Rome AARisen - a Byzantine AAR

[OutsiderSubtype]

I know this game has already been played, but if you can get the rest of North Africa and Italy plus southern Spain you will have matched the Empire's extent under Justinian. A thought which I'm sure crossed Manuel's mind as well . . .

[General_BT]

Three hours later...

“Rimini!” Basiliea sighed with relief as the Cardinal finally reached their meeting room. “I was worried! Where were you?!”

Rimini said nothing at first, instead laying all the paperwork for the coming meeting out on the table in front of them. The receipts went on the left, promissory notes on the right, letters of credential and credit in the middle…

“Indeed,” the morbidly obese Duke Godfrey snapped, his jowls quivering. “You have half of the paper trail that leads to us! Two hours late! My God man, what were you doing?”

“I met your grandson,” Rimini said, laying out the last of the papers. He turned to Basiliea and smiled. “He is a delightful boy – wanted me to read to him.”

“Read?” Basiliea automatically raised an eyebrow. For a moment, all thoughts as to why Rimini was late were forgotten. “Oh, you mean Niketas. Yes, he’s a very intelligent boy. I’m looking forward to the day he takes over the Imperial throne from…”

“No, I meant Basilieos,” Rimini corrected her, before taking his seat opposite the de Hautevilles. A cold draft blew in from the outside, rustling the papers. Unfortunately, the most secure room in the villa of Zeno Komnenos was also the most unpleasant to have a meeting – the glass that was supposed to cover the windows had not been installed yet, and to admit light and remove suspicion they had to leave the shutters open.

“That can’t be right – Basilieos hates reading. He won’t study any of the great works, just like he won’t spar. The boy is a dullard, maybe even stupid,” Basiliea sighed.

“He clearly isn’t a dull or stupid child,” Rimini interrupted her. Even he was surprised by how quickly he leapt to the boy’s defense “He was very keen to ask questions – ones that seemed quite pertinent and probing.”

“And what piece of the Bible did you have him read? Godfrey rolled his eyes.

“First Book of Strategikon, chapter one,” Rimini said wryly, running a hand through his hair until it was once again mustled and disordered. “He showed a deep interest in the deeds and actions of his grandfather, as well as any and all commentary I could provide. If I might suggest, Majesty, it seems he might want readers to comment and make things relevant to him.”

Basiliea looked at the Cardinal, then sat back in her chair. “Diplomat, now teacher. You are a remarkable man, it seems.”

Rimini bowed with a smile. “I only do the best I can with what God has given me.”

“Our stay here will shortly become longer – you shall see why as we talk. For that duration, if you wish, you can tutor both of my children,” Basiliea said. “You’ve apparently had success with Basilieos – more than any of the other tutors.”

“I would consider it a personal honor,” Rimini bowed and smiled. Clearly the young prince wasn’t dull or stupid like people said. For some reason, he simply wouldn’t, or couldn’t read. Rimini had already worked out a possible plan – people he could have come read and comment on relevant subjects. Halfdan the villa armsmaster on weaponry, Zenobios the apothecary for the local village on medicine…

“Well then, we’re all here, let us begin then!” Godfrey pronounced, heaving himself around in his fat armchair until he was comfortable. “So, how to stop the Synod!”

“The whole affair will begin with the Patriarch of Jerusalem,” Basiliea said. “I have word from him that several agents and priests will begin circulating rumors from the start of the second week of the Synod…”

“What types of rumors?” Godfrey asked.

“That the Synod’s purpose is to undermine Christendom by handing the Church to iconists. That the Emperor wishes to take control of the Church to make Church doctrine his personal playground,” she smiled thinly. “In short, that if the Synod goes ahead as planned, the souls of the Empire are in danger.”

Rimini made a sour face. “I doubt many will believe all of those claims.”

“Not many, but enough to form the kernel from which the mob will grow,” Basiliea said.

Rimini thought her smile looked utterly demonic in this light – yet hadn’t God’s salvation for the Hebrews been the vile Persians? The Cardinal nodded.

