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The Knautschlings - part 10

Faste´s girls



In this Chapter of the Knautschling tale you will hear me telling you about the heroic struggle
of Faste to simultaneously order someone else to administer a peaceful kingdom and order someone else
to change his daughters´diapers.
For behold, between 1141 and 1149 absolutely nothing interesting will happen !
Now that I have your attention I believe it is appropriate to start continuing the tale.
At least Faste is a worthy hero of this story, since the lack of war or intense realm instability
frustrates him even more than you or me.

k0901.jpg


Of course the fact that he will henceforth be known not as King of Denmark but as
King of Asturias due to the inexplicable but at that time widespread habit of calling people
only with those of their titles that comes first in an alphabetically sorted list
might have also added to his stress level.
On a slightly random note the good news for the people of York in 1141 is, that
the numerous different criminal organisations are more busy determining who is the biggest badass in town
than they are with doing their actual crimes.

k0902.jpg


Anyway, Faste finally arriving in the world of adults with the birth of his three daughters

k0903.jpg


k0904.jpg


k0905.jpg


should give us enough room to elaborate on the heroic struggle of his to order someone else to change those
daughters´diapers.

k0906.jpg


There it is, a historical document proving that Faste ordered the court´s nannies to take care of Sofia.
I hope you are not disappointed my dear reader because that is pretty much it for the aforementioned heroic struggle.
You see, Faste does not really order someone else to administer his peaceful kingdom in this chapter
as no change of the steward takes place in the time period covered by what I am telling you right now.
That opening promise was pretty much a bluff as I knew I could trick you into reading further should I
promise you that Faste will tackle both of these incredibly challenging tasks at once.
On a once again slightly random note Faste finally discovers why his vassal the Duke of Mecklenburg
has so often problems with people revolting in Werle

k0907.jpg


or "Clergyman Prime" as would probably be a more appropriate name for the city.
Speaking of clergy inevitably leads to the topic of sin,
a matter in which Harald Knautschling seems to have experience.

k0908.jpg


But Faste does not punish him too hard. Most of all because he sometimes gets quite rough with his own wife, too.
And since Faste is such a virtuous and pious guy who honestly does not steal holy relics that often

k0909.jpg


his friend Barnim thinks his support could get him to become pope.
But Faste knows that with a prestige like Barnim´s not even the lord Jehova himself could get him to become pope.

k0910.jpg


and thus declines.
On the third and final slightly random note of this chapter the times must be really harsh if
a rape-apologetic relic-stealing guy like Faste is seen as the most pious lord around.

k0911.jpg


At the end of this chapter the lack of war or intense realm instability cause even more than stress
for our warrior-hearted hero.

k0912.jpg


k0913.jpg
 
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So Golle I am confused, why would you do what the orthodox popeposh says if you can dedicate yourself to something as cool as the true forest faith ?

Oh and I don´t want to be rude and am certainly not free of spelling-errors myself, but it would immensely improve the readability of your texts if you wrote "yes" instead of "yeas" because that is a very common word.
 
yeas is as fundamental part of my personal-english as Yes is in my record collection;)
 
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Saxony; a summary of kings.​

Excerption from a schoolbook used for mid-grade children in 1989 called “The kingdom of Lotharingia, volume one: The early period” by Erwin Müller.

Konrad I, the saint of Jülich, von Goldstrand was the third son of Karl I, the duke of Saxony, and brother of Dietmar I, the blessed, first king of Lotharingia. He inherited the crown from his brother when he died from pneumonia in the fall of 1119 and had one of the shortest reigns in the history of the kingdom. Despite the shortness of his reign it was a significant one as he managed to solidify the dynasty’s hold on the throne by changing various laws and customs such as the feudal contracts. Konrad is also noteworthy for his heavy investments in infrastructure and improving the conditions for internal trade and productivity. He also gained the support of the courtier bishops and bishoprics throughout the realm, which were somewhat lacking and decentralized during the reign of Dietmar I, by paying large donations to the church and financed the building of local churches which led to the Christianization of the last pagan footholds throughout northern Germany. Many speculate that this is the sole reason why Dietmar and Konrad were beatified as saints even though they didn’t lead unquestionably pious lives. Nevertheless, their beatification had a large impact on the new kingdoms stability during its early period. Konrad died in his sleep at the age of 55 and left the throne to his son Rupprecht in the year of 1124.

