• We have updated our Community Code of Conduct. Please read through the new rules for the forum that are an integral part of Paradox Interactive’s User Agreement.
Keeping the bloodline pure eh?
 
Aethelflaed would have been too close a relative for my tastes, but apparently the AI disagreed with me when Aethelfrith was the Duke of Lancaster. :D
 
XIII. The Crown and the Veil

hlothere1184.jpg


Hlothere was attended to by his manservant Aethelred as he donned the ceremonial garb of the Shah of Persia. The sixteen-year-old King of England, Hlothere of Durham, was still not used to the title even after having held it for four years of his childhood. Already these Persian Crusades had wounded and claimed the lives of three generations of his family, from his father Eormenric, who had been pierced through the heart with a spear in the storming of the Maiden Tower of Bagavan four years ago, back to Saewald the martial King. But Hlothere, who was considered but a fledgling diplomat, had, with the help of his chancellor, the Welshman Pwyll ap Seisyll, and his most prominent vassal Aubry de Bohun, secured a peace with Rostam Emir of Lorestan. Hopefully, Rostam’s defeat in Elam would bring an end to the exhausting decades of war and usher in a lasting peace for both realms. Now Saxon merchants had vital control over trade along the Silk Road. The Emir of Lorestan was no longer a threat, and the Seljuq Turks had all but collapsed beneath the weight of their empire and of their dire intrigues. Christendom was being brought into Asia just as the Church had envisioned.

Hlothere looked out the narrow window of Neishabur Palace as a cool mountain breeze blew in. The small, quiet city of northeast Persia’s foothills had livened, and had been bedecked in colourful displays for the double celebration. They would be celebrating both the coronation of Hlothere, Shah of Persia and King of the English, and his wedding. His heart leapt at the idea that he and Golbahar were tying the knot. He’d known her since he was very young: Aubry, her father, was a close friend. And she had also, until he started realising she’d meant more to him even as Aubry pointed out to him what a fine girl she was. Hlothere was no fool; he knew two of Aubry’s sons were counts, and his daughters extremely well-married so that he had connections running deep through both France and England. But regardless of Aubry’s intentions, whatever they were, he could truly put trust in his own feelings. It was the lucky king who got to choose whom he married – his father Eormenric hadn’t, and neither had his grandfather at first – and right now he felt himself the luckiest one yet.

His revelry was cut short as Aethelred tied a long length of cloth tightly about his head, forming the beginnings of a Persian dulband. ‘Ow!’ Hlothere exclaimed. ‘Easy with the scarf!’

‘Sorry, did I wrap it too tight?’ asked Aethelred. ‘Don’t know why you have to wear such frippery on your coronation, don’t know why they’re making me do this.’

‘You’re doing it because I asked you to,’ replied Hlothere, chucking his good humour. ‘Think of the occasion! It should come as no surprise, I think; I’m told we Durhams have always been fascinated with the foreign, all the way back to Maelwine the Good.’

‘Yes, but I never heard Maelwine was seen to be wearing a scarf on the top of his head. Don’t you think you may be carrying this a little far?’

‘Are you questioning your king?’ asked Hlothere in jest. Aethelred really was a saintly soul to put up with his teasing like this, though to his credit he did come back on occasion with his own bon mots. ‘This is a lovely country, even though it is still largely heathen. I’ve been studying Robert of Chester’s Latin translation of Hisab al-Ġabr w’al-Muqabala recently; that man al-Khwarismi was a genius, and born in this land! Using his methods, it’s possible to balance any book!’

‘But could he balance what was sitting over his ears, is my question. If you don’t mind my saying so, your Majesty, this looks kind of ridiculous on you.’

‘Well, I think it looks quite striking on you, Hlothi.’

Hlothere turned abruptly, causing Aethelred to curse behind his back as he lost track of the dulband. The voice had come from Golbahar de Bohun, his bride. She was dressed in an ornate red dress to match his own red robes of office, though Hlothere thought the colour far better suited her than him. Her sable curls tumbled freely down her shoulders and onto her shapely back, and though a veil lightly covered her face, Hlothere could still see her lively brown eyes, her high, tawny cheekbones and her brilliant smile behind it.

gulbahar1184.jpg


‘Did the shahs previous to me always wear these long scarves on their heads?’ asked Hlothere.

