Homelands: Tales of the Anglo-Prussians

Homelands
Chapter Thirty Two: The Prince and the King
Part 1

Prelude:
The houses of Prussia constantly grew and shifted. Politics between the houses dominated Prussia's domestic issues. Rivalries were common, either between neighbors or related branches. One major inter house rivalry was between the Páreslávs and the Ókrans. But one of the biggest rivalries was between the Rurikoids and the Dormandies. Both battled over support from the royal family. The problem began when the Dormandies got a special title and position within the Empire, due mostly to the distance from Memelgrád to New Caen as well as the Dormandies service to the Kingdom. Tournaments usually became a place for rival houses to fight one another, usually in controlled combat, other times to the death. Combat to the death, whether intentional or 'accidental', was more common on the frontiers where royal supervision of such events was limited. Often times killing one rival meant the gaining of several new ones as the stepped up to seek vengeance. And unlike plays from the Renaissance would suggest, marriages between feuding families were almost impossible due to the fact most marriages were arranged for men, and all marriages were arranged for women. Even if such a match did occur, it was unlikely to be the cause of the end of a feud as it would either signify the end as a sort of treaty, or would cause even more feuding and the eventual exile of the two lovers to a new land.


November 10th, 1306

The snow-swept port of Memelgrád marveled at Kiten's latest work, a grand new cathedral in the center of town. Progress was slow, but it was only the beginning. Men worked under tents to break up the frozen top soil and tried to keep it from filling with snow. Kiten could watch the construction from his balcony. This one would dwarf the Cathedral of St. Stephen, it would a grand tribute to his ancestor, Meinekinus, the grandest of Cathedrals for the crowning of Prussian Kings. But watching his mark on the capital being built was constantly interrupted by his daily activities.

"Sir?" A voice interrupted his thoughts, "My lord, two nobles have brought forth a dispute they wish to have settled. How shall you have me proceed?"

Kiten sighed, he ran his hand through his grey-white hair and turned to face the speaker. It was his chancellor, a mousy man of little spine and less conviction. "Have Vishly deal with it. Do I have to be warned every time one noble steps on the toes of another's dog?"

"Actually, yes... my lord. It is in the Æthelræchtæs that all lords have the right to have their grievances heard by the King."

"Indrátsak!" Kiten shouted, pounding his fist on the table. "All I want is a damn moment's rest! These nobles think that I'll get all the rest I need when I am dead, and believe me I intend to, but that does not mean they can keep me awake until then! Bah!"

"But my lor..."

"I said BAH!" Kiten flicked his hand out as an order to leave him be. The chancellor stood there dumbfounded. Kiten shot him the evil eye compelling him to leave, but the man remained in his spot. Finally the King got up and pushed the frozen man into the hallway and with a final "BAH!" slammed the door shut in his face.

The chancellor returned to the throne room worriedly, and found the two feuding nobles separated by several guards. When they saw the chancellor they settled down and demanded to know when the King would appear. "The King says, and I quote, 'Bah!' and is refusing to come down. He has ordered Vishly to hear over the issue."

Vishly, who had been standing in one of the darker corners stepped out into the light, "He did, did he?" He smiled and then sat on the secondary throne reserved for presiding ministers or regents. After he comforted himself, he leaned forward and rested his lip on the top of his folded hands. "So, what was the problem again? I wasn't really paying attention earlier." He smiled dubiously as he toyed with the two men. Within seconds the two men had descended back into fighting and were separated by the guards. Vishly cocked his head and then standing up began, "Let us start with your names."

"I am Tvorimir Mikhailsun ŝev Rurikæs áv Páresláv, true Prince of Pereyaslavl." The man bowed, making himself look humble."

"No, no, no! I am Fedor Mikhailsun ŝev Rurikæs áv Páresláv, and I am the rightful heir to Mikhail áv Páresláv. My father declared my brother heir during a bout of illness and then was dead the next day. We have evidence of foul play and of abusing a man far out of his senses to make legal declarations!"

"And you were the principal heir before?" Vishly asked.

"Well... no... but I am his oldest surviving son."

"And what kind of evidence do you have to implicate your brother?"

"Well... that my father died after he declared him heir..."