Rupprecht I, the just, von Goldstrand had always been a physically weak man, much due to him coming up with an assortment of different diseases as a young boy, many of whom were close to claiming his life. He spent most of his time as a youth studying and practising court affairs as he was too weak to pursue military training. This led to him being very skilled in the arts of diplomacy and internal affairs when he reached adulthood but also an incompetent military leader. He was crowned king at the age of 33 when his father st. Konrad I died and during his time as regent he was fair to his enemies and generous to his friends. His rule doesn’t mark any major changes in policy and he sought to solidify the trust of the church that his father had built. His rule was rather eventless with the sole exception of the war against Denmark in the year of 1133 which ended in the annexation of Mercia and a return of the status quo for the remaining powers. His rule ended one January morning in the year of 1146 when he was found in his quarters with an assassin’s blade firmly lodged into his ribcage. The assassin was never caught but there were rumours going around the court that the assassin had been sent from Viktor von Goldstrand, count of Weimar, the cousin of Rupprecht and the legal heir to the throne since Rupprecht had no legitimate son. The base of these rumours were most likely that Viktor had been showing rebellious tendencies in the past where he claimed to be the rightful ruler of the kingdom and launched a failed rebellion in order to overthrow Rupprecht.

Viktor I, the fat, was crowned king at the age of 46 and was at this time a much stressed person. This fact had a great impact on his ruling which was only worsened by the rumours that were spread around the court. In order to compensate for his situation, Viktor began to eat a lot of food and gained much weight during his years on the throne. Viktor’s marriage was also suffering from his stress and he had a hard time producing an heir apparent to the throne. This was a major problem for the dynasty as a whole as its number of branches was rapidly shrinking because of infertility, strict marriage regulations and an unusually high infant’s mortality rate.
 
The Fatimid Caliphate: Antioch


islamy.jpg




Staging camp, outside the walls of Aleppo, the commanders tent.


"And Morocco, what of Morocco?"
Calipha Ala'i Fatimid, the Triumphant, the Fortifier, fastened his boots.
"Will the bloody Imperials get back on their boats?"

The messenger fiddled with his papers
"They have agreed finally, but insisted on retaining the right to raise Spai... al-Andalus in their service"

"Bah, do we even know who controls al-Andalus? Who controls anything? Sunni apostates and Galician heretics everywhere!"
The Calipha sighed
"So now we both lord over the peninsula? By Allah... When all this is over I shall have to appoint a proper Sultan to rid me of that mess, Toledo perhaps?"
He mused. It was not his strongest side, indeed with his wild beard, battleworn armour and scarred face not many would expect Ala'i to be much of a schemer. Logistics, fortification, maneuver, those were his fortes. Not politicing with far of Emperors.
"Let him have the regiments, if the Empire is of fighting his own kind then it is not fighting us, the important part is having them out of Africa all together. Send Sayaddin to take control of the handover, we'll need good Fatimids to stake our claim in Morocco."

"Um, and, it seems that in the Heathen's understanding of land ownership the fact that he can raise your regiments makes you... his vassal."
The messenger mumbled, his eyes down

Ala'i paused, his eyes moving slowly. As if searching for the right answer when his mind had already reached one more natural to him. There was an uneasy silence as a man who had never known anything but battle and triumph contemplated realpolitiks. The attendants blanched as he lifted his head and smiled an easy smile
"The ramblings of heathen peasantry are of no concern to me, will next my tigers call me their manservant because I feed them? Will the child call himself his fathers lord when he carries him on his shoulders? Let them blather their nonsense so long as the gold comes into my coffers. Have my command assembled?"

"They have my lord"


Ala'i flexed his mailed fist, it still hurt where the bastard Hammadid had struck him during the assault on al-Djazir. The Mullahs had made a great fuss over every battle he had led, decrying his lack of heirs and the risks of civil war should he fall. He had been forced to chastise some of their leaders for doubting Allahs voice on earth, would He not take men from this life whenever it suited him? No, when his days were numbered the angels who came for him would find him in the field, where he belonged.