“As I was saying, the rumors will circulate, and our goal is for rioting to break out in Constantinople. The Patriarch of Jerusalem will use the chaos to suggest postponing the Synod, at once ending the threat of Imperial control of Christianity and seriously damaging the Emperor’s reputation.”

“Ah, a fine plan,” Rimini said in congratulations. Mentally, he noted that Basiliea seemed to have the same talent for plotting as her husband – something the Church needed to remember for all future dealings.

“That is not the end of it,” Basiliea’s smile grew darker and wider. “For you see, father, Cardinal, within three years I can seat a Norman King of Sicily, and place one of my sons on the Imperial throne, and end the threat of Manuel altogether.”

Rimini blinked, then looked at Godfrey.

“This is the part of the plan, dear Cardinal, that needs the Church’s financial backing,” the Duke wheezed.

“I thought that you were planning a revolt to take Apulia back?” Rimini asked quietly. Things were already awry.

“Why do simply that when Manuel will still be on the throne in Constantinople as a constant threat?” Godfrey asked. “Why not remove the source of the problem, as well as fixing one of its effects?”

Rimini couldn’t fault the logic. “What is this more – complex plan, then?”

“I await the details just as you,” Godfrey smiled, and all eyes turned on Basiliea.

“I have lined up numerous dynatoi to overthrow the Emperor. Oh, Cardinal, this emperor’s support is not as solid as you assume,” Basiliea smiled darkly at Rimini’s look of confusion. “Many of his own dynatoi feel his rule is oppressively harsh, his taxes too onerous, his will too absolute. He has kept them cowed by fear for over a decade – and fearful men can easily become dangerous men.”

“Who amongst the Greek nobility? Name names,” Godfrey pressed.

“Temporal or Ecclesiastical?” Rimini asked.

“A mixture of both,” Basiliea said quietly. “The displeasure of the Patriarch of Jerusalem is finding voice through his lackey the Metropolitan of Galilee, his personal friend. Now, Galilee isn’t the largest theme,” Basiliea slipped into using the Romanoi term, “as it has only two counties, but symbolically it is immensely important.”

“Excellent,” Godfrey smiled, “Are the Patriarch and the Metropolitan pliant to this second, bolder plan?”

“I’m sure they could be brought to our understanding,” Basiliea smiled thinly. “So long as Manuel rules, he will hold sway over Constantinople and Alexandria. If Manuel is deposed, old Patriarch Ioannis can die peacefully knowing that his colleagues are free to think their minds again.”

“’Go on,” Rimini urged.

“There are also many of the new dynatoi, who chafe at being constantly looked down upon by the old lords. She pulled a parchment from the large arm folds of her dress. “The following lords have agreed to be leaders in this coming rebellion:”

The Princes involved in the Great Plot

“The Prince of Samos comes from an old, ancient family, the Kaukadenids, who feel this current Emperor has slighted them and their esteemed position,” Basiliea narrated.

“What did your darling husband do to them?” Godfrey asked.

Basiliea shrugged. “Merely kidnapped one son and held him for hostage five years ago when he thought their loyalties were suspect. Prince Ignatios is an elder and respected statesman – he’s sixty-five. His son,” Basiliea spoke before her father could even ask his question, “is with us, should Ignatios succumb to old age. Now, the Kaukadenids would coordinate all the rebellions in Greece, Macedonia and Thrace. Next we have Prince John Tzetas of Kappadokia – “

“Didn’t Manuel raise that man to a princedom?” Rimini asked.

“Yes, and only two years ago, in fact,” Basiliea affirmed, “but Manuel also has not given him the financial support he needs to properly run his theme, then publicly lambasted him for neglecting his duties,” Basiliea’s mouth twisted in irony. “It doesn’t help that the Emperor blinded Prince John’s father when the man spoke out against the plans for the Synod.”

“And what would his role be? Anatolia?” Godfrey mused.

“Precisely. Next, Galilee would coordinate Palestine and Egypt, and – “

“The Metropolitan of Mesopotamia?” Rimini asked, confused. Papal intelligence said this large landholding clergyman was beholden to the Patriarch of Antioch…

“Yes. Patriarch Thomas isn’t as bold as Ioannis – yet I am hoping his lesser might be pried into our clutches. Metropolitan Demetrios has been vehemently against this Synod and the “meddlesome” nature of Emperor Manuel in Church affairs. The man has privately said he thinks the Emperor might be an agent of The Deciever.”

