Homelands
Chapter Thirty Four: Thicker than Water
Part 3
Prelude:
Páresláv was quickly retaken at only minor losses to both sides, though Prince Fedor was eventually captured and impaled along with many of his knights. It was certain to the Fraternal forces that death on the battlefield was the only option, for if they were captured their fate was impalement. However, despite the loss, the Fraternal forces made small gains in Silesia. Brandenmark, lead by Prince Otto áv Brand, was able to push aside the small garrison in
Láóŝátjá (Lusatia) and take over the region. In Hungary, Monarchist forces under the control of Árás Kæstótis sieged the Hungarian fortress of Pest under great pressure to make some gains against the rebels. Despite all of this, life in Memelgrád remained much the same as it had in peace. Queen Ziedás was left to run the country in Vishly's stead, though with many fewer powers and rights. The Royal Demesne, once centered on a few major cities, now expanded to include the lands take from the Ruriks and the Páreslávs. Livonia and Courland were also attached when her father fell ill and resigned from the position of Duke transfering all of his titles to his next surviving male heir, Prince Gunvald. The Prince, only four at the time, could not rule such a territory and such his mother, the Queen, was made regent. The Prince, a small and susceptible child, was mostly raised by courtiers and nannies. At the age of four he was already Prince of Prussia as well as Duke of Livonia-Courland and was well on his way to becoming the next King of Prussia.
The Royal Demesne in 1314. Dark Red is the original lands controlled by King Vishly personally. In Red is Livonia-Courland, inherited by Prince Gunvald. In Light Red is the lands of Rurik and Páresláv, taken by force during the civil war.
October 7th, 1314
Baron Georgs Tomássun sat in utter boredom as the small Prince played with a few toys. The boy was getting along well minus his characteristic stutter. He seemed completely incapable of saying even just one word without stuttering and starting over again. The boy had trouble mastering his first tongue, so his teachers did not want to confuse him with lessons in Greek or Saxon. So unlike many of his ancestors, Prince Gunvald had much time away from advisors and was often left under the watchful, though uninterested eyes of a minor noble. Baron, in the royal palace, was really an elevated title for "babysitter," though Georgs couldn't resist being overwhelmed watching the small boy figure things out about the world around him. So the dutiful Baron made sure the small boy stayed out of trouble while his mother ran the country and his father fought in the war.
The war, from the eyes of the citizens of Memelgrád, was a far-off and unreal thing. Word had reached the capital that Pest was already under siege. If they could swiftly remove Hungary from the picture, victory would be all but certain. But the Roman Empire would not cease its meddling, and ambassadors had already been sent to convince them to stop funding Croatia and Wallachia. It would seem that a second invasion of the Roman Empire might be the only option for the beleaguered nation. Aldwin Leofricson, son of the Emperor, had been sent to Memelgrád as a sort of diplomat, though his arrival was not celebrated by the royal family.
Georgs caught his mind wandering again. He snapped himself out of his day dreaming and saw that Gunvald had only displaced himself a few yards. Lucky for him. The small boy saw that he was being watched again and ran for cover, shamefully hiding his face. The Baron lamented, but there was little he could do to restore the boy's self-esteem. He just turned away and he knew eventually Gunvald would come out again and resume his games. Georgs heard footsteps outside the door, they stopped and then played with the door.
"O, I am very sorry..." a heavily accented voice asked. Georgs turned and saw the purple-robed Roman diplomat. "I was looking for the throne room."
Georgs didn't believe it, he was in the wrong wing, wrong floor and it was obvious from the density of the doors that the large throne room could not fit into this space. "So what are you really doing?" Georgs asked, standing up and putting himself between the Roman the heir. His hand moved slightly toward the sword hanging from his side.
The Roman took a defensive stance, but showed no form of aggression, "I don't understand. I am looking for the throne room." He put his hands in the air trying to show no sign of wanting a fight. "Am I not close to it?"
"The only thing you have right is the building, Roman. You better keep walking until you find someone who can help you."
"My father told me that Prussians did not trust Romans, but I chose not to believe him. This surpasses even what he described. It is no wonder that your country is falling apart!"
"Get over yourself Roman! Your country has faced nothing but revolt and war for nearly fifty years! And now you try to steal away Croatia and Wallachia, there are many reasons we don't trust you."
"Hmph. Very high and mighty for a Kingdom that hardly made it three hundred years before disintegrating!"
"This war isn't even over yet, and early signs point to our total victory. What will you say then, that it was a fluke? Or will you sniveling Romans simple crawl back and try to forget the past and begin begging at our feet once more. We grow tired of your cycle of bigotry and begging."
"Watch your mouth, Prussian! Remember, you speak to the heir of the Roman Empire! This very conversation could lead to the sack of this city in only a few short years!"
"Bah! Declare war on Prussia! We'll burn Constantinople down a second time and this time we won't leave you sniveling Saxons in charge!"
"Big talk coming from a nanny," Aldwin said. He smiled menacingly and turned to walk away when he felt a slap across the back of his head. He turned and saw Georgs still holding his arm across his chest, glove in hand. "Seriously? Are you challenging me to a duel? How posh. Really... Fine I accept your challenge!"
Georgs scooped up Gunvald and quickly headed to the Queen with Aldwin in close pursuit. In the throne room, the court was startled by the interruption. Georgs handed Gunvald to a nanny and then turned to the Queen, "My lady, I have reason to suspect that this Roman is up to no good, and seeing as he has insulted my name I have challenged him to a duel and he has agreed."
"Baron!" The Queen exclaimed, "Prince Aldwin is the heir to the Roman Empire! Have you really agreed to this duel, Prince?" Ziedás asked.
"I have."
The Queen was quiet, "Someone get out a contract for the duel, if Aldwin ends up dead I want his father to see that it wasn't some murder plot." Aldwin scoffed, but consented. Signing with both his signature and his official seal. Several other ambassadors signed as impartial witnesses and the court quickly moved out into the courtyard.
Georgs watched as Aldwin removed his robe and tested his sword. The Baron was not worried. He had been a soldier, a fencer and was an expert swordsman. He was not just a babysitter, he was a bodyguard. Lean and muscular, under his clothes he looked scrawny, but Georgs took off his own robe and shirt and flexing his muscles, put the fear of death into Aldwin's heart.
"Duelists to your lines!" called the Queen. "This is an official duel of compensation, the rules are simple. Fight until one man surrenders, falls unconscious or is mortally wounded. Try to keep it above the belt, gentlemen."
"As always, m'lady," Georgs said with a deep and graceful bow. He turned and saluted Aldwin with his sword. Receiving none in reply, Georgs lunged forward, pressing his attack. Aldwin did all he could to parry the attack, but his riposte was far off the mark. The Prussian took advantage of the clumsy counter-attack and was able to slip under the Roman's arm. Now behind his enemy he cut across his enemy's shoulders, leaving a red and dripping line.
Aldwin turned and thrust his sword, narrowly missing Georgs and leaving a gash across the side of his arm. The Prussian then riposted, stabbing the Roman in the side and causing him to stagger slightly to the left. But Aldwin showed no sign of stopping. He raised his arm up, but was cut again, this time across the face, gouging his eye and causing him to fall prone on the ground. Georgs saluted Aldwin again and then the Queen and the onlookers. This battle was over, Aldwin would know better than belittle his hosts. As Georgs walked off the field, the Queen called out to him and he turned to listen dutifully. "Georgs, we must talk, please meet me in the court room in about an hour."
"Very well, m'lady." He bowed and excused himself to get patched up. Inside his pride swelled, an overwhelming feeling of accomplishment gave him a visual afterglow. For King and Country, he thought.
