Stories thread - King of the Romans PBM

[econ21]

This thread is for in-character stories in the King of the Romans thread (except battle reports, which have their own thread). Any out of character comments or discussion should be kept in the OOC thread.

Note - if your story involves casting another player's avatar in an unfavourable light or doing bad things to them, you must liase with that player first.

[Lucjan]

The clean up process was never a glorious one, or a heartening one. The sacking of Hamburg had left much of the castle's lower quarters in shambles as the men trashed the place searching for loot. The bodies of the enemy lie everywhere, stamped and mangled beneath the thunder of half a thousand hooves, cheap armaments broken and portruding from their planted position in the ground, horrified faces twisted in agony staring up into the beating sun, into the faces of their killers. He had always thought of the battlefield as a graveyard, but at the same time far from such a sacred place. Battlefields were the place where murderers and grave robbers were allowed to enact their trade with impunity.

And then there was the case of fallen friends, comrades in arms now shut out of life. Dietrich sighed as he stood beside one of the men in his own retinue that had fallen in the battle. He was from southern Frankfurt. He was not particularly any sort of spectacular man, but he was honest, good intentioned. He remembered seeing him fall, struck by the final release of an archer's arrow right before they ran the regiment down in the street.

As Dietrich stood amongst the bodies, he noted the approach of the young knight he'd been briefed by before the battle. He could see a slight look of disdain on the man's face, and hesitated for a moment before he spoke.

"There's going to be many more days like this ahead, have no regrets if you are certain you did all you could. All that can be done afterwards is to see off lost friends to the heavens with respect." He said, reaching into a small pouch at his side and dismounting his horse. From the pouch he pulled two Imperial coins, then, bending down, placed them over the eyes of the man he recognised from his retinue. "And, sometimes, to pay their way there from your own pocket." Dietrich stared up into the sun and sighed. "Come, help me, there's much work to be done."

[IvarrWolfsong]

Cardinal Peter Scherer walked around tiny church frowning. The parish priest looked aghast and ashamed. He skittered about trying to straighten a candle here and wipe away some dust there, unable to keep up with the wandering gaze of the Cardinal.

"Fret not, good Father. This is a small parish and I know the tithes are not great in size or number," said Cardinal Peter. He thought to himself, "How will we ever stand up to the Italian's arrogance when there houses of worship are works of divinely inspired art, yet ours are seem but stables with pews..."

"Thank you your Eminence, but I again apologize for the meager comforts and state of unpreparedness of this House of God. I beg your forgiveness most wholeheartedly..." groaned Father Mueller.

"Nonsense, a good and pious House of our Lord this is! It preaches to the simple folk and as such has simple charm," replied the Cardinal. He continued, "Regardless, I have recieved word from the Imperial Diet that funds have been set aside to subsidize the erecting of many new Churchs. Our Kaiser and his men are filled with such faith! If only the other peoples of our world were led by such holy men...<sigh>.. but I digress into matters that are not for you to fret good Father."

"Our Emperor and his noble lords are righteous men indeed, your Eminence," agreed the priest.

"As are you good Father. And I am sure that the Kaiser and the Prince and all our noble born lords will be happy to know the common men feel that way," said Peter. He continued, "Considering the state of affairs here, I may recommend that this parish receive a church in which you may preach."

"That is MOST gracious, your Eminence!" said Father Mueller, grinning widely and bowing deeply.

The two clerics said there farewells and Peter climbed into his coach. Willem of Bruges, the cardinal's secretary, looked him over and, in his Flemish accent, queried "All is well, your Eminence?"

"Yes, yes... fine. Advise the electors that this will be a good parish to build a new church in. The current one is no better than a swine yard, and smells as such. When I visited here just half a dozen years ago, this church thrived. It was never a glorious place but it had a pastoral charm," said the Cardinal. "I dare say that I mistook the cobwebs for silk curtains," he continued, chuckling.

As his chuckling died out he grew cold and a stern look washed over his face. "As for this simpleton, Mueller, I don't want him near our new Church. If he doesn't lead it to ruin, he will only serve to remind the folk of this miserable ruin of a shack," said Peter. "Send him on a pilgrimage somewhere far away, Spain or the Holy Land, I care not. Somewhere with brigands and lepers and the like. I don't want to see him again."

Willem raised an eyebrow, "I hear the Reconquista of Iberia is particularly violent these days. There are captains, Christian and heathen, who serve one master one day and his sworn enemies the next... desperate men they are," said the secratary, as if musing over a random thought. He continued, "has your Eminence ever been to the Shrine of Santa Maria Dolores de Cordoba? I have heard that every holy man should be given an oppurtunity to drink from the spring there. It is said to give new insight into spreading the word of Our Lord...."

The Cardinal simply nodded.

Cardinal Peter Scherer listened with pride as the Flemish priest stated that Bavaria would be the first to build these new Churches. He gazed out among the pine trees and watched as the sun slowly sank behind them. It seemed as though the pointed pines were fangs in the maw of some great beast that was devouring the sun and the cardinal was lost in this pagan image from some long forgotten myth.

Ashamed of such heretical thoughts, he quickly tried to think of something more pious. Without consciously chosing the image, he thought of a time in his boyhood. He was 12 and he was crying and laughing at the same time. he was on his knees in the street. His chaperone was aghast and telling him to get out of the filth and that when his father saw his hose torn and muddy, he would have him horse whipped. However, Peter stayed where he was, kneeling in front of the Cath&#233;drale Notre-Dame de Chartres. He had never seen anything so magnificent or so beautiful in his life. He was overcome with a sense of faith and knelt paralyzed and in a state of rapture. One of the priests, seeing this young boy, dressed in noble finery, kneeling in the mud before the Cathedral, asked him to come inside. After speaking to Preist for some time, he was taken to see the Sancta Camisia, the gown of Saint Mary, Blessed Mother. His fathers dreams of Peter taking over the family's lucridive silver trade died that very instant. Peter knew his calling and all the horse-whipping in the world would not change his mind.

Suddenly he he straightened and looked to Willem.

"Willem, these new Houses of Our Lord are but a first step. Greater works must follow. A Cathedral, in Bavaria ... a Cathedral that will bring glory to our Church, glory to our People, glory to our Empire. A Cathedral that will make all other princes and kings grow green with jealousy... that will make hardened Catalans weep and Saracens throw down their turbans. I swear upon my Holy Oath that we will have such a Cathedral, although I may never see it completed, I will see it started...."

[TinCow]

Maximillian Mandorf rolled over and wiped the sweat from his face. After a momentary pause, he reached out and grasped a half-empty goblet of wine. Propping himself up on his elbow, he took a deep draught, then wiped a red rivulet from the corner of his mouth. Behind him on the bed, a peasant girl lay bare-breasted, breathing heavily.

Mandorf distained mistresses. They were expensive and expected rank and privilege. Far too much trouble in comparison to the simple service they performed. Servants and townsfolk were free and never said a word. As he rose, a butler stepped forward from the far corner and proffered a heavy robe. Mandorf shrugged on the garment and walked into his private study.

Another servant was waiting there. He immediately stepped forward and held up a parchment. “Sir, the latest report from Italy.” The letter was sealed with the insignia of a minor Bavarian noble in Kaiser Heinrich’s retinue. Mandorf broke it with his thumb and scanned the text.

Progress. At last, some progress. There was no official word of Florence’s fall, but the siege had been nearing its end when the letter had been written. By now the city had surely rejoined the Empire. Hamburg, Metz, and Florence. It was a start. The Steward of Bavaria walked over to the eastern wall behind a massive oak desk. A large embroidered tapestry hung there, depicting the extent of Imperial power under Konrad the Second, only 60 years before.

The Holy Roman Empire had stretched from Antwerp and Marseille in the west to Prague in the east. Bruges, Rheims, Dijon, and Zagreb had been within a day’s ride of the border. On the other axis, Imperial power had held sway from Hamburg and Magdeburg in the north, to Rome in the south. Rome.

So much had been lost in the last decade and it was all because of Rome. The arrogance of the Pope knew no bounds. In 1075, against all laws of man and God, he had declared himself the sole authority in the appointment of clergymen, effectively severing the Kaiser’s power over Christianity. The Pope claimed authority from God, but he had no precedence for the matter. The Divine Mandate came from God himself and transcended the politics of man. Kaiser Heinrich had inherited the role handed down from the time of the Constantine the Great himself. The Pope’s actions were illegal and without support in history.

At first, Kaiser Heinrich had responded as an Emperor should, he had thrown down the gauntlet and sent a scathing letter to Rome in which he exercised his rightful power to depose the Pope and call for a new election. The Pope had responded by excommunicating Heinrich.

Mandorf laughed just remembering the matter. The sheer audacity of the Pope’s action had to be respected, even if it made him the enemy of the entire Empire. The man had balls. Yet, instead of crushing the impudent lout, as an Emperor should, Heinrich had humiliated himself! It was pathetic. A rebellion by some of the nobility had threatened Heinrich’s power, and he had surrendered his God given rights to that petulant monk without a struggle. The man had stood barefoot in the snow, wearing a hairshirt, until the priest had forgiven him! It made Mandorf sick just thinking about it.

The Emperor should have marched on the Pope, torn down his fortress stone by stone, and disemboweled him alive. Instead he had gutted his own authority. In the time since, it seemed as if half the Empire had ceased to obey Imperial power. Bern, Metz, Hamburg, Antwerp, Magdeburg, Prague, and Florence had declared themselves Free Cities. Marseilles had joined the Franks, and the Milanese and Venetians had declared themselves powers in their own right. It was an unmitigated disaster.

Recently, Heinrich seemed to have finally regrown some of his backbone. Asserting Imperial authority over Hamburg, Metz, and Florence was a good start, but it remained just that, a start. The Empire would never be restored to its rightful order until the Pope bent knee and groveled before the Kaiser. Mandorf doubted that Heinrich would ever have the authority or the courage to confront the Empire’s greatest enemy.

There was no prospect of Prinz Henry rising to the challenge either. That ‘royal’ had actually proposed to give regular tribute to the Roman usurper! It was outrageous. Not only had the Kaiser seconded the motion, but the entire damned Diet had gone along with it. Only Mandorf himself had retained enough dignity to oppose the insult to the Empire.

Mandorf would never bow to a false Pope. Any man who did was a heretic and would surely be separated from God in the next life. Yet, if the Kaiser and the Prinz threw themselves at the heathen’s feet, was it sacrilege to swear fealty to them as well?

The Steward of Bavaria gazed longingly at the tapestry. The Empire could regain its rightful place as God’s authority on Earth, but only if men had the will to make it so. Only if they had the strength to do what had to be done. All enemies of the Reich had to be purged. The only question was who these enemies were. Those who had thrown off Imperial authority to be sure, but what of those who remained? Was a man who allowed treason also a traitor?

A shuffling sound behind him caused Mandorf to turn. The peasant girl was gathering up her clothes in the bedroom. All thoughts of Popes and treason vanished. Mandorf grinned. “Where do you think you’re going?”

[OverKnight]

A letter from Otto von Kassel to Wilhelm von Kassel shortly after the capture of Metz:

Father,

I am sure you have heard the news that Metz has been returned to the Reich. The Prinz and his new "brother" stormed the rebels' fort in a bold action. I had not heard of this Der Stoltze fellow before, but I am glad he has proven the Kaiser correct in his choice.

Yes, I am still in Innsbruck, to some regret. I was stupid and misinterpreted a passing remark from the Kaiser to mean that I was to go on campaign. My eagerness clouded my judgement once again. I find solace by walking the walls of the keep. The view is astounding. The Alps tower to the north and south, almost ringing the castle. The Inn river flows from the west to the east down the broad valley dividing the two ranges and eventually feeds into the Danube. From the south the Sill river winds down from the mountains, and where it flows into the Inn lies the castle. I am told a settlement, by one name or another, has been on this spot since Roman times.

If you follow the Sill south into the mountains to it's source, you come to the Brenner Pass. This is the only pass, Father, between us and the Venetians that can accommodate an army. A small force could hold back an entire army in such a confined space! Woods, cliffs, and switchbacks provide several excellent spots for ambushes. That is why there is a castle here, and the castle is why I am here. The garrison has grown and needs training and quarters. Even though we have sworn a treaty of goodwill and trade with those merchants, the border needs to be watched and tariffs need to be collected. Even now, a Venetian trade caravan eats at my table and sleeps in my hall because the pass has been snowed in. I offer them hospitality, as is my duty, and they return the favor with sidelong glances and snide remarks about the food. I do not trust them!

Between merchants, freeholders fighting over livestock, and endless drilling of conscripts I sometimes regret defying you and not going into the priesthood. "A soldier or a priest, that is the choice for the younger son, and I didn't have you taught to read so you could be arrow fodder!", you often told me. Very often. Still, I would have made a poor priest, I can barely recite the Lord's Prayer, and my Latin is atrocious. I am a soldier, a Ritter of Bavaria, and I serve the Reich in whatever task I am given.

Yet, there are times when my service weighs more heavily than others. I hear of the victories to the north, to the west, and to the south, and I am envious. The Mountains close in and seem more of a prison than a spectacle. I want to strike at our enemies, I want to be in the field, I want to feel flesh and bone break beneath my sword arm! I can hear you now, "Patience, you impetuous pup!". Aye, I know. But if you always had your way I would be mouthing Te Deums and wedding swine herders to their cousins in some hole of a hamlet. Which reminds me, did you hear that rumour about the Austrian electors? It was the talk of Frankfurt before I left.

I hope you are in good health Father and the old wound does not trouble you as much as in the past. Send along my greetings to my brother, read him the letter if you wish. I will write again when I have the time.

Your son,

Otto

[Lucjan]

The voices down the hall were muddled, and the thunder's cacophanous symphony shattered Hamburg's new peace in a crescendo reminiscent of Dietrich's charge through the gates. The organ playing in the main hall could still be heard at the top of the stairs as well. In a lower layer of hell, this musical orgy could have tantalised darker spirits into ecstasy, but it scared Godfrey half to death. If he had not personally seen the Duke occassionally in the castle's small chapel, praying for his sins, he might, at that moment, have been inclined to believe he were a man of the devil.
He shook, half from the atmosphere, half in an attempt to shove such thoughts from his mind. "Stop it, just go. Go, tell him the news." He said to himself, willing himself down the hallway one step at a time. The dark corridor's shadows seemed to scurry away with every crack of the lightning, then instantly lunge back out, kept at bay only by the light of a few small torches. As he grew nearer the door, some of the muffled conversation began to sound more clear.

"So she's well then?"

"Yes."

"Good, and what of -" The voice was cut off by the ravenous growl of thunder, but it was distinguishable, familiar. The second voice though was new, and deeply accented in its speech.

"It's fine, hardly changed at all, even since you've left. The family's kept its eminence through your father's trade, and the town itself is coming into a considerable amount of wealth because of it. I know I shouldn't mention it, but they miss you."

"It's ok Cibor, hopefully -" Again, the the sky's vengeful roar interrupted the conversation, to which Godfrey was now listening intently. "secure the deal. Do me a favor though, when you get home, have my father urge the rest of the local noble council to push for compliance. Our current situation places us in a position to make this a reality. But, by all means Cibor, speak only to my father. That twisted wretch of a 'prince' must not get wind of this. If he takes the throne -" The next crack of thunder made Godfrey jump, his ear pressed close to the door he couldn't help but bang his head in his fright. As he stepped backwards, suddenly fearing for his life with the realisation of what just happened, their was startled bantering from inside and the door swung open with a heavy slam against the wall. Dietrich stood in the doorway, sword drawn, the man behind him staring, startled, over his shoulder.

"Godfrey..." Dietrich seemed appalled.

"Who is it? Gut him! It's a spy!" The man behind him yelled.

"No." Dietrich replied, lowering his sword. "I've fought with this man, he helped in this castle's fall, he's a good man. He's just in the wrong place at the wrong time." He looked down the hall, towards the sound of the organ's music and the stairs, and reached out to grab Godfrey by the tunic. "I'll assume you've already heard much, so come inside Godfrey, and let me tell you a story."

[GeneralHankerchief]

Florence, 1100

The sound of trumpets. The cheering crowd. The fine food, exquisite sleeping arrangements, and dedicated staff. One got used to these things as Holy Roman Emperor.

Then why was this job so damned hard?

Kaiser Heinrich, upon his return to the city, retired to his chamber for the night, asked himself that question. The midterm session of the Diet that had just ended was a particularly... annoying one.

"Wise Kaiser, noble Kaiser they all say publicly. And then they proceed to quickly ignore my proposals and go the other way, unanimously. They all want to benefit their House and their House only, and they all want to make their city the shiniest and most glorious in the entire Reich, never mind that it will make me bankrupt."

One could say that the Kaiser was in a bad mood.

"I have to deal with that stupid Cardinal who can't even identify people's gender. And of course he cares little for the Empire, only Rome. And my son, bah! Henry is weak. He was too young to remember. An entire generation, starting with him, is being raised to accept the fact that the Papacy is infalliable. This is unacceptable. He wants me to abdicate. I can see it. He figures that if a pro-Rome ruler is installed then things will be perfect.

"This cannot happen. We must not forget. This Reich has been wronged. It took me some time to realize that but we have been wronged. And if we do not act quickly people will never remember the power we once held."

