Rome AARisen - a Byzantine AAR

Leviathan07 - Amen! And in all fairness to Anastasia, she has been roundly misused, first by fate/politics (Gabriel helping Altani kill her first husband and only love), then by simple politics (her brother sending her up the river in a bid to get unrivaled power).

Alan deLane - I'm not sure many of those people would even qualify as "friends." And yes, following the alternate chronology, Andronikos is Andronikos I, so he's not the Andronikos II alluded to earlier. Doesn't mean that later historians simply got their foulup emperors wrong, or that Andronikos II's foulups were so great they overshadowed the groundwork of failure laid by Andronikos I...

Fulcrumvale - Love him or hate him, Albrecht's arguably the one person that's held the Empire in some semblance of togetherness in the post-Mongol world. Even if Gottfried hadn't been a traitor, even if Anastasia didn't hate him, Albrecht is 65. It's unlike the von Frankens had another bullet in the chamber like him. With his death, a true era in Imperial history will close...

cezar87 - If Konstantinos died in a way that had a hint of mystery, it's probable many would assume foul play... and that could lead to trouble... Besides, the smirking, smarmy Hospitaller is fun for everyone! Well, if you name isn't Albrecht at least.

Plushie - The problem would devolve to the children. We haven't been introduced to Konstantino's children yet, so their inheritance is a big question mark...

asd21593 - An Eleutheroi reference?

Tommy4ever - Oh, the Orthodox/Papal negotiations will definitely be more interesting than last time, considering the Papacy has been stuck in exile for almost 70 years. I don't think you'll see the East fawning like they did IRL in the 15th century...

Enewald - Greed doesn't rule in the imagination, a city without the plagues of real life. The Empire is vast, and the larger it gets, the more powerful nobles are needed to run its far flung dominions. And the more powerful these viceroys become, the more they covet power unto themselves...

FlyingDutchie - How far we've come, that none of the names thrown out were Emperors at all. Shows how far the office of Megoskyriomachos has come, and how indispensable it is...

Vesimir - Byzantine in Bohemia? Andronikos' friendship with Gabriel would probably last however long it was until the boy found out Gabriel's role in his father's death. Then things would get... interesting...

Nehekhara - I'd probably think Andronikos was a little creepy if I ran into him in real life. Little kids shouldn't be that self-controlled (even when they really WANT to be little kids on the inside)... its definitely alot of mental stress for someone that young...

Servius Magnus - If he gets to his majority unscatched. The Empire has a bad history with child emperors being shuffled to the side...

RGB - If Albrecht's a Bene Gesserit Mother, does that make Andronikos the father of the Kwitsach Haderach? And are there suddenly time machines in the AAR once again as we've already had a Kwitzach Haderach? Are the Aionites Fremen? More references to Dune when RA continues?

Nikolai - We definitely have a vote in favor of Safiya!

Alrighty, next update is motoring along...hopefully it'll be finished by Monday if not sooner. We'll see!

Vesimir said:

4th picture from the top. Small spot of purple under Silesia.

Click to expand...

Aha! Yeah, in game there were random inheritances like that... Alexios becoming Prince of Vitebsk, and a later Emperor suddenly inheriting part of Wales because of some convoluted distant cousin dying... in the AAR, I tend to ignore those.

canonized - I have no doubt that my attempts to translate into Greek are boorish at best, and more than likely truly horrible. Nonetheless, it adds to the atmosphere, which is what I'm going for!

Kirsch27 - Eudoxios is rather weak--he has Constantine and the former crusader lands, that's it. Safiya might stall Nikky the Only and Gabriel from coming East, but it'd also mean they'd get their hands in the Imperial pie once more...



June 8th 1261

Andronikos couldn’t help but close his eyes as his fingers fluttered over just the right strings, each note hanging like a haunting specter in the air of yet another alcove of the great Kosmodion Palace. Andronikos thought his cousin Thomas had been a fool, but the man had an excellent ear for acoustics—and the marbled walls and soaring ceiling were perfect for Andronikos’ minor key rendering of The Lady of Blue Sleeves.

He opened his eyes momentarily and smiled, looking to his left. Of course it helped when one had accompaniment. As the 16 year old Cecilia de Normandie’s own hands deftly strummed Andronikos’ guitar, the Emperor couldn’t help but smile, feel happy. Yes there were council meetings, yes there were practice sessions, Master Bacon’s tutoring, but now, this moment, he felt alone with his music.

