Stories thread - King of the Romans PBM

[GeneralHankerchief]

Marseille, 1380

"So, let me get this straight... why are you taking my ship again?"

Maximilian von Hapsburg sighed. This time it was out of annoyance, not shortness of breath. "Kaiser Peter von Kastilien is requisitioning your vessel for military reasons. He has decisively triumphed at the Battle of Trent and the traitor Arnold has fled by sea. The Kaiser is ordering a massive search to finish the job and make sure that the Illuminati never rise as a threat again." It was a lie, of course, but the ship's owner didn't know that. The news had not yet spread of the Republican victory at Trent, and since Hapsburg had gone all-out in trying to get as far away from the battle as possible, he knew he had good odds of fooling the man.

"Well, I suppose, if it's for the good of the Reich... will I be compensated for this?"

"You misunderstand me, sir," Hapsburg said. "We are requisitioning this ship. The Kaiser is prepared to take a more active approach in sniffing out traitors to the Reich. Surely he will take notice if the owner of such a fine ship does not assist in the effort against Arnold... how many children did you say you had? Four?"

Defeated, the ship owner groaned. "All right, sir... she's all yours. Anything for the Empire, I suppose..."

"Much better," said Hapsburg, suddenly adopting a brisk tone. "My men will be leaving tonight and taking it to Rome for the assembly of the Grand Fleet. I do not expect any trouble on the docks when we come to take it."

With that, Hapsburg departed, making his way to a cheap hotel near the docks. Inside the lobby were the members of his escort, fellow survivors of Trent, waiting for him.

"Simon," he said, greeting the first one. "Did you get the food?"

"Yes, m'lord," Simon said. "And Erich got the drinks, and Johann got the girls."

"Are they good-looking, Johann?"

"Of course, mein Lord."

"Excellent," said Hapsburg. "Gentlemen," he said, addressing the entire body, "I have secured the ship. Tonight, we are going to board it, have the greatest party ever thrown in the dying Empire, get ridiculously drunk, and for the night forget that we are the last remaining Imperialists in a Republican country."

Everyone cheered.

That night

"Everyone on board the ship!" Hapsburg yelled. "Simon, do you know how to sail?"

"No, m'Lord."

"I don't care, get us out to sea a bit anyway!" Simon nodded and took the rudder of the rather large ship, trying to figure out how to get it moving. "Ladies and gentlemen, this is what remains of the Imperial government! I am the last Imperialist noble, so I suppose that makes me Kaiser! As Kaiser, I give you the following orders:

"Eat and drink as much as you can! Girls, begin the whoring! Men, enjoy yourselves! Any man who does not feel terrible in the morning will be thrown off the boat! Now, that said... begin the merriment!"

Someone dove into one of the large barrels of beer on board. Another snatched a large pile of food and began shoving it into his face. One of the girls laughed shrilly as she was jumped by three separate men.

The party was on.

The next morning

Maximilian von Hapsburg turned over on the floor, still asleep. Mouth closed, he involuntarily threw up. The acidic taste and smell finally got him to wake up and empty the contents of his mouth. His head was pounding.

"Oog... Can't remember anything... but that means it was probably worth it... being at sea certainly isn't helping. Simon!" he slurred. "Simon, where are you? Are we docked? Can you get us back?"

Simon, of course, didn't respond, still sleeping off the previous night. Hapsburg went to the deck and looked around. All around him was sea. No land was in sight anywhere. He rubbed his eyes, wondering if the alcohol was still playing havoc with his vision. Nope. No land. They were out to sea.

He stumbled around, waking up his retinue. A few of the women were up now too, asking him questions. He ignored them. They weren't just there for pleasure now, they had to be treated like people. This would take some getting used to. Finally, Hapsburg succeeded in getting everyone up. More than half of the people were moaning. He still felt terrible himself, but there was a group to lead.

"Men," he said, "It appears that we're far out to sea. I suppose that in all of the... excitement... last night, we forgot to maintain proper care of the ship. Until further notice, I guess I'm Captain."

"Does this take precedence over you being Kaiser?" someone shouted. Some people chuckled. Most of them groaned.

"Shut it, Fritz." Hapsburg shivered at the name. "First of all, we need to find land. Does anybody know how to sail?"

No response.

"Anyone at all?"

No response.

"Great..." he mumbled. "Okay, does anyone know their stars?" A few people raised their hands. "Okay, good. At night, we'll take a look at them, and try to go, uh... west. Yeah, that's it. We're fleeing to Spain. I don't want to get chased down and executed by Arnold or Cervole. We'll try to get refuge there. Any disagreement?"

No response.

"Excellent. Then, uh... let's haul the, er... anchor until night and we'll find west. Right now, go back to sleeping it off. Also, try cleaning this ship! There's a lot of debris from last night, some of which I don't even want to know what it is."

Everyone ran off somewhere, leaving Hapsburg with one of the women. Evidently she wanted a word.

"Excuse me, Captain."

"Yes, what is it...?"

"Gertrude. Anyway, my husband was a sailor-"

"You have a husband? And he... approves of your profession?"

"Well, no. He died two years ago. Infected wound from a cat scratching him."

"Indeed."

"Anyway, he was a sailor, and he told me some things about the profession. Basically, you need to be very careful when going by the stars. If you miss your angle by even a little bit, you'll go way off course and end up in Africa."

"Thank you, Gertrude. My men will be careful."

3 months later

"We should have hit Spain by now."

"Well, m'Lord," said Simon, "Nobody has any idea how slow or fast this ship is. Remember, I took it strictly because of its size! For all I know it's designed to be a party ship, not to seriously take on the open sea!"

"Still though... we should have at least seen some land."

"You're right, Simon. It's lucky that the men and some of the girls know how to fish; otherwise we'd all be dead."

"Indeed, m'Lord."