“Harsh words,” Godfrey understated. “And Demetrios would handle Armenia and Georgia?”

“Yes,” Basiliea nodded. “All told, I have been in communication with some eight princes and twelve comes regarding this matter – I do not count those like Mesopotamia who have yet to actually say they will join. The regional leaders will marshal an army each, with the goal of marching on and seizing Constantinople before the Emperor can return from campaign.” Basiliea then smiled crookedly. “All they may have to do is declare Basilieos and Niketas co-Emperors.”

“Your husband will surely fight,” Rimini laughed. Manuel Komnenos might have been a deceiver and charlatan, but he would certainly not back down when the throne was on the line.

“I have some other plans as well. For the sake of your eats, Cardinal, I will not speak of them,” Basiliea sad in a pristine voice. Rimini closed his eyes and uttered a prayer.

“Very well.”

“However, where I need both of you is something important here, in Italy,” Basiliea said solemnly, “It is critical that you keep young Robert from jumping in. The last thing we would need would be for the revolt to be seen as something ‘Norman instigated.’ That alone will turn the majority of the Greeks against us.”

“I have no doubt of that,” Rimini cleared his throat and replied. “From what I’ve gathered even in our short stay, the man is preoccupied with boyish and hedonistic pursuits. I have a concern of my own, however.”

Basiliea raised an eyebrow.

“Zeno Komnenos. We sit, plotting under his roof. Is he that disloyal to Manuel that he would let us dethrone his cousin?”

“Oh, he will be,” Basiliea smiled crookedly yet again.

“How?”

The smile became enormous and devilish. “I will merely tell him who killed his father.”

Rimini raised his own eyebrow, then nodded. Basiliea had shown herself to be a spider equal to Manuel, and the Cardinal trusted whatever she would tell Zeno would be sufficient. All the more reason, once this was over, for the Church to keep a close eye on her.

Basiliea had tried to woo Manuel – and failed. Now she was going to more overt ways to get the Norman throne in de Hauteville hands…

“When?” It was Godfrey’s turn to wonder.

“When the time is appropriate – one doesn’t idly toss such information around, one holds it close until the appropriate moment.”

“Spoken like a true Greek,” Godfrey chuckled. “Now, how do we pay for the whole damn thing?”

“I have a sizeable sum of my own to contribute to the effort,” Basiliea said.

“Add to this,” Rimini spoke up, “the Latin Princes of Europe are very concerned about the growing power of the Greeks. With their hold on Constantinople, the Levant, and Alexandria, they hold a complete stranglehold with trade to Cathay, India and the Orient. Greek merchants grow fat at the expense of traders all across the West. This, coupled with the success of His Holiness’ Second Holy Crusade means that certain Western Princes have expressed a keen interest in the curtailing of Greek power.”

“’Certain princes,’” Godfrey scoffed. “Speak their names man, you are amongst allies.”

“The Franks, for one,” Rimini said.

“Drogo?!” Godfrey laughed. “That man is mad as a bat! He sings to the moon, and my spies tell me he thinks his sons sprouted from watermelon seeds his wife ate!”

“I speak not of His Majesty,” Rimini’s drumbeat increased in tempo, “but the Regent, his son Hugh. Hugh Capet, if Your Grace will remember, recently had the titles of Count of Al Jazir and Oran added to his title, and like most of the North African Latins, he is wary of the growing influence of the Greeks from Carthage – especially now that the Synod is taking place.”

Both Godfrey and Basiliea hissed in a breath of air at the mere mention of the Holy Synod called by Patriarch Gennadius in Constantinople. To the Latins, the question posed by the Ecumenical Patriarch – whether a new, fully equal patriarchate needed to be seated in Greek Carthage with a See covering Mauretania, Tunisia, and Spain, was almost heretical. The Bishop of Rome, despite his position as First Among Equals, had not been invited to the Synod, and Innocent had already announced his plans to ignore its decisions.