Vishly smiled, devilishly, "I believe, Fedor, that what you have is motive, not actual evidence. But never mind, I have made my decision. I rule in favor of neither of you. Tvorimir, Mikhail's illness was known far and wide, and it is unlikely your father could have made a legal declaration. However, Fedor, you are falsely accusing your brother of murder with no evidence to back your claim." Vishly stretched his arms and cracked his neck, taking his time as people waited for an answer. "I shall divide your father's lands evenly between the two of you and that is that. Now be gone!" Vishly shooed them off, reseating himself and looking at the chancellor.

"My lord... was that entirely legal? Just to divide the domain of a Prince like that?"

"You are worried about all the wrong things. Who cares? It is a line in the sand. They both won, in a way, how could it have been any better?"

The chancellor scowled, all his life he had been raised with this notion of the sacredness of the nobility, and here this King and his son were working to totally disestablish that idea, that sacred truth of the Kingdom. Their Kingdom was led by one man and one man alone, the King, and it was sickening how power-hungry they were.

"What is wrong with you?" Vishly asked, "Remember your place. You are chancellor, I am Prince... my father is King. He is the law, and by extension, so am I." Vishly got up and left the throne room to inform his father of the events between the two nobles. He would also mention the chancellor's resistance to the ruling, but only in passing. Meer sand on the side of the road.

Enewald said:

I am the law.

Your family does not control that much land after all.

Are the Rurikids not stronger than you?

What is the Azowian version of New Caen?

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I hand-picked the richest provinces for us. And the Ruriks are divided. Many of those families are also part of the Leofwines, including the Moldáós, Litáóns, and Plockes.

I don't speak Azowian, but in Prussian it is wánskan. Now Kaen is probably a good approximation.

Hannibal X said:

L'etat c'est Vishly.

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"Æs bin se já. Æs bin próŝjá." Kiten said quietly. [From chapter 28, Part 1.]

Lord Strange said:

Ah a Soloman judgement. Shame we're going to have revolts. However, I am scared by Prussia. Its just so large. May the Dormandies split off and forge a mighty Norman Kingdom across the steppes!

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With fewer threats of infanticide. The Dormandies have quite a bit of history left to get through.

Vesimir said:

Frankens rulling over Bulgaria. Heh.

Where did the Merjas come from?

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Damned, actually... the Merja and Narva are supposed to be flipped. They are the different dynasties of the Mordvins. Mordvia has three main regions: Merya, Narva and Uusikaupunki.

The Meryans ruled Mordvia before the Narva, and the Narva before the Wolgasts.

Homelands
Chapter Thirty Two: The Prince and the King
Part 2

Prelude:
The Royal Family was the closest thing to celebrities in the late Medieval Era. They sat somewhere below "deity" to the common Prussian peasant, who often circulated tales of the King's power to cure illness and heal mortal wounds. Especially amongst popular monarchs this was true. One story says how King Sviendorog was able to reattach the severed arm of an injured comrade during battle, another tells that a kiss from King Kiten healed the blindness of an old beggar woman. But by 1307 stories of a different kind circulated about Prince Vishly. The growing rivalry between Kiten and Vishly was well known. What was also beginning to circulate were the tales of murder and deceit that supposedly followed Vishly around like two haunting spirits. Vishly was rather pleased with these tales. He did what he could to help them spread, spreading his name and image into every household in Prussia. He began to wear a cap popular amongst the rulers of Moldavia and Wallachia, encrusted in jewels. He grew his black hair out long, past his shoulders and began to travel in a black cape, his neck warmed by a scarf of wolf's hide. He had to cultivate an image of his own because it was through that image he would not only assert his authority, but also live for eternity. The coming years of terror were still far from the minds of the peasants and the nobles. But they were not far from the mind of Prince Vishly as he sat plotting and scheming.


January 18th, 1307

Vishly and Ziedás sat in one of the courtyards at the Kiev Palace playing with their pack of wolf-bred dogs. The four dogs were Vishly's pride, they were energetic and proud. He and Ziedás took very good care of them and they slowly became as much a part of the royal family as any two-legged counter-part. Vishly took a bone, one he had stolen from the dungeons, and threw it to the other side of the courtyard. Four black shapes moved over one another, barking and growling until one finally returned victoriously. Ziedás covered her mouth as she laughed. In her hand she had a muffin, missing a bite from its crust. Crumbs fell from her mouth and into her hand as she laughed, almost choking. Kiten walked silently out into the courtyard, making sure not to attract the attention of the dogs, now fighting over a scrap of meat. But Vishly, too, had keen senses and he turned toward his father and like a snake, smiled invitingly.