He gazed out his window to the south. The prominent feature in the city was a small church, rising above the mostly small buildings but not obstructing his view. Past the church, symbol of much were the city gates. Past the gates were the fields of the Florence region, where many farmers now toiled to bring wealth to the Reich. And beyond those fields, to the south, were the fields of Rome.

Many years ago, over a thousand, those fields had been the site of a bloody, but decisive conflict for Rome itself. In earlier, happier times, Heinrich had paid visits to those fields. Certainly, the grounds were contested by heretics who believed in the pagan practice of polytheism, but when that many people died in one concentrated spot, the ground was hallowed no matter who fought there.

"I hereby vow, at this moment, that before I die Rome will be under the benevolent arm of the Empire once again. And may this battle be less bloody than the last."

[Lucjan]

As light flooded the previously darkened room, the torch cast a warm, glowing light across his face. The diet floor was empty, the chairs vacated, the candelabras that adorned many of the tables had long been extinguished for the night. The room bore a chill in its emptiness, and Dietrich felt the need to progress to his seat at the head of Franconia's section, staring out across the circular arrangement of desks, chairs, and the oratory floor at the center.

As his gaze turned towards the map on the far wall, his thoughts went to the future of the Reich. He closed his eyes for a moment, reaching into the inside of his shirt to pull out a necklace with a silver crucifix. Holding the cross tight, he closed his eyes in prayer. Our father who art in heaven flowed from his lips as it has done a thousand times before. It was in these quiet moments of silence that he felt closest to his God. Not on the field of battle, where promises of heaven and glory inspired other men to great deeds, or in the churches and altar houses where he often donated to the Catholic faith, but in his own solitude, his own place of silence in the night. This place of aloneness was where he spoke to God, and it was the answers he made for himself in that state of silence that guided his life. The shrill creaking of the door behind him occurred almost simultaneously with the opening of his eyes. Then he recognised the footsteps.

"I've been waiting." He said. "I almost thought you wouldn't come, Conrad." Looking towards the open door to where the old man stood, he slipped the cross back into his shirt.

Conrad Schüsselen was a wiry man whose white thin hair was slowly baldening. It was difficult imagining the fragile person on a battlefield, and it is understood that although he has been one several campaigns, he was never a man of the field. His duty had led him elsewhere. Scribes and Runners were always needed. Behind the glorious charges of knights and deadly hails of arrows, small cogs twirled endlessly to supply an army with its needs and Conrad was the man who made those things happen.

Clothed in an elaborate gown that seemed several sizes too large for him, Conrad entered the chamber of the Diet. A throaty cough escapes his lips and immediately his right hand rises to his mouth, and a handkerchief tugged away in his sleeve for this purpose is pressed against his lips. Small specks of blood can be seen which are quickly wiped away.
"My Grace! I'm honoured to meet you."
A small bow with just the right degree of reverence to somebody of Dietrich's station is given, not an inch more. Then he straightens and looks at him expectantly.

"You needn't bow to me." Dietrich stepped towards the old man, and, as he approached, extended his hand in greetings. After tucking the bloodied hankerchief back into his sleeve, Conrad shook the duke's hand, a slight look of bewilderment on his face.

Taking note of his unusual attire, Dietrich opted then to light the candelabra on the table and deposit the torch in a brazier before returning to sit at the table. "I have a great deal of respect for you Conrad. You stand here, old and ill, some might say leperous, blood accompanying your almost every word, and yet still you continue to attend the diet and dictate your opinion to the electors. Rarely have I seen such devotion to a cause."

Before Conrad could muster a response, he continued more directly on the purpose of their meeting. "The diet today, the exchange between myself and the Kaiser, it is much like the battle of chivalry against corruption. I have made my point and the corrupt has been exposed as such, but there are things he can do which I cannot. One of which, I believe, has been to prevent me from meeting with Duke Leopold. Every messenger I have sent has failed to return, and I can't remember the Duke ever appearing for more than a moment in the diet. I understand that you, however, meet with him regularly. What can you do? What must be done to have you arrange a meeting between Leopold and myself? Somewhere safe, somewhere, somewhere like Hamburg."

Conrad von Schüsselen was truly bewildered by this breach of protocol from Dietrich von Saxony. It seemed that he was a man who beleived in protocol and order. Neatness, yes, besides being wiry the man was neat and seemed to like it.
"You honour me with your words, my Grace. My duty is to serve and try to fulfill this duty. Can't let myself be distracted by petty illnesses, now can I?"

He listened intently to Dietrichs words. Chivalry against Corruption, an interesting way to put it.
"Indeed the Kaiser has been acting strange lately. I did not get to know him as such a man from my time in Italy. You have heard my words in the Diet. It seems my requests fall on deaf ears with the Kaiser, but I'm just a simple Elector. Ignoring a Duke now, I think he has gone too far. You seek contact to my Liege, I think I can provide it. I don't know what happened to the messengers you sent, but I have secure communication channels established. Whatever message you want to have sent, I shall deliver it."

Conrad clasps his hand in front of him, ready to deliver a final bow. Was this all this meeting was about or would there be more?

"Thank you. Have Duke Leopold meet me in Hamburg as soon as possible. I'll temporarily delay heading out to begin work on the Kaiser's menial task of setting up watch towers in the Reich's interior, something that, were he not so blinded by his power, he would have made the regional responsability of the individual Duchies a long time ago. As for brother Leopold, travelling with a small retinue, he should be able to arrive without issue in a few short weeks. My captain, Godfrey, will greet him at the front gates."

Conrad performs his bow once again as he receives Dietrichs request: "Be assured that my Liege will receive my message and will meet you in Hamburg as soon as the siege of Prague is concluded."

Dietrich, looking down towards the candelabra on the table, stared into the core of the flame, watching it flicker and dance. He lost his concentration for a moment, as if thinking back to something in his past, before he looked back up. "Oh, yes. I almost forgot." He said, then, reaching into the gilded pouch attached to his belt, pulled from it a smooth, crimson colored hankerchief that felt of silk, embroidered with the House of Austria's coat of arms.

Offering the cloth to the old man with a respectful nod, he smiled. "I thought the color might help to make the severity of your condition a little less noticeable to the diet."

Conrad stepped forward carefully and extended a hand to receive this unusual gift. His gaze is cast down upon the handkerchief as he takes it and reverently turns it around in his hand. Finally, he looks up, a quizzical look on his face: "Thank you, your Grace, your attention is too kind. Although I believe this is too fine a material to be stained by my own blood."

"Then consider it a token of my appreciation. Do you have any questions for me, Conrad?" The duke asked, watching the old man closely, attempting to pick out any discrepencies in his responce with his movements. "You seemed surprised by my greeting tonight."

Conrad seemed to be a little nervous all of a sudden and began to twirl the handkerchief in his hands, before finally getting a grip on himself and tugging it away in his sleeve. "I was indeed surprised by your invitation tonight, but it was a pleasant surprise. I have been meaning to get in contact with you. Since you will meet Duke Leopold soon though, I'm not convinced of the necessity of this meeting. Surely he can discuss these matters with you in person. However..."

Conrad reached into his garment and pulled forward a scroll, sealed with the sigil of the House of Austria and handed it to Dietrich.

"... I can give you this, it should prepare you for one of the things my master has in mind for the next Diet session. Of course all things mentioned within this document are purely a base for negotiation. I'm sure your support in this matter will be appreciated by our House and every favour returned as soon as possible." He smiled a sleek smile and bowed his exact bow once more.

After reading over the document Dietrich smiled and stood to retrieve his torch from the brazier, making sure that any ashes left are out. "I will speak with Leopold on this matter deeply, but let him know that I am fully supportive of his ideas. The House of Austria has a friend in Franconia." He said, before offering the elderly elector a bow.

As he snuffed out the candle light at the table, he took one final look around the empty diet floor. "Conrad." He said, still thinking back to the elector's bewilderment in his greeting and feeling it may be best to explain his breach of regular diet protocol. "Do not be surprised by my informality today. We are both men of nobility and station, and you, being worthy of my great respect, I believe should also then be worthy of my friendship. And when the diet is closed, well, why worry about formalities between friends? I'll be leaving in a moment, no need to wait for me."

At this comment Conrad bowed even deeper to the Duke. "I'm just a simple servant, my Grace. Your offer of friendship is heartily accepted. I'm convinced that the friendship between our Houses will bear many fruits."
He turned around and left the Diet floor, already engrossed in his own thoughts again, a smug smile showed on his face, as he was quite pleased with his accomplishments tonight.

There was one last thing he had to do before he left. Earlier in the day the Kaiser had snorted and fumed about Dietrich's supposed lack of children. If the Kaiser wanted Dietrich so greatly to have a son, then Dietrich would have a son, but it would be a son who understood the errors of the Kaiser's judgement. Reaching again into the pouch he removed a small scroll, his eyes crossing over the petition for adoption before finally coming to rest on the Kaiser's table. He would have to accept, his remarks earlier that day really gave him no other choice.


This story was written as a cooperative work between Lucjan and Ituralde.

[TinCow]

The servant shuffled his feet and kept his eyes on the ground. He was visually uncomfortable with the conversation.

“I will repeat this one last time.” Maximillian Mandorf stared hard at the man. “Tell that uncultured Polish bastard that I expect some proper hospitality in this God-forsaken town. Tell him that I want proper lodgings for my men and a full haunch of beef for each of them this evening. And tell him…” the Bavarian’s face reddened and his voice began to boom “…that if one more Polish peasant delays our march or demands a toll for a river crossing, I will personally geld him!”

The servant continued to stare at his feet. Mandorf gave him a three-count before exploding. “What the hell are you standing there for? Get out and do your job! If you come back here one more time without having done what I said, I will strap you to the top of the battering ram when we reach Stettin!” All color left the man’s face and for a moment it appeared as if he would faint. The man recovered well though, turning an involuntary backwards step into a proper about-face. He left in a hurry.

The room was silent for several moments, then Mandorf exploded into laughter. “It is a farce! A mockery of proper order!” He bellowed deeply for several moments, then shook his head with a broad smile. “Kaiser Heinrich is a more astute politician than I gave him credit for.” He turned and looked at the robed figure in the corner. “You disagree?”

The priest replied in a pinched voice, as if suffering from a cold. “Imperial politics are not something I concern myself with; I care only for spiritual matters.”

A huge smile crept across Mandorf’s face. “Yes, I’m sure you do.” He stood up and crossed the room. “Well, I am feeling very much like a sinner at the moment.” The Steward of Bavaria grabbed his crotch. “Would you like to hear my confession?”

A look of horror crossed the priest’s face. Mandorf erupted into laughter again. “You do not appreciate my affection, Charles?”

The priest sputtered out a response, “It is not a lack of affection, my lord, I… I am just concerned that such things might be seen!” His voice dropped into a whisper, “We are not in your private estate, who knows what eyes and ears could be spying on us, here in Poland?”

Mandorf waved his hand dismissively. “Do not concern yourself with such matters. These Poles are ignorant buffoons and my men are completely loyal.” His eyes met the priests’ and he gazed at them deeply. “Besides, you have not answered my question.”

The priest shifted in his seat. “It seems to me that the Kaiser has managed to offend everyone in every way possible.”

“Offend? Ah, but he has done anything but!” Mandorf turned and began to pace the room. “He demonstrates his displeasure with von Saxony by denying him command of the attack on Stettin. Yet the Duke of Franconia cannot be publicly offended as the rights to Stettin will surely be given to his House. Furthermore, he cannot protest too greatly at the command, lest he risk offending me and the House of Bavaria.” Mandorf paused before a window and looked out. “At the same time, he removes me from my lands, and orders me North, away from the Milanese and that bastard in Rome. While I am up here, I am unable to effectively agitate against the Usurper and I am exceedingly far from the Italian lands which I concern myself with. Yet I too cannot be publicly offended. I have been given a military command that was unexpected and not mandated by the Imperial Diet. This is a high compliment and, combined with the previous allocation of Bolognia to Bavaria, I cannot honorably express displeasure. Any protest I make also risks offending von Saxony and the Franconians. If I were spurn a military command the Kaiser has felt they were not fit for, I would be making myself out to be superior to them!”

Mandorf turned back to the priest, a slight smirk spreading across his face. “Yes, the Kaiser knows exactly what he is doing. Franconia’s interests lie only in the north and Bavaria’s lie only in the south. We are natural allies, yet with this act the Kaiser drives a wedge between us. At the same time, the difficulties between Swabia and Austria continue, preventing them from forming any kind of coherent bond, despite their similarly compatible interests. In the south, both Austria and Bavaria desire the Italian lands, which will undoubtedly prevent us from reaching any kind of long-term alliance. Thank the heavens that the assault on Bern went well. If Sigismund had died under von Kassel’s command, our relations with Swabia would have been greatly damaged. Yes, the Kaiser knows what he is doing. He plays us all off against one another. As long as we squabble amongst ourselves, he may do what he wishes.”

The priest considered this for a moment before speaking. “You speak of this as if it is undesirable, yet the Kaiser has been exceedingly kind to Bavaria and none in the Reich has more of a reason to hate Pope Gregory than him. Surely a more powerful Kaiser is a boon to the House of Bavaria?”

Mandorf raised an eyebrow. “So much for restricting your thoughts to spiritual matters. Yes, you are correct. We have no reason to oppose the Kaiser at the moment. However, politics is a fickle beast and interests change as rapidly as a whore’s lover. The Kaiser is looking to his own interests in the coming years. He will be prepared no matter what course the Houses take.” The Steward of Bavaria glanced down at the priest’s robes. “Speaking of whores…”

The priest gaped. “My lord, please, this is not the place!”

“This is the place if I say it is the place!” Mandorf snarled. He placed his hand between the priest’s legs, the robe giving way to reveal a decided lack of bulk. “Or would you prefer that I inform Cardinal Scherer of your… peculiarity?”

The priest’s eyes began to water. “My lord, Maximillian… you promised!”

Mandorf grabbed the priest by the hair. “And so did you. I swore to keep your secret and you swore to preach the righteous word of God; to undermine support for the Usurper from your pulpit. Those you convert in Stettin must be loyal to the Kaiser, not to Rome! Yet, I have heard reports of your sermons and they have been decidedly lacking in the fiery rhetoric I have been expecting.”

“But, but, my lord… I cannot simply speak of it openly, it must be done subtly and often in private! If Scherer hears of open sermons against Pope Gregory, I will be as damned as if he knew…” His gaze moved down to where Mandorf’s hand rested.

“Yes, well, then you had better start giving more convincing private sermons, hadn’t you?” He pulled up the priest’s robes, revealing an entirely feminine body. Mandorf smiled. “Let’s call this… practice.”

[Ituralde]

It was an unusual chilly morning and his breathing turned into small clouds of mist as Leopold looked over the battlements. The sun was not fully over the horizon yet, but soon it would rise through the cool morning air and bask the surrounding countryside in its warmth. Soon it would glisten off the standards and weapons of his adversaries, but right now the only thing revealing the Venetian presence in the surrounding hills were small spirals of smoke rising from several fires. Judging from their position all major roads to and from Vienna were blocked by the Doge's army.

He should have known something was up when the guards on the merchant trains coming into Austria had been doubled. Brigands and robbery in the Alp passes were supposedly endangering the Venetian merchants. In a motion of goodwill he had granted the Venetians access and even supplied them with scouts to traverse along the Danube. Hah! What an gullible idiot he had been. A small detachment of cavalry had just marched up to the city the previous month and demanded that Vienna surrender to the Doge. Leopold could not believe his ears! Surrender to the Doge? Had they not been allies just minutes ago? But soon the fires had sprung up around the city and the army sent into the Alps had just arrived in time to support the intruders. Vienna was completely surrounded and all that stood between them and the city was Leopold and a large assembly of Militia.

"Mein Herzog! Mein Herzog!" Rainer, a burly man in his midfourties, an aged retainer and veteran warrior pulled Leopold out of his revery. "They are ready mein Herr, for the demonstration." Leopold tore his gaze away from the Venetian encampments and looked at Rainer. It was hard to suppress a sigh but he followed the aged man into the courtyard. He had to pass a small construction site where workers were still attempting to improve the fortifications. Leopold had ordered Stone Walls to be build and they had progressed nicely, however with the city cut off no more stones from the quarries arrived and the masons had to make do with the little they got.

Assembled in the courtyard besides some guild leaders and dignitaries of the city stood five men, looking somewhat uneasy that they were the center of attention. Each one of them had a crossbow dangling from their belts. The guilds were eager to show off their new capabilities for defending the city. Had the Venetians arrived later Leopold might have had a regiment or two of those men at his disposal. After a brief demonstration of the Peasants skill the guild leaders mumbled something about merely a dozen of them being ready now. While not enough to make a difference should the Venetians attack, Leopold could at least man the towers with those men and hope they inflict some damage on the enemy.