“Count Hugh is afraid that the new Patriarchate, once approved – it will be approved, regardless of the Holy Father’s opposition unless our plan succeeds,” Rimini conceded, “will be a mere puppet of the Emperor in Constantinople, allowing him to manipulate church policy as he sees fit. An embarrassment now – “

The state of the Western Mediterranean in 1152. Almost all of Spain has been overrun by the four major Moorish states, the Sultanates of Al-Murabatid, Toledo and Seville, as well as the Emirate of Almeria. Meanwhile, the Second Crusade has resulted in a colony of Latin counties awkwardly sandwiched between the Romanoi and the Moorish Sultanate of Zenata.

“ – would save poor Hugh a load of trouble later,” Godfrey said. “The Patriarchate is a joke anyways. Almost all of Spain is under the rule of the Moors! North Africa is split between more Moors and Latins! What Greek lives there, outside of Tunis and Libya?”

Rimini sighed. “That is what has Hugh so concerned. The fear is that the setting up of a Greek Patriarchate might be the prelude to turning the whole region to the Greek rites…”

“And how many millions of missionaries would that take?” Godfrey laughed.

“Forty or Fifty Thousand in an army would suffice,” Basiliea said dryly.

Suddenly the implications finally hit Godfrey, and his face became grave. “That would be, um, sobering.” He had an itch, and heaved his grotesque body to one side to scratch. “Well, it is very dear of the Regent to say he wants us to trim the Emperor’s wings, but what has he offered –“

“130,000 florins,” Rimini said. Godfrey and Basiliea’s eyes went wide. Rimini allowed himself a smug look. The Romanoi were not the only ones capable of surprises – and in his secret letters, Godfrey had asked for as much financial support as possible. Rimini and Innocent had assumed that Godfrey would simply hire a sellsword army and invade southern Italy, and the Church had planned on keeping a large part of the sum in reserve for future endeavors. Now that Basiliea’s plan was explained, it was apparent that the whole sum would be needed. Several members of the Curia would be displeased, but Rimini had no doubt he could persuade them.

“That surely doesn’t come from Hugh being concerned,” Basiliea said quietly. The sum was vast – too vast. “What else does Hugh want?”

“Your spies likely are not aware of this,” Rimini smiled. It was extremely rare for Greek spies to be upstaged, especially those held in retainer by Basiliea. “Hugh has asked Papal permission to marry Lady Alise of Normandy.”

“What?” Basiliea asked, confused. “You’re right, none of my spies have caught onto that!” Rimini sat back and allowed his smile to grow – for the Greeks to miss the potential marriage of the heir of France to the only daughter and relation of the King of England was a monumental blunder, to say the least. Though, Rimini told himself, it wasn’t as if the Greeks weren’t busy.

“Alise and Hugh are related, are they not?” Godfrey asked, also confused. “Wasn’t Alise’s mother the sister of –“

“Robert, father of Drogo,” Rimini nodded in the affirmative. “The relations are close enough that such a union would need special papal dispensation. In His Holiness’ name, I… offered them a possible penance in return for the dispensation.”

Basiliea hissed in a breath of air. “The child of that union…”

“Would become King of France and King of England,” Rimini nodded. “In light of our unstable relationship with the King of the Romans, His Holiness has decided that a counterweight to Hermann would be – useful, to the needs of the Church,” Rimini smiled pleasantly.

Truth be told, a unified France and England would be more than a counterweight for the Western Emperor – the united Kingdoms would field as many troops without as many miscreant nobles. And as long as the Pope made it perfectly clear that rebellion against the new monarchy would be met with immediate excommunication or worse, Rimini had no doubt the nobility would peaceably follow the monarchy wherever it led.

“The King of the English has also sent support- some 15,000 florins,” Rimini added. “He wishes to see his Kingdom lay in strong hands, and his soul in good standing with God.”

For a second, silence hung in the room, before both Godfrey and Basiliea smiled thinly, even grimly.

“Impressive, Cardinal,” Godfrey grunted.

