Part 13 - Embracing the heathens... with chains
Recently, Francois I's court has been beset with theologians and missionaries. Though a faithful Catholic with much repentance, the King find that their chafing presence and preposterous piety has put quite the damper on fun at the royal household. Time to put the good men to work - preferably overseas.
With a stroke of brilliance, Francois I decides to go on a Crusade. This should please the Pope, and more importantly give the missionaries something to do, rather than chastice his majesty for groping the scullery maids.
War is declared. The Turk might have been a danger, if they would bother sailing west of Malta. As they won't, the outcome seems obvious.
Certainly, this is a pleasant bonus. Our forces land in Tangiers, and await there. It has the highest support limit, and is thus the ideal battleground for our invading forces.
Moroccans charge our position. Superior numbers, yes. Sufficient numbers of cavalry, no.
Their monarch lacks shock value, too. The result is none too surprising.
French cartographers decide that the province of Burgos rightly belongs to us. Clearly, the Castillians simply forgot to hand the lands over in the last peace resolution.
Ten thousand French cavalrymen are dispatched to Tunisia, split up and sent to siege local fortifications. Worries of Ottoman intervention prove to be unfounded.
After much chasing, the Moroccan main force is routed. Sieges begin.
Provoked by patriot rebels in East Anglia, the Scottish king declares war on their neighbor. Still reeling from earlier wars, England can provide only token resistance.
A quick war later, Scotland's claims swells further. The French court considers intervention after losing our only land corridor to the majority of English holdings, but in the end, caution triumphs.
With London isolated and the
London Rose set ablaze by drunken Scotsmen, The English King sets up court in Yorkshire. Given the cost of moving a capitol, this is taken as a desperate ploy.
Tunisia is secured. A peace settlement is negotiated, giving us our first heathen provinces.
The bothersome men of cloth are immediately urged to relocate from the French court to North Africa. After the king pays their fare, they merrily depart. Complaints are heard from a few of the scullery maids, but otherwise the court approves. The people of Constantine are none too happy either.
In their constant craving to conquer Sardinia, Savoy has once again declared war with pretty much all of Italy. This time, however, there are no rebels to distract their enemies. In a humbling peace, they are forced to release Genoa. Unfortunately for them, Milan does not head the alliance.
Naples does - and within a year, Napolese forces have secured Savoy. They soon lose Nice in a peace settlement, awarding France with a new neighbor.
Our war with Morocco is concluded, leaving us with even more heathen territories. Freshly trained clergymen are immediately given a 'scolarship' in cultural studies abroad.
Our warmongering has raised our BadBoy level considerably. Maintaining control of the Curia is turning problematic, but we cannot be deterred. Portugal must be dealt with before we can relax.
Bored with hiding behind walls, some of the garrison forces in Ifni venture out for a stroll - a long stroll. When they finally return, they've mapped out a whole new province, ready for colonization... if only we had a core province port near enough, and the natives could be persuaded to live elsewhere.
A suggestion to let the Lorrainian-French border follow the river is bluntly rebuffed by our neighbor. Our advisors feels this rebuttal constitutes an insult sufficient to yield us a claim on the entire far side of the river, namely Barrois.
War with Lorraine seems inevitable, yet we stay our forces. With a little luck, we might also gain cores on Valciennes and France-Comte. For now, we can tolerate the prestige loss. There are other lands we need to secure.