Once again his thoughts were far away as a spindly looking clerk explained something about tension and recoil effect to him. Not only his situation in Vienna looked grim. The Reich was at war against Milan and would soon attack Rome itself. Every voice of reason was needed in the Diet and he was not able to attend. He could only hope that his messengers had made it through, but everything else lay in the hands of Chancellor Sigismund.
He could understand the hatred against Pope Gregory it had filled him in the first years of the investiture crisis, but now he had begun to understand that the will of god was not to be questioned by mere men. God's representative on earth had spoken and the following events had proven him right. The Reich had lain shattered and in ruins just years ago. They had worked hard to regain its former glory and accomplished some things. Although Leopold still felt left out on the recent expansions of the Reich. Prague, one meager city had been given to his control, while everyone that had taken a look at the profits generated by Vienna should know that he would have been the best choice to turn their Italian possessions in the cash-machines they could be.
Instead he was now besieged by those merchants, unable to muster a professional force for his defense or strike at those traitors directly, while excommunication loomed over their every heads and all they had worked for so hard could be shattered in mere instants.

But he would not give up without a fight. The clerk had just finished that the new techniques could punch a hole into a plank of wood a hundred meters distant.
"Punch a hole! That's what we're going to do. Punch a hole in their shiny armour once they try to scale our walls! And then, then we'll bring the fight right to their doorstep! I will see the city of Venice under our control and their coffers plundered by our soldiers or I will not be Leopold of Austria!"
He laughed, laughed for the pure joy of it, while at the same time hoping that the defense of Vienna might hold and that he would carry the day once the Venetians attacked.

[GeneralHankerchief]

Sylvio Miracola, special Messenger of the Pope, was shocked at the amount of hostility that was present in the atmosphere as he made his short ride to deliver a message from Pope Gregory to Kaiser Heinrich. Gregory had given him a blessing before he had departed, but Sylvio had the distinct impression that this land was outside of God's control. The skies were gloomy, the roads were a mess, and he had come down with a sudden cough as he rode to Genoa.

The hostility was even more open once he arrived in the city proper. The guards at the gates spent an inordinately long amount of time checking his papers as well as his person, and finally let him pass with scowls on their faces. He received the same treatment upon arrival at Heinrich's residence, and even the Kaiser himself displayed little hospitality to this ambassador to the Pope.

And that was before he had read the message.

"His Holiness Pope Gregory hereby summons me to meet with him and discuss recent events by his headquarters on MY land??!!?! Tell me, messenger, since when did His Holiness acquire such cheek?"

"His Holiness would ask the same to you, Your Highness," Sylvio piped in. He was under protection of the Pope, and thus cared little about etiquette.

Heinrich stared at him for several moments, apparently deciding whether this ingrate was for real or not. Finally, he sent the messenger off with his reply.

Two days later, Heinrich and his entourage, including Captain Ludwig, rode out to the Pope's location. They were more numerous than what was usual for this sort of meeting and much more heavily-armed. The Kaiser finally arrived at Pope Gregory's tent, more than three hours late. He would at least have some say in the pace of this meeting.

The Pope's retinue was just as numerous, and some of them were even armed. However, all were respectful and silent. The only voices to be heard that evening would be the Kaiser's and the Pope's, and the Kaiser began the meeting without any of the respectful greetings that the Pope was probably accustomed to.

"So, Your Holiness, what troubles you enough to summon me to meet with you on my own land?"

Pope Gregory smiled for a moment, and then spoke. “Ah, Heinrich, I see this time you do not come to me wearing a hairshirt and walking through the snow. Tell me, how is your eldest son, Henry? I had such high hopes for that man - I thought perhaps he would be the one to finally remove all trace of the wounds caused by the Investiture Crisis. And yet I have heard such a disturbing report from one of my inquisitors, Bandius de Bargio. I hope the report is misinformed - after all, de Bargio is more used to rooting out foul spirits than conversing with Princes.”

"Henry is quite fine," said Heinrich, eyeing the Pope. "And please tell your inquisitor that there is a difference between supporting the Pope and knowing when an invited guest oversteps his boundaries."

That was all the Kaiser said of the matter, not mentioning that there was currently Diet discussion about hunting down and executing all inquisitors that made their way into Imperial territory. Gregory continued, shrugging.

“Before we get down to why I have summoned you here, I must protest at the action of your men in blocking the roads around Genoa. What do they think they are doing, trying to confine my army to its camp? I have 1300 men with me - do they think a single regiment will stop me passing down a road if I have a mind to do so? Do you think to stop me returning to Rome? Do you dare to believe you can reclaim it, now that the Sicilians who helped evict you from it are no longer at my side?”

Heinrich chuckled for a second. "Believe me, Your Holiness, if I had it my way the road back to Rome would be wide open. I would even send regiments to make sure that your journey back would go as smoothly as possible. If you wish to return to Rome then just give the word. I shall pass it onto Sigismund. In the meantime, you are violating Imperial borders."

“Enough of this talk of borders and blockades - I will leave Genoa with or without your men's permission, and as soon as I'm ready. But let us talk instead of why I have summoned you here. I wish to personally convey my injunctions regarding your Empire. I know it is no longer yours to command, and you must suffer at the mercy of those buffoonish Dukes and your Diet, but what am I to do? I cannot address each Elector individually and anyway, you - not they - were chosen by God to rule your kingdom. Even if the monkeys usurp the role of organ-grinder, it does not mean that I must attempt to converse with the simians! So, now I tell you, Heinrich, King of the Romans, my four demands.”

“First, I remind you that you have not yet fulfilled my injunction to end your alliance with the Kingdom of Sicily. Quite why you remain loyal to these pirates is beyond me. Do you not remember that you lost Rome due to their intervention? They have certainly forgotten any pretence that they were acting for the good of the Church.”

“Second, no German army has joined the crusade against the Sicilians. I have overlooked this for a while, as you lacked a fleet to reach Tunis. But that is no longer true. Why are you content to let your brother nations take the lead in bringing down these godless Normans?”

“Third, you must end hostilities with Milan. Your mad friend Maximillan is quite wrong on this point. I have no sympathy for these Milanese - normally, I would not suffer them to be mentioned in my presence; they rank even lower in my estimation than your Empire. Milan started this war and they have paid a steep price. But enough is enough. You have driven them out of every settlement on mainland Europe. There is no need to persist in your attacks. Let no more Catholic blood be spilled; if they defy me by attacking you, they will join Sicily in being cast outside the Church.”

“Fourth, you must end hostilities with Venice. Venice is a powerful Catholic faction - perhaps the mightiest faction in Europe. They vie with you for dominance in Europe; such is the nature of the mighty. Do lions not fight for the pride? Do stags not lock horns for the herd? But, as in nature, these struggles must be kept limited - it will not serve the good of the species for its leaders to both be mortally wounded. So it is with Christendom. If your Empire and Venice fight a total war, Catholicism will be weakened from within. The Orthodox nations, the Muslims, the pagans, will all benefit and rejoice. And again, if for her part, Venice continues hostilities, know that she too will learn of God’s displeasure.”

After Gregory concluded, an aide whispered something in Heinrich's ear. The Kaiser nodded and made a motion with his hand dismissing the aide, replying.

"It's funny, Your Holiness. You question my continued allegiance to the Sicilians when you state that they were instrumental in me being removed from Rome. Yet you were instrumental in making them who they are today. But you still excommunicated them. Obviously, opinions change over time. Sicily is now our only friend on the Italian Peninsula, thanks to your machinations. I will not break our allegiance, and I will not waste lives attacking far-off cities while our main cities are in danger.

"I wonder why you called the crusade on Tunis, of all places. Is it just because Sicily now holds it? Or is it because nearly every faction on their way to the place will march through our lands? Why did you excommunicate Sicily? Was it strictly a power play because they had allied with us?

"As far as Milan, you have finally said something of merit. I hold you to your promise and will report your intentions to the Diet. The only thing that worries me are the two armies still on the mainland. Perhaps you could send your inquisitor to their locations and... inform of what has transpired.

"However, for Venice, I have little mercy for them. They were our allies - they betrayed us. They must pay. You may blather all you wish about this war being bad for Christianity but the bottom line is that currently, we are out for revenge. I do not intend on terminating hostilites with the Venetians until their namesake city is in our possession, and some Electors may even want more. Until that happens, your threats fall on empty ears."

Heinrich finished, sipping some water. He waited for the Pope to blast him for his stance on Venice, but no words came. The two leaders sat across from each other, saying nothing, just eyeing each other, perhaps sizing each other up. This intense staring contest lasted for over a minute when the Pope finally broke it, speaking soberly.

“So, it seems we have said all that we came to say. May you ponder long on what I have said, Emperor Heinrich, King of the Romans. Your Empire has made great gains thanks to the impetuosity and aggression of the Milanese. But they say a creature may inherit the qualities of the thing it consumes. Ensure your Empire does not inherit the vices of your Milanese victims, Heinrich.”

The Kaiser rose and departed, this time managing a proper goodbye. "God's Grace be with you, Your Holiness."

The ride back to Genoa was quiet, the Kaiser once again lost in his own thoughts. However, one thing escaped his lips that only Captain Ludwig heard:

"Last we met, I was begging him for forgiveness. This time, we were equals. The next time, he shall be the one begging me."

(Thanks to econ21 for agreeing to play Pope Gregory)

[TinCow]

The room was uncomfortably cold. Winters in Bavaria were often harsh, but thick robes and plentiful fires kept the worst of it at bay; two large ones blazed in the immense hearths at either end of the hall. The walls were hung with thick tapestries which served to insulate the room from the seeping cold. Wearing two layers of wool on top of his underclothes, Maximillian Mandorf should have been comfortable, yet he felt chilled to the bone. I cannot even remember the last time I felt warm.

When he had heard that ‘Charles’ Otterbach had been appointed to Cardinal, all the joys of life had left him. Despite her deception, ‘Charles’ was a supremely holy being. The Lord must have favored her highly, to allow her to ascend to such a position despite her sex. I have defiled one of God’s chosen.

He heard the creaking steps of the household servant approaching from several rooms away; the sound delivered the message just as effectively as the man himself. When he arrived, he bowed quickly, looking to the Steward of Bavaria for permission to speak. Mandorf raised a finger.

“My Lord, she has arrived.”

Mandorf nodded and the servant exited through a small side-door. The sound of his retreat faded into the depths of the manor. The vacuum of silence filled the room. Mandorf closed his eyes and prayed. Minutes passed. His lips moved, but he did not give voice to his thoughts.

“It is good that you commune with the Lord.”

He jerked and his entire body tensed into a rigid mass. The suddenness of the unexpected comment frightened him to the core. Mandof slowly raised his eyes, fearing what he would see. Before him stood a tall, thin woman in a dark habit. He opened his mouth, but no words came.

“You do not need to speak, I am here to deliver a message from the Heavenly Father. You have sinned greatly, Steward Mandorf. You have given yourself over to the temptations of the flesh and by doing so you have fallen under the sway of Satan.”

A shiver ran through Mandorf’s body and he felt himself shrink into his chair. The woman tilted her head slightly and looked at him. A smile came over her face.

“Do not fear me, I do not bring the Inquisition to your door. The Lord grants me visions from time to time and recently I have had visions of you. He wants me to help guide you back to the light. You are a pious and worthy man, but you have lost your way.” She held out her hand.

For several moments, Mandorf didn’t move. Slowly, he slid from his chair and fell to his knees. As he crawled across the floor towards Hildegard of Bingen, he began to weep.

“You seek to uphold God’s will, yet your passion has been corrupted. You embrace violence and the pleasures of the body in place of the Word of the Lord. The Prince of Lies holds you in his grasp and if you do not escape, you shall pay for your sins for all eternity.”

Mandorf grasped Hildegard’s feet, laying his head between them. He sobbed openly. “I… I have always put the Lord foremost in my life. I wish only to do his work.”

“He knows. That is why he has sent me to you. You can be a powerful force for Christ and do much good for his people, but first you must repent. You have sinned greatly.” She reached deep into a dark sleeve and pulled out a small gilded tome. She opened it and began to read.

"God united man and woman, thus joining the strong to the weak, that each might sustain the other. But these perverted adulterers change their virile strength into perverse weakness, rejecting the proper male and female roles, and in their wickedness they shamefully follow Satan, who in his pride sought to split and divide Him Who is indivisible. They create in themselves by their wicked deeds a strange and perverse adultery, and so appear polluted and shameful in My sight. And men who touch their own genital organ and emit their semen seriously imperil their souls, for they excite themselves to distraction; they appear to Me as impure animals devouring their own whelps, for they wickedly produce their semen only for abusive pollution. When a person feels himself disturbed by bodily stimulation let him run to the refuge of continence, and seize the shield of chastity, and thus defend himself from uncleanness."

Hildegard closed the book and gazed down upon Mandorf. As he looked up into her face, the glow of the fire illuminated her from behind. The spreading light seemed to emanate from deep within her, purifying all that it touched. For the first time in weeks, Maximillian Mandorf stopped shivering. “What must I do?”

She reached down and touched his cheek. “The Lord has already told you that. You have known from the beginning that what you were doing was wrong. There is no secret to be revealed, only the path of God to be followed.” Mandorf blinked slowly, his eyes dropping back to the floor. “Stand, my child. I will help you to make yourself worthy of His love once again.”

Mandorf staggered to his feet, feeling light-headed and weak, but strangely whole. “I will do all that you say from this day forward.”

She smiled at him again. “I know you will. First, you must pay penance for your sins. Purify yourself of evil and you will be reborn. You are a slave to your flesh, so you must master your body before you can cleanse your soul. You will spend one week in contemplation of the Lord. You must fast during this time and you may drink naught but water. Three times a day I shall lead you in prayer and guidance. When we are done, you shall be a new man.” She looked deeply into his eyes, the smile fading. “Then, we shall talk of Pope Gregory.”

(OOC: My info on Hildegard von Bingen comes from the Wikipedia entry on her here. I had never heard of her before I saw her in Max’s retinue. Just goes to show that computer games can teach you a lot sometimes.)

[Ignoramus]

Bern, 1130

The guards ushered the Chancellor into the presence of Prinz Henry - Sigismund walked quickly and looked distracted, as if he had a lot on his mind. In his hand, he carried a long list of issues to discuss with the Prinz - both matters of the House of Swabia and Imperial matters.

“Heil, mein noble Prinz!” he said vigorously, “It is a pleasure to see you once again.”

Henry sat back: “Welcome, Chancellor. Now that Edict 4.8 has been passed, I am preparing to march immediately to Lombardy, but I am honoured that you wish to consult with me before I depart. How goes things in the Chancellery?”

Sigismund shook his head agitatedly: “I am concerned about the behaviour of the Austrians. It is true that they are not very popular with the Diet now, but I am now an enemy of Duke Leopold, and that puts Austria at enmity against Swabia.”

Henry paused and considered his reply. He and Sigismund were bound together by duty and House, although frequently their judgements and instincts seemed opposed. Henry had to try to strike the right balance between not trying to bind the Chancellor to his own will and not being committed to policies or actions he personally opposed.

“I agree that the situation with the Austrians is vexatious. However, I am concerned that if we treat them too harshly, they will withdraw from public life - as Dietrich has done. We cannot afford to have half the Empire inactive. Furthermore, you must bear in mind that I am destined to be Emperor one day. My father has been drawn into frosty conflicts with two Dukes - an outcome I would like to avoid. Your own relations with them are your affair, but I would not like myself or Swabia to burn any bridges.”

Sigismund considered this and then turned to another subject: ”I also worry about our newest elector. He has not been informed of our goals and alliances, and perhaps it would be wise to inform him.”

Henry nodded: “Since you have volunteered to act as Secretary to the House of Swabia, I will leave briefing the newest Elector in your hands.” Henry was relieved to have passed on the day to day management of the House of Swabia to Sigismund. The Prinz did not have the time or inclination to organise the House as an active cabal in the Diet. In part, this was because Swabia appeared to be faring well enough without organisation. And in part, because as a future Emperor, Henry did not wish to partake too vigorously in partisan actions that would alienate him from the nobles on whose cooperation he would come to depend.

Sigismund continued: “Now to Imperial matters. I am worried about the amount of time it will take you to reach Lombardy. As you are currently in Bern, it is best that you travel east to Innsbruck, where you shall finf spearmen in mail waiting for you. However, there is currently an experienced Venetian army blocking the pass through the Alps from Innsbruck to Venice; you may need to fight your way through. Normally, I would not worry, but our recent defeat at the hands of that army may shake the spirits of our men somewhat, despite being commanded by an Imperial Prinz. Still, I trust your generalship will get you through.”

Henry sat up - Imperial matters, especially those involving the Prinz on campaign, were much more to his likely than factional politics. ”Going all the way to Innsbruck would be something of a diversion, but I wonder if I could rendezvous with their garrison somewhere between that settlement and Bern?

Henry paused for a moment. He knew Sigismund had voted against Edicts 4.1 and 4.2 restraining the Chancellor from attacking Milan and Venice. To raise the matter again would be impolite, but Henry felt it important to drive home the implications. “I am quite prepared to meet the Venetians in the field, although given our edicts to avoid excommunication, I believe a strategy of "passive aggression" will be best - we should induce them to strike first.”

Sigismund’s face was inscrutable as he moved on to the next item on his agenda. “I still hesitate to launch an offensive against Poland. We are stretched enough as it is, and I cannot trust some of those Franconians; after the example of their Duke, Dietrich, it would not be wise to place too many men under their command.