‘Every one in recent memory,’ Golbahar laughed. ‘I thought you wanted to do this in the Persian style.’

‘In the name of diplomacy, my love, much as I admire you and your mother’s country,’ Hlothere replied. ‘As much as it’s for us two, this marriage is also a marriage for two realms and two peoples. Considering my aim here, it wouldn’t look too good in Persian eyes if a Saxon marauder named himself Shah in English dress and in the English tongue, carrying off a Persian bride like the spoils of war, now would it?’

Golbahar was struck mute for a second, hearing her childhood friend and husband-to-be uncharacteristically speaking as though he was twice his age. It shouldn’t have seemed strange to her, as he’d been living with a heavy burden these past years which would indeed cause him quickly to mature, though it was strange that he’d demonstrate it so, all of a sudden. All the same, she agreed with him wholeheartedly. ‘Of course not. But you must hurry with that – I think by his tone that the Right Reverend Wulfhere, the Bishop Percy wants to begin shortly. I’ll see you in a few minutes, my love.’

Hlothere’s eyes lingered upon her until she disappeared from view down the hall, her animated figure lightening it with every step she took. Aethelred punched him gently in the shoulder and told him he was done.

‘Mirror,’ ordered Hlothere.

Aethelred produced the steel plate for Hlothere to scowl into in contemplation of his reflection. Aethelred was right. He did feel just a bit outlandish. Perhaps he’d look better with it if he’d grow a beard. Oh well, Hlothere thought. God does not place kingdoms in the hands of the squeamish.

Hlothere, King of England and henceforth Shah of the Persians, took a deep breath and strode out of his room, down the hall and into the sunlight.

-------

The Kingdom of England, October 1184:

england1184.jpg


and the Kingdom of Persia, about the same time:

persia1184.jpg
 
Last edited:
I just read through all of this. It's very good. I'll keep my eye on this.
 
So Hlothere will try to succeed were Alexander the Great has failed. Combining a western and an eastern culture.

Good update

Only not all the pictures are visible to me.

EDIT
Forget that last one, now they are :)
 
I too am having difficulty with the screenies.

Amusing little scene though.
 
Sorry about that. I'm working on a 1280 by 800 resolution with my Pavilion - for my next posts I'll review the screenshots with a 1024 by 768 resolution. And I'll try not to do any more of these composite map shots.
 
Very good AAR, the best i've read. I like the personal take.

I am a little disappointed that the reigns are starting to get less detailed; although time is an inevitable restriction with a growing empire. I myself could read this for hours and would happily pay for it.

All in all wonderful stuff. Keep it up. :D
 
XIV. The Anglo-Persian Revival

Princess Ecgwynn slept in her father’s lap as they rode together out to Colchester on that bright summer’s day of the Year of Our Lord 1192. Hlothere had a hand rested comfortingly on the young girl’s head and the other on the reins – she was his pride and joy, as he’d always wanted a daughter and she was the elder. Golbahar had not dissuaded her husband, but she had told him repeatedly he ought to look to the education of his own sons, both of whom were now in the care of the monks of St. Peter’s in London.

‘What do you think, my love?’ asked Hlothere of his wife, who was riding alongside him.

Golbahar looked out toward Colchester, where already she saw on the river the flash of the sun on the River Colne, its waters being carried up by a magnificent, many-spoked wooden wheel, turning with the water on an axle leading into a mill. ‘It’s beautiful,’ she gasped.

‘Isn’t it? They say it can grind more than even the Roman river-mills! It’s the most advanced in the world.’

As they approached, it was clear that the water-mill was an adaptation from the panemone wind-mills of Persia, only on its side, with one edge submerged in a mill-race off the River Colne. Whereas the familiar panemones of Neishabur served to draw water up from the ground, this river mill used running water to grind wheat. It had been a collaboration and the brainchild of many cultures – both Saxon and Venetian engineers had worked on the project for well over a year, using designs from translations of Greek texts (via Farsi and Arabic) as well as their knowledge of the Persian mills.

