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Most of the more powerful Ynglings are my slaves.
Quite obedient ones at that, too. :p

All the Yngling dukes are either deceitful or vengeful, you better increase the palace guard :p
 
Treaty of Crete

The Senate and the People of Rome, recognising the honourable desire of the infidel Caliph for peace, and willing that he should be granted time to contemplate the truth of Christ's word for the salvation of his soul, hereby grants and affirms to him the following privileges, to expire upon the death of the Imperator Thomas and the Caliph Afzal, whichever is later:

  • Neither party shall attack the other, or the vassals or acknowledged allies of the other; nor shall they permit their vassals to inherit land within the other's domains, nor shall they send assassins or spies within each other's realms.
  • In accordance with the above principle, and as a gesture of good faith, Rome returns the provinces of Taron and Archa (C701 and C765) to the Caliph's rule.
  • The Caliph shall pay 1000 ducats as tribute, which the Imperator shall disburse to make a shelter for pilgrims travelling to Jerusalem.

Signed by Thomas I Komnenos, Basileus Romaion.
 
The Cure

The Egyptian woman was dead.
The agony and pain was gone from her. Her lungs no longer spat blood on the curtains. Her weak body of southerner would no longer embarrass the rest of human race that had to co-exist here in the north with the coldness that only kept strongest ones alive.
Nobody wept for her.
Except her little son. A bastard. A mockery of family. Son of a whore.

“Doctor, doctor please!”
And after it, the silence. Pierre Dôn had stood in the hallway. Seen the both doctors going in and heard the scream and suffering. He had not followed the foreigners. He didn’t need to. It was in his rights. If his wife had chosen to insult the very vows they had given, then what courtesy, custom or way demanded her husband to be there with her dying bed?
Pierre had even tried to arrange so that she would not get the honor and condolence for dying in her home.
It had proven difficult and problematic and in the end Pierre had not time to arrange before the foreign doctors had arrived. To cure his wife. Terminally.
He had made enough mistakes in his letters so the two doctors should had been one, but instead he had forgotten that he had already asked for these services from the east when he sent the letter to the west…And both had arrived in the same day.
In the end, double the better. Hadn’t his own doctor not already made visits in the East? Pierre had only one concern over this. In his letter he had specified that if the cure is successful, then and only then He will pay what the prize would be given to him by the successful doctor. For the easterner, he had already paid in advance, but if the westerner would succeed?

In the west laid the empires of Rome and false-Rome, there stood the Danes and the French, the Germans and the Spanish minors under Egyptian scorn. Whatever cure was needed there; it would be bitter sweet potion that would leave foul taste in many mouths. And if people knew that it came from Finland, then the flavor would so easily be tasted in here as well.

But Pierre knew nothing but man’s honor for keeping his word. His wife was ill. She needed to be cured away from this misery. Pierre would do anything in his powers to provide such care for her. And by that he would have to make collections with his honor. Whatever prize was given, Pierre would pay it.

When he looked to the hallway, it was darker than usual. The screaming had stopped. Maids had fled from there weeping and crying. It was done. It was over. Both foreigners passed aside him, one even offering his doctor’s lamentations as he went on trough the hall way.

His own doctor came last. He remained silent and thoughtful, as if heavy thoughts would forgive him and his master from the sins of this day. It was slightly factitious.
“So, which one of them succeeded?”
But the old man just looked his own beard and gave Pierre a haunting glance.
“What was named for the prize?”
“A heavy prize was named.”
And the doctor spoke one word, one name and all color crept in the lairs from Pierre’s expression.
“For the love of god!”
“Did he…did the …succeed?”
“I peg your pardon?”
“In kill…cure, the doctors…ach, who killed my wife? Will the prize become collected?”
“I killed her. I got there first.”
 
A Roman Triumph

Is it not passing brave to be a King, and ride in triumph through Persepolis?