Henry did not react to Sigismund’s criticism of the Franconians: “On the Poles, I agree that taking the war to them is not a priority. I believe Franconia should take the initiative in proposing aggressive action. It is they who are besieged at Stettin and they who should initiate an appropriate response. Furthermore, only Dietrich is qualified to command an army. The lesser nobles in his House need to first earn their spurs - whether under his leadership or that of another. I would be happy to have one assigned to my command, as you yourself were once, Sigismund.”

Sigismund smiled faintly at the memory of simpler times, before he had become weighed down by matters of state. Then his brow darkened as he turned to the next item on his list.

“Now, we must discuss the Pope. I know that you are a supporter of the Pope, yet a German one, not a Roman. I agree, save that I do not wish that we ought to subject ourselves to him at all. Look at the chaos he has wrought upon us. Who can say what he might do later?”

Henry lowered his head, reverentially, and intoned softly: “Forbearance is the best approach. If we are patient, I suspect our enemies will not be. If they are excommunicated, then we can spring for their throats unrestrained.”

Sigismund looked up at the Prinz - he had reached the last item on his list: ”Finally, there is the matter of my successor. I have not, as yet, spoken to Count von Kassel, however, I am wondering whether you have heard from Steward Maximillian yet? His opinion would greatly assist our discussions.”

Henry nodded. Swabia owed a debt to Bavaria for backing Sigismund’s candidacy. Henry could not abide the thought of staying in debt to another and was keen to promote the candidacy of a Bavarian to succeed Sigismund as Chancellor. But which Bavarian? The first step was finding out if either or both prominent nobles in that House wished to stand. In truth, it seemed that Henry shared more in outlook with Count Otto and Sigismund with Steward Mandorf. But protocol implied that it was more appropriate, as head of a noble house, for Henry to approach Mandorf while Sigismund consulted his fellow Count, Otto.

“Like you, I have not yet communicated with my Bavarian counterpart but now that the mid-term is over, I believe now may be an appropriate time and will write to Maximillan before I depart for Lombardy.”

His list finished, Sigismund visibly started to relax. Henry watched with relief as the Chancellor put away his list. The mood in the room lightened.

“Now, let us drink to our success in Lombardy!”

[TinCow]

The chapel stank of stale incense, sweat, and human waste. The rector of the Nuremburg church made special efforts to cover up the foul stench coming from the figure hunched in the corner, but there was only so much a few passes with a thurible could do. The man had not left the room for a week. Though his bodily excretions had diminished quickly with his fasting, their odor remained, as if haunting him. The air itself had taken on a smoky appearance, though from dust, smoke, or stench, it was impossible to tell.

Maximillian Mandorf noticed none of this. Not the smell, not the hunger, not even the hairshirt on his back. His skin was ashen and tight around his face. To all others, a week had passed, but to Mandorf it had been a lifetime. The rigors of the fast and the constant prayer had stripped him of all memory of earthly pleasures.

He was aware of a presence in the room, though no sound had been made. For whatever reason, he simply knew she was there. She coughed gently to announce her presence, but he ignored it and continued in prayer, his lips moving in silence, his head rocking back and forth in short jerks. Minutes passed. When he finally finished, he bowed his head and looked at the floor.

“We have already completed the lesson for this evening. Why are you here?”

Hildegard von Bilgen cocked her head slightly and looked at him. “The week is over, your penance is done.” Mandorf did not respond. The nun was about to repeat herself, when his voice came in a soft whisper.

“I am not ready.”

“Perhaps your soul is not ready, but you body must be tended to. You must eat and regain your strength.”

“I am not ready.”

She sighed and shook her head. “Have you forgotten the lesson from yesterday morning so quickly?” She closed her eyes, tilted her head upwards, and began to recite a passage.

“If our soul, under the body's urging, does evil with the body, the power of our soul will be darkened, because the light of the truth is missing. But if later the soul feels humiliated by sin and rises up again in opposition to the desires of the flesh, it will henceforth harry that flesh and hinder its evil deeds.

Indeed, the soul sustains the flesh, just as the flesh sustains the soul. For, after all, every deed is accomplished by the soul and the flesh. And, therefore, the soul can achieve with the body good and holy things and be revived as a result.

In this connection, it often happens that our flesh may feel bored when it cooperates with the soul. In such a case, therefore, the soul may give in to its fleshly partner and let the flesh take delight in earthly things. Similarly, a mother knows how to get her crying child to laugh again. Thus the soul accomplishes good deeds with the body, even though there may be some evil mixed up with them. The soul lets this happen so as not to overburden the flesh too much.”

Hildegard’s eyes opened again and she looked at Mandorf. “You soul may still require time, but your flesh must be nourished. Without the one you will never be able to achieve the other.”

The Steward of Bavaria’s head tilted upwards; the movement so slow that it appeared he struggled against a great weight. “I cannot help myself. I still desire.” Hildegard could see pale vertical channels carved in the filth below his eyes; the memory of tears that had long since dried.

“Desire itself is not an evil thing. It is only acting on the sinful desire that is evil. A man can desire to be generous to others. A woman can desire to make her children happy. Are these signs of evil?” Again, silence penetrated the room. Mandorf’s head bowed again.

“It is you I desire.”

Hildegard paused and considered this for a moment. “Will you act on this desire?”

“No. Never without your permission.”

She nodded. “Permission which you cannot have. Do not think me unfeeling; your affections have been apparent to me for several days now. Were I another person, I would assent to your advances, but I am devoted to Christ and my oath is stronger than any earthly love.”

“I know. That is why I must continue. My desire will consume me, unless I consume it. Without food, my body will feast on my passions, until they too are gone.”

The nun shook her head. “Your passions can further the glory of Christ. You must simply harness them and direct them towards his Works. Besides, carnal pleasures are not evil if they are between a man and a woman united by love and marriage. You are without a wife, a man without a family. When you have found a love that is true, you may enjoy your passions with her and be blessed. Until then, use your desires for other purposes.”

Mandorf considered this and shook his head. He closed his eyes and parted his lips in preparation for prayer, but the words would not form in his head. He remained like that, frozen and listless, but he could not remember a single prayer. After some time, Mandorf raised his head and looked at the nun. “What purposes?”

She smiled and held out her hand. “Come… we will talk while you eat.”


---------


Note: Hildegard's sermon recital is an actual passage from her work "Liber Divinorum Operum".

[Kagemusha]

Near Magdeburg 13.6.1136 Anno Domini

Dietrich Von Saxony sat on his tent in front of a desk made from barrel. He was drinking beer after he had finished few urgent letters. After a long time of life without the matters of the Reich, many things that had felt hidious in the past felt better now. Maybe it was the succesfull battle against the Polish or just freshness of affairs after long time,Dietrich didnt know and really didnt care.
After he had returned to public life.The fist affair for him was to contact his Franconian Electors. He had already bonded with Jonas Von Mahren before and after the battle of Kamienski.

"There is a young man with great opportunities."

Dietrich thought.

"Only thing im worried about is the bit heavy drinking Mahren tend to do bit more usually then its usual. Many great men have lost their way with too much drinking, but then man is only young once and yuth is time of celebrating and recklesnes."

Gunther Von Kastillien had entered Dietrich&#180;s forces few days earlier,when Von Mahren was sent to Stettin by Dietrich to keep things organised in order to be ready for the next move of the Polish.

"This Von Kastillien is a very different kind of man then most of us. "

Early expressions from him was that he was bit silent,but not becouse of shyness. There was something very grim about Count Kastillien. He usually didnt smile much, but on one day when one of the remaining peasants of Dietrich&#180;s forces got into accident and got his feet mauled badly, Kastillien was very intrested on the suffering of the serf. But there was no sympathy in Von Kastilliens,behavior, rather like he was just looking at an animal and was intrested on its suffering.
Dietrich had talked few times briefly with Count Kastillien and there was no doubt that he wasnt an able man with lot of good qualities, but kindness was definately among his virtues. If Dietrich&#180;s expectations werent completely wrong. Soon he would find out how Von Kastillien would handle himself in the field of battle.
Dietrich had also named Fredericus von Hamburg,the former steward of Franconia as count of Hamburg. But after his return into public life he had not heard a word from Von Hamburg and was worried that Count Von Hamburg could hold some grudges over Dietrich,or that his loyalty was not what it was supposed to be. Maybe Von Hamburg had gained too much power while acting Steward of Franconia and was plannning on taking Dietrich&#180;s place as the Duke.

"What ever the truth may be.I have to meet Von Hamburg as soon as possible.I have to find out what is going through that mans mind."

Another case that puzzled Friedrich&#180;s mind was the fourth Elector of Franconia.

"He has been silent just like Count Von Hamburg. Could those two have plans against me? I have to find out or this time i could be put out of my position for good and not by my superiors, but by my closest own men."

Friedrich woke up from his thoughts and realized that soon it would be morning. He stepped out and felt the fresh morning mist on his face. A guard was walking near him and stopped for a moment when he saw the Duke of Franconia on this early hour, standing outside his tent,while most men were still sleeping. Dietrich answered on the guards salutation and watched over to the horizon,where the first rays of the rising sun were colouring the morning sky red.

[TinCow]

The smell of food almost made him wretch. When his fast began, the hunger pains gnawed at him ceaselessly. For three days it had been nearly all he could think about. The ritual of prayer became a shield with which he could fend off the beast of starvation. On the fourth day, the pain receded into a dull ache which in turn became a simple presence in his mind; a constant reminder of his sins. His soul mastered his flesh and the healing began.

Yet with the first waft of odor, it all rushed back to him. His stomach knotted so tightly that he found it difficult to walk. With great effort, Mandorf achieved the rough-hewn table, seating himself before the source of his agony. It was a thin, steaming gruel with a few chunks of solid matter that might have once been turnips. His household dogs would have refused better food than this. It took all of his willpower not to grab the bowl and gulp it.

Slowly and deliberately, he folded his hands, bowed his head, and mumbled the Common Prayer. From the corner of his eye, he could see Hildegard smiling at him.

“Your patience at this final moment serves you well, my Lord.” She gestured towards the bowl. “Please, eat.”

Mandorf stared at the gruel for a moment, then picked up the dish and drank deeply. The hot liquid coursed through his body, warming parts of him where the very memory of heat was long forgotten. The nun waited until the bowl was half empty before she began.

“You do not hide your feelings for Pope Gregory.”

Mandorf froze, his lips a hair’s breadth from the edge of the bowl.

“Why do you hate him so?”

He raised his head and looked at her, then remembered the gruel in his hands and carefully placed it on the table. “He has rejected God’s laws, sinned against the Kaiser, excommunicated the Reich’s allies, supported those who have rebelled against us, and allowed war to be waged against us.” Mandorf’s voice grew icy. “He is an abomination, a tool of Satan.”

“What do you know of God’s laws? Does he speak to you?”

His eyes narrowed. “It has always been the right of the Roman Emperor to appoint the Pope.”

“Always? Did an Emperor appoint Peter?”

The anger on Mandorf’s face turned to confusion. “Of course not, he was the successor of Christ, by divine appointment.”

“Was Peter’s successor, Pope Linus, appointed by an Emperor?” Mandorf did not answer. “So, it has not always been the right of the Emperor to appoint the Pope. Why then is it God’s law?”

“It has been this way for years beyond memory. It is the way of the Church.”

Hildegard shook her head. “That does not answer the question.” She paused for a moment, then looked Mandorf in the eye. “Do you think all of the Cardinals are evil men?”

The Steward of Bavaria frowned. He thought of Cardinal Otterbach and Cardinal Scherer. “No, of course not.”

“If the Cardinals are good and holy men, true to the Word, then surely they would also choose a worthy man to act as the Vicar of Christ.”

It was all Mandorf could do to control his frustration. “NO! They have not done so! They have supported Gregory!”

“Is he really so evil?”

He wanted to pound on the table, to overturn it, to break it, break something, break anything. “HE HAS ENCOURAGED WAR AGAINST US!”

“You mean the Milanese and the Venitians.”

“YES!”

“Then why has he excommunicated Venice? Why did he not use his army to defend Milan and Genoa?”

Mandorf’s eyes glazed over. Why indeed. What was Gregory playing at? Why undermine his own allies?

The nun stepped closer. “Did you ever consider that Gregory has simply sought to maintain order amongst Christian nations? Perhaps he has made mistakes, made enemies where he should not have, and made friends of foul men, but who are you to say what is in his heart?”

Maximillian shook his head. “Simply being Pope does not make a man holy.”

Hildegard grinned. “Indeed.” She looked up at the soot darkened beams which supported the peaked ceiling. “Some undertake the religious life renouncing not their own will but only their secular clothes, because they have experienced misery and poverty instead of riches in the world; they leave the world because they cannot have it as they wish. Others are foolish and simple about the world and, being unable to guide themselves, are contemptible to people; so they flee from the world because they are mocked by it. Others labor greatly under the calamities of sickness and bodily weakness, and so leave the world not for God’s sake but to remedy these afflictions more easily.
Yet others suffer such great anguish and oppression from the temporal Lords to whom they are subject that they withdraw from the world for fear of them, not so as to obey God’s precepts but only so that those Lords can no longer have power over them. So all these come to the religious life not for the sake of celestial love but for the sake of the earthly troubles they have, not knowing whether God is salted with wisdom or insipid, sweet or bitter, a dweller in Heaven or on earth.”

She turned her gaze upon Mandorf once more. “Who are you to judge whether Gregory is one of these or not?”

Fatigue rushed over Mandorf. Fatigue from a week’s worth of fasting and prayer. Fatigue from a lifetime of duty and responsibility. “I am a loyal vassal of the Kaiser,” he said, his voice almost a whisper.

The nun nodded. “As you should be, but you are also a Christian. What has Heinrich gained from challenging Gregory? What has the Reich gained?”

His head sagged, his shoulders slumped. “Rebellion. War. Humiliation. Death.”

“Is it loyal to lead your Kaiser to his destruction? Is it loyal to cause the deaths of so many Bavarian sons?”

Mandorf shook his head. “I will not side with Gregory against the Kaiser.”

“It is not a question of sides. You must simply obey the Will of Christ. If Gregory’s actions violate God’s Word, then he must be resisted. If his actions are generous and Christian, they must be obeyed.”

He looked up into her eyes. They sparkled with a clarity and compassion that he had not seen since he was a child. “How am I to know one from another?”

The smile that spread across her face was like the first warm breath of spring after a hard winter. “If you are true to the Lord, you shall never doubt.”

She sat down next to him. He could feel her warmth through her course robes. “Trust in God, follow your heart, but do not judge. Follow the Word in all your actions.”

She placed her hand on his. “We can never be together, but you can embrace your passions for me. Use them for the glory of Christ. Act as his servant in all matters. Follow those who in turn follow the Teachings. Shun those who stray from the path. Bring justice to those who are in need.”

Her eyes darkened, her tone became subdued. “Destroy those who are evil. Do this, and you will be the beloved of God, and I will be forever at your side. We may be lovers in soul, if not in flesh.”

Mandorf drank in the sight of Hildegard von Bilgen. The gruel lay forgotten in front of him. His hunger was gone, and he knew it would never return. He turned his eyes and looked back into the chapel. Sunlight was playing on the altar, illuminating the gilded cross. He gazed at it for a long moment, then stood and held out his hand.

“Come. There is much work to be done.”

------------------

Note: Hildegard's comments about the reasons why some people join the Church is an actual passage from her work "Scivias.”

[GeneralHankerchief]

Outside of Milan, 1136

Twilight illuminated the Italian sky, casting some interesting shadows over Kaiser Heinrich and his army's campsite. Hundreds of tents littered the fields of what was once known as Aemilia. The largest and most richly decorated of these tents housed the commander the army and Holy Roman Emperor. While he was not Chancellor, Heinrich still held immense power and influence, although some of it seemed to be lessening of late.

"Ugh, I can't believe that fool Mandorf sides with the Pope now too. After all these years. Who would have thought that he would have given in so quickly?"

Heinrich was steaming about his encounter in the Diet with the Steward of Bavaria, Maximillian Mandorf. The unlucky recepient of the Kaiser's venting was his trusted advisor, Captain Ludwig, who had long accepted that this would be one of his roles in life.

"So how many heads of the Houses have you angered now?" Despite all the anger emanating from the Kaiser, Ludwig knew that the time was not quite wrong to tell a joke.

It worked, getting a slight chuckle out of Heinrich. "Hmm, that's a tough one. Publicly, three out of the four Dukes and Stewards are now against me: Dietrich (although I may not have to worry about him much longer if the Polish fight well), Leopold, and now Mandorf. Privately, Henry disagrees with me I'm sure, but he at least has enough loyalty to say nothing. So I am a Kaiser with the heads of Houses united against me. Excellent."

Ludwig, pushing his luck, tried another funny comment. "Well, at least they're united about something."

However, this only seemed to depress the Kaiser, as he sunk down into his throne-like chair. "I've spent the second half of my life trying to right the wrongs I made in the first half, but these idiots don't care about that. All they do is scream 'But I want MY house to be the best!' in these shrill falsetto voices, and if I make a decision that puts the good of the Reich over the good of their House, they stir trouble and make my life even more difficult. Honestly, I'm thinking about marrying Elsebeth off to a Frenchman."