2 months later

"My lord!" said Gertrude, running up to Hapsburg. After five months at sea, the women on the ship were no longer whores. Rather, they were contributing members of the little community, trying to get back to land. Several of them began sporting noticeable bumps.

"What is it, Gertrude?"

"What star did you use to get your initial bearing?"

"We used Polaris, of course. Why, Gertrude?"

"Look at Polaris now. I think that we've gone off course. Remember what I said about being off even a little bit will wreck your whole trip?"

"Yes..." Hapsburg was starting to get worried.

"Well, I think that's happened here. Instead of going west, we've gone west by southwest. We've probably shot right through the Strait of Gibraltar without even knowing it!"

"Oh, God," said Hapsburg. He slumped down, suddenly getting a case of nausea. "Who knows how far out to sea we are? The ship wasn't going slow at all, it was going just fine... we could be out here forever..." He sank deeper and deeper into despair and misery, despite Gertrude's affections. After a few minutes, he finally snapped out of it, heading to the helm.

"Simon," he said, "turn this ship around. I need a precise 180-degree turn, and nothing else! We're far enough out to sea already; anything more and we'll be hopelessly lost. Do it in three... two..."

"LAND HO!!!"

"...one-what?!"

"Land ho!" said one of Hapsburg's men, getting more and more excited. "Look at it, sir! Dead ahead! No matter how far southwest we've gone, I guess there's something there!"

"Maybe we ran into India," Hapsburg said. "Or maybe wherever it is that the Mongols and Timurids came from."

"Or maybe something between Europe and India," Gertrude suggested.

"Prepare rowboats," Hapsburg said. "I want to check out where we are."

The men and women, the lost Imperialists of Europe, got on the rowboats and made their way to the unfamiliar territory ahead of them. It looked accomodating enough, with white sandy beaches to dock and forested land behind the beaches. Somebody checked out the trees and found fruit, exotic-looking but ripe, growing on it. That was reason enough to stay on the beach and keep exploring. After months of fish, it tasted like heaven.

Two days passed. Clearly, this land was something different entirely. Such a beach like this, such a paradise, the Indians would have been all over it. It was as hot as Africa, but still nice and wet, providing a humid climate but a nice refresher from the cold winters of Austria that most of Hapsburg's escort was used to. The explorers were taking a vote; deciding what to do next.

"I think we should move inland," one person said. "If we stay on the beach, eventually our supplies will run out and we'll have to go back on the ship. If we explore, we might encounter a civilization who can point us in the right direction."

"I agree," said Hapsburg. "Move inland, get a better idea of where we are. Does anyone think otherwise?"

Silence.

"Excellent, it's decided then. Let's move inland."

And so, the former Imperialists blazed a trail through the jungle, every moment discovering something new and wonderful. They still had no idea where they were, but if they ever got back to Europe they certainly would have a story to tell.

On the third day through their trek inland, a large, yellow, spotted animal came tearing through the jungle right for them. Several of the women screamed, but it changed course abruptly and darted away from them. Clearly, it was running from something.

A second later, three men burst through the jungle, no doubt in pursuit of the strange animal... and stopped in surprise.

These men were of a darker complexion than all of Hapsburg's party, and almost completely naked aside from strange cloth around their groin areas and paint on their faces. They were shaven bald and carrying spears, but dropped them in surprise.

Everybody stared at each other in shock for a good amount of minutes, the odd newcomers directing their attention mostly at Hapsburg, whose armor, the shiniest out of everyone's, had a large red cross painted on it. Eventually one pulled the other two aside and began muttering in a strange language. Hapsburg couldn't make any sense of it, but he did catch the word "Quetzalcoatl", whatever that meant.

"Maximilian, what are they doing?" Gertrude asked.

"I don't know... it looks like... they're bowing to me?"

"Evidently, they think you're a god," said Simon, chuckling.

After the bowing concluded (lasting several minutes), one of them pointed at Hapsburg and said "Quetzalcoatl?" in a questioning tone.

"Yes," said Hapsburg, pointing at himself. "Quetzalcoatl."

The bowing began again. After another five minutes, Hapsburg cleared his throat. The three natives instantly stopped, eyeing him intently.

"Quetzalcoatl," Hapsburg said again, pointing at himself. "Also, Hapsburg."

"Happurg," one of them said, trying their god's new name out.

Another one made a gesture to follow him. "Happurg, waha. Tenochtitlan."

"Should we follow?" asked Gertrude.

"If they think I'm a god, it surely can't be bad."

One week later

The trek through the jungle became a lot easier now that the party had guides, especially guides that believed in Hapsburg's divinity. Thanks to the natives, the Imperialist explorers now had meat and fruit in their diet, and although there were various bowel problems the first days, it was worth it. On the seventh day, the guides stopped abruptly, approaching Hapsburg.

"Happurg," one of them said, "Tenochtitlan. Tenochtitlan, Acamapichtli." At this last word, they began bowing. "Acamapichtli, Quetzalcoatl." They bowed again.

"Anyone wanna guess what that means?"

"I think they're saying that this Acamapichtli is their ruler, but they will still bow to me because I am apparently Quetzalcoatl, who is a god. That had better be it, anyway. Let's hope it's not some Mongol commander who's friends with Arnold."

The party walked a little bit farther. Everyone could sense that the end of their journey was near, for better or for wose. They scaled the final hill... and gasped.

Ahead of them, a gigantic city, seemingly made of gold, was waiting.

They made their way into the city, Tenochtitlan, to great fanfare. Everyone gasped at the pale color of the Imperialists' skin and crowded around, torn between wanting to touch Hapsburg and scared to death to. They walked to the largest building, either the palace or some religious temple, and waited.

Down the largest stairs descended an elaborately-dressed figure. The guides bowed to him, apparently Acamapichtli, and began speaking in their own tongue. After some minutes, the ruler looked at Hapsburg.

"Quetzalcoatl?" he asked.

"Quetzalcoatl," Hapsburg replied, confidently.