The Sayeedi guardsmen snapped into parade ground attention as he exited the tent. Veterans all of them fivefold by now. He sometime scoffed at how readily the wealthy families would trade him their firstborn in exchange for freedom from taxes, but he was not about to complain. They were his sons now, sometimes even more so than his real ones back home to his mind. He allowed himself to smile at the force he had built up since he was old enough to stand as he made his way into a large ornate tent with the Banner of Pharos soaring proudly above.

"Little Lord!"
The bombastic Ilyas Najeeb, Emir of Edessa, near crushed Ala'i in his embrace
"How are the wenches?"

"Under lock and key, my friend."
The Caliph grunted
"Like you always remind me."

tigerh.jpg

Questions about the paternity of the Caliphas sons dropped substantially when he ordered the Harems guarded by beasts trained to maul any man who was not Nubian or Himself.


He looked around the table at the grizzled and grinning men who stood before him, Ilyas, the bear of a man. Emir Salah Yousif of Aleppo, Master of the Recruits, son of Isa the Loyal. Emir Abdullah Abbas of Damascus, Master of the Eastern Watch, son of Isa's right hand Fadh. Valorous men, reckless and stubborn men. They had fought in the Croatian war, taken Jerusalem from the usurping al-Murabits, skirmished with the Theme of Antioch more times than they could count, two of them even laid siege to Baghdad at the end of the Syrian war. Most notoriously they had each led the assaults on the Capitals of their own Emirates, proving their right to command.

"Commanders!"
Ala'i announced in high spirits
"Last year we were unfairly robbed of our glory by Greek cowardice when Thessaloniki folded before our demand for them to end the war with Croatia."

"And I had hardly even gotten halfway over the sea!"
Admiral Abdullah lamented

"Quite!"
the Calipha continued in ever more triumphatory tones
"Had we gotten a proper chance we would even have taken Antioch!"

antioch.jpg

In reality the Fatimids had been lucky the war ended so soon, the legendary Saint Arkaidos of Antioch at the helm of the most veteran theme the Greeks could muster had already managed to turn back two assaults at horrendous cost to the Caliphate and was preparing a sortie against the wavering Syrian levies on the Fatimid left flank when message of the peace arrived.

"This time however we shall not concern ourselves with battering our heads bloody against stone walls."
The Caliph skirted the issue, much to the Lord Levithan's relief.
"If they think they can raid our shipping of Crete and Rhodes then they shall be reminded how it feels to hunger and freeze when their fields and villages burn. In, out before the old crow Komnenos in his high tower realized we where there. Nothing carried back home that will slow us down. I want us as deep into Anatolia as we can..."
Ala'i looked up scowlingly at the horseman who had burst into the tent without the propper formalities.

"By Allah most wise, most merciful, I bring momentous news!"
The young man blurted out
"The Lord Komnenos of Antioch has left this life without heir and now both the Lords Komnenid of Thessaly and Trebizond claim it as their own!"

"Hah! The old crow squawks his last breath!"
The Emir of Edessa boomed
"To whom does the Syrian themes swear then?"

"None"

"...none?"
The grizzled old men leaned forward

"Who commands the walls of Tyrus? Tripoli? Antioch!?"
The Emir of Damascus demanded

"I don't know. The themes have not been raised."
The messenger flinched as the Calipha himself threw him out of the way

"To horse! To horse! The Greeks fools have left their bastions unguarded! To horse!"
The Calipha raced towards his guard
"Send word to Jerusalem! If they act fast enough the entire coast will be ours! To Horse!"
 