"A wise decision, Mein Kaiser," Ludwig chimed in, offering his opinion on the Kaiser's soon-to-be-of-age daughter.

Heinrich looked at him oddly. "No it isn't! It's the French! That's how bad our nobility has become! The only marriable options here are Mandorf, who's probably chopped off his reproducer by now, and a couple of no-name Franconians."

It was an unspoken agreement that the Kaiser would never marry his second daughter off to a Franconian, after the first one ended in zero children and a falling out.

Ludwig, however, finally said something of merit.

"There is von Kassel, Mein Kaiser..."

Von Kassel. The man had fought admirably well in the campaigns in Bern and Italy. However, there was the slight problem of Otto disagreeing with most of his proposals in the Diet, especially the most important one: taking back Rome.

"At least he does it respectfully," Heinrich said out loud, not realizing his previous thoughts had been only thoughts. "Ludwig, what do you know of his past?"

Captain Ludwig, who considered himself an expert on biographies of the Electors, rattled off some facts. "Otto von Kassel - born into a minor noble family, if it was nobility at all - now that I think of it, it's not. Anyway, it seems as if he was betrothed once as a youth but it was broken off (the details are rather shoddy). He got the rank of General through merit, which is pretty impressive."

Heinrich jumped at this. "So do you think he'd be eager for more power?"

Ludwig shook his head. "It's hard to tell with these types, Sir. Even if he was, would it be enough to compromise his principles and side with you the whole time?"

The Kaiser sighed. "Well, there's only one way to find out. Go to Milan and get him."

Ludwig started. "Now? But the twilight's almost out, and it will take quite some time to get to Milan."

"Just do it, Ludwig. I'm getting isolated in the Diet here, and I don't have much more time. Pope Gregory and his damned city are slipping away."

Captain Ludwig bowed and exited the opulent tent, leaving the Kaiser alone to hear hoofbeats heading in the direction of Milan.

[OverKnight]

OOC: This is a collaborative story between myself and GeneralHankerchief.

Milan, 1136

Otto von Kassel was woken by someone pounding on the door to his bed chamber. Snapping awake, he drew a dagger from underneath his pillow and leapt to his feet.

Otto had not slept well since the Reich had taken Milan, the city was a hotbed of discontent and several attempts had been made on his life by the locals. The would be assassins had been killed, their decaying bodies on display at the front gates of the palace as a warning to the Milanese. Without enough men to properly rule the city, Otto had to keep the Milanese cowed through fear.

Balanced on the balls of his feet with his blade extended, Otto called out, "Who's there?"

"My lord", replied a voice at the door, "The Kaiser has summoned you to his camp outside the city."

Lowering his dagger, Otto glanced out the window of the room, night still hung heavily on the city. "What time is it?", he asked.

"After midnight von Kassel, the Kaiser said to bring you to him immediately, no delay."

Otto recognized the voice now, it was Heinrich's second, Captain Ludwig, the leader of his bodyguard. A chill ran down Otto's spine. The Kaiser had chased off the second Venetian siege of Milan, but had not tarried in the city, in fact Otto felt he had been deliberately snubbed. Yet now the Kaiser wished to speak to him, in the middle of the night? Swallowing hard, Otto spoke, "Give me a moment, Sir, to dress and I will be with you shortly."

Emerging from his room clothed in riding leathers and a sword, two of Otto's men tried to form up on him.

Ludwig waved them off with a growl, "You're to come alone, no escort, the Kaiser's orders."

"Of course", said Otto in a flat voice, "Lead on Captain."

The ride to Heinrich's army camp was short and Otto soon found himself in front of the Kaiser's campaign tent, an elaborate affair that dwarfed the others. Two armed guards stood at attention in front of the entrance flap, spearheads gleaming in the torchlight. Otto moved to enter the tent. The guards crossed their spears blocking him.

"Before you enter von Kassel, I'll need your weapons", Ludwig said from behind him.

Otto turned, and glared at Ludwig. Unbuckling his sword belt he thrust it at the Captain, "You will address me as my lord or Count, Sir."

One side of Ludwig's mouth quirked upwards, "My apologies, the Kaiser is waiting to see you. . .my lord."

Otto turned away from him and passing the guards he entered the tent.

Apprehension filled Otto. He had never had an audience with the Kaiser besides the occasional encounter in the Diet or written message. They traveled in different circles, up-jumped soldiers and high nobles rarely mixed. Why does he want to see me now?, thought Otto. Reviewing his past interactions with the Kaiser did not comfort him. Otto had opposed a preemptive war with Venice and a campaign against Rome, both favorites of Heinrich.

I believe I called that last one hubris, a poor choice of words at best. I pray my service in the field has bought me some leeway. Yes, the Electors could debate in the Diet, but they served the Kaiser at his sufferance. The man still had the divine mandate of Kings. One only need think of Dietrich von Saxony, the man's own son-in-law, exiled for years and just now returning to public life. Most likely he's summoned me to go build watchtowers for the next decade, Otto thought darkly to himself. Shaking off his doubts Otto moved from the entrance further into the tent.

The Kaiser sat on an elaborate camp seat, more akin to a throne than a stool. He gazed into a small fire burning in a brazier near the center of the tent. Firelight glinted off his crown as shadows thrown by the flames danced across his face. Otto approached Heinrich and kneeled. Bowing his head, Otto spoke to the Emperor, "I am here as you commanded, mein Kaiser."


Heinrich, the Holy Roman Emperor, studied this man who addressed him. In all the times that they had deliberated in the Diet he could never get a good read on the count of Bavaria. It was obvious that Dietrich was ambitious, Henry was preparing for a career to please everyone, and that Mandorf was something of a nutter. But Otto von Kassel remained an enigma.

Sure, he had disagreed with the Kaiser's plans. Openly, at that. But he always did so in subtle ways. There was none of the brash confrontational bluster that Dietrich and Leopold had taken in recent years when presenting their grievances to Heinrich. Did that mean that he was just smarter than them, or was that his personality?

I am going to figure you out tonight, the Kaiser thought to himself as he smiled at the man currently paying him respect.

"Rise Otto von Kassel, Count of Bavaria," he said somewhat kindly as Otto did as he was told. "It's a shame that you and me have not really had the chance to talk - you have been a powerful voice in the Diet for a non-noble."

Otto said nothing at this. Obviously the Kaiser was just warming up.

"Captain Ludwig tells me that you were born and raised in Bavaria, and that you've received your military position due to merit. Also, you have had... a chance to marry into nobility but due to circumstances it did not happen."

Von Kassel stared. It appeared that the Kaiser's contacts knew much. It would be interesting to determine how much this man really knew about his Electors in the Diet.

"Let me be frank with you. I need an ally, you want more influence. I can't trust Mandorf anymore, not with that witch leeching his passion and devotion to his Kaiser away. Bavaria has also taken the brunt of the casualties in this Italian campaign, and I believe that it needs a Duke."

This was obviously the part that Heinrich was leading up to.

"I am offering my daughter Elsebeth's hand in marriage to you."


Otto's eyes widened in surprise. This was. . .unexpected. He had girded himself for a defense of his actions in the Diet, charges of disloyalty, and possible exile. Yet the Kaiser was offering him more than he ever dreamed possible. Heinrich had thought about this though, his knowledge of Otto's thwarted betrothal showed that.

My God, after all these years it still hurts to think of it, thought Otto. Unbidden the memories came back, he and Katarine had been so young. Otto clenched his jaw. It had been a love match, the second son of a rich but minor noble family, and the younger sister of a Baron whose family's name had heritage, but whose coffers were empty. His father had at first opposed the match, he was intent that Otto go to seminary, but it made too much sense for both families for him to deny for long. Then the Baron, only a young man himself, had died without issue and Katarine had become an heiress.

Otto's father, sensing an opportunity to add to not only the lands but to the dignity of the von Kassels, quickly substituted his elder son, Aldrick, as the suitor. If there was an estate and a title now involved, the oldest son, the heir of the von Kassel's, should receive them. Katarine's mother had quickly agreed. Otto had begged, cajoled and threatened, but in the end he was powerless. Katarine was now his sister-in-law, and at last count he had four nephews and nieces. Otto was surprised how intensely the anger still burned in him. The same anger had pushed him from his home and into the military. He had never sought to marry again.

Snapping back to the present, he could feel the Kaiser's gaze upon him. Otto sought to control his feelings, to restore a neutral expression to his features. Openly showing his emotions could be dangerous, a man walks with caution among giants. Only in the heat of battle did Otto allow himself to unleash his passions, there it was safe to do so and even useful. The Kaiser's offer, despite bringing forth bad memories, tempted him greatly. It was difficult for Otto to maintain his composure when the world was being offered to him.

Stalling for time Otto spoke, "Mein Kaiser, your man is well informed except for one fact. The von Kassels are nobles, minor to be sure, but we have served the Reich and Bavaria since the age of Charlemagne."


Heinrich paused. He did not enjoy getting his facts wrong. That was why he was a little angered at Sigismund for underestimating the strength of the Polish forces.

"Of course, but you must understand that there's nobility and there's... nobility. I apologize for the slip-up."

Otto's play for more time was good for exactly two sentences, plus emphasis on the word "nobility". It didn't take too long for the Kaiser to get back on track.

"Now," he began, "You may have some doubts in your mind about this, and I don't blame you. First of all, I have spoken to Elsebeth about this matter (she does not know that you will be the one marrying her but she does know that a marriage will be arranged) and I can assure you that she is willing to do her duty as a daughter of the Reich. If you accept, you get the title of Duke of Bavaria and all of its benefits, including added influence in the Diet."

Heinrich took a breath, trying to get a read on Otto. None came. This man was good.

"Obviously, some conditions are required in order for this marriage to follow through, mainly you must actually attempt to father plenty of children. I think if Dietrich had actually produced some grandchildren for me then I wouldn't have put him in such a bad position." He laughed harshly, unaware that Otto had been scared out of his wits about facing the same punishment as Dietrich just minutes earlier.

"So, what say you?"


The Kaiser had given Otto little time to think. Heinrich's laugh had made him jump a bit. This man was raised in power and dignity, and is not afraid to use either as a weapon, thought Otto.

If he said yes, he would be a Duke, power and position that could not be taken away at a whim. He would be his Father's overlord. He hated to admit it, but the thought filled Otto with schadenfreude. Yet there was something unspoken in the Kaiser's offer. He had mentioned one condition, yet there were sure to be others. Yes, he would be a powerful man, but he would be more beholden to the Kaiser as a Duke than a Count. Grandchildren would be the smallest price to pay.

What if I said no?, Otto thought. I have risen far in the Reich by my own actions and with the assistance of Maximillian, a good friend if a touch eccentric. Perhaps it would be best if I left well enough alone. But how would the Kaiser react to a refusal? Powerful men do not like to hear the word no, there are still many watchtowers to be built on the frontier. And If I did say no, who would be the Duke? If the Kaiser wanted the Steward as Duke, he would not have offered Elsebeth's hand to me.

The thought of a stranger as Duke filled Otto with regret. He and Maximillian had put much effort into making Bavaria first among the Duchies. To let a stranger, a non-Bavarian, fritter it away would be terrible. Otto was tempted to say yes.

"Mein Kaiser there is no need to apologize," Otto said, trying to keep his voice even, "Your proposal intrigues me, but besides children, a duty of any Christian marriage, what are the other 'conditions'?"


Otto was definitely sharp; the Kaiser gave him credit for that. In an ideal situation, Heinrich would have liked it if von Kassel had blindly agreed and he could simply catch him on the conditions later. But the wily general had seen through it. Damn it all, because his hand was forced early there was a chance that his proposal might be rejected!

"Ah, the other conditions - of course," said Heinrich as he drummed his fingers on the extremely opulent fabric that covered his knees. "As I said before, I need an ally, especially in the Diet. My own sons care mostly for their Dukedoms instead of the good of the entire Reich. I could usually count on Mandorf for my support but now his vote is called into question thanks to that woman." He shuddered. News of Hildegard's transformation of the Steward of Bavaria from a playboy to a snivelling lapdog had reminded him the dangers of the truly pious.

"I simply ask you to please keep in mind who gave you your current position -if you accept of course- when you cast your votes in the Diet. I am growing old, Otto, and before I die I would like to see certain things accomplished. Certain things that your past words and actions may not add up with. I am deliberating whether to attempt another Chancellor run in the coming session, your support would be much welcome there."

As if it were a cue to a change in Heinrich's tone, the fire suddenly turned more intense, casting even darker shadows over the Kaiser's face.

"However, if you accept and you cross me, you will be wishing that you were put on watchtower duty."


Otto swallowed hard. Besides being told no, powerful men hated to explain themselves. His patience is running thin, Otto thought, I walk a fine line here. He was reminded of the assault on Bern when the first siege tower had burst into flames. This situation had the same danger, but also the same opportunity.

Steadying himself, Otto spoke, "Your Majesty, you already have the war with Venice, and the Chancellorship will most likely be yours for the taking, the only goal that eludes you is Pope Gregory. That is where you would need my help."

Otto looked into the shadowed face of the Kaiser. He could see the grim set to it. I would hate a man, any man, even the savior himself, who made me stand in snow, clad only in hairshirt for four days, and all that for a mere audience. We have taken back the Reich, but the man responsible for it's troubles still draws breath.

Otto had never been a supporter of Pope Gregory. Gregory's actions had caused great harm to the Kaiser and the Reich. Despite his father's intentions, he was not a particularly devout man, but Otto respected the temporal power the Pope held. His word was law across most of Europe. Even now the armies of Christendom marched on Tunis because the Pope had called a crusade. That is why Otto had opposed an early move on Rome, the Reich was simply not strong enough to take on all of Europe.

Otto chose his worlds carefully, "I hope you realize, mein Kaiser, that my opposition to an attack on Rome was based on the current state of the Reich at that point and not out of any support for Hildebrand or fear of hellfire.

"Rome, at some point, must bend the knee to the Reich as it did in the past. We must regain our right of approval over the appointment of Popes. We draw closer to that point with our conquests in Italy, but we are still on the knife's edge, as the seizure of Bologna has shown."

Otto drew a deep breath. As he exhaled he thought, How much am I willing to sacrifice for a title and a royal wife?

Otto reached a decision, "My lord, if you still wish to replace Pope Gregory on the throne of Peter, I will aid you. But I hope you will strike when the Reich is ready and our enemies are not."

He kneeled in front of the Emperor, "Kaiser Heinrich, I am your man. I will marry Elsebeth if you will have me."

The die is cast, thought Otto as he awaited the Kaiser's decision.


How many rulers are placed in this position, Heinrich thought. How many Kings and Sultans and Emperors are required to marry off their daughters to some lowly noble general just so that they get their way politically?

Have I really stooped this low in life where I need to do this in order to cement my legacy and fulfill my final wish?

"Nevertheless, I suppose that this show of weakness is only temporary until I get my final revenge."

"Beg your pardon, Mein Kaiser?" Otto looked at him questioningly. Wow, did I just say that out loud? I really must be getting old. The Kaiser smiled at his soon-to-be son-in-law.

"Sorry, my mind was elsewhere." That wasn't entirely a lie. "Yes, I believe that almost fifty years of rule have made me acutely aware of the Reich's current strength. First things must be first, obviously. Rest assured Otto, I will not attack until the moment we are ready.

The Kaiser placed his hand on Otto's shoulder, looking at him with something like relief in his eyes. This was very different from the expressions that had come from Heinrich's face all evening.

"Thank you for agreeing. Together the Reich will be strengthened. Your betrothal shall be announced at the upcoming Diet session and your wedding will begin immediately when Elsebeth turns sixteen.

"May the Lord be with you in your upcoming military actions, soon-to-be Duke of Bavaria."


Rising to his feet, Otto felt a great sense of relief rush through him. Duke von Kassel, he had thought Maximillian mad when the Steward had first mentioned the possibility. Yet he would be Duke now. A new foreboding filled Otto, How will Maximillian react? How will the Diet react? Otto shook his head, Whatever comes, I will face it, I will not be daunted. I serve the Reich!


After Otto had bowed and left, being escorted back to Milan, the Kaiser was left alone with his second and advisor, Captain Ludwig, once again.

"Well," Ludwig stated smartly, "That's taken care of. Do you think Otto will hold up his end of the bargain?"

Heinrich sighed. "God, I hope so." After silently berating and crossing himself for using the Lord's name in vain, he continued. "I told them about Venice, but nobody listened. They don't seem to be listening to me about Gregory either, even after he blatantly seduces Mandorf."

Ludwig nodded, taking the subject back to Otto. "He seemed somewhat frightened that you would punish him; perhaps that is in our favor."

Heinrich agreed, sighing again. "Pope Gregory has made his latest move; I have just made mine. This is going to escalate soon enough."

Ludwig sensed where this conversation was going and tried to steer the Kaiser back.

"Mein Kaiser?"

"If Otto isn't enough to turn the tide, then I am going to have to take things into my own hands. But rest assured Ludwig, Gregory's hourglass has been turned for the last time."

Ludwig took that as his cue to exit, now leaving the Kaiser alone with the fire, which continued to cast shadows across his face.