"QUETZALCOATL!!!" Acamapichtli boomed. The entire crowd, several thousands-strong, cheered. All began bowing, including the ruler. Maximilian von Hapsburg grinned and took it all in. Oh, what a reversal it was from when he was fleeing Trent, not sure whether he would live or die.

Hapsburg looked at Acamapichtli, who looked up.

He pointed to himself. "Hapsburg," he said. "Emperor Hapsburg."

"Impror Happurg," Acamapichtli said, and bowed again.

Somebody started pouring gold on all the Europeans. They began carrying Hapsburg up the steps of the large building and seated him on the elaborate throne in the very top room. More gold was poured everywhere. Five beautiful women began dancing for his pleasure.

The possibilities were endless. Europe? It would wait. The Reich? It would wait. After all, Maximilian von Hapsburg was a god. He had all the time in the world. And half of its resources.

[Ferret]

Sifridus arrived at his final destination, Florence. despite his young age the boy knew his country well and managed to hitchhike and steal a variety of transport methods to get to where he now was from Magdeburg. After interrogating an unfortunate guard the boy found his way to the pleasure palace. Despite a lot of the building being made up of rubble he knew the people he wanted to see were still in there. He tentatively knocked on the door...

[Privateerkev]

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

This a co-op between myself and AG

Part 1

Lady Alfgarda, Max the Teutonic Knight, Clare, and Andreas wait in the apartment. Max had done as the Lady asked and sent a letter to Duke Arnold requesting help. Right after Jan was killed at Bern, Arnold had sent an offer to shelter the family in Ragusa. It was an offer Alfgarda politely refused. But now, it seemed to be a convenient way to get the Duke to come meet with them.

“I see people coming!” Andreas shouted from his lookout position in the second floor window. He readied his musket but waited for word from his mother before doing anything. Downstairs, the small group got into position. Alfgarda went to the front door ready to open it. Max was behind an over-turned table with two pistols just behind the door. Clare was kept in a slightly safer position behind the corner in the kitchen. But she had a pistol out too if needed.

Alfgarda hoped the Duke would stride right in full of ego and pride. And then she planned to put a bullet in his head. He would pay for what he did to her brother-in-law Dieter Bresch. She waited behind the front door with two pistols under her robes as hooves grew closer from outside.

The Dread Knight Bane dismounts and wraps his gauntlet hand on the door.

"Lady Alfgarda, I bring you word from Duke Arnold. He's instructed me to wait for your response or take you to safety."

Behind Bane she can see Arnold's entire retinue and more than a few squadrons of the Duke's personal Cavalry Regiment. They are blood stained and have seen serious action but are alert and making sure there no immediate danger to their position.

She opens the note Bane hands her:

Lady Alfgarda,

The offer still stands my lady. I'm not going to rehash the past!

Children and women have always been exempt from and immune from any military actions.

I will offer you sanctuary anywhere you require. I would however recommend the Estate just north of Ragusa. It was left as it was all those years ago and I have security measure already in place.

Let Bane know what you would like to and he will ensure it is done.

The other option is to accompany Bane back to my location. My position is will be the most secure location until the remainder of the Imperial forces are found and the new government can be installed.

Yours
Duke Arnold

Lady Alfgarda peeks out and sees the massive Dread Knight. She had hoped for Arnold to come in person so they could just get this over with. Time to go to plan B.

"Thank you Sir Bane. Please don't take offense but I would like to be taken to Duke Arnold. I am afraid we are being hunted by Fritz's mercenaries. I would feel safer if we were with the Duke for now."

Lady Alfgarda turns back into the apartment to say something. She then emerges and dons a cloak. Three people come out after her.

"This is all of us. Max you know. He was my husband's Teutonic Knight. Also, here is my daughter Clare, and my son Andreas."

Max is looking middle aged these days. He eyes Bane but keeps quiet. It's clear he hasn't forgotten that Bane killed his fellow Teutonic Knight Fredericus all those years ago. Clare is a beautiful young lady of 15. She looks nervous and sticks by her mother. Andreas looks very much like Jan and is 14. Defiant and proud, he simply walks past Bane and joins the others.

Bane observes the four figures as they head towards the waiting mounts. Standing at the doorway his hand slowly falls to his sword. His head cocks slightly as he continues to observe the movements of the four people he has been entrusted to protect.

As the members of Jan von Hamburg’s family mount and the Duke's Cavalry squadrons prepare to depart, the only person they are finally all waiting for is the Dread Knight himself.

With Bane’s unnatural ability to convey thoughts and moods even with his night black full helm, the small and imperceptible shake of his head is enough to warn Grom that something is not right.

The air stills, movement in the courtyard seems to stop momentarily, a threatening and dreaded feeling falls across the clearing. Horses whinny and stamp their feet, pricking their ears to an unseen danger, a number of the Dukes soldiers shiver at an unexpected chill and those with "the sense" prepare for danger.

The moment is broken by the cold hard and unyielding voice of the Dread Knight.

"My Lady, I've just realized that the Duke will not be able to receive you. Now that the battle has been decided I had entirely forgotten about a meeting of the Order to begin reorganizing the Reich. May I suggest we take you to the estate near Ragusa. That would be far safer at this time."

Lady Alfgarda pauses. Bane can tell she is contemplating something but he can't tell what. All four people are just sitting on their mounts and staring at Bane. Bane can't put his finger on it but if he was capable of feeling fear, he would be trembling.

Finally, the lady speaks. "I'm sorry but the deal was very precise. It has to be with Duke Arnold present or nothing. I understand he is busy. And you must be busy as well. So, I will waste no more of your time. I deeply apologize for your wasted efforts but I think we will find our own way to safety. Good day Sir Bane."

With that, Alfgarda dismounts and her party follows. Pulling their hoods over their heads, the group slips down an alley and into the shadows.