May 14th, 1153
Constantinople
Noon

It was the boast of the cataphract regiments that their charge would carry the walls of Constantinople. Here, where the towers of the Theodosian Walls loomed over mortal men like houses built by giants, Thomas understood why they made that particular brag; and he also knew it for a jest, although spoken in earnest. He had seen the cataphracts charge through Croatian infantry as though across an open field; he had seen them ride through slaughter and rout until the blood spattered their horses' withers; he had even, on one memorable occasion, seen them indeed carry a wall, an ancient construction of age-darkened timber that had served a Croat hill chieftain well in his tribal conflicts, and which he had thought would protect him even against Rome. But to think of charging the walls of Constantinople was to make sport of the very concept. The walls were invincible. They had never been, could not be, taken by storm. Arkadios himself, commanding the finest thematic army in the Empire and facing only the household troops of nobles and city militia, had never dreamt of trying it - had preferred the desperate option of a seaborne assault across the Golden Horn, before the Emperor Leo had opened the gates to him. His own Army of Anatolia, laying siege while Thomas led the campaign in Croatia, had not expected to take the city, against a garrison of five thousand Frankish mercenaries roundly hated by the Greek citymen. Only the chance of an opened postern gate, its guards supplied with beer mixed half with spirits, had allowed Thomas to keep the vast lands he had overrun with the intention of trading them for the City of Men's Desire.

Thirty years before, Thomas had left this city as a fosterling child of six, following the Emperor Leo's court into shameful exile. He had not noticed the walls then; his child's eye had been more concerned with the fury and despair of the adults around him. But now he saw, and marvelled. There were no greater fortifications in the world than those of the second Rome, and no larger city; and he, Thomas, was about to enter it, a conqueror.

The gates were open now, in this peaceful summer. The cataphracts had done their work, and no enemy army lay within five hundred miles; and cheering citizens, not grim soldiers, lined the walls. Elsewhere the peasants might care nothing for who ruled them, if only the taxes weren't too high. But Constantinople knew itself the center of the world, and had little enjoyed its time as a distant fief of barbarian kings. The Greek citizens welcomed back their Greek Emperor with joy, and a fierce determination not to be surrendered again. The shouts of "Komnenos" as Thomas rode through the vast gates were deafening.

The throng was amazing, as was the smell of close-packed humanity in the summer heat; but Thomas revelled in it. No city in the world was larger than Constantinople, nor wealthier, nor more cultured; and every human in it that could walk - and some who couldn't - had come out to acclaim his victories. They cheered for the cataphract banners; they shouted derision at the Croat hostages - chieftains' children, mainly - in their motley rags and chain; they cried out in pleasure at the tableaus and tapestries showing the battles the Roman armies had won. But for Thomas, they chanted. Before him and behind him there were unstructured cheers; but where he went, every throat gave out the phrase, "Komnenos - Conqueror. Komnenos - Conqueror." It lifted him out of himself, shattered all thought and left him only with the feeling of triumph and elation, reeling in the repeated waves of sound. "Komnenos - Conqueror!" Battle was a little like this, when fear and fury lifted you out of your rational self; or making love to a woman. But the heady wine of public acclaim continued for hours, and there was no fear in it. Perhaps the ecstacy that monks and saints reported from prayer could come close.

An unknowable time later it ended, as Thomas rode into the Sacred Palace. The chant faded as the thick stone walls closed in, and he dropped at last into the ordinary space of thought and action, where reason ruled. It was, perhaps, a little like being cast from Heaven down into Earth. He drew a deep breath, and settled his shoulders. There was work to do, and there would be for many years yet; and not to every man was it given to have such a day while he yet breathed the air of mortal Earth. If the price was that you had to come back, and live through common ordinary days - it was still worth paying. And there would be an eternity, later on.

"In the old days," he noted, "I would have had a slave riding beside me, to whisper in my ear, `remember that you are mortal.' Perhaps we should revive the custom."

His companions were blinking, coming back to themselves in the half-silent darkness; they too had been caught up in that eternal moment, and were finding their balance on coming down.