Rimini smiled and nodded in thanks, permitting himself a little pleasure in their discomfort. Just by revealing that, he’d reminded them of the true power of the Papacy – the ability to motivate the Western princes. And if they could be persuaded to turn over 145,000 florins, they could undoubtedly be persuaded to send soldiers…

“Well then,” Rimini cleared his throat, “let us move on to the dispensation of the funds…”

========== ==========

Parts of the Taranto villa as they stand today.

Three weeks later…

Basilieos fairly leapt out of his room once his lessons were done, and dashed through th villa. It wasn’t that he didn’t like lessons – now that he didn’t have to go through the torture of trying to read, things were far more interesting. The priest Kranke had arranged for tutors of all kinds to come in – merchants, philosophers, lawyers – but Basilieos always found the tales of the Megos, and all things martial, to be by far the most interesting. So interesting, in fact, that Basilieos in three weeks had gone through the entire Strategikon with his tutors. Twice.

Reading constantly of the Megos’ exploits had filled Basilieos’ head with heroic ideas and images. He could see himself on horseback at the desperate charge at Arbela. In the thick of the fight at Mount Tabor. Smashing through the Caliph’s ghulams at Nineveh. He wanted to be the Megos – to have the utterance of his name met with awed silence, and special hush reserved only for the dead that are so feared or loved that speaking their name might make them rise in spirit.

So, for the first time since his arrival in Taranto, Basilieos was off to the practice fields outside of the Komnenid villa. It was not a long walk through beautifully trimmed gardens, then cutting through a servant’s quarters to reach the armory. Behind that building lay a long stretch of grass – the place where the youths of the complex learned war, and their elders kept their skills sharp.

As the prince exited the armory, he squinted, and thought he could make out five figures on the field already. As he drew closer, he thought he saw two of the figures fighting, and heard a sharp yelp before their separated. Finally, when he was close enough to actually see them, he could hear their shouts. Basilieos had finally come to join them.

In his three weeks in Taranto, the prince had quickly made a few friends, who formed a close-knit group. The small gang even had a nickname – “Wolves.” The name hadn’t been of their own choosing – it’d come from an irate kitchen maid who caught them making off with sweet pudding she was fixing for a meal.

There was first of all Niketas – young, wide-eyed and hopefully of all things in the world. His smile at seeing his brother on the practice field for the first time in months could have been seen in Greece. He followed his brother wherever he went, it seemed.

Then there was Rodrigo Jimenez. His father had been some notable in the now defunct Kingdom of Castille – another one of the Spanish kingdoms that had fallen under the Moorish boot in recent years. Like many of the Spanish Christian nobility, the Jimenez’s had fled – in Rodrigo’s case, to the hospitality of Bohemond of Sicily. Now, they stayed on as permanent guests of Robert.

Rodrigo, ten, was tall for his age, thin, and already had the seemingly perpetual tan that his father and most of the other Spaniards had in the eyes of the Greeks. In the three weeks they had been in Taranto so far, Rodrigo had easily become, after Niketas, Basilieos’ best friend. The two were inseperable – save, until today, on the practice field.

The third was yet another orphan from home. Bernard von Baden was the six year old son of a miscreant German princeling who aroused the ire of the mighty Arpads. Chased from hearth and home, they too had settled down in Taranto as expatriates – some three generations of von Badens. All had served with distinction, and Bernard’s father had been wounded at Cannae. The smallish, exciteable boy was far more Italian than German, and like many after the Romanoi conquest of southern Italy, they had turned to the Greek rites.

Also standing in the field was the oldest of the small motley crew. Twelve year old Alexandros Thrakesios was the son of Romanos Thrakesios. Long before, the family had seen its zenith in Romanoi politics, when Alexandros’ grandfather served as Kaisar to the Megos. Now landless, the various branches of the family had scattered to the four winds. Alexandros’ father had finally ended up in Taranto to avoid the hand of Manuel Komnenos, only to have the Emperor inadvertently come to him. Romanos Thrakesios had not been seen in three years.