[OverKnight]

Matthias reined in his horse, a loud oath escaping his lips. There was no way his men would be able to catch Maximillian von Hapsburg. With a bellowed command that betrayed the Viceroy's frustration, the Crusader Cavalry pivoted and began trotting back to the battlefield.

Matthias rode in stony silence. In the past he had fought against impossible odds, gone on Crusade, liberated Outremer from the Greeks, killed Khans and Strategoi and yet for the most important battle in the history of the Reich he had contributed nothing. He and his men had assembled a great armada, braved stormy seas and sailed halfway across the known world only to have their plans ruined by a simple broken axle on the wagon carrying the Great Cross. The largest host on the Republican side, at least before the battle started, was reduced to capturing a few fleeing Imperials, and even that with limited success.

Shaking his head, Matthias tried to look on the bright side. The Republicans were victorious, Imperial resistance had been crushed and few had escaped to fight again. All had gone according to plan, a rare event. Yet in this moment of triumph, his mind returned to Outremer. The Civil War was over, but would there be enough men and florins available to face the newest threat from the Steppes, much less the Greeks, Turks and Egyptians? He was old, had never felt older then when he watched von Hapsburg disappear over the horizon, who would take the Cross to replace him and the much missed Andreas? Both Hughes de Cervole and Ludwig von Bohmen had expressed interest in the past, but those two were now the last Swabians left standing. With such losses in the battle, could the Houses spare anyone?

He had thought of offering positions in Outremer to any surviving Imperial nobles who surrendered and pledged loyalty. However, as he pursued Hapsburg he had glimpsed the Count's compatriots charging into the fray, choosing death over surrender. A gallant gesture, but of little help to the Kingdom.

As if summoned by these thoughts, Matthias and his men came upon the aftermath of the last engagement of the battle. Dead men and horses were scattered the area, bearing the livery of Duke von Salza, Tancred von Tyrolia and, surprisingly, Fritz von Kastilien. Survivors milled about, Republicans herding a few prisoners, wounded men crying out and mercenaries stripping the Imperial dead of valuables.

It was then, with a shock, that Matthias recognized one of the fallen, it was Fritz von Kastilien himself. Not only a Brother of the Order, but the man who's arrival on the field had turned the battle to the Republic.

Dismounting, he slowly walked over to Fritz. Kneeling, he checked for a pulse, but the horrible wounds visible on the Franconian mocked that effort. All he could do was close the dead man's eyes. Groaning, Matthias fell heavily back, sitting in the mud and filth of the field as he gazed at his fallen comrade.

They had fought, and Fritz had died, to bring down the Empire. The Throne could have been his, a simple act of taking down one Kastilien and putting another in his place. It had been discussed, but when Matthias had proposed a Republic, Fritz had enthusiatically agreed. Yet what shape was the New Order to have? The idea of the Republic was a fine rallying cry, but would it actually come to pass? The Order had ruled from the shadows for so long, would they be able to come into the light of day, to rule with, not over, the brave men who had taken their side? Matthias bowed his head, he hoped so, but old habits might die hard.

Matthias slowly pulled himself up out of the mud. The last battle of the Empire was over, but it was only the first for the Republic. The future was uncertain for Outremer and the Republic, but he would fight for both to his last breath.

Walking back to his horse, Matthias retrieved a black cloak from his saddlebags. It had been given to him many years ago by Lothar when his brother had welcomed him into the Order. Matthias carefully laid the cloak over Fritz's body as he said the Lord's Prayer. It was hardly a proper shroud, but it would serve.

"No more secrets," Matthias said to the fallen.

There was much left to do.

[_Tristan_]

TRENT, 1380, in the aftermath of the battle.

The battle was over…

Fritz’s intervention for the Republicans had finished to turn the tide of battle in their favour. I’m sorry it cost him his life, I could have befriended such a man, Hughes mused.

Hughes had fought as hard as he could but looking over the field, all he could see was the mass of dead bodies, a large part the men he had led to that final confrontation…

But looking a bit further, Hughes could see some riders spurring their horses away from the battlefield as fast as their horses would go. From the distance he could see that the men wore the livery of Hapsburg, the man that had defiled his arms in front of the whole Diet, the man who in the midst of battle had been ready to betray his fellow fighters to save his own life.

Looking around him, he saw Guillaume, his old Templar brother nursing a bleeding arm and Thierry Foucault the French quartermaster turned bodyguard, dry-retching from the stink of blood and death that was slowly spreading over the battlefield.

Sensing his stare, the men looked as one towards him. Hughes looked back to the distance where the riders were rapidly getting away. Knowing full well what was on Hughes’ mind, Guillaume gave the order.

“Men, get on your horses !!! We ride !!!”

Soon, all men were mounted and riding at a fast pace on the trail of Hapsburg, leaving the battlefield behind.

And ride they did… For every single day of the following week… Hapsburg horses had been fresher than those of Hughes’ men and thus had quickly gain enough distance to be lost. However, a noble of the Reich could pass unnoticed in the villages he went through. Added to the fact that only the best inns could only suit the expensive tastes of the felon, the trail remained hot, allowing Hughes to follow if only one or two days late…

Finally, they reached Marseille. From the gatekeepers, they learned that Hapsburg had entered the city but no more information was available.

Hughes took lodging at the “Port-blocking Whale”, an inn where Thierry had often provided lodging for the commanding officers he had been serving. Having washed away the dirt and grime from the battle and the trip, Hughes gathered his men in the inn main room to give them his orders.

“Hapsburg is here… We are sure of that… We will comb the city, street by street, inn by inn until we find him… Go at it by squads of two so that one can remain watching whatever premises you find him in while the other comes back here to report their findings… Thierry, we will search together… We’ll meet here at dusk… We must bring him to justice… For our dead comrades…”

The search parties went through the town questioning inn- and shop-keepers, militiamen, sailors, whores and beggars…

Hughes and Guillaume were among the last of the search parties to come back to the inn. Only Thierry and one of the other men were still missing. Though some had heard news of Hapsburg’s passage through the city, the trail went cold two days before. Nobody had seen him since either going out of the city or within its walls.