Advances such as these had been popping up all over the realms of England and Persia since Hlothere had taken the double crown. Merchants in London now regularly used double-entry bookkeeping. Venice now joined Alexandria and Cairo in the esteemed ranks of cities which had respected universities, and was now the hub of learning in Western Christendom. New textile mills and dye-works were being erected all over England. England was richer than ever before because of the Silk Road trade, and Persian silk clothing became extremely fashionable among the English nobility. All of this would become known by historians as the Anglo-Persian Revival.

london1192.jpg
neishabur1192.jpg
venice1192.jpg


Ecgwynn woke up as they came to the mill and gave their horses to the awed groom who had been waiting for them. She leapt down off her mount and ran up to the mill-race to get a better look. ‘Daddy! Daddy! How does it work?’

Hlothere’s courtly education had had its uses, other than developing his formidable negotiation and forensic skills. He followed his five-year-old daughter to the mill-race and pointed out to her where the water from the mill-race was collected in the wheel’s long wooden buckets, which turned the wheel. The wheel was connected to gears inside the mill, he explained, which turned millstones to grind wheat between them, which could then be made into flour.

‘But what does that do?’ asked little Ecgwynn.

Hlothere followed her pointing finger toward the mill-race’s sluice gate as Golbahar came up behind them.

‘Well, Wynnie, that’s the sluice gate for the mill. It makes it so the mill-race runs slower, so that the wheel doesn’t have to turn as fast. If the wheel was placed right on the river, and the gate wasn’t there, the water would go too fast for the wheel, and the gears might break from the strain.’

‘The gears would break? So the millstones wouldn’t turn,’ Ecgwynn concluded.

Hlothere glowed in pride at Ecgwynn as he ruffled her thick brown curls. ‘That’s right, honey. Where’d you get that smart?’

‘She got it from her father,’ Golbahar said as she put an affectionate arm about Hlothere’s waist. Hlothere returned the embrace and began kissing her, causing Ecgwynn to make a slight noise of disgust and run a little further up the mill-race, enjoying the warm summer air.

‘She likes being outside, doesn’t she?’ asked Golbahar. ‘Reminds me of my childhood.’

‘She takes after you more than she does after me,’ Hlothere admitted as he watched her. ‘I was definitely a more studious child.’

‘The Duke of Cumberland is not particularly happy with you,’ Golbahar noted on a change of subject. ‘You talk well enough so that he didn’t outright rebel when you refused to change the laws, but even so…’

‘That old relic!’ Hlothere laughed. ‘What could he do? I’m not about to institute elective law when the laws of our land have so long favoured the line of succession!’

‘That didn’t stop you from changing the law when it meant giving yourself power over the papal legate,’ Golbahar noted, a tone of shrewd amusement creeping into her voice. ‘Be careful, though, my love. The Leofricson family is still very powerful and he has a number of strong friends, including Duke Gloucester. I wouldn’t want to see you deposed at Cumberland’s whim.’

‘Is this my wife’s advice or my chancellor’s?’ Hlothere teased.

‘As your chancellor I want you safe; as your wife I want you happy,’ Golbahar clarified. ‘You deserve both safety and happiness, and I don’t want to see you ruining either.’

‘Mummy! Daddy! Come look, I found a badger-sett!’

Hlothere laughed as he and his wife followed Ecgwynn up the mill-race.
 
Last edited:
S1Iverfox said:
Very good AAR, the best i've read. I like the personal take.

I am a little disappointed that the reigns are starting to get less detailed; although time is an inevitable restriction with a growing empire. I myself could read this for hours and would happily pay for it.

All in all wonderful stuff. Keep it up.

Thanks, S1Iverfox! I noticed that was becoming a problem when I was playing the game for really long stretches, like when I was playing as Aethelfrith, who only got two chapters as opposed to Maelwine the Good's five.

Hopefully the chapters will slow down now that I'm playing CK less often.
 
Safety and happiness. Sometimes one can aim too high.
 
Nice update indeed, I know it isn't easy to tell such detailed stories about all your rulers.
 