[Kagemusha]

Imperial Diet, Frankfurt 1140 AD

Dietrich sat down after thanking Sigismund for his services to the reich,drank from his glass of red wine and wiped his mouth with a handkerchief that had the Franconian coat of arms sewed on it.
No one saw that the red liquid that Dietrich had wiped of from his lips was not wine, but blood. He had bited his lip painfully after "thanking" the now retired Chancellor, in order to cover his real feelings towards the man.
"Great services to the Reich. Great services indeed." Dietrich thought.

While Sigismund had declared publicly to support Dietrich&#180;s Franconians in the war against the Polish, in reality the case was far from that. It was true that the Chancellor had given funds for Dietrich to hire some mercenaries, but after he got reports from his Counts in Stettin and Hamburg, Friedrich had been so furious that he had broken his writing table in the camp around Magdeburg.

"That man is nothing but a snake and powermonger. While declaring his support for my arms in Diet he ordered to disband many of our forces in Stettin,including archers. Archers that Dietrich needed badly against the Polish cavalry forces. Also he send me reinforcements from my castles allright. whole 41 spearmen, who cant even break through from small army of rebels that have gathered behind the Franconian main army. Also while he could have sent Count Von Hamburg straght to me. He decided to move him into Stettin."

Dietrich stared at Sigismund,who was just giving speech, how he would be ready to smite the French and that there was no personal ambitions behind his plans to start offensive war,when Reich was already in war with 3 countries.
"I cant believe how Prinz Henry can tolerate that man. He undermines Henry in every occasion possible and still Henry acts like nothing has happened. I respect our Prinz and maybe he is just thinking of the larger picture, but if i were him i would move Sigismund somewhere,where he wouldnt be causing constant trouble with his schemes."

Dietrich looked around the room,wieving who was present and who not. Untill stopping his eyes to Kaiser Heinrich.

"Kaiser still acts like i wouldnt be even here. I cant understand how long the old warhorse can hold grudge against me. He hasnt even seen his grand daughter, which have made my wife sick of sorrow. Well it seems that i cant do anything to change the situation for now and im more then sure that, Heinrich will not do anything to help the situation either."

Dietrich turned his eyes back towards Sigismund again and thought:

"Well i will not speak one word about that snake and his traitorous acts,sabotaging my forces. I will let him have his moment now. Im sure that eventually he will trip on his own power hungry plans"

Dietrich turned to his clerk and adressed him like he had been just bored of the deliberations that were going on.

"Clerk, what the nobles are saying? I think i drank few too many ale&#180;s last night,so i cant keep up with the squabling."

[Warluster]

Near Dijon, 1140

Jobst Von Salza stood on the mountain range, dividing Bern and Dijon. The air whistled softly by, rustling the world. All manners of creatures crawled around, the sun peeked from behind lcouds in that glorious afternoon. Jobst heard a crackling of stone and foot, as the stones protested to the manner of foot. it was his Trusted Knight, the leader of jobst's bodyguard unit. He wore full army, and his helm was lifted back to show brown hair and blue eyes. He walked up beside Jobst, who was lookign out again. Thye stood on the highest mountain in the region, clouds barely touched there heads, and they could see far and wide. To the north they could see forests and froests, then mountains covering the horizon, like giants of old. Behind that would be the Great city of Metz. To there west they could see plains, and a river winding slolwy through the area, then France. Also there lay the Greta ALmighty Castle of Dijon. Jobst Von Salza sighed,
'isn't it beautiful?' he asked, sounding as if he was asking himself. he was obviously talking of the city.
'Yes Sir, a very fine city and one of the best in Swabia, although not the best' said The knight in a Afterthought. Jobst paid no thought to his words, and stared around the valleys and plains.
'This is Swabia, and its people, I shall forever be held to it' said Jobst. The Knight nodded, it was indeed a beautiful land, and had not yet been touched by recent war. Jobst Von Salza pointed East.
'There lays The Empire, the Roman Empire, the Holy Roman Empire. ' Jobst's brow thickened into thought ' Also East lies the city of Bern' The knight looked east as well, and saw mountain upon moutain, and a winding road leading through a valley, which was thousands of years old. The Knight nodded, he looked at Dijon again, then his gaze slowly went south until he saw smoke tunneling into the air, and a collection of dots. He let a gasp of suprise him, and Jobst's head swiveled slowly to where the Knight was looking, Jobst nodded,
'The worst part of the landscape' Jobst spat,
'That is where two armies of vile French camp, ready to attack Dijon. I was waiting for the moment your view tunred there, as we are to have blood on our hands soon' said Jobst, The knight looked at Jobst Von Salza, awed by his leaders words,
'Recently the House of Austria has been under attack again and again by the Vile veneatians, as you know' said Jobst, the Knight nodded,
'I know of that sir, but that is at Austria, not Swabia' exclaimed the Knight,
Jobst nodded, waving his hand vaguely,
'yes,yes. But! They have been searching for a Commander or General to fill in there ranks, to help defend Vienna and Austria' said Jobst,
'Our great Prinz Henri, Duke of Swabia, has said to me, "Austria is lookign for another General, we have no spare generla sof now. I am dealing with matters, Count Sigismund had his own city to deal with" says The Great prinz, athen he goes on,"I wonder if you would like to help defend Vienna and help Austria" he asks, this offer seemed good enough, i wad eager for battle, thoughi hate killing innocent. I was to accept, when he coughs and goes on,
"If you were willign I could also make you a Count, of either Dijon or bern" Alas! those words have clamped my mind! Alas! i was ready to leave! TO Austria! bah!' said jobst, the knight thought on hsi words and then said,
'What happened sir? Are you to Austria?' asked The Knight. Jobst shook his head,
'A message came through that Duke leopold had chosen another General' said Jobst, dissappointed,
'DOes thta mean you do not get a option of controlling bern or Dijon?' asked the General, jobst shook his head,
'Wait wait, then another messga earrives from Prinz Henri it said "Cause of your quick and swift words of acceptance, and our need of controlled cities, you may become a Count of either bern or Dijon" said the message, i was overjoyed! After hours of long discussion with the Prinz, we came to the conclusion of this- I am now a Count of Dijon' said Jobst Von Salza proudly,
' That means you control the actiopns of Dijon?' asked The knight,
'More then that, I am the city, I chose what buildings, I defend it, I am the Lord of Dijon!' cried Count Salza, the knight cried out in Congrats. but his face soured,
'Sir? What of your army?' asked The knight,
I shall keep it to defend Dijon of course!' said Count Jobst,
'I am overjoyed sir! I shall tell the army at once!' said The knight, he also looked happy. Count Jobst put a hand on The knights Shoulder,
'theres one more bit. The French are to attack Dijon, we are the defenders' said Count Jobst,
'Excellent sir! our first Town Siege! Though we are the defenders, that matters not' said The knight, who rushed away, to the area where the army ws, high in the Roman Mountains. Jobst sighed and looked onto the City which was his. He was Now Count Of Dijon. Count Jobst Von Salza of Dijon.

[GeneralHankerchief]

Deutsches Historisches Museum, Berlin, 2007

The translation of a recently-unearthed piece of the Holy Roman Emperor Heinrich's diary has just been completed by several leading historians. The paper is in moderate condition, being yellowed with age and several words having faded long ago. However, it is still readable for the most part, and preparations are underway to display it in the museum after a short restoration process.

The text reads, more or less, as follows:

Frankfurt, 1140

I am on my way back to Milan, and possibly Florence after this disaster of a Diet session. Ludwig tells me I should spend more time in the capital, to enjoy the large palace that was built for my comfort. Personally, I can't wait to get out of here. It seems every time I set foot in here I am reminded that my authority is slipping more and more. Right now I have just lost an election for Chancellorship to a man who changes his views like the wind and is widely rumored to be a puppet of a nun. However, the Diet believes that this type of man is still a better choice to be Chancellor than their Kaiser.

What is worse is that I am not even sure if the Diet is aware that they are dealing me this large of a rebuke. They do not even consciously challenge me anymore. I suspect that my loss has less to do with my departing from the majority opinion than to foolish reasons like prior promises. This is ridiculous.

I am particularly displeased with the House of Swabia. Sigismund der Stolze or whatever he calls himself now was, I thought, an ally. He told me that he intended to support my push for Chancellor before the session had begun, yet he votes for Mandorf for some idiotic reason of a prior commitment. Likewise with Prinz Henry. Absurd. It seems as if my son is shaping up to be a royal coward. If he disagrees with my ideas he should at least make it known; then I would think better of him! At least von Saxony was up front with me about why he was voting for Mandorf.

And now it seems as if I will have to take the Prinz into battle with me when I am to relieve my beloved Florence from the Milanese. Perhaps making his escort shock cavalry and placing him in danger will scare him straight and make a man out of him. Or maybe it will be easier if I just give him a heart-to-heart talk. Nah, maybe when the battle's done.

I fear for the Reich's future. Henry needs to become much more forceful, one way or another, or otherwise he will become nothing but a pawn of the Dukes.

I am most concerned about one more Italian objective - Rome. That city has plagued me for many years now and it is nearly gone from my grasp. Pope Gregory is laughing silently now that he has the Chancellor and Diet in his pocket. My honor must be redeemed, even if it makes me a pariah in the Reich. In due time, long after I am dead and residing in the Kingdom of Heaven, future generations will come to realize the wisdom of bringing Rome back into the fold and curbing the Papacy once and for all.

Unfortunately, time is running out. I am fifty-five and feel much older. The Diet is seemingly united against me, although they lack the will to say it directly to my person. I must be forceful, extremely forceful if

The entry ends abruptly there. The next page has not been recovered.

*note* Due to the document's age, an exact translation cannot be guaranteed. This represents the best effort of several medieval historians, however, accuracy may be lacking, especially in the later half of the entry, in which the condition is much poorer than the earlier half.

[OverKnight]

Bologna, 1140

Otto von Kassel drank deeply from the bottle of wine. It was a terrible vintage, the taste of sour grapes in his mouth was sickening. Still, Otto did not care, the goal was to numb the pain, not to please his palette. Finishing the bottle, he threw it violently against the stone wall of his bed chamber. Shards of glass scattered as Otto lurched from his seat and began pacing.

The towers of Venice were in sight and I had enough men to seize the city, thought Otto, yet I was recalled, stripped of my command, most of my army sent south with the Prinz and now I rot behind city walls. Walls that still have a gaping hole in them!

Otto choked back a hysterical laugh and stumbled to the window. Looking north he thought back to the last Diet session. I failed utterly! I could not keep my end of the deal with the Kaiser and I offended both the Prinz and the new Chancellor over the issue of Venice. They prattle on about honor and Christian virtue, but they don't want to hear about the stark realities of war. They didn't complain when I sacked Bern or Milan, 'good Christian' lives were lost there as well, but God forbid someone offend their sensibilities with plain talk! Maximillian, the mercurial bastard, doesn't trust me anymore, I backed the wrong horse, and now someone else will take Venice. I probably didn't flog myself and pray enough for the Steward's new taste!

Otto staggered over to the bureau to open another bottle. Taking a deep swig, he stared into the bronze mirror that hung on the wall in front of him. His eyes were bloodshot, his face guant and his clothes and hair in disarray.

"The Chancellorship will most likely be yours for the taking, Mein Kaiser", Otto said to his reflection. He spoke in a slurred mockery of the cultured tone he used in the Diet and in conversations with the mighty.

"My arse it will!", he continued in the more rustic language he used on the battlefield, "Maybe if your Lordship actually spoke up in your own defense, deigned to mingle with the small folk, you wouldn't have been crushed by Mandorf! Why the Hell did I ever listen to you!? I should have stayed a Count, but I sold my soul for the promise of a royal wife and a title. That's probably gone now too. I've managed to piss away everything!"

Taking another pull on the bottle, Otto stumbled over to the bed and collapsed onto it. The open bottle fell from his grasp and hit the floor with a thud. It slowly rolled away, spilling red wine.

Otto turned over on his back and watched the ceiling spin above him. Self-pity slowly gave way to analysis. Why had the Kaiser been so silent during the Diet session and after his loss? I expected more sturm und drang from him after such a horrible defeat. God's Blood, I expected him to give me Holy Hell for my failure! Yet the Kaiser calmly gave his build orders and left.

Otto sat up in bed, swaying a bit, but with some returned focus, and spoke out loud, "He must be plotting something."

A terrible thought occurred to Otto, and that is when he leaned over the bed and began to vomit.

After the dry heaves had passed, Otto slowly made his way back to the bureau. Rifling through his scattered papers, he came upon his copy of the Reich's Charter. Paging through it, he found what he had been looking for.

"Mein Gott!", exclaimed Otto, dropping the papers, "It might work!"

The question, thought Otto looking into the mirror, Is what should I do about it?

Below him, on the floor, the Charter became soaked in wine, turning it blood red.

[econ21]

Dijon, 1142

The tall man smiled and ruffled the boy’s hair affectionately:

“Here, boy, take this coin and fetch your mother. Then go get yourself something nice from the bakery.”

The man saw the ragged boy’s eyes widen at the sight of the gold and watched as the six year old ran off. Nasty rat faced little creature, the man thought. Shortly a plain young peasant woman arrived, fussing with her hair and straightening her crude clothing. The man leapt up eagerly and rushed towards her, embracing her passionately. The woman recoiled, but with only feigned reluctance:

“Stop! What are you doing? Anyone could see us!”

The man smiled rakishly, unconcerned: “Not being seen is a speciality of mine.”

They embraced again, longer this time. The man lavished attention on her, solicited her views, charmed her with his anecdotes and plied her with gifts from his bag. Then, when he felt he could endure the distasteful intimacy no longer, he stepped back coolly and produced one final item from his bag:

“You remember what we talked about before? Here it is.”

It was a small vial. The young peasant woman’s flush face started to whiten and she tensed:

“Is it…? Will it harm the master?”

The man laughed: “Of course not! What do you think I am? As I said before, it is a sleeping draught. He’ll merely retire a little earlier and rest a little longer. Probably do him some good, I reckon. Spends too much time gallivanting around, doing his duty, for Duke and Kaiser. He should take it easy, enjoy life … like us”

He embraced her again and her body began to soften. He whispered in her ear:

“I only want to borrow a few things, for us. He has more than he needs. Your dowry, well, it’s not quite what my father expected me to win.”

The young woman looked awkward and pulled back. The man comforted her, then placed the vial into her hand and coaxed:

“Put it in his wine tonight. Do you think you can do that?”

She looked down and nodded.

“Then, when he retires to his room, let me in through the kitchen. I’ve arranged some entertainment for the guards; they won’t be there. And I’ll be dressed as one of them. The domestic staff won’t question a man in good armour.”

She pursed her lips and nodded again. The man beamed affectionately and pulled her towards him. Her head on his chest, the peasant woman could not see the man wrinkling his nose at her smell, as his hands moved gently over her young body.

* * * * *

It was late when the tall man entered the kitchen of the manor. As he anticipated, the staff glanced at his fine German armour and long expensive cloak then anxiously turned away. Unlike that stupid peasant woman, they knew their place, he thought. She was there – watching him from a corner, wide eyed and terrified. He winked at her and she too turned away. He was grateful to put her out of his mind. He had to focus.

Sigismund had walked into the trap, the man thought. The Germans had believed the French to be fools trying to besiege Dijon with only a regiment of knights. Who were the fools now? Mandorf had diverted the new “Swabian Household Army” to Dijon, leaving the road to Bern almost open for the real French offensive. And with the Swabian Army, Mandorf had delivered Sigismund to Dijon and the tall man waiting for him there.

The man made his way quietly through the manor, evading the remaining staff and the rest of Sigismund’s entourage. Fortunately, Sigimund was a loner – he had attracted no retinue, no harridans like Mandorf , no veterans like Heinrich, Dietrich and Leopold. Unlike his patron, Prinz Henry, “Saint” Sigismund did not even have a stupid mutt to guard his quarters. He was married, but thankfully had not brought his family on campaign. And such was his virtue, it was unlikely there would be another sharing his bed this evening.

The man quietly opened the door to Sigismund’s bedroom chamber. The Count was slumped over his desk, almost as if in humble prayer. Moonlight shone through a large window, bathing the blonde Count in a gentle light. The tall man closed the door and approached the desk gingerly. He stood behind the Count and listened, hearing the faint sound of Sigismund breathing. The assassin frowned, then produced from his belt a long piece of wire. Gingerly, he slipped the wire under Sigismund’s neck. As the assassin carefully drew up the wire noose, the cold metal touched Sigismund’s warm skin. The Count stirred and in response, the tall assassin yanked the noose tight.

Sigismund started: the wire cut into his neck and he was struggling to breathe. The violence of the attack shocked Sigismund into consciousness. His mind was still swimming, oxygen deprivation now combining with the doctored drink to blur his vision and senses. But even in his stupor, Sigismund realised he was in mortal peril. He summoned his great strength and rose from his seat, dragging the assassin across his back and round, away from the desk. Sigismund’s fingers tore at the wire and his assailant’s mailed grip but flesh was of no avail against cold metal. The assassin tightened the noose yet further and Sigismund sank to the floor.