"Well. I'll remind you if you like, though I'm no slave." Ioannes, the Megas Domestikos and thus second officer of the Roman State, grinned to show he saw the irony. "But - I think there's a better reminder. They cheer us today because we beat the Croats; well and good, beat them right thoroughly we did, and the City is ours again. But let's not forget that behind the Croats are the Germans; it wasn't Croats that took these walls from Leo. And behind the Germans, again, are the infidel. The Caliphs are spiders; they move a limb in Alexandria, and their web quivers in Venice and ten thousand men are on the move, and never an infidel dies for it. So - memento mori, by all means. But remember, too: They were only Croats."
 
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This will be a break from the story AAR’s, and instead by a more analytical AAR.

Top-Tier Powers:

Russia
Egypt
Germany

Second-Tier Powers:

Persia
Bulgaria
Lotheringia

Third-Tier Powers:

Denmark
Normandie
Croatia

Forth-Tier Powers:

Poland
Toledo
Finland

-----------------------------------------

Forgive me for not pulling out the MP numbers, but I don’t have the latest saves on this comp. :p

Russia: Oddly, vR is being the peaceful sort of person you would rather be friends with and not piss off. He’s recently declared that his continuous borders are official, and that any infringement on them is a declaration of war, soon to be followed by a declaration of surrender…

Russia is the most powerful nation. It’s all one peace, has a save back (at least once the Mongols are taken care of), has a good leader, a good heir, mostly loyal vassals, and MP out the wazoo. The real strength comes from helping others so often that thoughts of a gangbang to take him down in size haven’t ever gained much momentum.

---

Egypt: Other than his occasional war with KoM and Persia, Frosty has been peaceful with other players. Odd that the two biggest and strongest nations are the most peaceful, isn’t it? He also has a lot of friends, and is easy to get along with.

Easily the second most powerful nation. Doesn’t have quite the MP potential Russia has, but his back is safer than Russia’s, and has the ability to pretty easily project power over the Mediterranean if need be.

---

Germany: A.K.A: the Roman Empire, Germany stretches from Northern Spain to Southern Italy to Bavaria. I’d place Germany as the fourth or fifth most powerful nation at this point in time. His nation is currently in a long series of civil wars. He doesn’t have the short-term MP capacity of his biggest rivals. All his borders are fluctuating, and he doesn’t have a fully safe border he can depend on in the long-term. Also, he has built up less good-will than Russia or Egypt. While perhaps third strongest in pure numbers, I’d estimate his position to be less secure than the next nation’s.

---

Persia: Safe back, solid powerbase, one front for potential conflict. Basically a mini-Russia. Due to these things, I place them just above Germany in terms of security.

---

Bulgaria: Recently in control of Constantinople and other Greek and South Slav provinces (formally owned by Croatia), Bulgarian MP has swelled enormously. A power physically stronger than Persia and most other nations in the world, he is a force to be reckoned with. His security rating is lower, however, as he is bordering four different nations at any one time, and his reputation doesn’t win him many friends.

---

Lotheringia: Not much to say about this North German nation. Quiet. Strong. Peaceful… most of the time. I can’t think of a large-scale conflict Lotheringia has been in since I’ve been in the game. Really, there isn’t much to say about him…

---

And that is 500 words, now I can finally go to sleep… I’ll finish the rest tomorrow.
 
But how about Finland!!
People wants to know what is going on in the superpower of charm and manly competence!!
 
Russia: Oddly, vR is being the peaceful sort of person you would rather be friends with and not piss off. He’s recently declared that his continuous borders are official, and that any infringement on them is a declaration of war, soon to be followed by a declaration of surrender…
I think I could take that kind of declaration a lot more serious if it weren´t already the second one in this still short campaign whereas the first one led to him waging an offensive war just a couple of sessions later.