The final figure on the field was the weaponsmaster at the villa. He was a short Varangian named Halfdan Crovan. Basilieos always thought the man half crazed – he was only inches taller than the seven year old and well into his fourth decade, yet he incessantly challenged anyone and everyone who looked at him slightly sideways to a fight. He even let them pick whether the fight would be with weapons or bare fisted. To the Prince’s knowledge, Halfdan the Beast had never lost a contest.

“Aye, is that young Basilieos yonder come?” the Varangian asked in his strange mix of archaic Greek and northern accent. Niketas for his part merely turned and beamed.

A wooden practice sword as would have been used by Basilieos and his comrades in the 12th century.

“Brother! You’re going to spar?” he asked his older sibling.

“Yes,” Basilieos said, his face solid as stone. “A sword, Master Halfdan?”

“You’ve missed all the sparring practices we’ve had together,” Alexandros smirked. “You’ll swing your sword like a girl!”

The Varangian looked the boy up and down, and laughed. The noise sounded like baying hound. “You want to spar? Aye, ‘tis foolish this one is! I have seen ye not on these grounds with blade!”

“I will catch up quickly,” Basilieos said grimly, before glaring at Alexandros. If he wanted to be like the Megos, he would have to learn the blade. And he would learn the blade. And if Basilieos had his way, the first to feel the kiss of his wooden practice sword would be Alexandros.

“You needn’t catch up much, Alexander has the skill of a wet hen!” Rodrigo laughed, causing Alexandros’ face to turn red. Basilieos admitted to himself there was no way he would score a hit on Rodrigo, at least not today – the boy was too quick. Soon enough, however.

“He’s good enough,” Bernard complained, rubbing one of his shoulders covered in padded leather armor. Basilieos guessed the yelp he heard as he was walking to the field was Bernard.

“It doesn’t matter,” Alexandros grumbled. “I’m better than Basilieos!”

“No your not!” Niketas absurdly rose to his brother’s defense, as five year olds are prone to do.

“Would you like to test that?” the prince said darkly, his nostrils flaring. Basilieos felt his heart racing – he was angry now. He was a descendant of the Megos, the great leader that Rimini constantly told him of! The man who commanded Alexandros’ grandfather!

“Lad, ‘tis time for play, but now ‘tis time for practice,” Halfdan scolded.

“A sword,” Basilieos held his arm out to the armsmaster.

“Lad, it’d be foolish – “

“I am Basilieos Komnenos, and you will hand me a sword!” the prince barked. He’d show Alexandros – he’d show all of them!

“You might want some of the leather too?” Rodrigo offered. Quickly, the boy had his leather vest off and proffered it to the prince. “Here, use mine.”

Basilieos nodded, and donned the vest, glaring the whole time at Alexandros. As Halfdan grumbled and complained about thick-headed royal princes, Basilieos eyed Alexandros, looked him up and down. He looked nervous, despite having five years and perhaps thirty pounds on the prince. Basilieos didn’t know much about swordplay, but he recognized fear.

It made him smile.

Finally, Halfdan gave him a wooden blade and, cussing at Basilieos’ stupidity, backed off to let the boys settle their affair of pride.

There was a sharp crack as the wooden blades met. Alexandros immediately went on the offensive, swinging hard and fast while Basilieos parried every strike. Quickly the prince felt the bigger boy’s strength telling on him with each block – there was no way the uneven exchange could continue. As Alexandros swung down for his next blow, Basilieos tried to duck under and lunge forward – but clumsily got his feet tangled. He felt a sharp smack and pain shot through his shoulder.

“Point for me,” Alexandros said simply, before extending a hand to the prince now ignominiously laying in the dirt.

Basilieos groaned for a second – there would definitely be a bruise on that shoulder tomorrow, padded leather or no – but he refused his friends hand. Instead, he clambered back to his feet, his eyes dark and cold.

“Again,” he said with deadpan simplicity.

Basilieos Komenos resolved to himself that he would no rest, day or night, until he could best Halfdan Crovan. Then he would train until he bested his uncle Demetrios. And then he would train more. He would, with the priest’s help, learn all about the Megos’ tactics, strategies and plans.