The movement eased the pressure on the Count for a second and, in a brief moment of clarity, Sigismund’s right hand moved quickly to his belt. The tall assassin steadied himself, then began to press his attack: watching triumphantly as Sigismund’s left hand flailed hopelessly and the noose gauged deeper into the Count’s neck. Sigismund arched his kneeling body further forward, again dragging the assassin closer to his back. Then suddenly the assassin felt excruciating pain. Sigismund had managed to retrieve his dagger from his belt and slammed it backwards into the assassin’s upper thigh. The blade had pierced the mesh armour protecting the region. The assassin collapsed on the floor, doubled over in pain.

Slowly, unsteadily, Sigismund rose and straightened up. He looked at the tall man bent over, bleeding on the floor. Roles reversed, now Sigismund staggered behind the helpless form on the floor. Exhausted, he grabbed the tall man’s hair and thrust back his head, preparing to draw his dagger across the exposed throat. But as Sigismund raised his knife, he felt his heart constrict. He struggled for breath and looked helplessly at his own knifehand, outstretched but motionless. Out of the corner of his eye, the wounded assassin watched the dying Count stagger and then fall. The assassin gasped and began to rise. He cursed in his pain: that dose should have killed an elephant by now! He was only supposed to make sure the deed was done – not fight the German brute hand to hand. The assassin watched Sigismund lie motionless on the floor beside him. The tall man summoned his remaining strength: he had to make sure the job was done and get out.

Outside a cloud covered the moon, drawing a veil over the Sigismund’s bed chamber.

* * * * *

When Captain Adolf arrived at Sigismund’s manor, he found the servants and guards milling around in confusion and disbelief. He shook his head - he would bring order to this chaos. Yet for moment, the Captain stood detached from those around him, taking in every detail. His eyes settled on one serving girl visibly more distressed than the rest, sobbing uncontrollably and surrounded by other kitchen staff trying to comfort her.

A Sergeant saw the Captain and marched purposefully towards him, grim-faced and ready to report. The Captain stayed his approach and pointed out the hysterical serving girl, querying:

“Sigismund was not one to stray, so why is she taking this so hard?”

The serving girl - a plain, young peasant woman - glanced up at the two men-at-arms watching her and immediately looked down. The Captain’s tone became harsher and started to step towards her: “I’ll find out what she knows.”

The Sergeant nodded, but touched the Captain’s arm to make him pause and then pointed to the kitchen floor. A small deep red stain was faintly visible under the torchlight; more stains led across the floor towards the door. The Captain’s face hardened:

“Our general did not go down without a fight. I do believe he has given us a trail. Call out the bloodhounds and wake the camp. I want the entire Army out into the countryside searching for this fiend. We’ve wounded our prey; let’s hunt him down.”

The Sergeant nodded and left, as the Captain approached the cowering young peasant woman.

[GeneralHankerchief]

Metz, 1144

The entire Imperial Diet was assembled in the church to send off one of their own. It was a rather small, modest building, but it had its own personality and probably suited Sigismund best. Kaiser Heinrich, in charge of funeral arrangements, had purposely decided to bury Sigismund in this city that he had poured so much into rather than the Imperial Capital, Frankfurt.

There had been a great exodus from the Imperial frontier and its cities by its nobles. Deputies had been left in charge of armies, advisors cities. Everyone important in the policy-making process of the Reich was present at the service. Even Cardinal Peter Scherer, himself aged and suffering from a horrible cough, turned out to preside over the event. However, he got no respite from the Kaiser, who demanded that eulogies be allowed even though they were contrary to Catholic doctrine.

Once the congregation took their seats, Scherer began speaking out in his deep, powerful voice. It was clear that this was hurting him beyond belief, but still he continued.

"A reading from the Gospel of Matthew."

The Electors wondered what passage Scherer had in mind.

"Take heed that ye do not your alms before men, to be seen of them: otherwise ye have no reward of your Father which is in heaven. Therefore when thou doest thine alms, do not sound a trumpet before thee, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets, that they may have glory of men. Verily I say unto you, They have their reward. But when thou doest alms, let not thy left hand know what thy right hand doeth:

That thine alms may be in secret: and thy Father which seeth in secret himself shall reward thee openly. And when thou prayest, thou shalt not be as the hypocrites are: for they love to pray standing in the synagogues and in the corners of the streets, that they may be seen of men. Verily I say unto you, They have their reward. But thou, when thou prayest, enter into thy closet, and when thou hast shut thy door, pray to thy Father which is in secret; and thy Father which seeth in secret shall reward thee openly.

But when ye pray, use not vain repetitions, as the heathen do: for they think that they shall be heard for their much speaking. Be not ye therefore like unto them: for your Father knoweth what things ye have need of, before ye ask him. After this manner therefore pray ye:

Our Father which art in heaven, Hallowed be thy name.
Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done in earth, as it is in heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread.
And forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors.
And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil: For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, for ever. Amen.

For if ye forgive men their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you: But if ye forgive not men their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses. Moreover when ye fast, be not, as the hypocrites, of a sad countenance: for they disfigure their faces, that they may appear unto men to fast. Verily I say unto you, They have their reward.

But thou, when thou fastest, anoint thine head, and wash thy face; That thou appear not unto men to fast, but unto thy Father which is in secret: and thy Father, which seeth in secret, shall reward thee openly.

Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth, where moth and rust doth corrupt, and where thieves break through and steal: But lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust doth corrupt, and where thieves do not break through nor steal: For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also. The light of the body is the eye: if therefore thine eye be single, thy whole body shall be full of light. But if thine eye be evil, thy whole body shall be full of darkness. If therefore the light that is in thee be darkness, how great is that darkness!

No man can serve two masters: for either he will hate the one, and love the other; or else he will hold to the one, and despise the other. Ye cannot serve God and mammon. Therefore I say unto you, Take no thought for your life, what ye shall eat, or what ye shall drink; nor yet for your body, what ye shall put on. Is not the life more than meat, and the body than raiment? Behold the fowls of the air: for they sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feedeth them. Are ye not much better than they? Which of you by taking thought can add one cubit unto his stature?

And why take ye thought for raiment? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin: And yet I say unto you, That even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. Wherefore, if God so clothe the grass of the field, which to day is, and to morrow is cast into the oven, shall he not much more clothe you, O ye of little faith?

Therefore take no thought, saying, What shall we eat? or, What shall we drink? or, Wherewithal shall we be clothed? (For after all these things do the Gentiles seek:) for your heavenly Father knoweth that ye have need of all these things.

But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you. Take therefore no thought for the morrow: for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof."

Scherer paused at the conclusion of this passage, then bent over in a violent fit of hacking that lasted for over a minute. When a deacon rushed up to see if the Cardinal was in need of medical attention, Scherer waved him away and finished up his coughing. As he made his way back to the pulpit, the deacon brought him water, which Scherer thankfully sipped. He then continued.

"This was of course part of Jesus's Sermon on the Mount, in which he preached his values and teachings to a massive amount of followers. This section is known as the Discourse on Ostentation, in which Jesus condemns fasting, alms, and prayer that is done only for show. It then focuses on, as do I, the dangers of *cough* materialism."

Scherer took another sip, and continued.

"Materialism, or the want of earthly possessions, is numerous times referenced in the Holy Book as a sin, and should be avoided. Most notably, it is done so in Exodus, where the 9th and 10th Commandments, and to a lesser extent, the 7th, deal with it. It is closely tied with several of the cardinal vices, such as greed, gluttony, and pride, which is the sin that caused Lucifer to fall from grace. It is to be avoided at all costs, for not doing so plants a seed in our minds that this is the only world that we are to look for. We sometimes tend to forget that The Lord God and His Son are waiting for us with a much better kingdom when the time has come to depart. When we pass on, He will be waiting for us, and He will be smiling, beckoning us on, saying 'Welcome my son, here is your salvation.' The eternal company of friends and angels is a far better reward than any palace, jewelry, or fine clothing."

The Diet was transfixed at Scherer's sermon. The man was clearly on his last legs, but continued to wax poetic with the wisdom and oratory skill of a higher power. The only thing that reminded the Electors of his mortality was the persistent clearing of his throat.

"Sigismund der Stolze exemplified many of the qualities that Jesus spoke of in that Sermon and Discourse. He was a very humble, chivalrous man who lived a noble life. He always downplayed his many accomplishments, whether they be in his personal life, military career, or Chancellorship. He did not seek to bask in the moment and enjoy life, rather, he simply moved onto the next objective and tackled it head-on. Observe his comments to the Diet after returning from his courageous sally from Bern. Nothing is said about the actual conflict or his gallant performance. As a matter of fact, he only mentions the city once - when describing how the Milanese fight."

In the front pew, Heinrich chuckled at the memories. He would never admit it, but if he had run for Chancellor after pulling off that victory, he would have woven it into his manifesto quite a few times.

"He continued this righteous style throughout his Chancellorship. In his first report, he addressed the Diet using the following words:

Due to a good defensible position and good fortune, the Milanese were unable to attack my meagre force. My object, was therefore gained - I had prevented the Milanese from entering Lombardy.

On a personal note, I have finally married.

"Again, no mention of his heroic efforts at that battle or overly elaborate descriptions of his wedding. Instead, he simply mentions it and moves on. Such was the character of Sigismund, whom we should all seek to emulate in our actions and our words."

On the other side of the aisle, Sigismund's wife Syele, and daughter Judda were crying. The Kaiser's daughter Elsebeth, sitting next to Otto von Kassel, also had tears in her eyes. At the news of Sigismund's death Heinrich had put off the wedding between the two. Meanwhile, Scherer, after coughing some more and finishing his water, continued.

"Alas, the only truly despicable part of Sigismund was his manner of death. Such a noble and holy man should have been destined to die saving the lives of others or defending Christendom against those who would seek it harm. Nevertheless, things are better for him now. We must remember that good Sigismund has entered the House of the Lord and will be an honored guest there for all eternity."

Scherer, pale as a ghost, could by now say no more. He yielded the pulpit to Kaiser Heinrich, who gave his eulogy.

"Gentlemen, this is not my forte. My limited oratorial skills are much better applied when inspiring troops before a battle or attempting to persuade you in the Diet. Also, nothing can be said that has not already been addressed by Cardinal Scherer, whom I wish a speedy recovery to and also offer my thanks for presiding over this mass."

He motioned to Scherer, who nodded his acknowledgement and stepped out of the church to cough some more.

"Sigismund, if a little aloof, was nevertheless a great man and a huge benefit to the Reich. I had the pleasure of conversing with him many times, and he was a wise man who wished nothing more than the betterment of the Empire. The people who did this to him are cowards and unholy. I, as well as Chancellor Mandorf, assure his family that they will be hunted down and brought to justice. The coming days ahead will be difficult for us all, and Sigismund's wisdom and chivalry will be sorely missed."

The Kaiser took his seat, a little embarassed, and there was an eerie silence in the church that lasted over a minute. Scherer was absent, still coughing, and the church's deacon was still attending to him. Finally, in an impromptu manner, the six pallbearers rose as one, picked up the closed coffin, and began to carry it outside, followed by the rest of the congregation.

Kaiser Heinrich, Prinz Henry, Dukes Leopold and Dietrich von Saxony, Steward/Chancellor Maximillian Mandorf, and Sigismund's adopted son Jobst von Salza slowly and laboriously lowered the coffin into Sigismund's final resting place, a freshly-dug grave in the church's cemetary. Once again the simplicity of it reflected the character of the deceased.

With no priest present, the 5th Elector of Bavaria, who had some experience with these matters, led the Diet in the saying of the final prayer.

"Eternal rest grant unto him, O Lord.
And let perpetual light shine upon him.
May the souls of the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace.
Amen."

With that, the Electors departed, heads bowed, lost in their own thoughts. It was back to their duties, and to some, their plannings.

[OverKnight]

Deutsches Historisches Museum, Berlin, 2007

Researchers have released further translations from a cache of documents found in the city of Frankfurt during routine utility work on underground pipes. Further excavation of the site revealed ruins dating back to the 12th century. Archaeologists are speculating that this might be the location of the long lost Imperial Archives. Historians hope that these new translations will lend further insight into the momentous events of the time. The following is an exchange of letters between Maximillian Mandorf, Chancellor of the Reich, and Otto von Kassel, future Duke of Bavaria. Surprisingly enough for that era, both noblemen were literate.

Bologna 1142

Maximillian,

Congratulations on your election to Chancellor! I would have written sooner, but the last Diet was a troubling affair for me. I admit, I made a hash of it. You won an overwhelming victory and I feared that the Kaiser would cancel my betrothal. Not to mention my blunder on trying to dictate occupation policy on Venice, a fruitless gesture in hindsight.

Yet, I have good news, the engagement will continue and I am to be Duke! The Kaiser and I have reached an understanding that will benefit Bavaria. Nor have I forgotten you, my friend. Bavaria might lose a Steward, but she will gain a Count. It would be cruel of me to take Nuremberg from you, you have made clear your desire to stay there. I plan to move the capital of Bavaria to Innsbruck, my current domain, and you will keep yours. Also, as recognition of your service, you will keep the title of First Elector. Moving the capital south makes sense anyway, as I must always keep one eye on Italy.

So how does it feel to be Chancellor? I've heard the braying of the Diet has already reached your ears, even though your term has just begun. Very few people want the job, but they all think they can do it. Do not lose hope, there are some of us who still value your acumen.

Have you considered coming south in your travels as Chancellor? The Italian front is still the most active. The Milanese will be dispatched, but we could use your assistance with Venice and in other matters. For example, the Pope and his army still haunt our lands. How long are we to allow this? The first year of his "tour" of northern Italy could be seen as an aberration, but the man has yet to return to Rome. Venice, Milan and Sicily are all excommunicated and the only nation in Italy that remains in the Church, ours, bears the weight of a massive Papal army. Why is that?

I am confused as to why you have changed your mind about Gregory. You may be a man reborn, Saul on the road to Damascus, but surely he is still the same man who upended the traditional balance between Church and Empire, fostered dissent throughout the Reich, and caused the loss of much of our territory. And for what? All that so the Papacy could be free of a Kaiser's right to aid in the selection of a Pontiff. Only now have we recovered from the investiture crisis, and yet he still gets to choose who receives the crown of the Roman Empire. Is that fair?

A time may come Maximillian, and I hope it doesn't, when you will have to choose between service to the Reich and Bavaria and service to this man. I do not begrudge you your rebirth, but I question your choice of mid-wife.

Think on what I have written, and on who your true friends are.