Also having 230k Vikings put in the same league as 40k "beaten by old grannies" Croatians is borderline insulting. ;)
 
The Fatimid Caliphate: The dawn of a new age


islamy.jpg



His father had not lived long after arriving home to his beloved Alexandria. A place he had fought for his entire life, yet spent few years living in. His final days had been good to him. The Alexandria he left had been a ravaged land with soaring debts and half burned buildings. The Alexandria he returned to had been the trade hub linking east to west, a center of unrivaled learning and knowledge, a staging ground for the mightiest fleet and armies in the world and a fortress city equal to Byzantion.

He had spoken some last wisdoms; befriend the paranoid Russians, stay out of Europe, don't be to prideful to let the Andalusis rule themselves under your flag, don't trust the Greeks. All fair and good advice, but Caliph Afzal did not have much interest in faraway diplomacy. There was only one realm he could trust in a time of need and that was the Caliphate itself, more fortifications needed be built. Corruption rooted out by competent men. The old nepotist Emirs replaced, apart from loyalist Toledo, with loyal Fatimids. Already half the seats of power throughout the realm had been staffed by reliable lords, with every city of importance receiving its accountants and tax collectors from Alexandria herself.

There was much upheaval over his reforms. They were of no matter, so long as the realm was at peace rebellious greeks and men of the old guard could be dealt with without to much fuss. There would always be merchants crying about money lost over the Engineers Guild decreeing new standardized weights and measurements in some new area of trade. Always some nobles raging over one of their peers being arrested for paying taxes in diluted coin. These were small annoyances compared to the gains of science and civilization. The days of his father Ala'i had been filled by brutish conflict by necessity, but those days were numbered. As were the days of the men who had thrived in war at the expense of the economy. They would be allowed to live out their days in recognition of their service, but their lands would be confiscated upon their passing and given to more deserving men. Fatimid men.

His father had never had an eye for books and learning unless they were about war and maneuver, he had sold and pawned the libraries and universities. The reconstitution of these institutions had been both expensive and cumbersome. But the Light of Pharos would yet again shine bright over a dark sea of ignorance. Leading the Caliphate into a new golden age. No longer would the likes of Plato and Aristotle, men who prove yet again the best greek is a dead greek, be forgotten. Expeditions would be sent in every direction to seek and find lost knowledge and learned men and bring them to Alexandria for the benefit of men and the Glory of the Caliphate.

But clouds darken the Caliphas heaven. In Europe the de Toulouses grip over their Empire loosens bit by bit. If they slip what new players will take up the fallen Imperial mantle? In Naples the Byzantines launch a bold invasion under the cover of a treaty of peace with the Caliphate and civil war within the Empire. Will the Komnenids be so bold as to finalize who is the 'real' Rome. From Persia the riders carrying offers of peace and cooperation return with their noses cut of and demands the Caliphate surrender Syria.

Yet in a stormy sea there shines a bright guiding light. The Caliphate shall overcome this to.
 
Hey... the AI collapsed my realm after the first "Russia is complete!", I had to redo it all over again... and Gotland is only a "minor border-fix". :D

And I suppose nabbing a quarter of the balkans qualifies as "minor border fix" to eh? :p By those definitions nabbing Poland is a "minor border fix" ;)
 
Newsflash: Denmark declares war on Germany, then Byzantium also declares war on Germany, then everybody and their grandmother joins the bandwagon. Germany is in trouble.
 
Yeah, the créme of Paradox Multiplayer games: subbed country gets bad Realm Duress, gets his vassals ninjaed and then Five players gangbangs it.
I think we reached the lowest point in this game sofar.
Actually I wont even remember if TWBW cycle had anything that sort of "sportmanship" going on.

I feel sorry for Fasq who has some RL issues to distract himself from the game and when he is away this sort of shit happens to his country

Next comments that will follow:
"But we are only demanding so little"
"But when I started it I didn't know he was going to do it too."
"But you brougth it to this"
"But we were in our rigths."
"They did it too!"

10 points and the parrot stamp to the one who can connect correct line to rigth gangbanger....