"Ah! Father, care to join us here?" he asked. The dogs surrounding his legs and jumping up and down for attention. Vishly turned to the dogs, grabbing their ears and rustling their fur. Ziedás too make sure the dogs felt loved, they were her babies too. "They can be a handful, but they are nothing if not loving," the Prince continued.

Kiten's face was a mix of terror and displeasure, "No... no... I couldn't subtract from a father's love," he said, almost sarcastically. "The nobles bring complaints, Vishly."

"Ah, I shall attend to that right away, then. You can count on me father!" He said, almost genuinely respectful.

But Kiten shook his head, "No, Vishly. These complaints are about you. The nobles complain that you usurp power not only from them but also from me every time you make a ruling. And there is little I can do but agree with them, Vishly." Kiten's face was stern, unwavering.

Vishly's face quickly lost its cover and he scowled nodding in a discouraging way, "So that is how it is father? I work tirelessly to maintain Prussia's greatness, I bring power and authority back into the throne, for you, and now I am usurping you? I usurp your authority by empowering you? Are you mad?"

"Vishly, now I have mu..."

"No, this is hypocritical! You know as well as I that there is to be only one authority in Prussia. The King. The King rules the nobles, the King rules Prussia! It is not some noble rabble that rules Prussia. The nobles do not rule the King."

"Vishly, ple..."

"The King rules the nobles. THE KING RULES PRUSSIA!" Vishly said forcibly. Even the dogs now sat with their tails in between their legs and whimpered as the courtyard fell silent. "Or have you forgotten father? Have your trips with all your well-bosomed ladies made you forget that you were a King and not some damned butler to these people?"

"KLUSUMS!" Kiten demanded. "Shut your trap, boy! You are still Prince and as you said the King rules his Princes!" Kiten's frail body shook from his anger, he leveled a boney and accusing finger at his son. "Don't think for a minute that your tongue has the same effect on me as it does on the others. I know your lies and I know your deceit. I know where those nobles from Norway and Sweden disappeared to. And I was an idiot for letting it happen. But the last is in the past." Kiten took a deep breath. "I am not sure if you are the right candidate for King."

"Hah! Haha!" Vishly laughed. "You are not sure? Well it doesn't look like you have much of a choice, father. You will be Prince? Oleksander? That bastard? That little son of sin and adultery?" Vishly looked at his father's face, "What? You think I didn't know? Do you not think that I don't have my dossiers on everyone here? You? Me? Oleksander? O yes, I know... I know a lot father and I know too of my own origin. But what are you going to do? Tell them I too am a bastard? No one will believe you. Not when I tell them you've gone bloody mad with age. That time has carved holes into your thoughts."

"No, now I am sure. I am sure you are not the right candidate for King. Vishly I am going to strip you of your rank and your title. Come."

"No. You fucking idiot. I am the only right candidate for this position. You seriously think Prussia will last another century catering to the needs and whims of those worthless scum bags? They waste away this country from within with their non-sense and pointless squabbling over last names and title that have little more than a house attached to them. How long? How long do you think Prussia will last if its power is given out amongst all these moronic, inbred, squabbling, fat, lazy, delusional shits?"

"I think you under estimate the power of the nobility in this country."

"And I think you grossly over estimate it. Father, the solution is clear to me. It came in a vision in my sleep. I am to be King. And as King I shall lead Prussia into a new and glorious dawn whether I walk next to it hand in hand... or if I have to drag it behind me. Feudalism, this moronic idea of Eadbert and Gunvald is killing us. It is a cancer. Look, look at the Great Caliphate! What has the Caliphate done in the last twenty years? Nothing! Nothing but fight petty fights amongst its own nobles. That is why they lost Scotland and Ireland. That is why they are moving nowhere. That is what happens when nobles forget their place."

"And what will you do when they stand in your way, Vishly? What are you going to do when they say no?"

"I told you father, I will bring Prussia into this new dawn willingly or forcibly. There is no stopping progress, father. There is no stopping the fact that feudalism was tried and found bloated and infeasible. And if we continue to let the Æthelræchtæs dictate the paths we take we are going to wind up in ruin."