XV. The Most Loyal and Illustrious Family of Percy

eardulf1205.jpg


Arranging Ecgwynn’s marriage had not been easy for Hlothere King of England. He had already seen Uhtred married to Haeddewide Percy (she herself used the more modern spelling of Hawise) to make better ties with her father, his friend and distant relation Eardulf Percy, Earl Exeter, but he had not been satisfied with any of the suitors that had come for Ecgwynn’s hand. There was one, Tryggve of Languedoc, who had offered on four different occasions but had been refused each time. Hlothere wanted his daughter to stay in Essex, though it was Golbahar who wisely ended up securing her position there, by appointing her successor. Saelred Percy, son of Oshere Percy, would be both Chancellor to England and the husband of England’s first daughter.

selred1205.jpg
ecgwynn1205.jpg


Hlothere felt he owed a lot to the Percy family – they had stood fervently by him while others among his nobles balked at the Delacueva affair. Fernando Delacueva, like his father Fruela, had proven extraordinarily rebellious – he had declared independence twice and been allowed to rejoin the English kingdom after it became clear he could not fend for himself in lands still largely Saracen. After Fernando Delacueva declared independence the third time in the early months of 1202, Hlothere renewed his claims on the Earldoms of Yazd and Gorgan and declared war. Fernando Delacueva was defeated and executed, replaced in his title by Aubrey Abolhassan, henceforth Earl of Yazd. This cost him immensely in the eyes of many of his vassals (especially the other Delacuevas), who thought such heavy-handedness unbecoming a king famed for his fair-mindedness. It was lucky the Percys had been on hand to pick up the pieces and, in the case of Eardulf of Exeter, offer their alliance in defending his realm against further rebellion. He was reluctant to give his beloved daughter away to any man, but he felt Saelred, scion of this most loyal and illustrious family, to be the most worthy.

The wedding was to be held at the newly-constructed Palace in Thorney Island, which had been built near the site of the home of St. Eadweard III the Confessor. Much effort and ceremony had been put into the celebration – His Excellency the Bishop Svein of Westminster had come himself to bless the union, and relatives from all over had arrived. Wiglaf, Hlothere’s second son and heir by consanguine law, had been given leave by the monks at St. Peter’s to attend the ceremony. Uhtred and Haeddewide would be there to congratulate his younger sister, and they had invited Earl Exeter himself, along with his eleven other children. Eardulf’s first son, Eanfrith, had already taken a wife while his second, Cynewulf, had taken the tonsure. His second-eldest daughter, Ealhwyn (who went by the more modern-sounding Ela), had not yet married, which had surprised him, given her age of twenty. He’d seen the girl, and she was neither unskilled nor unattractive (she even had the high Percy nose), though she did have a free tongue and a fondness for drink which might be considered unbecoming.

The day came, and Hlothere found himself looking on with a mixture of pride and sadness as he saw his young daughter on Saelred Percy’s arm, taking her vows before Bishop Svein. He looked on, blinking back tears, holding his own wife’s hand tightly. On his other side stood Wiglaf, though his eyes were not on his sister and her groom. Only Oshere, the father of the groom, caught the look that passed between Wiglaf and Ealhwyn Percy, and realised its meaning. He said nothing, but realised grimly that his work as England’s spymaster would be cut out for him for the next couple of days.

Oshere took care to place himself well that night near the guest chamber where Ealhwyn should be sleeping, and also not to be seen by the visitor he knew for the young crown prince. It was not long before he had something to report – their wordless voices and the rhythmic straining of their bedstead spoke eloquently enough.

Hlothere was surprised the next morning to see Oshere marching before him his own son and Ealhwyn Percy. Both children looked quite shame-faced as Oshere began speaking, a tone of ironic amusement in his voice.

‘I don’t know what it is with your sons, your Grace, but they both seem to prefer sampling Percy women to the exclusion of other dishes. Perhaps you can tell your father, Wiglaf, just what you and Mistress Percy were about last night when you came by the guest chambers.’

Wiglaf bowed his head and began making his apologies. ‘I’m sorry, Father, I’m to blame…’

Ealhwyn shook her golden head at him. ‘Oh no, Wiglaf, don’t go taking all the credit. I seduced him, your Grace. I don’t pride myself on it, but I did it.’