Hughes was growing tense the more reports he heard. Dusk had fallen and still Thierry hadn’t come back. This added to the tension Hughes felt. If Thierry had fallen into an ambush, there would be nowhere on Earth Hapsburg could run to avoid Hughes’ wrath…

As the evening progressed, one by one the men filed out of the main room to their upstairs rooms until Hughes was alone in the inn, save for the innkeeper, a rudy fiftyish man counting coins behind his counter, with hardly a glance for Hughes.

The call for midnight went by and still no sign of Thierry. Out of sheer exhaustion, Hughes dropped asleep, his resting on his elbows on the table, an unfinished mug of wine in front of him.

Raucous laughter brought him out of dark dreams of blood and gore, the battle unfolding once more in his mind’s eye. Someone started banging on the inn’s door with un-articulate calls.

Master Labarthe, the innkeeper, ran down the stairs with a large cudgel in hand and taking a large iron key from behind the counter, went to the door. Signalling for Hughes to remain where he was, he put the key in the lock and opened the door to reveal Thierry and his comrade, fully in their cups. Recognizing them as some of his patrons, Master Labarthe dropped the cudgel he had lifted over his head and with a shake of head slowly went back to his own apartments.

Shoving his comrade towards the stairs, Thierry swerved between the tables in the direction of Hughes. Finally sitting himself after upturning several stools and benches, Thierry reached for the mug in front of Hughes and drained it in one gulp. Letting go of a huge belch, he suddenly seemed to sober up as if his drunken state had all been a sham.

“Sorry for being late but we had to go through a few taverns and sailors’ bars to follow some trail we heard… Hopefully, I’ve been through so many drinking matches that I can hold my own, even when faced with hard-drinking sailors… Anyway, ten drinks led to one sailor telling us of a noble inquiring for passage on a ship, ten more in another tavern led us to a cargo-master who loaded the said ship, ten more in another bar led us to the captain of the ship which confirmed that a noble whose description fit Hapsburg had requisitioned his ship, without its crew and has put sail two days ago…”

Hughes cut him short

“Where is he heading ?”… Wait a minute… You said without a crew ?”

“Yes, strange, isn’t it ? I thought I had gone too heavy on the liquor with the man at that point but his boatswain confirmed that the ship had left without a single one of its crew onboard…”

“Surely Hapsburg will have procured some other sailors for the voyage…”

“No, no hiring has been made for that ship… There is only Hapsburg, his men and some whores, if I heard’ em right…”

“So there’s no way to tell where they are heading ? Par les couilles du Grand Maître… He will succeed in getting away… I can’t believe it… »

“There is one more thing I must tell you… Some more drinks led us to another ship captain who crossed the path of Hapsburg’ ship… It was headed roughly south-west towards the Straits at Gibraltar and it seems it was a woman who was manning the helm… The man who told me the story swore on his own ship that was the truth…”

“Thank you, Thierry… Once more, you’ve been of great help… Go get some rest, I’ll meet you tomorrow…”

Seeing the sad look on his friend’s face, Thierry hesitated but a gesture from Hughes chased him up the stairs to his room.

Hughes reached behind the counter, took the key and opened the door. The breeze from the sea brought a cool and refreshing air in the heat of this summer’s night. Walking through the streets towards the harbour, Hughes contemplated the last years of his life : his flight deemed to secure the Templars’ future, his return to Europe and his joining the Reich, the years of fighting the French, making them pay for the destruction of his Order, his last fight for an utopian idea of a Republic, an idea that would never see fruition even though the Illuminati had won the day… Hughes couldn’t believe that they would release the reins of power they had held for so long. It seemed his fight by their side had been in vain although it was better than having fought for the Kaiser. It saddened him to think of all the lives lost because men chose to follow him, to their doom.

Lost in his thoughts, Hughes had finally reached the harbour where the many ships riding at anchor bobbed up and down in the calm waters of the port. There were all kind of ships to be seen, from slim Byzantine galleys laden with the riches of Orient to heavy and bulgy cogs plying the waters of the Mediterranean Sea from Italy to Spain and down to the northern coast of Africa… Hughes’ gaze went to the horizon and beyond to the coast of Africa with its riches of gold and ivory…

Africa… Gold…

Having reached a decision, Hughes turned on his heels and went strolling slowly back to the inn, oblivious to the spectacle of the sun slowly rising in the east and casting shimmering golden rays on the waters of the bay.

[Ferret]

This is a co-op story between AG and I.

Sifridus takes a seat in a massive room just next to the new Diet Chamber in Rome. His audience with the Illuminati Grand Master had been granted and he sat patiently waiting for Arnold's arrival.

From a side door to the room the still young looking Arnold walks quickly into the massive study and sits behind a large table.

Sitting he picks up a parchment that is the letter Sifridus wrote requesting the meeting.

After looking up he found that Arnold's stare bored into and through him.

"I've been informed young Sifridus that you wish to join the Order. What exactly are you trying to accomplish young man!!??"

At the end of his sentence Sifridus heard a click behind him.

Turning to glance backwards he saw, standing no more than two feet away, the Berserker Grom and the Dread Knight Bane, both eying him intently.

The click seems to have come from a massive crossbow now aimed at his back. The third man holding the crossbow, Sifridus had never seen him before.

A trickle of sweat dripped down Sifridus' forehead as he began a hasty explanation to Arnold, "I want to be like you, Lord. I am not like my father, the man was forever a fool for following those self defeating principles of his. he used to lecture me about never doing anything similar in any way to men like you and Fritz. I heard great tales of your victories and the way that you mercilessly, yet logically, dealt with the remnants of enemy forces. I believe I am of the right frame of mid to join the sacred order, though that is the decision..."

He tailed off speaking far too fast to be heard properly.

