Duke longer than any of them. What had illicited the response from his lips was the sight of Duke Arnold galloping down the slope at full speed towards the ship, all the while letting out a shout of joy and happiness.

“Bloody hell...HE is glad to be finally getting married hey!! He's like a sixteen year old all of a sudden!!” Grinning from ear to ear Grom looked around in amusement as everyone else continued to stare at some of the most unusual behaviour anyone had seen out of their commander, ever.

“You don't think??” replied Bane dryly to the group.

Without another word the troop began a far more sedate pace down the hill towards the harbour. They chatted amongst themselves as various preparations now had to be organised for the pending event. They all looked on in clear amusement as the Duke jump of his horse and walk quickly into the ship.

Finally arriving at the dock Arnold's retinue broke into the familiar days end routine of orders and tasks. The Duke's body guard was dispatched to the Citadel while the his retinue dealt with the constant stream of riders following the Chancellor.

At one point Bane turned to the Priest.

“Can you go and see what is keep the Chancellor. The Viceroy and Prinz have messengers that need his seal on some orders.”

Nodding the Priest headed aboard ship to see what was keeping the Chancellor. Surely the man must be behaving himself he thought...it would be poor form to have the two of them seen together intimately before the marriage.

Jumping down onto the main deck the ship was deathly quite, no noise, no orders being shouted and not a sailor could be seen.

Suddenly a weak cry from a gangway to his right made the Priest spin to see what had caused the sound. From one moment to the next the world tilted. There staggering up onto the deck was Duke Arnold, the Reich's newest Chancellor. Deathly white, blood was pouring from his nose, ears and mouth. The Priest raced over to catch him before he slumped to the deck.

“My lord!! What's happened??!!” Panic caused the Priest's voice to quiver.

“The plague, it's the plague.” Arnold's voice was but a whisper and even those few words caused the Duke to cough up more blood to stain his breast plate.

“Take this...” Arnold reached into his cloak and retrieved a letter. “Give it to Bane...he knows what to do with it...”

Arnold said no more as his head slumped to one side.

“BANE!!!! BANE!!!!”

Sprinting onto the deck the Dread Knight stopped dead in his tracks some ten yards distant. Knowing immediately what he was seeing Bane glanced with alarm at the letter in the blood soaked hand of his master, his voice was calm yet laced with concern.

“Give me the letter Priest, put it on the deck and slide it over.”

Without thinking the Priest prised the letter from Arnold's hand and slid it as best he could towards the Dark Knight.

Kneeling, Bane looked the Priest in eyes. “Get him to the captain quarters and I'll get the Royal surgeon immediately.”

With tears falling from his eyes the Priest managed to move the Duke. In the back ground he could hear the Dread Knight screaming orders to Arnold's retinue...the Chancellor was dying or dead, and the Kaiser must be informed...Bane mounted his horse and without a backward glance headed north west towards Venice, in his hand was a blood stained letter that would potentially change the Reich forever.