A Secret Account of the Last Years of the Reign of King Alexander the Mad of Scotland.
In a bewildering turn of events the Hungarians declare war on Sicily which causes the Venetians to declare their independence from Hungary. Without a good spy network in the region it's difficult to tell what this turn really means. Malcom arrives at Durazzo and lays siege by simply evading the Egyptians along the coastline. He recruits some mercenary ships and sends them to seek battle with the remaining Egyptian ships. Two more Scottish priests ascend to the College of Cardinals. At Cairo Captain Morgunn wakes up from a late night of partying and leads the assault on the city walls of Egypt's capital.
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I can discover nothing further about the plot that put those cursed rebels in the hills above Edinburgh. It vexes me greatly, and the normally smooth function of the Kingdom is also affected. Funds are plentiful, but a few structures are started late or have to be restarted around the empire in the next two years. The Explorer's Guild wishes to place their headquarters at Jerusalem. I approve their request for funds happily. Such a guild can only improve the reputation of Scotland in the world at large.
My wife bears me another daughter. If the wench cannot produce me a son soon I will have to take a lover to get an heir. East of Helsinki a former Danish general is in rebellion. I would be only too happy to leave him for the Danes to deal with, except that they are departing these lands as Gille arrives to take command there. The boy will have to take what soldiers he has against this rebel.
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At Durazzo Malcom makes his assault.
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Malcom occupies Durazzo, which displeases the nearby Venetians, with the intent of repairing the city and turning it over to the Pope in good condition. The Sicilians are destroyed. Their King was not here, but he is now King of nothing. A Scottish Cardinal will replace theirs in the College.
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This is a great victory for Scotland, but it is followed by a great horror. A drunken King Alexander gathered his wit sufficiently to command on pain of death that the servants I set around him leave his presence. Before they could warn me he had put on his pathetic ornamental armor, mounted a horse and ridden for the crossing north east of Dublin.
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In a terror I saddled my own horse and took off in desperate pursuit, but it was too late. King Alexander ordered a fisherman out of his leaky skiff, marched his horse aboard and insisted that the poor peasant help him cast off. I was in time to see the King's horse struggle up out of the icy water, but of the King himself there was no sign. I immediately turned a baleful eye on the fisherman, but showing more intellect that I would have expected in him the man drew my attention to the dozen or so of his fellows plying their trade nearby. They had all seen the King sink silently into the water atop his horse, and I could not kill them all without introducing more leaks than are possessed by the foul, capsized boat which was already drifting back towards shore.
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I am undone! Cennedig may be a fool, but he is not a decrepit madman. There will be no managing him. I have ample gold and estates to retire to, but having taken this taste of power it is unimaginable to let it pass from my hands. I can see the course of things now. Cennedig will send me a note of his most profound gratitude for having cared for Alexander for so long, and in closing will ask how long before the crown arrives in Antwerp.
My very blood boils at the vile thought of surrendering Scotland to the incompetent get of mad Alexander!
Perhaps there is one avenue of power I have left. Cennedig has no son, so he must name an heir from the family. If I can get that position for myself there will be only one death between me and the actual assumption of the throne. First, though, how to explain the day's events to the new King without getting my neck in a noose...
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As the year progresses King Cennedig is annointed at Edinburgh, but returns quickly to his wife at Antwerp. My explanation of the King's death did not best please the boy, but the power I hold amongst the nobles and the sheer information at my disposal left Cennedig with no choice but to officially thank me and acknowledge my fool brother his heir! His speech spoke of the dedication of Edmund Canmore's sons, but also of the need for a clear bloodline to the throne. Donnchadh is that line, while I, by virtue of only having married into the family, am not.
Cleverly done Cennedig, but you know nothing of Donnchadh. I have sufficient influence left to assure his ruin. With Malcom far from home, Eion and his boy still a political sideshow, and David's line well isolated in the Levant I will be the only logical choice remaining. Gille is in Helsinki, and Cennedig could not so elevate one of his own brothers for fear that they might usurp the crown. No, it must be me, it will be me! Bending the King of England to my will with a promise of coin and an old letter from 'King Alexander' I prevail upon him to marry his most beautiful daughter, Lucia, to Donnchadh. Now it is only a matter of time.
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For the nonce the world continues to turn. Two more years pass. Cennedig consults me on some decisions, and wisely holds true to the course I laid for Scotland, but still I chafe under his command. The only good news is that my doe eyed and doughy bodied wife has finally delivered me a son. I have named him Cormac Feniss, after my grandfather. Already there are dry whispers about Donnchadh's relationship with his wife. There is peace throughout the lands as Cennedig consolidates his power and gains an understanding of the state of things.
Two more interminable years drag by, and Cennedig is proving to be a competent if unexceptional administrator for Scotland. The treasury is adequate and construction proceeds apace. All of this is residue from the policies I set in place, though, and cannot last. The Theologian's Guild places their headquarters at Edinburgh. The Pope rewards us for converting the people of Adana to Christianity. Plague strikes Dublin, while I, very fortunately, am travelling abroad.
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England declares war on Portugal, and another Scot ascends to the College of Cardinals. Malcom gives Durazzo to the Papacy and departs with the remains of his army on the only leaky boat that could be procured. The Pope is further pleased by the completion of Cathedrals at Alexandria and Jerusalem. The noble council, sensing a new chance to meddle, asks King Cennedig to capture Edessa. Some Muslim rebels are put to the sword north of Adana.
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At last, though, Donnchadh's horrific sin betrays him. His wife, already an angry, dissatisfied, wretch catches him romping in a barn with a foppish and adoring young nobleman.
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The scandal of it is immense. Before word can reach King Cennedig my brother, Prince Donnchadh, throws himself into the sea near the same spot that King Alexander drowned. For a moment I must pause to consider whether or not I have gone mad myself in my pursuit of power. My own brother dead because of my machinations. Perhaps so, but dead also because of his inability to control his unholy urges. Scotland is fortunate he did not become King before his defect was revealed.
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In any event I ride to the docks to sail to Antwerp and discuss my becoming his heir in person. Even as I arrive a beaming messenger departs a nearby ship. To my shock he recognizes me, and announces that King Cennedig's wife has bore him a son!
The final disaster. There can be no recovery from this. I, Kyle Feniss, return to plague struck Dublin to serve out my days administering to the wretched festering sore on the face of the earth that this city represents. The rewards of my stewardship are considerable, but they pale beside the thought of once again holding the reigns of a nation. Eventually I learn that Mac Bethad the Saint in far off Jerusalem holds the temporary position of heir. Fortune favor him in it, for she has certainly cursed me.
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I am still proud of the service I did Scotland in her time of need. Alexander might have been a terrible burden to her, but I saw her through the troubling times. Not selflessly, as some fool monk, but proudly, quietly, and profitably. I will teach my son to be a good thinker, and perhaps someday I will even let him read this and know that, for a time, his old man was the most powerful man in Scotland, if not the world.
The world as it was at the end of my reign:
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(Just to be absolutely clear, the unpleasant things I wrote about Donnchadh's presumed homosexuality represent the imagined opinions of a 14th centery Catholic, not my own.)
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