Picking up where the young man left off, Arnold's gaze continues to hold Sifridus' attention;

"that is the decision We in the Order will have to make. Yes you are correct in your statement there.

You need understand Sifridus. The Order has only just recently decided to reveal itself to the unenlightened, therefore we have never received a proactive request for anyone to join. I understand that this would seem a logical thing to have happen but all future members will not be disclosed to the world as a rule. While the Five remaining members of the Order are known to all at this time...the Order's new recruits will not be. They will therefore slowly fade back into the background over the course of time and again take it's position in the shadows.

I would therefore recommend that you go about your life as you wish and know that, as usual, the Illuminati will deliberate on potential candidates and their relative merits and flaws. If you are regarded as someone worthy of joining you will be contacted in due course.

Does that satisfy you Sifridus?"

Arnold leans forward on the desk wit his elbow, while he steeples his hands waiting for a response.

A look of utter disappointment crosses Sifridus' face.

"But I am made of the same things as you all are, I know how to make this nation as great as it can be! Surely you can at least take my plea to the other members, I assure no-one knows I am here, no one!"

The look on Arnold's face tells him that there is no point in trying but the boy will stop at nothing, he now speaks slowly and clearly and with a sinister tinge,

"you do know that of I am refused acceptance then there is a strong possibility my talents will be used against you...trust me when I say it is not in your best interests to make me want to do what my father failed to do. I can achieve where he cannot, there are no stupid morals to stop me. All my goals will be achieved."

It is a wonder that a boy of such a young age can muster the confidence to speak in such a way to the most feared man in all the known world.

The lone raised brow of Arnold is all that can be seen in response to such a thinly veiled threat. Leaning back in his chair the Grand Master smiles broadly.

"You have an impressive amount of courage for one so young...especially considering who and what is stationed behind you.

Unfortunately Sifridus, you must understand that threats and pressure tactics are something I've experienced a great deal that in my life time. Given your statement I will say this.

The Order WILL NOT change it's recruitment process for you, or anyone, and certainly not under the guise of having run the risk of you work against us. I hope you can understand, that under those conditions I would take that risk every time and I would hope you can see my point of view.

Having said that, you do seem to be motivated and you do not lack courage, which is a fine trait to have. Therefore I will raise your name for discussion at the next council. But I will not discuss this topic with you any further than now.

If you are deemed worthy then the Order will make contact with you as we have done so since the very beginning of our existence.

Is that acceptable to you?"

The tone of the Grand Masters voice leaves little room for doubt about accepting the statement or not. However he does seem prepared to wait for you answer.

"this will do for now, I trust the Gods will have the council see sense. Please pass the message on to them that their lives depend on the decision."

He turned slightly in his chair and smirked at the crossbow, "such old contraptions do not frighten me. I have full confidence in my abilities and have no doubt that I could be the only man alive in this room should I wish it. Thank you for considering me Arnold, it has been a pleasure talking to you."

With that the boy got up and headed for the door, not bothering to look back to check whether the men standing behind him had decided to stop him or not.

The door closes behind the young man leaving the room is silence for a time while the four men contemplate what just happened.

Finally Grom begins to chuckle, drawing the attention of the others to him. Realising everyone is clearly waiting for some explanation, Grom shrugs his massive shoulders and says; "He's either completely mad or the four of us are just getting old."

There's a pause as the other three men continue to look at the Berserker with questioning stares.

"I find the whole thing fun because I swear I just heard him say that the Orders future will be finished if we don't admit him, AND that the four of us would be dead if he so wished it!"

Again the big barbarian starts to chuckle at the whole situation. After some moments he realises the others aren't joining in the humour.

Finally the Grand Master turns towards the door that admitted the young man. In a quizzical and thoughtful tone the Grand Master says to no one in particular.

"Indeed my large friend, that IS what he just said."

[AussieGiant]

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

This is Co-op between the lads, GH, TC, OK, NN. Special mention to our fallen friend Ramses...and a special special mention to Tamur who contributed to the beginning of the Fritz persona.

Trent 1380: (Three weeks after the battle)

Dawn was broken by the first rays of light. Arnold and the four remaining members of the Order stood as a group overlooking the battle ground.

Behind them were the collective members of their retinues, many of them had fought together, spent countless years with each other serving their respective masters. Each of them seemed subdued but where glad to see that some of their fellow advisers, bodyguards, priests and servants had survived the years and more importantly the final epic battle that was strewn below them.

The burial parties could be seen yet again commencing their grim work. That work had been going on from dawn until dusk, and still now, three weeks later, burial pyres where being lit in the early morning light.

On a hill some miles distance from the battlefield a group of men had gathered in the early morning light.

Arnold was dressed in his familiar obsidian plate with his deep red surcoat emblazoned with the blood red dragon, he shielded his eyes as he gazed at the horizon taking shape in the distance. He realised finally he was lost deep in thought and that only a few men where now conversing behind him. Turning to the assembled group the Duke of Austria and Grand Master of the Illuminati looked at the gathering of men assembled before him with pride and determination.

His voice finally broke the silence on the small hill top.

“Gentlemen, I'm glad you could all make it at such an early hour. God knows we have all been working hard reorganising the Reich into a Republic. I can say with certainty that what we will present to the Diet next week will create the future we have seen together in our discussion over the past twenty one days.”

Turning back to the battle field, Arnold swept his plate covered arm over the scene before him.

“What I can honestly say to everyone here is that all those decades ago when Lothar and I first began this, I never envisaged that battle ground and who would be fighting on it.”

Pausing Arnold began his familiar pacing.

“We made this Order for the good of the Reich and to ensure that for eternity, there would be a force in place, in the background, holding steady the Reich's course as we navigated through history, against all events and all people that would endanger what we stood for.

Recent history has shown that while I was expecting external threats, it was in fact ourselves that we were going to face as the principle threat to our existence.