Kiten took a few weak steps back, gasping. Vishly was confused, and then in a flash ran up and caught his father as he fell to the ground, hand clenched over his heart. Vishly cradled the dying man, stroking his hair. But he couldn't help feel as if it was a sign, a sign from the all mighty. His reign truly was righteous. Here his father was standing, trying to end his reign before it had begun and God himself struck the old man down where he stood. Truly his reign would be nothing short of a miracle for all of Europe.

Enewald said:

I expect that those who have complained shall be decapitated within an hour.

Strip the nobles of their powers, divide their lands amongst the poor and let the state have their wealth.

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Sounds like a plan to me.

Lord Strange said:

Yey! A Bloodthristy reign of terror by aman who thinks he is divinel ordained. Will there be much wailing and gnashing of teeth?

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O yes. There will be blood.

Vesimir said:

Great. Next we'll have Ziedás bathing in blood of virgins to keep her beauty.

So, Kiten has NO legitimate heirs? That's kinda ironic isn't it?

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Very much so, but it is something that works to Vishly's advantage.

Hannibal X said:

YESSSS! Vishly, King of All He Surveys! Death to the nobles!

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Yes, finally the oft-mentioned Vishly comes to power.

KlavoHunter said:

Vishly, King of Prussia, the unquestionably single most powerful man in all Europe!

One would be wise to kneel and offer one's neck to him, rather than have him force you to kneel and actually carry through with lopping off your head... or whatever horrific end awaits his enemies!

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Alas, nobility does not often raise the wise, often just the lazy and the malcontent.

Be sure to check out Vishly's cameo in General_BT's Rome AARisen - a Byzantine AAR.

Homelands
Chapter Thirty Two: The Prince and the King
Part 3

Prelude:
Outside of Prussia, in a place many Prussians would find alien, a new series of wars were sparking. A rivalry was forming that would one day bring even Prussia to war and give it a small taste of victory and eventually start a series of events leading to the modern Prussia. It is strange and yet eerily beautiful to look at how tiny little things in lands far-far away would eventually effect the lives of so many people. In the Isles a dance partner stood off to the side spurned by his lover and watch her dance with another man. This was England watching Scotland ally herself with Ireland. In 1305 war broke out between England and her two Gaelic neighbors. In a time when many still feared the Caliphate would still try to conquer the Isles it was a drastic move. But it was one that would set the course for many more wars down through history. Ireland ruled by the O'Bryans; Scotland ruled by the Cynfyns, but claimed by the Iziaslavich dynasty in the name of Clan Meriadoc; England ruled by the proud Iziaslavich dynasty. Wales and Cornwall had changed hands several times since 1289, when the Cynfyns won the throne of Scotland from the Meriadocs. The 1307 war was just another war in a long line of wars that would eventually lead to the formation of Great Britain and even send Prussia into a new world. Strange how little things can make a big difference.
- Taken from Prussia Outside Prussia, by Klaudijs Ludissun; 1985 (Translated B. Smith 2001)


January 24th, 1307

Vishly sat before a large mirror while servants carefully dealt with his hair and appearance. Tonight he should be crowned King of Prussia as well as many other things and he'd swear an oath to protect the Æthelræchtæs, the very parchment he planned to have burned. It would be a glorious lie, his biggest one ever. The whole palace was in a state of shock. Kiten's death had been so quick, and yet not entirely unexpected. But it left an impression on Vishly of Mariengrád. It gave him a feeling of greyness. The city seemed bleak and unwelcoming. The city of mourning. He liked the city, it fit his personality well. The palace was empty, just bare furnishings and a few rugs to keep the future King's feet warm. Even in the early morning, the city was dark, darker than any night in Memelgrád.

"Vishly, you have been very quiet since we've arrived here, is there something wrong?" Ziedás asked. She looked at him worriedly from a corner as she watched him get cleaned up.

"No," he said happily, "I am very much fine. I am just in a sort of state of awe, that is all."

"You take this all in good stride, Vishly. But I despise this ghastly city. It is no wonder that no King of Prussia has lived here, not even a day, in many centuries. Dreary. Grey. Sad. This city is a sore on the ass of the Baltic." In the distance storm clouds over the sea rumbled and lit up the sky. "Nothing short of ominous." Silhouetted by the storm was the Church of the Blessed Virgin, for whom Mariengrád was named.