Otto

~~~~~~~~

Otto,

It warms my heart to hear that your engagement to Elsebeth will continue. Though I have taken a vow of celibacy myself, much joy can come from a Holy Union. I wish you the utmost success with your wife in the years to come. I fervently wish I could attend the wedding, but it seems likely that it will occur in Bologna or Florence. With the Bavarian roads cleared of brigands and the new war with France, I have decided to journey westwards to give whatever aid I can to the Swabians. Unfortunately, this means I shall not be close enough to attend the wedding. Know that I will pray for God to bless your union and give you happiness and success for many years.

I do not fault you for voting for the Kaiser in the election. You must look to your own interests and ensure a prosperous future, especially now that you will have a family and a noble House dependant upon your success. It is true that I once desired to be Duke of Bavaria, but in my heart I knew it would never come to pass. I am too stubborn and sinful to bear such a responsibility. Some may mock my reform, but Hildegard has made my life joyful for the first time in many years. My soul is at peace and I have let go of most of my earthly ambitions.

You are a good man and you will be a good Duke for Bavaria. It will certainly be strange to kneel before you in the years to come, but Hildegard says it will be a good lesson in Pride. Apparently I have not yet rid myself of all of my sins.

Your words about Gregory ring true and I admit that I no longer know where he stands. His actions baffle me and I see no earthly or Heavenly reason for them. I am still convinced that he incited the Milanese and Venetians to war against us, but why did he then excommunicate them? If they displeased him in some way, then surely he would have decided to aid us. Yet all reports indicate that he still seethes at the very mention of the Reich.

Surely our people are as righteous and holy as any in Christendom. How can the Pope harbor such hatred for us and yet aid us at the same time? Is it Christian charity or Satanic duplicity? Hildegard tells me to trust in the Pope and abide by his words. She says that the Church cannot exist without a Pope, and if Gregory is false, then we are adrift and disconnected from God. She has proven herself to be a righteous woman and if she claims this to be true, I must believe it. Those who insult her and say that I am her pawn simply do not know her. She is a great and holy woman; a band of knights from the Teutonic Order even arrived in Nuremburg recently to pay homage to her!

The truth is that the question of Pope Gregory is beyond my grasp. With the situation so unclear, I must simply wait and see what the future brings. For now my life is dedicated to protecting the Reich and her people. Wars spoil our lands and good Christian blood is spilled every year. Perhaps when these battles are done with I will know better what to do.

May the Word of God guide your path.

Maximillian

[flyd]

Magdeburg, 1146

"This isn't good, you know. This whole thing with Sigismund. Nothing good will come of it."

Fredericus was standing in the courtyard of recently conquered Magdeburg, observing as a great number of workers were tearing down a part of the garrison's quarters to make room for a drill square. With him was Franz, a member of his bodyguard, and well within hearing range was Otto, the engineer overseeing the construction project.

"The war, you mean?" said Franz.

"Yeah, the war, the impending Swabian land grab that was so masterfully set up. If only I knew who exactly was behind it all."

"The French?" Franz said, knowing that this explanation was far too simple for Fredericus.

"Oh, it wasn't the French. What would they have to gain? I'll tell you what Swabia has to gain: France. It's perfect, really. The honest and chivalrous Swabian gets killed, everyone laments his death, vows revenge upon the villainous French scum, Swabian armies get sent into France. Even better if they get it done before Heinrich dies, since he can use his little 'geographical' distribution to justify giving a disproportionate number of lands to Swabia. Still, I have a difficult time blaming the Prinz, it doesn't seem like something he'd do. Maybe it was that von Salza. Conveniently enough, he's the only one eligible to be Duke of Swabia now. He's already started to point fingers at nameless electors in the Diet, as if everyone isn't eager to accept that the French did it. You know..."

"Yes, but," Franz finally interrupted the rant, "the French attacked us before the assassination. We were at war. Is it not reasonable that they would eliminate a commander of our army in the west for strategic purposes?"

"Of course they attacked us! They always do. Are you familiar with the story of how the Romans came to conquer everything?" Upon receiving a negative gesture from Franz, Fredericus continued, "well, they say that back when the Romans had only the control of Italy, and were at war with some small city in the west of Greece, I forget what it was called, they decided to send a small raid over. So they did, but one of their Senators died in battle. Naturally, there were great lamentations and cries for revenge, so they sent a big army to conquer Greece, but they said 'we'll just take Greece, then we'll stop expanding.' But in the process of doing this, their little legions were attacked by the entire Macedonian might. That's what they say anyway, but from what I've read, they seemed to be on the offensive the whole time. I think they lost another Senator, or maybe a Consul, so, of course, they had to completely destroy Macedon. But this got them into contact with the Thracians and the Illyrians, who attacked them, and then also the Seleucid and Ptolemaic empires the same, and, well, you know the rest."

"That seems a bit exaggerated," said Franz.

"Oh, I'm sure it is, but the exact history isn't important. It's more of a fable than anything. The point is, that deaths can be used to justify aggression. That expansion gets you into other wars. No one likes large armies running around near their border, conquering their neighbors. I'm already looking beyond France, and see England, Portugal, and Spain. I'm sure they're looking over here too."

Franz nodded, having nothing to add. Fredericus continued, "there is also a third way to get into wars, as the Romans have shown us with their conquest of the Iberians. That role, for us, is filled quite well by the Kaiser himself. He doesn't respect the Diet. Some of his actions can only be described as Servian, although perhaps a bit lesser in magnitude. Remember when he ordered an Imperial army to violate Polish territory, when the Diet desired good relations with the Poles? But of course, the Poles are the back stabbers! They must be destroyed! Now they wonder why the Russians won't ally with us. I'm betting they don't want to be labeled as back stabbers when our armies start taking scenic tours of the steppes around Novgorod in a few decades' time."

Franz chuckled. "So, what is to be done?"

"Nothing. Lay low and keep quiet. Sigismund is dead, remember? Woe to him who doesn't grab his lance and charge at the walls of Paris."

At that point, the conversation is interrupted, as a wall of the garrison quarters falls over, crushing several workers.

[Warluster]

Frankfurt, 1142 AD

Jobst von Salza looked upon the Great City of Frankfurt, Capital of the Reich, a home of worries, the Home of the Imperial Diet. Recently thigns had not been well, Electors in the Diet acting rudely against Swabia, Sigismunds Death. Von Salza's palns were all wrong, but he adre not reveal them to no one, the only one who knew of it was his Trusted knight. They were in a escort to Frankfurt, heading to the diet.Jobst Von Salza was with his Bodyguard, and had been speakign with the Captain Knight,
'My plans have been messed up' whispered Jobst, the Captain leaned forward, all had been mourning over Sigismunds death,
'What were your plans?' asked the Captain, the babble of city could be heard from far off,
'Why, if I explained them any more my lungs would burst' said Jobst, The Captain laughed, The Captains horse neighed,
'Yes, those plans' said Captain,
'But they were awfully mixed up with Sigismunds death'
'Why of course they were, I should've sent my whole BodyGuard if I had've to, damm it!' said Jobst, 'I bet you I know who that Assasain was workign for' said Jobst,
'Who?'
'I'd say those Austrians' said Jobst, Jobst didn't like the fraction betweent eh Houses, though now he had no thought o that,
'They swear on Swabias name, say we ahve plots, why, when those Venetians attacked Vienna, did we go about yelligna t them, screamign crap which helps no one! No! We offered men! generals! Real help' yelled Jobst,
'Why sir, Duke Leopold isn't that bad...' said The Captain, Von Salza looked at him,
'I would awfully like to know what he's up to, he seems unaffected by Sigimunds death' said Jobst Von Salza,
'Thats true Sir'
'The way those Austrians Electors act.. sometimes I wonder if the beggers have come into the Imperial Diet' said Von Salza, The Captain laughed,
'WHy sir, I agree there, when the Diet was at its end last time, and I was waiting for you by the Doors, one of those Austrian Electors comes out and spits on me' siad THe Captain, Jobst shook his head,
'Next tiem they mutter words like that about Swabia, I shall kill them personally' Jobst sighed,
'Why , I have thought on it, after Sigismunds death, i am net in line for Duke of Swabia' said Jobst, The Captain nodded, and looked at Jobst. tears were in his eyes, and Jobst muttered something, then spoke loudeer,
'I need battle' they were at the City Gates, and jobst Von Salza's escort rode n, when Von Salza saw a Austrian Elector, glaring at him, the escort passed by through the crowd, The Elector swore at him, The Captain drew his sword,
'Why you...' Jobst stopped his sword wth a hand, and spat on the Elector,
'I shall see you next Diet, begger' spat Jobst, and laughed bitterly, there escrot moved on, and the day grew old.

[GeneralHankerchief]

(OOC: This is a prelude to the Kaiser's recent actions regarding Rome, written by OverKnight and myself.)

Bologna, 1142

A sentry in the beleagured city observed a large dust cloud to the south, heading his way. While only a militiaman, he was trained to know what that type of dust cloud meant: military movement.

Judging by the size of the cloud, it was a small army, perhaps two regiments. It certainly was too big for any Imperial general's escort, even the Kaiser's. It was the right size for both Kaiser Heinrich and Prinz Henry, as well as their escorts, but why would both of these royals visit the city and leave their large army about to relieve Florence leaderless?

The sentry really didn't want to take any chances. "Someone alert Count von Kassel," he cried. "We've got something moving this way, and fast! It could be a Milanese scouting party."

Several minutes later, Otto von Kassel arrived on the scene, slightly tense with anticipation, only to groan when he saw the soldiers for himself. They were indeed the Kaiser and his escort, but there was also a mysterious entourage behind him that was not the Prinz's.

Upon greeting Heinrich, Otto asked a question about this unknown escort but the Kaiser brushed it off, instead motioning to the nearest church.

"Come, von Kassel. We have much to discuss, but first we must attend mass."

Otto stared slightly. This was odd. Although he was by all means a religious person, the Kaiser was never known to put it ahead of matters of state. During the mass and the serving of communion, his mind was on what the Kaiser could possibly want, while Heinrich's seemed to be elsewhere altogether.

After the mass got out ("lovely sermon," the Kaiser remarked to the priest), he finally turned his attention toward the soon-to-be-Duke.

"Otto, our time is approaching. Soon, very soon, unless of course I die in the upcoming battle against the Milanese, Elsebeth will come of age and the two of you shall marry. I have brought her and her escort to Bologna to get you two acquainted until this time comes. Hopefully the two of you shall have a friendly relationship."

The Kaiser paused, letting this sink in for a minute before continuing.

"Once you are married, you will become the Duke of Bavaria with all of its benefits. This includes certain powers detailed in the Imperial Charter, powers that the Dukes currently do not share with me. You are aware of these, correct?"


Otto could not help but smile. In vino veritas, he thought, I was right, my path is set. His expression quickly changed as he realized the enormity of what lay before him.

Glancing about him for eavesdroppers in the Church, Otto removed a folded, wine stained piece of paper from his belt pouch. Straightening it out, he read from it while keeping his voice low and even, "Article 3.3, any declaration of war must be authorised by an Imperial edict. The Chancellor or any Duke is empowered to declare war on a non-allied army entering its lands."

He folded the paper up and replaced it, "Maximillian is the Chancellor, regrettably, but I will be a Duke soon enough. I would be honored to do this for you on the day of your daughter's wedding. I am glad you brought Elsebeth, mein Kaiser, I look forward to meeting her. A couple should be introduced before they are married."

Otto leaned in, his voice becoming more conspiratorial, "There is one complication, however, your Majesty. The language is vague, some might say that a Duke can only declare war on an army trespassing in his own Duchy. Unfortunately, Hildebrand's army has moved from Milan, which is Bavarian, to the outskirts of Genoa, an Imperial city. If we are to have success in this endeavor, Kaiser, we must follow the letter of the law."

At Otto's latest comment, apparently to be used as a bargaining chip, the Kaiser threw his head back and laughed. The sound echoed throughout the church but the few people still inside did not give it much of a thought. They knew to leave the nobles to their business.

"It's yours. It was always going to be yours. I'm surprised that you figured out that much without realizing that Genoa would be yours. The only city I really care about is Rome, of course. I was just using Florence as a watchtower."

The Kaiser's face, wrinkled and hair almost completely gray, now had an expression that Otto had never seen before. Relatively few people did. It was full of energy and ready for anything, but this was not the same as before he went into a battle. It was clear that Heinrich had been leading up to this moment for a long time. The expression could best be categorized as... giddy.

"Now, your first days as Duke are going to be extremely busy. Once you and Elsebeth are married and the deed against Rome is done, you are to go to Innsbruck to supervise the completion of the Bavarian House army, of which you have complete control over. That fool Mandorf cannot complain otherwise; it was he who insisted that these armies be under the total supervision of the Dukes."

The church was by now empty, leaving Otto and the increasingly-excited Heinrich alone. He was talking in the same manner as a child telling a friend about a secret he had so desperately wanted to reveal.

"Assuming my army is not decimated after relieving Florence, I am going to head to Rome and assault it immediately. We must again thank Chancellor Mandorf for providing me with ballistae. Without his assistance this move would not be possible."

Otto said nothing. The Kaiser was clearly on a roll.

"At that point, Pope Gregory will have lost his safe haven and will most likely pursue one of two courses: Either he will besiege what is most likely in front of him, which is Genoa, or he will move on Rome. Now, if he attacks Rome (which would be extremely satisfying if he did, since I am itching for a defensive fight), you and the House army will most likely not get there in time, and I either drive the Pope off myself or die a heroic death. The minstrels would love it if this option happened, but the more ideal scenario would be Genoa."

Heinrich finally remembered to draw breath. He then continued.

"If that happens, then I march north from Rome and you south from Innsbruck. Then, together, we break the Pope's army and finish this Investiture Crisis once and for all."

Otto had never seen the Kaiser like this. This is his last throw of the dice, thought Otto. He will triumph, or he will die, the simplicity must be intoxicating.

"Mein Kaiser, I would have liked very much to have marched on Rome with you," Otto replied, "but we will need my Bavarians. It shall be as you say, my lord."

Otto wished he shared the Kaiser's new found serenity, but the possible consequences of their actions troubled him, "What we do is right, but there will be a price, there will be rioting in Italy I'm sure, if not the whole Reich. The Diet will be screaming for our heads, and if we don't get our own selection for Pope in power before the next session, they might be able to curtail us. Who do you favor mein Kaiser, Scherer or Otterbach?"

Heinrich laughed loudly again and sighed. "How I have longed to have been asked that question," he said. "Obviously Otterbach would be more fitting for what will hopefully be a total victory. The position of God's Messenger being held by a woman. Can you believe that? Oh, didn't you know? Otterbach is a woman. I knew as soon as I made her priest. Isn't that funny?"

Heinrich was totally oblivious to Otto's caution. He continued, still giddy. "I'm not sure if Otterbach's a preferati or not, so we'll have to side with Scherer for a while. That's assuming he lives through this. Last I heard the man was pretty ill. And hey, even if nobody we like is in the preferati, I can always... depose them."

He laughed one final time before departing (making sure to genuflect), leaving Otto alone in the House of God where two men had just conspired to overthrow the Pope.

Otto watched the Kaiser leave. Nausea filled him, but this time, wine was not the cause. All he wants is to spit Hildebrand, and the rest of us can burn for all he cares. Yet, I am committed. This must be done. I can only ride out the storm, not control it, and hope that I will not drown.

Otto moved to the altar of the Church and gazed at the Crucifix behind it. Swallowing hard, Otto knelt, and for the first time since he had left home as a young man, he prayed.

[OverKnight]

A cooperative story from TC and OK

A further exchange of letters, dating from 1146, the beginning of the second Investiture Crisis, have been translated.

Maximillian,

As you read this, I'm sure you are aware of the actions the Kaiser and myself have taken in Italy. Hildebrand has violated our borders for too long! I can only imagine your reaction, but what I do, I do for the good of Bavaria and the Reich. This day was coming for a long while, since the investiture crisis, and it is time we restored the influence of the Reich in the affairs of the Church. We have the forces available in Italy to do so, all the other nations in the area are excommunicated, and we have an Imperial Cardinal, nearing the preferati, as a possible replacement for Hildebrand. The time to complete the full restoration of the Reich is now!

There was a time when you would have welcomed this day. You and I found ourselves on the opposite ends of this issue before, yet now we have switched sides, an unfortunate irony. It's not too late Maximillian, join us! Your aid, as Chancellor and a leading man of the realm, not to mention as my friend, would be priceless.

Do you not find it odd that the Pope has excommunicated his neighbors, Sicily, Milan and Venice? Or the fact that he, a man of the cloth, leads an army marching around Italy? The man seeks temporal hegemony in the area. Are these the actions of a true Vicar of Christ? He has sent his agent to you, after hearing of your past denunciations, to cloud your mind and blunt your purpose. Think, Maximillian, it's a little too convenient, isn't it?

No matter what you decide, your new title and lands are yours. You more than deserve them for your long, distinguished service to Bavaria and the Reich. Besides, you made me a Count, it's the least I could do for you.

I beg you, join with us, together we can restore the Church and the Reich, bringing both to a Golden Age!

Otto

~~~~~~~~~~

Otto,

You have brought the Wrath of God down upon us! The Pope has declared Heinrich excommunicated, his personal army now threatens all our holdings in Italy, and citizens in every city in the Reich are in great unrest! YOU HAVE DAMNED US!

I spent hours in prayer to the Holy Father when I received word of your treachery, but my hand still shakes as I write this. The Kaiser was the one who arranged all of this and you were his willing pawn. Yet I cannot help but think that I am guilty myself for failing to prevent this. I am Chancellor, I swore to protect the Reich, uphold the law, and promote Christian values. Now I am not even halfway through with my term and the Reich is threatened with total destruction!

Otto, you have betrayed Bavaria, you have betrayed the Reich, you have betrayed all of Christendom, but the worst of it is that you have betrayed me! We were friends and allies once. Even when you were my vassal I respected you and your opinion above all others. I even forgave you for voting against me in the election.

However, I cannot forgive this. Our friendship is over. Your soul is doomed and mine hangs in the balance. My first duty is to protect the Reich. There will be unbelievably trying times ahead of us and I must devote all of my efforts towards keeping our cursed and war-ravaged lands from totally dissolving. For now you and the Kaiser are beyond my power, but know this, traitor. Somehow, I will find a way to bring God’s holy vengeance down upon you. I swear that I will personally light the bonfire that consumes your mortal shell and sends your soul to Satan for all eternity. Perhaps by doing this I will avoid a similar fate.

We will not speak again. The next time you see me, we will be enemies.

Maximillian

~~~~~~~~~~~

Chancellor,

You spend too much time on your knees! Now is the time for action!

When next you see me, I'll be dead or a hero of the Reich, either way you will find it difficult to burn me alive.

Farewell,

Duke von Kassel

[Kagemusha]

As Dietrich Von Saxony closed the door of the Diet hall behind him,he couldnt believe what he has just heard.
"Now the old man has finally done it. He has placed the Lords of the Reich for the second time to choose between himself and the Gods representative on earth."
"Maybe he has gone mad?" Dietrich asked from himself. "I could just have the Diet building surrounded,Kaiser doesnt have many men with him. The Prinz is not here and Leopold is enraged." Once Dietrich got into his own rooms,he summoned a guard. "Get me Captain Herman here,right now!" As the servant started running Dietrich continued thinking "The situation is flammable atleast. Basicly anything could happen in matter of hours. I better make sure that im prepared." Veteran Captain Herman came running into the room,trying to put his gear like it was supposed to be "Mein Duke.." Herman tryed to start,but Dietrich interfered "Shut up my friend and listen. Something has just happened and we have to take measures,if the situation calls for that. In all silence create a ring around the Diet,so no one gets out or in,without us knowing it. Pick just trustworthy men. I dont want the whole city to know about that." Herman started to ask something,but Dietrich commanded "Now Go! I will tell you later,what this about."
As Herman left the room Dietrich sat down and watched the flame of the candle on his writing table. "This will be a long night." He thought.