The whims of Kaisers became our most pressing danger, Unification, the Cataclysm, these where the events that took centre stage in our lives and these are the events that we have overcome. That battle field below sadly shows just how gruesome the reality of ruling is. More importantly it shows what a steep price must be paid to ensure that Tyranny and Mayhem are not visited upon us by the opinions of a few people, placed by fate to be born at a certain time to a certain set of people.

I stand before you today to recommit myself to making sure that it is not these same issues that will threaten us in the future, that the Republic, AND the Order will ensure that history doesn't repeat itself.”

Arnold turned back to the assembled men. His jaw clenched and his gauntlets groaned as his hands balled into black metal fists.

“At this time I would like to honour our fallen brothers. Karl Zirn, his son Johann, Jens Hümmel, Dietrich von Dassel and finally our most recently departed Brother Fritz von Kastillen. They were to a man the most dedicated, loyal and brilliant men I've had the privilege of knowing and I pray that they are able to see what we will make of this opportunity their sacrifice has allowed us to accomplish.”

Turn to each of the Illuminati members Arnold used the warriors handshake to look each of them in the eye as he spoke to them in turn.

“Max, your father would be proud of you and so would your brother. Know this...you did what was right and you and Fritz ensured that even though the bloodshed was horrific, it was at least much less than what it could have been.

Herrmann, your uncle and father have been part of the Order from the very beginning. You've been a credit to them both and the service the Steffen family has given to the Reich and the Order will be overshadowed by what you alone will accomplish in the New Republic.

Matthias, my friend, you've been a stalwart of consistency and brilliance. Your handling of Outremer and house politics as a whole has been incredible. You and your brother form one of the most impressive set of minds I've even encountered.

Lothar, my friend, we grew up together, your brother has been my brother, your father was my father and you have been everything and more to me as a companion, as the Voice, as the Duke of Bavaria and as the one man that has kept everything together no matter what situations we faced together.

Standing back, Arnold now addressed everyone on the hill top. His voice swept across the hill top, full of energy and passion.

“My Brothers, your loyal retinues, we stand on the steps of an old Reich, a Reich that we will turn into a New Republic, a Republic that will stand for the principles of our Charter, a Charter that has proved its worth, a Charter that has drawn together the greatest collection of men the world has seen to date.

A salute to you all in the name of the new Republic and in the name of the Illuminati Order!!!”

There was no cheering among the men, of course. The battle was too horrible and the effort expended too great to make that sort of thing appropriate. Instead, each of the Brothers simply nodded, lost in their own thoughts and what Arnold had said, supremely satisfied in their own unique ways.

Herrmann Steffen looked down from the hill at the gravediggers, sitting quietly. He was the only one in the group whose armor was shiny, the only one who had not participated in the battle. Maybe it was for the best. His two predecessors, Jens Hümmel and Dietrich von Dassel, had notoriously short life spans. Jens had died the year after he was formally inducted, barely getting his feet wet before fate had taken him, and Dietrich had already made his sacrifice, destroying two of the enemy’s greatest supporters and depriving them of much influence.

Herrmann silently saluted his fallen comrades and predecessors, as well as the Zirns and Fritz. Without their devotion, this day, this moment, would never have happened.

The salute only lasted for a few moments, as the past was gone. He was the future. Even though the Reich was to become a Republic, there would still be leaders. With the death of so many nobles at Trent, there would be a massive power vacuum to fill. This vacuum would be intensified in a few short years, when the senior Brothers would inevitably die off. Then, Herrmann realized, he would have a very good chance of becoming the second Grand Master, not to mention the leading voice in the Diet along with Maximilian Zirn. It had been a long road for the Steffen family ever since a young noble named Gerhard set foot on the Genoese battlefield so many years ago and vowed his assistance in the destruction of another enemy of the Reich.

Would the road end with the deaths of Lothar and Matthias? Herrmann doubted it. He had two more brothers to take up in their stead. For Herrmann Steffen, the possibilities of what he could accomplish were limited only by his dreams.

Lothar turned his gaze from the field of battle and surveyed the surviving Brothers of the Illuminati. It was a victory indeed, for all of them, but at such a cost that Lothar’s heart had been heavy for every moment that had past since that momentous day. With sadness in his eyes, he turned to Matthias.

“You are my brother twice over, Matthias. In blood and in shadow. Yet for so much of our lives, we have been forced to put on a façade of rivalry. I am glad that those days are finally over. Our family has suffered too much in recent years, and it is sometimes more than I think I can bear. I do not know how deep Dannae’s curse runs in our family, but it seems I have never shaken free of its grasp. For a time, I thought our family was safe and our destinies true, but Bernhard’s death was no coincidence. Two Steffens have now died under my command. It was bad enough losing our brother, Markus, but no man should outlive his own son. I am old now, and I must do what I can to remove this curse before it takes more Steffen blood. Father and I were the two most afflicted by this curse. It can be no coincidence that neither of us ever set foot in Outremer. I intend to end that discrepancy and break the curse once and for all. When you return to Outremer, Matthias, I shall go with you. I shall make a pilgrimage to the tomb of Saint Maximilian, and then to Jerusalem itself. Perhaps with the blessing of God, the Pope, and, of course, the Viceroy, I can rid our family of this vile plague once and for all. Even if I fail, I will end my days in the company of family, and there is little I desire more these days.”

Lothar smiled slightly, and turned to Herrmann.

“My son, I have trained you for great things since the day you were born. You have proven your abilities many times over the past years. I am proud to be your father and even more proud to be your Brother. The future of the Steffen family now falls on your shoulders. Matthias and I are old and we will soon depart this world. You will need to look after your brothers and ensure that they thrive and prosper. Yet, there is one more burden that I must now place on your shoulders.”

“A man cannot govern his lands effectively when he is at a great distance from them. I will leave for Outremer soon, and I may never return. It is therefore my intention to abdicate. As my eldest son and heir, I hereby name you the new Duke of Bavaria.”