"Ah, but what kind of omen is it? When Alexander cut the Gordian Knot was he not welcomed by the thunder of Zeus? Even the Baltic does reach out to touch me!" Vishly said. It was all a show for him, he knew that these servants would soon leave and spread the story of the lightning and King Alexander and soon his reputation would bloom. He leaned back in his chair and looked into the mirror. He laughed, in the upper-right corner, barely visible was the name "Sviendorog" written in a black ink.

"Sviendorog," Ziedás repeated out loud, "Every King has brought something new and different to the table, Vishly. Aethelweard brought us freedom; Eadbert, language; Gunvald, prestige; Sviendorog, prosperity; Meinekinus, peace; Karnak, glory; Kiten, fame... what will you bring us Prussian King?"

"Unity." Vishly said, his voice suddenly thick with authority. His face reflected that authority, in the dark pools of his eyes a burning passion could be seen. His lips straightened and he carefully adjusted his fur hat, straightening the feather and jewel on the front. He would need to keep the rain out of his eyes as he made his way to the church lit by the stroke of God. He stroked his beard as he thought, "I might be thought of as a tyrant, but the future generations will love me. People will fight to preserve what I have created. If the present chooses to loath me, let it. I shall live forever in the hearts of the future."

Ziedás smiled, "Immortality? Is that what you speak of?"

Vishly laughed, "No, dear wife, real immortality! Not the immortality of wizards in stories, life never fading from my body. No, in time I will die. We all do. But time can only kill my body, never my name... never what I will have finished by the time I get there." He paused he looked over at Ziedás, seeing the power and thrill in her eyes, "That... that is immortality!"

"They dynasty is yours!" she said.

"No, my love, the dynasty... the country... the world... is ours." Ziedás laughed, the world at her finger tips. "Let the reign of Vishly the Great mark an end to these damned years of darkness and loathing, and let us march boldly against our enemies!" Vishly stood upright, towering about the servants, but never over Ziedás.

"Then let the thunder be a good sign, and let our reign over Europe begin!" she said in agreement. The two locked hands and began to dance around, a waltz of power. The servants fled as the realized they were no longer welcome. So hours before Vishly's reign was officially cemented, the King and his Queen danced to their success. A reign that almost wasn't, but now any that might know anything about Vishly's origin was silent.

In Memelgrád, outside the city walls, a freshly dug grave was being exhumed by grave robbers. Inside the hole they didn't find a coffin or even a penny. Instead several women, none clothed, and a single man was found. Stripped of anything worthwhile, the robbers buried them again. Thus these dirty men walked down a rain-slick road not understanding what they had found. For now only a chosen handful knew the final resting spot of Oleksander and the brides-to-be of King Kiten. Vishly was nothing if not efficient in erasing his problems from the face of the earth.

Elsewhere in the capital a few armed soldiers broke into the home of the Chancellor. As the splintered door hit the ground the tiny man rolled out of bed, his screams silenced by the thunder above, his horror exposed with each stroke of lightning. Cut down and dragged away, added to the foundation of the new cathedral, entombed never to be found. No one would question any of it. The Brides were unwanted, their departure timed with the death of their benefactor; Oleksander's death written off as suicide by drowning, his depression at his illegitimacy exposed; the Chancellor's debt was not well know, but known enough to make some nobles swear that they could hear a new voice in the dungeon.

The blood of the innocent, those whose only crime was a little too much knowledge joined the blood of Nomedas pooling under the visage of King Vishly. But in these opening days of Vishly's reign, still only a few could comprehend the events that were about to unfold, and those that did were quick to align themselves with the King. The King of Prussia had a plan, a plan to reunite his Empire. Prussia sat in a simultaneous state of decadence and decay. While the nobles lived lavish lives of privilege, the peasants suffered and the country slowly divided under these arbitrary lines in the sand. But many would agree that the damage had been done, the fact Vishly could hold the Empire together under his own sheer strength is a testament to his own ability and would give credence to future dictators throughout the centuries.

gigau said:

This introduction to Vishly's reign definitly shows promise... looking forward your updates

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Thank you, hopefully Vishly will live up to mine and everyone else's expectations.

Vesimir said:

This scene reminded me of the Godfather. Both Michael and Vishly got rid of their problems as they became rulers.

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It is usually a good idea, let them sit too long and suddenly they think they are safe.


Sorry for the inactivity. Life has been pretty busy lately, I keep trying to write but get tackled by shopping and bills and work... But this Sunday should be good.