Hlothere placed a hand on his forehead. ‘Oshere, you would be the cause of a headache so early. Well, I’d say you both have some explaining to do.’

Though it might be a source of embarrassment to Earl Exeter, Hlothere was quite glad of Ealhwyn’s forthrightness now. ‘Much as I adore her, I envied my sister, your Grace, on the day of her marriage to your elder son. I wanted to know what it was that she felt, so I approached Wiglaf. It went… a little farther than I’d originally planned, as you can tell. I trust you know that Wiglaf often left his studies to visit Rougemont. Well, those visits were not only to Father, but to me as well.’

‘Wiglaf?’

‘Ela speaks the truth, Father.’

Ealhwyn looked at the same time embarrassed and defiant and Wiglaf looked as though he wanted to slip through a crack in the floor. Hlothere was silent for a long time before he finally spoke. ‘Well, there’s no reason to wantonly ruin Mistress Percy’s reputation, especially now that we are so closely tied to her family. But that depends on you, my boy. How honourable are your intentions?’

‘I can’t abandon you now, Ela,’ Wiglaf told his mistress. ‘I will wed you.’

‘There, Mistress Percy, you’ve won the prize you sought. Oshere,’ Hlothere told his spymaster, ‘this is your kin we are discussing. Since company inevitably breeds gossip, I’m sure by now you’re not the only one who knows about this little tryst. Can I trust you to remedy this?’

‘It shall be done, your Grace.’

‘But be sure to tell Eardulf all, Oshere. He’s a man of gracious temper; I’m sure he won’t grudge his daughter this folly any more than I grudge it my son. And I do need his approval for this match.’

‘Your Grace.’ Oshere excused himself and went to meet his cousin.

Ealhwyn and Wiglaf still stood there, both relieved, if slightly dazed. ‘Well, be off!’ Hlothere shooed them off. ‘I’ve got your wedding to plan. Just got done with my daughter’s, you know, and it’s not as though I don’t have anything else to do around here!’

wiglaf1205.jpg
ela1205.jpg
 
Last edited:
Mmm, I'm getting some x's. That aside, quite an amusing scene.


Edit: the pictures are showing now.
 
Last edited:
I can see all the pictures

I am guessing that the first child of Wiglaf and Ela will be named:

Percy of Durham :)
 
Eh, on my first read over I thought I'd kept it pretty safely PG-13. But then maybe I've been watching too much James Bond or something. On my next AAR I'll try to do more explosions and chase scenes.

I was trying to draw some parallels between the Percys of my game and the Fujiwara clan of mediaeval Japan. The Fujiwaras held positions as the Japanese Emperor's sesshou (regent) and kan'paku (chancellor), as well as marrying their daughters into the imperial family for four hundred years between 644 and 1068. They were also not above intrigue and subterfuge to get into all the cushy offices, which is kind of what I was trying to convey with the Percys at both Rougemont and Westminster.

Basically, I found I had a whole bunch of Percy vassals and Percy courtiers and decided to go the Fujiwara route with all my kids.

More worrisome to me was how I was going to make the entire 'English melting pot' event believable when almost the entire island of Great Britain was under Saxon control. There was a language shift already happening within Old English before the Normans landed, so I decided I would take a traditional (Saxon) vs. modern (English) tack with it.
 
Veldmaarschalk said:
I am guessing that the first child of Wiglaf and Ela will be named:

Percy of Durham

/me grins

Henry, actually. I'm not sure there's a Percy in the character_names file, but if there were I'm sure that's what the name would be.

And Ela does have that Indulgent trait... it could happen yet.
 
Okay, I know I promised not to do any more composite maps, so I apologise in advance. However, every time you do one of these world overviews it kind of becomes necessary. Also, I wanted to try an experiment to see how a map comes out after having been edited in Illustrator.
 
XVI. Interlude

Saelred Percy came before his King and father-in-law in some disarray, his loyal wife Ecgwynn at his hand. He was exhausted, wounded and sore all over, but vindicated before the eyes of God and his Church. The slanderous, conniving bastard who had accused him before the clergy of black magic had paid for his sin by Saelred’s blade. Saelred thanked God and Hlothere that the King in his extraordinary fairness had insisted on trial by combat instead of a clerical trial – he had seen even in his short life many people done to death by accusations of witchery and other evils by the inquisitors, and he had not been satisfied that some of them had truly been guilty. He knew for a fact that he certainly was not.

