1081 AD

News of the massacre of the nomads by the Prince troubled King Mael, his wife Mairghreid, and his son Domnal. But they knew there was no other way. If they were to see a united Scotland in their time, this would have to be the answer. The world was advancing at an alarming rate, and they were at a stand still with diplomacy. With the Council of Nobles firmly backing Prince Donnchad, the King had to go along with the plan, or risk losing the support of the budding empire he had worked so hard to form.

To keep his mind off of the turmoil on the frontier, the Domnal and the King instead focused inward, towards building up the financial infrastructure of their settlements.

Mael Giric mac Mail Muire, a promising young merchant is the first of a corps of merchants to be hired to seek out resources the Kingdom could use for profit, and other advantages. Mael Giric is promptly sent to the tin mines south of Edinburgh to hone his trade.

While he had enough on his mind already, King Mael could not help but think about their southern neighbors, the English. Mael was distrustful of the English. They were expansionists, deceitful, and what's worse, influential and powerful.

With this thought on his mind, it just so happened that the young English princess Adela Plantagenet was making a trip through York. Aengus, Scotland's senior diplomat reported her presence to the King. Aengus wanted to know what the King would have him do.

King Mael pondered this for many days. An alliance is out of the question. It's doubtful they would even accept. But if they did, that would leave the only route to the mainland across a vast spann of ocean, instead of across the short English channel should England eventually fall to Scotland. Indeed, a conflict between the English and the Scots was inevitable. The English' expansionist ways would eventually lead them to be the sole owner of the island, and the Scots need a clear path to the mainland.

But war at this point was out of the question. What little army Scotland had was already indisposed with the "reunification". And even if they weren't, as much as Mael hated to admit it, Scotland's rag tag miscreants were no match for the professional armies of England... Not yet anyway.

Finally the King informed Aengus to open negotiations for a Trade treaty, just something to keep the formal lines of communication open. Aengus followed the order, and the deed was done. After some careful negotiations with Princess Adela, the trade treaty was in place.

Prince Donnchad was angry when he heard the news. As much as King Mael disliked the English, Donnchad hated them 10x worse. After thinking about it for a few days however, Donnchad relaxed and accepted the situation. A trade treaty after all will bring in money for Scotland. It will lead to improved relations. Perhaps one day, even an Alliance... And Donnchad could think of nothing more pleasing to him than sacking a few English cities while under the pretense of a peaceful diplomatic visit.

Donnchad thought of nothing else on his entire voyage south to the small rebel settlment of York, and it is said that he broke his smile not once.

1083 AD


It wasn't until two years later, with Donnchad already well on the way, that King Mael received the official request from the Council of Nobles for the capture of York. This displeased the King. Not only that he was left out of the loop in his own kingdom, but that York was the target. York is a town full of English rebels. As such, England would have the right to lay claim to it. Invoking the wrath of the Kingdom of England was not on King Mael's to do list. He sent a messenger on his fastest horse towards York to caution Donnchad against this action. The messenger never returned.


The army prepared to enter York. They had made camp just a few kilometers north the night before. That night Prince Donnchad received a visitor from one of the King's loyal messengers. The messenger stated that the King advised against the assault on York. When questioned further on the matter, as to whether this was an order or just the King's "advice", the messenger admitted that the King had given Donnchad broad authority on the matter, and the message was merely the King's word of caution. The messenger was dismissed. Later that night he was seen sneaking out of camp towards York, presumably to warn the citizens there, and was promptly executed.

It was a crisp fall morning. There was a chill in the air, but the sun had risen above the mountains and already melted away the frost from the night before. Having lived in the cold north all his life, one would think the Prince would be immune to it's effects, but he was not. He despised the cold.


The towns folk had been alerted to their presence. Despite the slaying of the wayward messenger the night before, it's hard to mask the approach of 700 men towards a small farming village. The nomads years ago had been taken by surprise, caught off guard in the wilderness. This time the enemy knew they were coming. Not that it mattered much, they were farmers and peasants, not at all a match for the army Donnchad had assembled.

He was impressed however by the number of bowmen they brought forth. 2 divisions all told. Mostly hunters, and the rest barely trained enough to draw the bow, let alone have the arrow fly straight, but impressive for a small village none the less.

The army was on the edge of town now. The Prince ordered his Archers forward, to take up position with their sights down the main street.


Sure enough, the foolhardy peasants took the bait. They sent their best units forward, fully equipped spearmen, no doubt looted equipment from the English. They thought in the close quarters of the village the archers so far ahead of the infantry would be easy targets. They underestimated the power of 4 divisions of archers firing directly at single targets down a narrow village street.

The spearmen took several losses and retreated. The peasants retaliated by using their own archers, but 2 divisions against 4 could not put enough wood in the air. As time went by peasants would regroup at the town center and muster the courage to brave the firing squad. Each time they retreated back to the town with less men, and even less morale.


After several hours of attack and retreat by the rebels, the street flowed with blood. It was quiet. The most quiet day the Prince had ever witnessed. The rebels did not venture into the street anymore. They were far from tacticians, but they had come to the correct conclusion that the street was a death trap. There was only a hand full of them left, cowering in the city center. They thought of retreat, but where would they go? North is Scotland, south is England, east is sea, and west is unknown mountainous terrain. No, if they were going to die, they would do it here at their home.


It became apparent to the Prince that he would make no more headway with his archers. The peasants had learned their lesson. And he intended to ensure they would not be able to pass that lesson to another generation of rebels.

Prince Donnchad ordered the infantry forward, and led the charge with his heavy cavalry bodyguard division. The fighting, if it could even be classified as fighting, was quick and decisive. More of a slaughter than anything else. It reminded him of the nomads years ago.

When the dust settled, much to the amazement of his brothers in arms he ordered that there would be no more loss of life in York. The town would be occupied by the Scottish army, who would defend her until the time came to leave on another conquest.

While heartless, the Prince was not stupid. He had heard and understood the words of his father. These were not nomads. They were not barbarians. They were English rebels. While Donnchad's hatred for the English bordered on mania, he knew the English would be upset that their citizens, be they rebels or not, were now under Scottish rule. The very least he could do to keep up relations with England was to treat the surviving townsfolk as civilly as possible.

Besides, having seen the destructive power of the Scottish army first hand, he doubted very much that the townsfolk would ever take up arms against the Scots again.



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OOC: Decided to make the Reunification all one chapter. One more part left, the capture of Dublin. So the Reunification will be 3 parts total, all the 1st Chapter.

Then again, there is still Carnevaron. I'm not sure if I'll include that as part of the Reunification of the clans, or if i'll leave that for the expansion of the Kingdom. So Reunification might have 4 parts. Haven't made up my mind.

Anyway, next stop is Dublin, and a surprise visitor...

p.s. "Mael Giric mac Mail Muire"... man, what an awful name. Doesn't exactly roll off the tongue, does it? Probably a bug in the name creation. I just refer to him as Mael Giric.

As for the story line, it's set in stone until I finish the next part of the Reunification, as I've already played until that point. But I'd appreciate any comments on my narrative style. I don't like to write actual conversations, I like my AARs to be more of a historical text than a novel.