With this, Lothar knelt in deep homage to his son, before rising and ruffling his hair in an affectionate manner.

“Remember the example your grandfather set, Herrmann, and you will do well. Always protect your people first, no matter what price you must pay personally. Those of us who are superior in mind have a duty to watch over those who are more mundane. The future of Bavaria is in your hands, my son.”

Lothar turned next to Maximillian Zirn.

“I regret that I have not had much time to get to know you, Brother Zirn, but your father and I were always good friends. Your family has given more than any other to the Order, and thus to the Reich. The Zirns are a paragon of virtue and gifted with the wisdom of the ages. You are a worthy heir to your father’s reputation. I know he would be proud to see you here with us today.”

The former Duke of Bavaria looked over at his old friend, Arnold. The two had birthed the Illuminati in the bloom of life and dedicated their lives to growing and nurturing it. Never had the Reich seen two stronger allies, or two closer friends. Throughout the decades, age and battle had changed their visages. The decades had not been kind to either man. The gray hair and scars had wiped away the frivolity of youth; marks on the soul as well as the body. Yet, despite the many years that had past, not one falsehood had ever passed between these two men. Such absolute trust was rare indeed. Arnold saw the growing seriousness in his friend’s eye and unleashed a grin that wiped away Lothar’s misery in a moment. The Voice of the Illuminati raised an eyebrow and looked at the field of Trent.

“I still think we should have called ourselves The Drunken Whoremongers.”

The men laughed heartily together, and for a moment, they were boys once again.

Max sat on a knoll looking over the field and thinking it was finally over.

Thinking back since the death of Johann his mind had not stopped turning. He was exhausted and just wanted to lie down on the sodden field.

This was not his to do and he was overcome with emotion sobbing quietly, he was the youngest, the carefree life of a wealthy family. This was Johann’s duty passed down from their father, or was it? Max could not think of all the work he had to do to be part of this battle and what scheme his father had orchestrated to have him fulfill the family responsibility to the Order. He missed the old man and his Brother Johann and to date he had not the time to grieve his death. However there was Jan, and thankful he survived the battle.

It was a father figure that had been missing though, and strangely Fritz had been a source of confidence in the days leading up to the battle. He listened intently for his words of wisdom as he always saw a different man in Fritz then the rest of the nobles and this was especially true now he was gone. “Rest my brother” Max whispered has he gazed out over the dead, still littering the field. He saw the other members grouped together and wiping the tears he got up and walked over to them.

He barely heard Lothar’s words of praise for the family but he shook his hand heartily and said thank you to him for all his support.

Looking over at Hermann, Max smiled; “I guess we have a lot of work to do in the near future, we have to pick up after these Old Men.” Motioning towards the Elder Illuminate members, Hermann smirked and nodded in agreement.

Max then spoke to his Uncle, thanking him for his support and being there for the family for as long as he could remember. He hoped that he had proven himself in battle to the fearless leader. “Uncle, I just have one request to make and I ask for your blessing” Arnold nodded in agreement and Max turned to the last living member of the Order who had been in the East.

“Matthias, my father has spoken very highly of you and of the work in the Outremer. Your service has been above reproach and it something every knight should be looking at to measure there own worth.” Max thought of his father and was momentarily silent before speaking again. “I wish to be one of those men and I ask that I accompany you back to the Outremer. There is much more work to be done there. I want to go to Damascus.”

Hearing the younger man’s words, Matthias smiled, the first time he done so since the grim day had began.

“You’ve got a good name for Outremer, Maximillian Zirn, son of a great Crusader and namesake of a Saint. I’d be honored if you took the Cross. The Kingdom will need defenders, now and in the future. If you live up to the promise you showed on this terrible field, the Crown of Thorns will be yours one day.”

He turned to Lothar and his smile disappeared.

“The loss of Bernhard is a terrible one. I wish I had known the boy better. If you feel you need to come to Outremer, then you are most certainly welcome. You are my brother; I would not refuse you anything. My only regret is that our father died without knowing that our feud was just a ruse. The old man would have been proud.”

The smile returned, a bit more sardonic.

“Lothar Steffen in the Holy Land? A sign of the end of days if there ever was one.”

“As for you,” said Matthias turning to Hermann, “Not a bad days work, my Duke.”

Matthias sketched a bow and then clapped his nephew on the shoulder.

“The path ahead of you is difficult, what we did today established the foundation of the Republic, but it will be up to your generation to build it. Royalists, rebels and the armies of half of Europe will be arrayed against you, but I have no doubt you will succeed. You are a Steffen after all. Take care of Wenzel, you never know what third sons are capable of.”

Matthias turned to Arnold.

“Good show today, you magnificent #@$@%$ Bastard! Though I wish you had waited another day before attacking so I could have done something more than chase routers. You lead us to victory and held your nerve when things looked grim. A lesser man, knowing about Max and Fritz, would have stayed on the defensive, but you charged in, pinning their line for the killing blow. I expected nothing less from the Dread Duke.”

His one eye took in all his Brothers, and he spoke again.

“I once said ‘We are effective as long as we are unknown. As soon as we step into the light of day, our power will dissipate.’ This has come to pass, though with Fritz’s sacrifice our final deception won the battle. The power of the Order will now fall away, but we must emerge from the shadows to build the Republic side by side with the others who fought for it. I pray that it will be enough.”

As the sun set on the field of battle, the gravediggers and peasants began to disperse to their homes. Soon, only the surviving Brothers of the Illuminati remained to watch over the dead. Silence descended on the group for a long time, before the Grand Master gave a great sigh.

“I suppose our work is done. The Kaiser has been overthrown and the Republic now rules the Reich. The next time we enter the Diet, all Electors will be equal.”

The Voice let the solemnity of the moment wash over them, before replying. “In the Republic, all Electors are equal, but some Electors are more equal than others.”