God willing, Basilieos thought, Romanion would soon see Demetrios Megos reborn…

========== ==========

Whew! What an update! Basiliea has a complicated plan to take down the Emperor, well into its advanced stages, while Basilieos has become obsessed with becoming the next Demetrios Megos despite his illness and lack of skill. Has Manuel met his match in deviousness? What will happen next? Find out next update in Rome AARisen!

[canonized]

Wow , a hefty but amazing chapter . The plotting was both intense and politically apt . The density of your intrigue has grown according with the story and as romanion has grown to epic proportions so has your dialogue . Well done .

XD and how in the world did Rodrigo get there ! That handsome young fellow must have been playing with the wrong toys again ! I'm excited to see where that leads XD

[Fulcrumvale]

The empress’s rebellions are dangerously scattered, and none of them are all that close to Konstantinopilos, so she runs the risk of defeat in detail, and probable defeat…notwithstanding her unstated “other plans.”

I wonder if the emperors obsession with Mirthradium might soon come into play again?

[Sled Dog]

Halfdan Crovan eh? You can't keep a good character down I guess.

[Woody Man]

Good to see Basilieos's future looking alot brighter, perhaps he will be the noble scion that Romanion needs..

[Lord Valentine]

A truly magnificent update, both in length and quality!
I am somewhat sceptical about the prospects of empress’s rising. Considering the huge size of the Empire and the strength of the imperial tagmata half a dozen spread out and disgruntled dynatoi are probably not sufficent enougth to dethrone Manuel. For this a dagger in the back (or perhaps poison, now that would be ironic ) would probably be a more secure and effectiv way of getting Manuel out of the way.

Also I am curious to see how Zeno will take the news about the true circumstances of his fathers death. Perhaps he will come to the conclusion, that the throne should be his.

~Lord Valentine~

[Cyreidel]

One again, an incredible update.

I hope the next chapter will be the time when the plot will take place.

Also..



Who is that actress, and is that from a show?

[Enewald]

I just love the story!

I think they are the Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn from the Tudors... I don't remember their real names....
And there was the cardinal Wolsey, too.

[Woody Man]

One again, an incredible update.

I hope the next chapter will be the time when the plot will take place.

Also..



Who is that actress, and is that from a show?

Yeah what a pic! I've seen her not too long ago in the cute female thread

[Alfred Packer]

That Halfdan character: what a keeper!

But seriously, great update - as usual - the intrigue and character development continue to amaze me.

[VILenin]

A lot to talk about! Here we go:

Basileios reveals some unexpected steel in his personality. If he can keep it he could be a formidable Emperor one day.

Basileia, for all of her cunning and intrigues, seems fundamentally small-minded. Her mind's fixed on the throne of Naples and securing it for a Norman king and all the while she sits next to the mightiest throne in christendom! If she looked more the the future her children could rule the Roman Empire and, by extension, make Norman scions the most powerful men in the world. And I find it hard to believe that Manuel will be caught completely off guard. This plot's far too elaborate and has too many parties to be kept a total secret. The Emperor, after all, is sure to have many ears.

Rimini shows some more of his devious side; upstaging the byzantine spy network is indeed no small feat! He should take care, however, to see that he isn't caught in the web he's weaving. If this coup turns sour the Pope might need someone to fall on their sword, as it were, to avoid Imperial wrath.

Lastly, Drogo wouldn't happen to have a son named Frodo, would he? Frodo Baggins, king of England and France and ring-bearer.

[General_BT]

I think that came close to the longest update I've ever done for this AAR. The next one won't be nearly as long, needless to say. The week after next is Spring Break, which I'm going to be spending a good portion of writing my dissertation proposal. (Oh joy! ) However, what time I have will go to updating things as well... perhaps three or four updates in the next two weeks!

I'll also give brownie points to whoever can tell me the two "disabilities" that Basilieos has. They're subtly written in right now, but will be a constant feature as he grows and develops. (Canonized, you can't guess. You already know one! =p)

And onto some replies:

VILenin - Basilieos does have alot of steel in his personality - when he wants something, he'll get it. Some people just have that kind of iron resolve to see their will done. Then again, he's seven - most seven year old try to act like that to get their way, so we'll have to see if the trait remains.