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April 3rd, 1144
Outside Thessalonika, Greece
Midmorning

The camp was a sprawling temporary city, larger than the walled enclave of Thessalonika that it surrounded. An outsider might have seen chaos; but Arkadios had designed the underlying order, and his eye could pick out the steady flow of supplies coming from Thessalonika's harbour and the nerve-pulses of couriers bringing word from regiments marching to the muster point or from spies deep inside Croatia. He had a purpose for every man he could see, and a proper place for him; and from the tenor of the shouts and cries which made up the murmuring noise of a great army, he could tell that every soldier was where he, Arkadios, intended him to be. He nodded his satisfaction as he turned to the tent where his sons awaited their conference; for he had not, of course, achieved such order by telling each man where he was expected, but by building a disciplined army with good officers, not placemen. A place for every man, and every man in his place; and if that place might happen to be, on a particular morning, "recovering from a wild carouse and finding that last night's woman had stolen his purse" - well, the point was to ensure that only the correct number of soldiers were in that place. So many on guard, so many drilling, so many on camp leave, so many digging latrines - the details did not matter, only that each function should be fulfilled; and Arkadios's experienced ear could detect no sour note in the disciplined bustle around him. It would not remain so; no army's order survived its first meeting with the enemy, and then an officer's work would consist of restoring it as nearly as possible, to maintain the striking power that depended on order in the ranks; but it was a good start to the campaign.

As he entered the tent he felt the first twinges of pain in his chest, and ignored it as he always had. But this time it did not remain as a tolerable ache; it spread into his arm, and then his throat. His vision darkened, and he realised that he was falling; and that he had forgotten how to breathe. It was very important that he remember how to breathe.

--------------------------------------​

He woke with a soldier's instantness; woke, and knew that it was for the last time. There was still pain in his chest, great pain; he could feel his heart tearing itself apart with the struggle to sustain him for just one more hour. That could not be allowed to matter. In a short while it would be over, and meanwhile it was necessary to make the most of what time remained.

"Zenobios?"

"I am here, father."

"Good. And Thomas - yes, there. Listen." He paused to draw breath; his youngest son leapt into the pause. Zenobios, more experienced in the ways that men die, merely stood, looking grim.

"We have sent for the doctor, and the priest."

Arkadios nodded impatiently, dismissing this as obvious. "Yes, yes, that is very well. But listen. This war is now much the worse for us. For thirty years we have kept the infidel at bay in the East. Now I die. And so we lose the main thing that we relied on to keep our eastern border peaceful while we crushed Croatia, the terror of my name."

There was a commotion outside, and Eusebius entered the tent at a run, shrugging into his vestments. He stopped abruptly when he saw Arkadios sitting up and talking; but then he looked again and came forward. "My Lord. I have brought the oil."

"Yes, fine. It will keep for a minute; I am instructing my sons. Zenobios..." and he paused, even his diamond concentration overwhelmed for a moment by memory. Zenobios, his eldest son! A father himself now, a bearded patriarch. It was a comfort, facing the dark, to know that his blood had passed on; but how strange, to recall a squalling infant in a crib, and see the same man in his late middle age, a scarred veteran of many wars.

Eusebius, taking the hesitation for a worsening of the pain, came forward again, insistently. "My Lord - I must insist. Worldly concerns cannot be your task now; there is little time. You will care little for the war if you are denied entrance to Heaven; I must prepare you for..." and he subsided.

Thomas, watching the exchange, shivered. It was the first time he had realised, had truly understood, why the name of Arkadios was feared among the infidel; for he had seen the brown eyes turn black as winter, and Eusebios, a powerful man in his prime, a Bishop and an anointed priest, had shrivelled like a child of five chastised for stealing sweets. Flat on his back, on his deathbed, the will of Arkadios was indomitable. Such a will could dominate battlefields and countries, could hold back death itself. There would be time for whatever Arkadios thought it necessary to say, for the Angel of Death himself would hold back until the Strategos was done. And yet time was always the victor; no man's will could hold back the Angel forever. A silent dread crept up Thomas's spine, as he understood what shoes it would be his task to step into. He understood, for the first time, how much a part of his life that adamantine will had always been; how much he had relied upon its presence to overawe his foes. Now that support tottered, and Thomas's world shook with it.

Arkadios shook off the distraction of his personal priest wanting to prepare him for eternal life, and turned again to his son. "Zenobios. You will be Strategos of Antioch after me; Strategos, but not Emperor. There is no need to hide your eyes; I have seen how you look at your brother's purple. I lay this on you, my last command to you who have been my officer and right-hand man: Be satisfied. There is power enough in Antioch; wealth enough for your children, and theirs."