Despite what his mother said had happened, and despite what it meant..

And despite her—the lady he wrote this song for, even if she didn’t know it.


As the final notes of the short piece died in the air, she laughed, a noise that made Andronikos’ heart skip a beat, even has his eyes drifted sadly towards one of the hundreds of giant windows that graced this corridor of the monstrous palace.

“That’s a wonderful song, Andie,” she said, setting her guitar down. “What gave you the idea?” Andronikos didn’t look over, he knew her hopeful look would change to one of worry once she saw his sad face. “What’s wrong?” she asked, on cue.

“I…” he started to say, his emotions trying to find a way to speak what needed to be spoken, before his political mind, that beast that’d been ingrained into his head since he could talk, could interrupt. The former took too long, the latter took over the conversation. “My mother had some sad news today—the German ambassador has been sent out of the city.”

“Lord von Hipper was a rather dour fellow,” Cecilia said quietly, “I don’t see why his departure has you down so.”

“Mother was trying to arrange an alliance with the Germans,” Andronikos set his lute down across his lap. “She says it’d gain us southern France, which would mean we could save your father more quickly.” The Emperor sighed. “But my stepfather…”

“…wretch that he is…” Cecilia snapped—de Normandie had made her opinion of the illustrious Albrecht von Franken loud and clear on many an occasion, an opinion shared by many of the dynatoi now that their scutage had increased. Andronikos merely nodded before going on.

“…says that an alliance with the Germans is risky. He’s already consented to Konstantinos of Italy becoming Sebastokrator and allowed his son to marry the German Emperor’s daughter. He doesn’t want a full alliance to boot…” The Emperor lazily plucked the bass string, and frowned. It was slightly out of tune. “So he sent the ambassador packing to Ikonion—some business about the Prince wanting to set up trade relations or other…” Andronikos muttered, hands already deftly adjusting the errant string. It was a needed distraction.

“Ikonion? Isn’t Ioannis there now?” Cecilia asked.

Andronikos nodded. “I arranged for it,” Andronikos smiled quietly.


Like all sons of the dynatoi, at 16 Ioannis Angelos had joined the Hetaratoi tagma, long the personal bodyguards of the Emperor and a training ground for men who would one day become the future chillarchoi and strategoi of the Roman army. However, on his posting, Ioannis had not received a formal commission with the regiment in Konstantinopolis, like normal—but instead as an officer “Outside the City.” The Emperor knew his stepfather regarded Ioannis Angelos as a bad influence—that was the only possible explanation for the strange deployment—so Andronikos had asked the Megos Domestikos to arrange for Ioannis to at least get posted as a liaison to his father’s thematakoi. Megos Domestikos Romanos was easy to persuade—Ioannis was a pair of eyes both the Angelid domestikoi and the imperial strategoi felt was trustworthy enough to be a go-between. For Andronikos, there was merely the added benefit that if Ioannis was in Ikonion, at least he wouldn’t be far from his family, and Andronikos could arrange to communicate with him via letters, and other means, just in case the Regent decided he didn’t want the boys communicating at all.

“Why is the German alliance so important?” Cecilia ambled over and sat next to the younger Emperor. Andronikos felt his face heat, and he looked down to avoid staring at the cleavage that peaked out of her clothes.

“Ah, um,” Andronikos bumbled out of embarassment. It wasn’t because of the thoughts in his head when he saw her, for once. He swore she knew how he thought about her, and wore these damned dresses that revealed just the barest amount to get his attention without attracting the attention of anyone else. Instead, it was wholly, entirely because of her question.

“How to put it…” Andronikos said quietly to himself, before looking at her again. The blunt, political mind once again provided the answer. “Lord Albrecht has already told my mother he wants me to marry Safiya Komnenos of Baghdad…”

“But she’s a whore’s daughter!” Cecilia immediately erupted, shooting to her feet. “What… what is he thinking?! Is he an idiot? Has he lost his mind in his age?!”

“He says it will keep the peace in the East…”

“And sully your status!” Cecilia rumbled on. “You’ll go from Emperor of the Known World to Husband of the Whore’s Daughter!” She crossed her arms as they trembled in her fury. “I… it’s insulting! To you!” she added quickly, “To your station!”