Basiliea's planning approach, now that you mention it, is a little narrow-minded. Perhaps its her "provincial" upbringing (in the eyes of the Byzantines) coming back to haunt her?

The Papacy has always had(and arguably to this day through papal nuncios) one of the widest potential intelligence networks in the world. Rimini has used this to his full advantage. Though there's at least one sign he might not fully trust Basiliea's planning - hence his keen interest in the boy that, as of right now, looks to be the next emperor...

Alfred Packer - Halfdan will be making a couple appearances in the future. I loved Halfdan from your AAR, so I decided an appearance here could be the best homage I could pay. (Incidentally for those who have not read Alfred Packer's Adventures of the Crovan Clan, I would highly recommend taking a look - its ridiculously witty and funny, not to mention all the Crovans seem to find the most interesting ways to depart this Earth. No simple death in battle or lying in bed from sickness for them! )

English Patriot - Its Natalie Dormer, and yes, she's Anne Boleyn in the HBO series The Tudors. Incidentally, the pic I use for Manuel is of Henry VIII from the same series, played by Jonathan Rhys-Meyers. As for Basilieos, we'll see... he is receiving an intense education from Latins, so it will all depend on how much Western thought leaks into him and how the other Byzantines react...

Enewald - Yup. I always imagined Rimini as a more neurotic version of Wolsey from the miniseries - always drumming his fingers or running his hands through his hair.

Cyreidel - Yes, next update is the start of when the plot begins to unfold. I wanted to get to that point, hence this update being so long...

Lord Valentine - Remember, those four lords are the direct minions of Basiliea - they're job is to coordinate other dynatoi. Next update I'll have a map up that gives a better idea of what Manuel is facing - let's just say its not a few scattered lords. Its a full scale rebellion. This is, of course, assume whatever Basiliea's backup plan is fails to remove Manuel as a threat...

As for Zeno, we shall see. He's already shown himself the type to sit on the sidelines and wait things out, if he finds out what happened to his father, we'll see a true test of that patience.

Sled Dog - Most certainly not!

Fulcrumvale - Actually both Samos and Kappadokia are remarkably close to Konstantinopolis - at least, they're far closer than the Emperor currently is. Also, I'm surprised you didn't notice Bernard von Baden... he's patterned (or will be patterned, his appearance here was brief) after another AAR character... I don't know which one... (A History of Baden, incidentally, another really great AAR I would highly recommend! )

canonized - Thank you once again for your kind words. And I'm not sure how Rodrigo showed up... I thought he was told not to screw around with the Timepieces...

(Timelines: What if Spain had Failed to Control the World? - an excellent AAR that is a culture and institution unto itself! )

[VILenin]

Given Basileios' struggle with reading I would have to guess that one disability would be dislexia (sp?). Not sure about the other, atm.

[Enewald]

He can't read and he get's anything he wants... selfish... stupid... misguided warrior... arbitary... cruel... vengeful... fanatical priest (maybe soon?)... and something else...

A ruler only needs to be feared, and he is a good ruler.

[Nikolai]

He's probably a stutter for one?

[Scotticus]

he seems a bit slow and vengeful

[VILenin]

Are you asking for game traits or possible medical disabilities? Just checking because it seems that I thought one and everybody else is thinking the other.

[General_BT]

Well, I was originally asking medical things as thats what I've written in, but I'll take guesses at future in game traits as well. A couple listed have been correct, but I won't tell you which in game traits are right.

As for the medical ones - yes, dyslexia is one of them. (+1 brownies for VILenin) It came from me wondering how someone that is expected to read and be literate and articulate in the Middle Ages would deal with it. Basilieos' method so far has been to order people to read to him, but it remains to be seen what will happen when he is expected to read something immediately, like reports, orders, or messages.

No one has made a guess at the other one yet though...

Brownie Count:

VILenin - 1

[VILenin]

Brownie Count:

VILenin - 1

Woohoo!

It could indeed be problematic, though perhaps the stigma moreso than the actual affliction. No one's going to have any conception of dyslexia or other such mental handicaps; instead they'll just think he's dumb (like his mother)or, worse, cursed by God.