Zenobios knelt, bowing his head. "Yes, father. As you say."

Arkadios nodded. "Good. And you, Thomas; my youngest son, as Zenobios is the eldest. Emperor of Rome; the only true Emperor. Two thousand years of history on your shoulders; and you are fourteen. Younger than some of my grandsons. But you will do well, I have no doubt of it; you are my son."

"Th-thank you, father." Thomas's voice was thick in his throat.

Arkadios nodded, and then his eyes blazed again; no sentiment now, only the steely will that had brought victory on a hundred hard-fought fields. "It is well. Now, hear. You must win the loyalty of the army; you must win the fear of our enemies. It is not necessary that you win the war; that is impossible now, for the Caliphate will move when they hear of my death. Do not exhaust the realm in attempting it. But these two things you must have: Loyalty, and fear. Crush the Croatians. Let them off easy at the peace table, by all means; but crush them in the field. You can do it if you do not falter; there is no army in the world finer than the Theme of Antioch. Strike as though your life depended on it; for it does. When they flee, and they will, hammer them; be utterly ruthless in pursuit. You need not win the war, but one thing you must have: You must have a victory. One glorious battle, one victory to uphold your name among the legions. Descend upon Croatia like a river in flood, and let nothing stand in your way."

Thomas straightened. Perhaps it was his imagination; but he thought he could feel some of his father's willpower streaming through him, putting iron in his spine and winter in his mind. "Yes. The Basileus Romaion; a river in flood. I will do as you say, father."

A firm nod. "Good. You will do well. Now - " his eyes turned coolly upon Eusebios, still standing ready with the oil - "there are some other matters to attend to. Sing your rites, Eusebios. Although, to speak truth, I don't think it will help."

Eusebios looked shocked. "My Lord - you must not say such things!"

"Be quiet." And if there had been winter in the tent before, now the frozen ice of the hardest Georgia winter coated every surface. "When you have sinned as I have, when you have driven a knife through the throat of your son as he welcomed you for a guest at his table... then you will be fit to say whether a song and a bit of oil will win forgiveness of sins, even from the gentle Christos. But we shall observe the forms. Sing, I say. It can do no harm."
 
Holy Lands and Balkans Peace Process: The Camp Dukas Accords


The Theme of Antioch returns to Byzantine sovereignty; however its borders are reduced as outlined below.
Abghazia (including the Duke title) and Feher to Russia.
The Syrian coast, the islands (including Duke titles), and Tangiers, to the Caliphate.
Ragusa, Split, and the Duchy of Croatia to the Kingdom of Croatia.
Byzantium and the Caliphate agree to peace for the lifetimes of their respective kings, whichever is the longer. Neither party shall attack the other or its vassals or acknowledged allies.
The Caliphate forswears intervention in Balkan affairs.
The Greek peninsula, the Aegean islands, Adrianopolis, and the two Russian provinces in Anatolia, to Byzantium.
Security against bomb-throwing rebels and anarchists paid for by Byz.

Here is the Eastern Med after all the recent treaties. Pretty borders!

CampDukasAccords.jpg
 
Rise of the Radomirs
Part 3​


“There’s never a moment’s rest in Croatia.”

The King, the Princes, the Dukes, the Counts, and the entire Royal Court were tired. Quite simply tired. They had been fighting a tough civil war for 3 years. The men were tired. The quartermasters were tired. Everyone was tired. There had been precisely two bright spots in the last decade for Croatia.

The first came shortly after the Roman Empire declared war on the Byzantine Empire and annexed Constantinople. Rome decided that they didn’t actually want it, so Teodosii decided he’d try for it. Sending Dmitar and Trpimir was the smart move, and in the end, it paid off. Constantinople was now in Croatian hands.

The second bright spot had been the peace talks with the Bulgarian Empire…

“What’s the latest on the peace talks, Trpimir?”

“My King, they go well. The Bulgarians are practically begging us to give them Constantinople. Their offers are quite ridiculously high.”

“Well don’t keep the offers in your head, man, spit them out already!”

“First, there is the offer of an alliance, money, and land.”

“So their king is reversing his stance on northward expansion?”

“Well, it appears so, but we haven’t gotten that far in the talks yet.”

Teodosii sighed, “Get out! Come back here once you have some actual questions settled.”

The talks continued on for weeks, until they took a sudden turn from promises of future aid into plans against other friendly nations…

Trpimir walked into the Throne Room and handed the King a scroll, “My King, these are the latest on the talks.”

“Hmm… Split, Rashka, the Archbishopric… Interesting offers. Oh, what’s this? About time we got a whiff of some of their plans… So they want to ally us with the end goal of being part of a coalition against the Roman Empire and taking Italy for ourselves. What did you tell them?”

“Well I didn’t tell them much. I avoided the issue until I could talk to you about it.”

“Ah, smart man. I knew there was a reason you were in charge of this. We don’t take gifts to only turn around and stab the soft underbelly of our benefactor. His offer is quite unacceptable. Go back and come up with a good counter-offer. Respectfully deny this one, but come up with something more beneficial to the both of us.”

“Yes, my Liege.”

But the counter-offer was never replied to. The messenger made it to Thessalonike, but he had been told the Bulgarians would send their own messenger with a response.

Two weeks later, scouts came rushing back to the Hum with dire news…

“CLEAR THE WAY! CLEAR THE WAY! ROYAL SCOUTS WITH A MESSAGE, CLEAR THE WAY!”

The gates were thrown open to allow the scouts to never leave a gallop on their way to the fortress.

“My King, my King! There are soldiers headed our way!”

“Soldiers? What kind of soldiers? Who’s soldiers?”

“They bear the coat of arms of the King of Bulgaria, my Liege!”

“The King of Bulgaria?! We were expecting an offer of peace negotiation, not soldiers!”

Vukan, who had been recently appointed as Head Marshal of Croatia, was there to slap the king out of his stupor, “Teo, we must mobilize all available troops. We have 10,000 in the immediate area. Scout! How many enemy soldiers were you able to see?”

“We were able to see about 30,000 soldiers, but we are sure we weren’t able to see his full forces, sir.”

“Teo, this isn’t good… They have surprise, they have numbers, and they have generals. There is no way our armies can stand up to theirs in the field on these conditions.”

“Well what do you expect me to do about it?!”

“You blubbering idiot… Scout, have your men go find Prince Dmitar and Trpimir. Tell them of what you have seen. They know what to do.”

And know what to do, they did. Dmitar traveled to Innsbruck, and Trpimir traveled to Alexandria. In short order, both the Roman Empire and The Fatimid Caliphate had declared war on the Bulgarian Empire for the latter’s senseless attack. Two months later, the Bulgarians begged for a white peace from all parties. Teodosii, who had to be told by Vukan that the defeated army was in no condition to offensively fight, grudgingly accepted the terms from Bulgaria.

After rebuilding had finished, and the troops were at home in late 1149, a meeting of the Royal Court was held.

Dmitar opened the talks, “Gentlemen and ladies, for all intents and purposes, I am the King of Croatia. My father is over 60 years old, and he was never competent even in his younger days. His actions in the face of a Bulgarian onslaught were the last straw. The leaders of the court have decided to make my father leave the throne in all but name, and to usher in a new era for Croatia.

“In this new era, we can not allow the blunders of the past to be repeated. The Bulgarian attack left us surprised and paralyzed. From now on, we must always be prepared for war. The Bulgarians have shown that they do not wish peace to reign, but rather war. We must accept this and be ready for the next conflict. They have good-will with their friends in Persia. They have recently signed a non-aggression treaty with the Caliphate. This secures their eastern border. They know Rome is in no position to fight a war when Rome itself has it’s own enemies closer to home. They know we are on our own. Bulgaria is a nation of opportunists, and we must prepare for the inevitable war they will launch while they see us isolated.
Operation Unthinkable
“Occurring within the next few days, orders will be issued to recall regiments to the field so a token force will always be available to fend off surprise attacks. Every man, women, and child shall prepare for the fights that are sure to come. Our generals will come up with defense and counter-offensive battle plans. We shall not be taken by surprise. We shall not be taken aback by people who use peace talks To hide plans for war. WE SHALL NOT BE HUMILIATED IN SUCH AWAY AGAIN!” ​
 
Ok, so AARs are by construction propaganda for their respective nations, but this is ridiculous.

1. When the talks failed, I gave clear warning that I could not accept foreign garrisons in Constantinople.
2. There were only 10 thousand men in the army that crossed the Croatian, not thirty thousand. We understand that Croatian scouts are not to be trusted, especially when they've been drinking and are surprised to see any enemies at all, but we made the accurate figures available after the war.
3. There was a battle, in which they handily defeated the 8 thousand men of the Croatian army. This, however, is not as discreditable to the Croatians as it may sound, even though they were fighting in defense of their homes and families. The reason I won so easily was that the Croatians had recently been attacking Belgrade, and had been whupped by the famous Three Grannies. The count of Belgrade, outnumbered about five to one, had nonetheless seen off the invading Croatians, due to the presence at his fighting front of these fearsome old biddies, armed with broomsticks and dustpans. Naturally then Croatian morale was low, and they swiftly crumbled in the face of the fearsome Roman war cry, "Shoo! Shoo!" - which they had learned from the Three Grannies of Belgrade.
4. It wasn't a white peace at all: The casus belli for which we had gone to war, namely Belgradian independence, was upheld.
 
I was counting the men besieging Constantinople, who then later moved into Croatia proper, in the number of the invading force. I actually decreased it somewhat, as you had 40k men total mobilized at that point. 20k invading, 20k on Constantinople.

The talks never "failed". You just stopped responding.

I consider it a WP, as your true goal, Constatinople, was not taken back.

AAR's are propaganda. Yours was constructed that way, so was mine. Let's leave it at that. ;)
 
OrangeYoshi said:
The talks never "failed". You just stopped responding.
Click to expand...

When the person you are talking to stops responding and then punches you in the face, the talks have failed. ;)
 
The Toulousian Codex:

Emperors of East & West: ​

Part 2 Continued from Emperors of East & West Part 1

Enemies of Enemies

When the Bagratuni brought Leo VII's plea to the Emperor of the West, they found an eager listener. Their liege had a lesser, but still significant grudge against Antioch, for in the times of his father, the Duke Guillaume IV, Antioch had laid claims to the Toulousian vassals in Sardinia and Corsica, and also driven the Toulousian armies from Crete, in support of the pirates who had been the terror of Toulousian shipping. For this the Komnenos dynasty had also earned the enmity of the powerful Genoese and Venician merchant families, whose shipping was the Cretan's favoured prey and whose voices held much sway in the court of the West. Thus the plan of Leo VII was gladly embraced by the ambitious Raimond VI, and the (Western) Roman armies began their long, careful mobilization. As every regiment in the country was drawn up, and organized into regiments of not more than twenty thousands, the command of each going to the most renowned man in each region. In view of Raimond's great age, command of the vast army - numbering over one hundred thousands - went to his son and heir, Michels, Duke of Toulouse.

Leo's Plan

The plan was simple, but based more on hopeful thinking than cold calculation - the Western Roman troops would tour the country, cowing the supporters of Arkadios into inaction, then Michels, as leader of the West Roman guests, would travel to Constantinople for a great celebration. There the cowed Senate would endorse the Emperor Leo's brother Ioannes as his true heir, and Michels, as emissary of his father, would receive the Emperor's homage as representative of the Emperor of the West, and senior member of the diarchy.

The plan began to unravel almost as soon as the West Roman troops arrived on the beaches. Whether Komnenid slur, or truth, rumours spread that Ioannes Dukas was a Muslim, and that the Western troops, whose leaders were conveniently descended from the hated Goths, were plotting to undermine the Eastern Empire by putting a heathen on the throne. Either way, Ioannes never made it to Constantinople to be acclaimed heir, and pro-Komnenid bands rose up in the country-side to oppose the Gothic invaders.

Even if the tour of the country became a campaign of pacification, the Western troops subdued the East with discipline and efficiency. For all the Antiochene propagandists would demonise Michels' armies, even they did not accuse their enemies of looting or mistreating the helpless.

In May of 1135, Michels would finally arrive in Constantinople, but of Ioannes, there was still no sign. The plan had failed.

Glorious Failure

The attempt of Leo VII to secure the throne for his family had ended up strengthening his enemies. By trying to put a (reputed) heathen on the throne, Leo's political capital with any but the most resolute enemy of the Komnenids was ruined, to everyone else, whatever the flaws of that family, they were more Christian than the Dukas, and more Greek than the Goths.

Michels, who had at this point achieved a glorious victory, saw clearly that trying to force the Greeks to accept Leo's brother would only give the Komnenos the opportunity to make themselves into heroes and the Dukas and de Toulouse into villains. Further, he knew that pushing his army to fight a real war would lead their frustration to rise, and make the exemplary Christian conduct of his soldiers break, for the Toulousian armies were not Roman Legions, nor could harsh discipline or personal charisma make them such.

Leo, wounded in battle against his enemies, found Michels' determination to withdraw too great a stroke. His last hope ripped from him, Leo fell sick, and soon died. Though before he did so, there was time for one last attempt at undermining his Komnenid enemies. Passing the crown of the Eastern Empire on to Michels, he named him heir of the Eastern Empire, and pledged the Dukas family to his protection, extracting his promise in return that when the Greeks tired of Komnenid tyranny, a de Toulouse would ride to the aid of the Dukas, and to all Greeks. Then he died.

The great families of Constantinople, knowing they were too deeply tainted by what Leo had attempted, and that Arkadios would crucify the lot of them if he got his hands on them, pledged themselves to the now theoretically re-united Roman Empire. So, leaving some of his army behind to defend his new vassals, Michels left the East.

Michels and his father Raimond had failed to keep the Komenids from the throne of the Greeks, but were hailed as triumphant victors, midwives of the reborn Roman Empire.

Arkadios failed to pass on the Eastern Roman Empire wholly to his son, but was hailed as the savior from the Gothic invasion.

Leo failed to pass on his Empire to a Dukas, but by Catholic and Orthodox churches was hailed a Saint for his stalwart resistance of his enemies in a hopeless situation (of course the enemies in question were different in the Orthodox and Catholic stories). And to both, he would become the patron saint of lost causes.

And amid such glory, the common people in Constantinople worried what the future would bring.

fasquardon
 
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During game update: In response to The King of Bulgaria's swear of everlasting war, Croatia pre-emptively strikes in 1152. This is a failure, and Croatian Greece is lost, as well as Byzantion.
 
Shoo! Shoo!

When I offer reasonable compensation, namely four provinces in exchange for one, and an alliance; and the other guy refuses and does not make a counteroffer, then I consider the talks to be obviously futile, and prepare for war instead. The last thing I heard from you that was even remotely related to border adjustments was this:

OrangeYoshi said:
Well this is certainly an intriguing proposal...

Byzantion is a mighty wealthy province to just give up for an archbishop, though...
Click to expand...

This is not negotiation, it is stalling.
 
King of Men said:
Shoo! Shoo!

When I offer reasonable compensation, namely four provinces in exchange for one, and an alliance; and the other guy refuses and does not make a counteroffer, then I consider the talks to be obviously futile, and prepare for war instead. The last thing I heard from you that was even remotely related to border adjustments was this:



This is not negotiation, it is stalling.
Click to expand...
What we have here... is a failure... to communicate.
 
Mupdate Session 12: The Croatian Debacle


session12.jpg



Of note:

Fatimids entrench themselves throughout the realm, many provinces are fortified

Croatia launches a preemptive attack on Bulgaria and is roundly trounced despite Fatimid efforts to weaken Bulgaria, no one intervenes, vassals flee to Russia

Poles snatch Bohemia during rebel troubles in the Empire

Imperial succession is secured with a change away from elective law

The Empire mistakenly breaks a few rules during pacification of its runaway vassals, thus risking some punitive edits.

Persia is restored
 
OrangeYoshi said:
I think it was determined that was an inheritance or a bug? The vassal was never disloyal to me, and he never pledged allegiance to Russia.
Click to expand...

Possibly, I had a few 100% loyal vassals rebell on me. But it might as well be a display error....
 
From the last few maps it seems to me everyone has just forgotten about South Italy.
 
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