“Mother claims that my stepfather’s entire purpose is to sully my office so he can keep power,” Andronikos nodded, still not looking up. When he’d heard the plans, he’d reacted almost the same way, but not out of the blemish such an arrangement would have caused to the office of Megas Komnenos…

“Does that man think he’s the Emperor?!” Cecilia snarled, “It’s not right that a German rules the Empire!” said the girl whose father was pure Latin and whose mother was pure Roman. “I…” she growled, before her anger finally reached its limit and her voice descended into a series of sputters, then a sigh. She uncrossed her arms, and sat down. “So what was the purpose of the German alliance?” Cecilia asked again, her voice calmer after the moment’s break.

“To secure our German frontiers. Then…” Andronikos felt the bench creak, as she slid closer. He dared not look over. “…the Germans would guarantee us southern France, which we could use as a staging ground in Spain. To stiffen the resolve of people still fighting…”

“Like my father?” Cecilia asked.

“…mother wanted me to marry someone else…” Andronikos felt his face flushing again. He knew she saw it. He knew she was probably smirking at it. The thought of her dimples made his face flush even more.

“Who?” she gently pressed.

Finally, the 14 year old looked up. She wasn’t grinning at his embarrassment, her blue eyes were wide, frank, hopefully. A confused jumble of words hung on Andronikos’ tongue for a moment, before finally he went with simplicity—if only because it was all his mind could muster before those sapphire eyes.

“You.”

For a moment the air stood still, and Andronikos held his breath. She blinked, her face still holding that look of frank curiosity, before suddenly her eyes went wide. Out of the corner of his eye, the Emperor saw one of her fingers silently curl towards her chest.

“Um… yes,” Andronikos stumbled, before a nervous torrent flooded out of his mouth. “Mother says that marrying you would ally the throne with the Latins of Spain, and I agree, and that we both getalongsowellthatitmakessimplesense…”

The rest of his words disappeared in a mumble as her hands grabbed his head and yanked his lips to hers. Surprise, confusion rushed through his brain in that moment, and just as he relaxed, just as he realized how much he enjoyed the kiss, she suddenly broke away. By her face, she was just as surprised, happy, and confused as he.

“I…um…” he stammered for a moment. “I apologize, that was not proper for an Emperor, I should have been a gentleman and…”

She blinked, then cocked her head to the side, a huge, warm smile lighting up her face. A finger came over his lips, shushing him.

“Andronikos,” she shook her head slightly, before sighing. “I suppose this means we need to stop your stepfather!” she added, beaming.

“I…um…” Andronikos blinked, emotions running wild in his mind before his political instincts came back, bringing those errant dreams back to earth with a crash. He looked down, darkness rushing through his mind—he’d tasted euphoria, freedom, and now there was a clear glass between him and Cecilia, as if fate wanted to torture him with a touch, a smell, before ripping what he wanted away.

“How?” he mustered, partly to her, mostly to himself. “My stepfather has the Church wrapped around his little finger, and the dynatoi are either afraid of him or have been bribed by him! How…”

“The army?” Cecilia offered. Andronikos looked back up. Those blue eyes stared back at his own.

“How?” he shrugged. “I’m fourteen! The Megos Domestikos says I have a talent, but I’ve never participated in any wargames even! Master Diogenes still calls me an idiot at swordplay, and…”

“I remember someone telling me once that wars aren’t won on battlefields alone…” Cecilia arched one of her eyebrows, a grin slowly spreading across her face.

“I did say that during that fight with Ioannis,” Andronikos grinned sheepishly, before flashing his eyes wide.

Of course!

“An idea?” Cecilia asked. Her head cocked to the side, eyes questioning.

“An idea for us,” Andronikos nodded, smiling.

He had no idea his smile was deadly beyond his years...


October 19th, 1261

Albrecht von Franken, too, had a reason to admire his nephew’s life’s work.

For all its architectural garishness, the Kosmodion Palace was masterfully designed—through the Halls of State, as this wing was called, if one knew where to stand, one could hear nearly every whisper said in the great open central hall—or stand in a side alcove and have a conversation in complete privacy with others only ten feet away.

Today, however, was not a day for such idle secrecy. As his footfalls echoed like some thundering giant through the halls, Albrecht’s mind was focused, ready for the trial to come. He never relished meeting with the Council of Generals, but it was a necessary duty, something that had to be done to ensure the stability of his Regency, and the Empire as a whole.

The Empire had simply grown too large, too convoluted to have a single Council of State for anything but ceremonial occasions. Instead as Regent, Albrecht met independently with a Council of the Clergy, with representatives of the eight Patriarchs who still lauded him as their savior from Gabriel, a Council of Nobles—representatives of all the dynatoi, a mass body far too large and rowdy to accomplish anything, and then this—the final body of state.

The Council of Strategoi.

Unlike the clergy, the army had always regarded Albrecht with indifference at best. Unlike the dynatoi, the Imperial Army had decided to send either its seniormost commanders, or their representatives, to meet with the Regent on a weekly basis, ensuring that the body had far more coherence of purpose than Albrecht would have liked.

Namely opposition to Albrecht’s policies, chiefly in Spain.

Albrecht, keeper of coin and survivor of no less than three civil wars knew better than anyone how straining and taxing a war could be on the coffers and stability of the Empire. So where the army wanted to lunge immediately for Spain, Albrecht saw alternate means to reunifying the region. First, bribing, not attacking, the Exarchate of Africa. Eudoxios’ price was far cheaper than the cost of an army to seize his territory. Then, diplomatically convince France to apply pressure on northern Spain—threaten an invasion, no more. The prospect would at least cause dissention in Segeo’s ranks, if not outright rebellion. Then send a smaller army to restore order.

The plan was not without its critics—some in the army felt it too slow, many felt it stinging that they should negotiate with Eudoxios de Toulouse instead of squash him like a bug. Albrecht’s reluctant wife was negotiating whole heartedly with the Germans, enemies of France, in one of her shortsighted schemes. The mess was tiring, and often Albrecht wished he could ignore the mess and govern without them.

So the Regent had to resist the urge to glower at the gathered notables before him as he strode into the room. As one the only body in the state not under his full persuasion and power rose, some questioning, some defiant, few friendly. Most had been friends in the past—Adrianos Komnenos, Prince of Edessa and Hyperdomestikos ton Syriatikon had been a decade-long ally. Some worked with Albrecht out of convenience—Protodomestikos Tatikios was a friend of Adrianos’ late son, as was the Vestarches Domestikos ton Transpontikon, one Isaakios Bataczes. Some had grown politically neutral—Simon Angelos, Prince of Ikonion and Pandomestikos ton Anatolikos was one, as were the Hyperdomestikoi of the Balkans and Egypt. Only Konstantinos Komnenos, fresh from his son’s wedding to the niece of the German Emperor and newly minted Sebastokrator of Italy seemed firmly in Albrecht’s camp.


And, Albrecht assumed, his stepson, seated opposite him on that long table, quiet, still, like he always was during every council meeting he was at observing—observe was all he was supposed to do, until he came of age.

“Gentlemen,” Albrecht nodded to the gathered mass of silk and cloth that outshone the glow from the stained-glass windows. As one, chairs rumbled as the assembled body took their seats. Immediately, cups filled with spice wine, water, or grappa appeared near each man, as well as small plates of fruits and bread as servants bustled in and out of the room.

“We have before us today the business of the disturbances in the West,” the Regent continued, using the official term for Segeo’s outright rebellion and the debacle that had ensued. “I have a letter from my representative in Algiers,” Albrecht held the note aloft, “stating that negotiations with Eudoxios continue, and that the Exarchos has relented on his request to be named Rigas of Africa, and that the title of Sebastokrator will suffice. He also says…”

“Excellency,” a voice spoke up.

Albrecht glared across the table at the Prince of Ikonion.

“There is a letter amongst the small pile before you,” the Prince said, as a servant deftly brought the item to the front, “that comes from my court. From the hand of the German ambassador. As I have yet to return home since the celebrations of Konstantinos’ son’s marriage,” the Prince looked at his compatriot momentarily, before returning to Albrecht with a grin, “I would hope you would read it, as it likely has some updates on my court.”

Albrecht frowned. Simon Angelos was always making pointless requests like that during these meetings—von Franken was sure it gave the Prince some manner of perverse pleasure in using this one moment to treat the Regent as a secretary.

“Very well,” von Franken sighed, reaching for the note and ripping it open. “Letter, from the German ambassador Lord von Hipper. Majesty,” von Franken started to read, “It is my deepest honor to…” the Megoskyriomachos paused. He couldn’t be reading that right! The Megoskyriomachos’ eyes flashed to the bottom of the document—it bore a copied seal that mimicked the imperial seal in Konstantinopolis, which meant…

“…his honor to what?” the aged Adrianos Komnenos complained. The elderly Prince of Edessa rapped his gnarled knuckles on the table in annoyance.


“…to, accept the offer of alliance extended by Your Majesty’s Government on the behalf of Emperor Bela, Third of That Name, King of Germany…” Albrecht’s voice died slightly, as he handed the paper to Adrianos next to him.

Albrecht heard the paper crinkle as the Prince of Edessa grabbed the parchment, and the remaining words slid through Albrecht’s stunned mind. The Megoskyriomachos’ paid hardly any attention as mentions were made of two of the major lords of the south of France pleading for vassalage from Konstantinopolis, their immediate security assured by the threat of German armies, or even the German Emperor’s offer of 5,000 men to be assembled at Nice and placed under his Eastern cousin’s command.

As several ignoble whoops went around the table as the strategoi reacted to the sudden good news, Albrecht frowned, his mind wrestling with something they no doubt cared little about. How could it have happened? His agents were sure! Even Eleutherios was involved! He’d intercepted all of those couriers between Anastasia and von Hipper and made sure they and their damnable notes disappeared! How did the negotiations take place!? How did someone stamp a proposal bearing the Emperor’s seal and send it to Ikonion? How did Anastasia…

“This means no shameful negotiations with Eudoxios!” the Prince of Ikonion laughed. “That rat bastard can go jump in the sea for all we’re concerned!” He eagerly passed the document down. “My Lords, Majesty,” he turned directly to Albrecht even as he addressed the entire council, “We should begin immediate plans to take advantage of these developments!”

“Immediate offensive, no ‘effin talk with that ‘effin traitor!” Tatikios made his opinion clear. Hands scrambled across the table, and soon a great map of the Mediterranean basin laid on top. Hastily, servants sprinkled gilt pediomachis figurines across the Empire, representing the armies of the Empire, from Italy to Egypt.

“Why an offensive?” Albrecht asked, the words dragging him from his worried thoughts. “Caution, my lords, won the Megas this Empire,” he added, voice taut like an elderly tutor berating young students. “We shouldn’t throw it away in our eagerness to…”

“We have great armies, do we not?” the Prince of Edessa creaked.

“We need some in reserve, in case we face another threat from…” Albrecht interrupted, even as he saw nods going around the table at the Prince’s words.

“We have a great deal of money with my Regent’s new taxes, do we not?” Adrianos said louder, eyes now boring in on Albrecht. More nods, this time with grumbles—many of the leading officers in this new army were also dynatoi.

“…the Makurians, or Gabriel, or the Germans…”

“The Germans are no enemy of this empire,” Prince Adrianos hissed bluntly, “and the Arpads have done much for us. They helped us gain access to the south of France, according to this treaty,” Adrianos shook the damnable parchment slowly, “so we did not have to stage a farce of negotiating with a rebel. And, my lords,” the Prince of Edessa’s gaze momentarily went around the room before settling on von Franken once more, “did they not marry the niece of their emperor with our good Lord Konstantinos’ son, as a sign of good faith? Albrecht,” he said, eyes a blank, cold as he looked straight at the Megoskyriomachos, “perhaps you have your personal enemies confused with those of the state?”

“Whatsoever are you implying, Lord Adrianos?” Albrecht glared at his on again, off again ally for the past twenty years, anger blazing in his eyes. Now Adrianos was against him? The man had been on his coattails, a loyal supporter for over a decade? Where had this sudden change come from?

“Maybe that, like me, you become forgetful in your dotage,” the old Prince creaked, to a few chuckles from the strategoi gathered around the room.

It wasn’t until those last words came out of Adrianos’ mouth that Albrecht saw it. The Prince’s face stared at von Franken, but his eyes flicked elsewhere. The glance was only momentary, and last less than a second, but it was enough for the Megoskyriomachos to follow the man’s gaze…

…straight to his stepson, grandson of Adrianos and heir to his domains. Andronikos was no longer looking intently at the Megos Domestikos’ map. He met Albrecht’s gaze, stare for stare, his blue eyes empty, featureless, a sapphire wall devoid of all emotion. Without a blink, his eyes went back to the Megos Domestikos’ map, as if nothing had happened.


Albrecht blinked, his heart sinking.

Kai su, teknon?

“In light of these developments,” Albrecht heard the Megos Domestikos say, but von Franken paid little heed to the words—Romanos was brilliant and loyal, that was never in doubt. Instead, von Franken’s mind still wrestled with how the negotiations had been carried out, and how Andronikos had sealed the letters without the ambassador being present! Wasn’t von Hipper in Ikonion…

It came together at once.

“Strategos Bataczes will receive 3 tagmata from the Balkan and Transistrian armies,” Romanos continued, “bulking his forces up to around 25,000 in Cherson, more than enough, I believe, to force the Danes to back away. Now,” the Megos Domestikos continued as Albrecht looked up, feinging attention while his mind was elsewhere “with southern France as a staging area for retaking Spain, our situation has become much much simpler. Lord Konstantinos’ offer of eight tagmata from his Italian armies, plus the three tagmata in Sicily and two more from the Balkans gives us 13 tagmata, as well as the city contributions from Genoa, Florence, Venice and Rome—nearly 80,000 under arms once combined…”

“If you must go,” the Regent said, mind only halfway engaging with the campaign problem at hand, “Strike for Barcelona. It’s the central root of the snakes.”

Albrecht’s eyes went down the table towards the Prince of Ikonion, father of Andronikos’ friend and bad influence, Ioannis Angelos. The Prince caught Albrecht’s gazes, and the Megoskyriomachos swore the man smiled slightly—a brief, mocking smirk.


“How long will the mustering take?” von Franken distantly heard Tatikios ask. Albrecht didn’t care about the rest.

Albrecht sat back, lethargic in his defeat. He’d seen this before—the army, always the army! Eager for blood, eager for glory, as dogs would fight over scraps they fought to lead the tagmata onto yet another field! Albrecht had caged them, had contained them, but now, they lurched to war once more—a fullscale invasion of Spain, a fullscale invasion of Sortmark, with the Mesopotamian border not secured. Albrecht looked back towards his stepson—the boy was talking now, pointing, he was saying that the Protodomestikos and the Anatolian armies needed to stay as a strategic reserve. So he had some sense—then why did he undermine his stepfather, the man trying to keep the Empire from overextending? There would have already been peace on the German frontier because of Konstantinos’ marriage! Why make it necessary to invade North Africa by stopping the negotiations?

He wants the army.

But why? And what’d he promise his grandfather, the Prince of Ikonion? What’d he promise any of them? All of them?

Words were now flying about—the Egyptian army would be deployed to Carthage to march into the African Exarchate, another army in the field, that would require food and pay. Someone mentioned linking up with Bartholomaios, and another mentioned that at latest report, Guillaume de Normandie was pinned in northern Spain…

…de Normandie.

Albrecht’s eyes flashed up at his stepson. For a moment, the boy caught his gaze—those eyes were blank blue walls that shone with defiance.

Her.

Albrecht wanted to snap, to snarl. He wanted to climb across the table and smack the boy for thinking with his nethers instead of his head! But years of practice, years of training meant all Albrecht did was blink. He stopped wondering how his stepson had done it—that was inconsequential now. It was done—the 14 year old was in the games of power. The young panther was trying to supplant the old, even as the old still had lessons to pass on.

So, Andronikos wanted to play the game?

Fine, Albrecht would play with him. But Albrecht had been in the business of state for fifty years—he knew all the rules, all the tricks. Perhaps it was time to create some new rules, and new tricks, to keep the boy in line…

…before he threatened to tear asunder Albrecht’s life work. The Megoskyriomachos thought for a moment, names came to his mind. Shortly, Eleutherios Skleros would find himself on yet another mission…


Three armies are gathering, to strike back at the enemies of the Empire. How did Andie bring the army around, and what does Albrecht have in store as a plan for Eleutherios? Will the army’s planned mass offensive on all fronts work? Will some of our other Komnenids smell this move as a sign of weakness? We journey to Persia for plotting and meeting Safiya, and the Russian steppe next time on Rome AARisen!