Homelands
Chapter Thirty One: The Snowy North
Part 5
Prelude:
The medieval Prussian Empire was reaching its zenith. She stretched from the Elbe watershed to the Ural mountains. From the islands of Finland to the islands of Dalmatia. She encompassed numerous languages, religions, topologies and states. The King of Prussia was truly a god among men, but he was bound by certain agreements with the nobles, mostly made in the misty days of King Eadbert and King Gunvald and King Kiten was usually happy to oblige. Prince Vishly, however, did not like the bindings, so as his father caved into demands and pressures, the end of the road for feudalism was in sight. Feudalism in Prussia had become a bureaucratic nightmare. Loopholes in tax laws quickly cut profits to the crown and lined the pockets of the nobles with gold that should have been paid to the King. The regionalism of troops worsened unit cohesiveness, forcing the crown to rely more on the troops of the nobles. But even as reliance on Ducal soldiers increased, the Duchies often cried out to the crown to help put down tax revolts. In the south-east Princes were becoming restless. The Sichs of Azowia began their own independent raids of Georgia and Shirvana. Azowians began to settle these lands, becoming some of the first Prussian-speakers to settle lands outside of Prussia.
Europe in 1306 after the war between Prussia and Norway/Sweden.
October 1st, 1306
The Princes of the East all kneeled before Kiten as he sat on a large golden throne under a colorful and sturdy tent. On the plains of Prussia's eastern wilds, Kiten crowned himself King of the Rus and Khazaria. It was a strong sign to many peoples. The King was telling them that all the east lie in Prussia's domain and incursion was inexcusable. It was also a sign to the nobles of Prussia, far and wide, that there was only one King: The King of Kings, The King of Prussia. Vishly stood off to the side of the theatrics watching the nobles. Many were itchy about renewing their oaths to the King, the Kingdom and the Æthelræchtæs. A bishop produced a small wooden box, sealed tight but with a small glass pane. Inside was the original copy of the Æthelræchtæs, it was mostly disintegrated, but the more the better. Vishly chuckled at the idea that the nobles were swearing themselves to a small pile of dust.
The whole show lasted more than an hour with Vishly growing more bored and disinterested with every passing moment. VIshly turned his attention to the Queen, his step mother. She was the daughter of the head of the house of Ruirk, Vasilisa. She wore the fineries of a queen, had queenly duties and acted as if she was a queen. But she was not a queen. Vishly knew this. She was only slightly above a common street whore. The Rurik family was nothing but a bunch of honorless low-lives, and now as they re-swore their fealty to the King, the Prince knew their time in the sun was slowly coming to an end. They had many enemies within the Empire, their power made them the center of envy for many nobles. She looked Vishly's way and gave him a smile and a wink, but his face remain unchanged. He knew she'd write it off as he was asleep with his eyes open, or hard at work, or actually looking a different direction.
"What are you looking at, master Vishly?" Vishly turned and saw Serlo Dormandy, Prince of Azow. He was not unknown to Vishly, though a rather distant acquaintance. He was, at least, friendly to Vishly's ideas of nobility's role in society.
"Nothing, just watching the parade of idiocy." Vishly turned and faced the Sichman, "And youm how have you been?"
"I've been better, but I am better off than the last time you saw me." Both men laughed, "A night of legend if I do say so myself, friend."
Vishly smiled and nodded, "Yes. What I can remember of that night I do so fondly. Though I think Ziedás tries to forget it all." The two men walked out of the main room and stepped outside of the tent. Off to the side a ring of horses and tents marked the Sich's campground. The two men wandered over and joined the men.
"Vet, Who's this boss?" one man asked.
"Lord Vishly, Prince of Prussia. And the Prince joins us for mead and meat." The troops celebrated a reason to get out the casks of mead, pouring themselves pints and passing Vishly a tankard and a plate. Above their fire hung venison, cooked and warm. Vishly reached in with his knife and cut off a hunk and began to eat in traditional Prussian fashion, with only his knife.
"So, Lord Vishly, may I ask what you think of this?"
Vishly laughed, "You may not, really... but I'll answer a friend anyways. It is a charade. My father is looking only for loyalty from the nobles, and reminding them who is on top. It is necessary... not so much for the Sich, but for the Rurikoids." At the mention of the Ruriks everyone, including Vishly, turned to the side and spit on the ground. The Ruriks and Dormandies were major rivals for control over the east.
"One day, we shall meet them in open battle and we shall overcome them!" Serlo said, "But, Lord... we wait for you. As long as that Queen sleeps by your father's side... he is blind. Blind to what is true. O woe for the Sich if the King sides not with us and instead with the Rus."
"Remember, Vishly Prince," a rather rugged soldier said, his hand on the Prince's shoulder, "The King only need ask and we of the Sich will ride forth to his task. That is our promise to the crown." The soldier all toasted in agreement, mead slopping everywhere. "There be no men braver than us."
"I shall hold you to that, I shall hold you all to that. And you'll all be better off for it. Because the only allies of Prussia are allies of mine."
There was a solemn quite that fell about the camp as people turned to eating and drinking. It was technically treason to speak of a time after a King, no matter how soon it was to be. Kiten was seventy one, tied with his father for the title oldest King. His health was not yet failing, but many knew that the time was near. It was a taboo subject in Prussia, but one that had to be discussed behind closed doors and in dark corners, lest succession be a complete mess.
Every Prince of Prussia did it, make plans and build allies. Only the young Æthelweard was innocent of it. But few were as drastic as Vishly. His plans were many, his plots carefully weaved together. His allies chosen carefully and wisely. His heart did not flow freely with hate, just with a cold and calculated cunning. It divided friends from the expendable, protected those he loved and would mercilessly hunt those who stood in his way. Prince Vishly was less than a year away from becoming King. He didn't know it, but soon his day would come and he would rule over Prussia the way he saw fit and just.
Prince Vishly's portrait before coronation.
End Chapter Thirty One