‘Saelred! Good to see you whole after that ordeal!’

‘Thanks to your Grace’s justice,’ Saelred bowed. ‘I have come to deliver my report.’

‘Very well,’ Hlothere replied intently. Like all good negotiators, Hlothere was always eager to hear the news from the world about him.

‘Let us begin with your kingdom, your Grace. Your vassals are fully content with your rule, though your relationship with the Church, as you know, has been rather strained since you asserted your rights of investiture for the clergy. Aside from a typhoid outbreak in the Highlands and a famine in Kent, your people are healthy, well-fed and content.’

england1207.jpg


‘And Persia?’ asked the King. ‘What of my Persian holdings?’

‘The people all along the western border now uphold the Catholic faith,’ Saelred told him. ‘It is more of a problem in the east, where Islam still holds sway among the people. At least the popular rebellions have ceased, but all the same I would keep an eye on Duchess Sancha Delacueva of Shiraz. The actions your Grace undertook to end the rebellion of her younger cousin have caused her doubts as to the justice of your rule.

antonino1207.jpg


‘King Anthony of France has made deep incursions into Saracen Spain, penetrating as far down as Denia and even the Barbary Coast. He has made himself nearly as respected as yourself, your Grace. But France itself is far from united: there are numerous petty baronies, counties and dukedoms which do not swear fealty to King Anthony, and squabble amongst themselves for various pieces of France – Picardy, Brittany, Poitou, Orleans, to name but a few. Those parts of Spain not controlled by King Anthony are divided between the Emirs of Seville and Granada. Other than that, France’s greatest rival remains the Duke of Bourgogne.

france1207.jpg


‘The Holy Roman Empire no longer exists, having been torn between various duchies and bishoprics. The Archbishop of Germany, Gottfried, has been excommunicated by the Church for vile heresies, and the one most likely to be anointed Holy Roman Emperor remains Duke Hesso of Lower Lorraine.

hesso1207.jpg

lorraine1207.jpg


'The King of Bohemia’s power is waning in comparison with the Polish King’s – the rule of Wladislaw, the scion of Piast, extends from the southern Baltic coast in one broad swathe all the way to the Crimea.

wladislaw1207.jpg

The mighty King of Poland. Notice all the Count titles.

lothar1207.jpg


‘The Italian King Lothar holds sway over almost the entire central portion of the Middle Sea, from Genoa and Ravenna to Tripoli and Egypt along the African Coast, as well as several Crusader vassals in the Holy Land. The Normans of Sicily, on the other hand, have profited greatly from their wars with the Byzantines, and managed to capture the City itself. They reign over all of southern Italy and northern Greece all the way in to Constantinople. The Byzantines, by contrast, have suffered from fragmentation. The main conflict is no longer with the Sicilians, it is between the Serbian Patriarch-Emperor Gregory and Prince Zeno of Dorostotum.

grgur1207.jpg

The Emperor of Byzantium is also a Bishop. The Empire has been an actual theocracy for some time now, though not an extraordinarily successful one.

byzantium1207.jpg


‘Further north, Prince Koz’ma of Novgorod and Prince David of Smolensk remain at each others’ throats, though they currently appear to be at a truce. Both keep a wary eye on each other as well as on the mighty Poles.

‘The dreaded Seljuq Turks, in thanks largely to this last Crusade, have been pushed back into the mountains of central Persia. The Emir of Mosul is now the most powerful Saracen leader in the East, and even he is no match for the might of England, France or Italy.

‘Jerusalem remains in Seljuq hands, so there will undoubtedly be another war to bring the Holy City into the realm of God. Flanders controls Acre, however, and King Anthony Lebanon and Syria.’

holyland1207.jpg


‘I trust this report satisfies your Grace as to the well-being of his kingdom.’

‘Certainly,’ Hlothere nodded. ‘Good health to you, Saelred, and God be with you.’
 
Last edited: