• We have updated our Community Code of Conduct. Please read through the new rules for the forum that are an integral part of Paradox Interactive’s User Agreement.
The Knautschlings - part 17

Growing old




Reliable numbers on how many bastard childs Waldemar Knautschling sired are hard to get,
but most people believe that there are at least eight bastard sons and probably as many girls.
This proves that Waldemar is not a shiny beacon of marital fidelity which might let
one question whether he believes in himself as a good christian.
But anyone doing so is a fool because in the early 13th century burning heathens is
much bigger evidence for your piety than siring one, two or sixteen children with women
other than your wife is counterevidence.
And burning heathens is a hobby of Waldemar.
Even if they are his own spymaster and have obscenely good intrigue skills.

k1601.jpg


This attempted elimination

k1602.jpg


however has nothing to do with religion but is instead related to some silly plot of
Waldemar´s wife to finally get her hands on one of these fancy silken outfits.
How stupid she is. To think that assassinating a king at the other end of the world
would magically make a robe appear in her closet.
Well my dear readers, I suggest we simply move on before
your futile attempts to search for any logic there will drive you crazy.
Waldemar´s vassal in Österbötten expands into Polarian territory by grabbing Danzig.

k1603.jpg


And while some initiative on one´s own is encouraged in the danish feudal system,
Waldemar feels that alienating neighboring kingdoms is not in the range of duty
of his vassals. Some Dukes beg to differ which upsets Waldemar a lot.

k1604.jpg


During the discussion he even threatens to personally impale one of the Dukes to
the door of his throne room, or at least that is what the rumours at court say.
Already in a foul mood Waldemar collects almost twenty thousand ducats of
extra taxes from his starving peasants

k1605.jpg


and also produces some bastards.

k1606.jpg


Oh Waldemar, dear Waldemar...

k1607.jpg


What you can witness here is the King of Polaria, no doubt enraged by the Duke of Österbötten´s
actions, declaring war on the danish vassal in Lausitz

k1608.jpg


and then actually annexing the area into his demesne.
Of course Waldemar declares war right away.

k1609.jpg


But the boldness of the Polarians of taking an aggressive stance towards
a neighbor with an army over twenty times their own in numbers and over fifty
times their own in fighting capabilities while actually engaged in a civil war
impresses Waldemar.
Thus he offers to correct the mistake made earlier by the Duke of Österbötten if the Polarians
acknowledge Danish sovereignty over Lausitz in return. The unwillingness of Waldemar
to engage in actual battle over the matter might come surprising for some,
but honor is important to him and in beating up someone who can not defend themselves
there is none.
The Polarian king with the most unpronouncable name ever accepts quickly.

k1610.jpg


At the end of this chapter Waldemar reaches the proud age of sixty-five.

k1611.jpg


His life might be just long enough to embark on one last voyage.
What would that be ?
Well, these highlighted character traits of Waldemar,

k1612.jpg


k1613.jpg


the currently called crusade

k1614.jpg


and the fact that Waldemar feels the need to atone for the murder of a bishop
occuring in his own palace

k1615.jpg


might be some hints to you, my dear readers.
Stay tuned for the next chapter of the Knautschling tale to find out if and how Waldemar´s
life continues.​
 
The Fatimid Caliphate: The last will of Afzal


islamy.jpg


beirut.jpg

The Fortress Mosque of Beirut, rumored headquarters of the Hassassin cults

The dark hallways were hardly lit, the natural light coming only from the arrow slits in the outer walls. The torches placed at distances that almost made the sinister nature of the shadows cast seem intentional. Murmurs and whispers echoed from rooms of unknown location. The exile Lord Fatimid, his golden armour and billowing emerald cloak a distinct contrast to the plain robes of the hassassin cultists, made his way past shelves of banned books and secret documents to hear the latest reports of the wars in Italy and the Balkans.

"Has my father yet bothered to raise his nose from the state finances long enough to realize the opportunity we have before us?" He asked angrily as he entered the small room, sat down on the pillows and grabbed the hashish pipe.

"It would appear not, nor is he taking actions against the infidel rebellions in the Isles" a small bearded man answered from behind thick spectacles on a hooked nose "And he has ordered the fleets to not interfere with the fighting or harass trade."

"But we have made sure any Greek shipping is swiftly dealt with?"

"Obviously" Somebody answered from across the haze

"Make sure to launch additional raids on the Isles, I want them starving when the senile old man gets around to action" There was a hushed silence at the words

"Lord" Ibrahim ibn Najjar gasped "have respect for your father!"

"senile old Calipha and Light of Allah, then" Sayyid answered. "His time as the voice of Islam is soon over, and then comes my time regardless of his intent. Do not forget it."

"Gentlemen, let us turn to the matters at hand" the spectacled man continued with a frown "Our operations have met with significant gains, and have eluded the notice of our enemies, while diplomatic schemes in the Caliphas name have brought fruit even outside our recent successes in convincing the Romes at each others throats"

The others in the room turned their gaze from various reports and statistics concerning removed targets or infiltrated courts and organizations. Hamid the Elder removed his spectacles for and paused for effect "We have managed to 'convince' the second commander of the night shift in Byzantion to staff the inner and second gates with Croat mercenaries."

There was an uproar of cheers at the announcement, and much shaking of hands congratulatory whoops. Hamid turned to Sayyid with a wry smile. "This, old friend, I believe should help in our attempts to wrest the Eastern Roman crown from the wretched Komnenoi, eh?"

"It is certainly good news, my friend, but the Croats have yet to take the city... It remains to be seen if the Frankish infiltrators will be able to manipulate the Imperial court to a sufficient degree of intrigue and elective chaos.."

"I do believe the Greeks need not to much prodding to ruin the works of their forefathers, in any event it is not like we can walk in there ourselves. It is in the hands of Allah" Hamid nodded

"I suppose you are right, do you expect many to accept the Croats as 'Emperors' now? It does not appear to have gained much support as of yet" The Lord Fatimid inquired gazing through reports on Croatian-French diplomatic ties.

"Every nail in the Greeks eye is another night of good sleep for me, Lord"

"That is reason enough I suppose" Sayyid chuckled.

Their eyes turned to a messenger who appeared through a door bearing a parchment with the seal of Pharos, his demeanor quite a bit darker than the assembled council. Navigating the men present he handed it to the eldest among them.

"Alexandria stoops to contact us? Let us hear, Hamid!" Sayyid demanded

"The Calipha has passed to Allah" He responded in a whisper

"It is my time then! I will take the throne of Ala'i, and drive those who question my ascendance before me!" Sayyid positively shone with malevolent confidence "It is the end of peace with the infidel and the Hassassins outcast into the dark and damp corners of the realm! What street shall not know the blood of our detractors now? What land shall not be trampled by our armies?"

Hamid sat frozen a second before continuing "He wrote and signed a last will before he passed" the old man swallowed "pertaining to Allahs will and order concerning his succession." he raised a steely gaze at the Lord Fatimid.

Sayyid snarked "and what did the old goat say of it?"

"...That you are an insolent brat for thinking the simple fact that he was dead would mean you could defy him"

A blade flashed in the shadows of the council.

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

taimur.jpg

All Hail reasonably decent Calipha Taimur!

The ascent of Lord Fatimid Taimur to the Light of Allah was marked by much internal turbulence over the previous actions of Calipha Afzal, with many vassals charging he had been old and senile when he ordered all non-Fatimids lords stripped of their titles. Those who protested were convinced of the infallibility of the Calipha, one way or the other, and the realm was restored to stability. In a show of force he then ordered the fleets to launch attacks on the Greek isles to restore naval hegemony and rally the realm to himself. Heavy battles were fought against the wounded lion that was the remnants of the Greek army, but that story is for the following update to tell.

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

His life might be just long enough to embark on one last voyage.
What would that be ?

It had better be a peaceful pilgrimage or Golle-related
 
Moar islands!



The treaty of Corfu

The vassal Corfu from the Croats to the Caliphate

By the stated Komnenid logic of any Emperor not holding the City being only another usurper; The Fatimid Caliphate recognizes the Croats as the more legitimate inheritors of the mantle of Emperors of the East. The fratricidal mess in Anatolia will henceforth be referred to as "the Greeks".
 
Moar islands!



The treaty of Corfu

The vassal Corfu from the Croats to the Caliphate

By the stated Komnenid logic of any Emperor not holding the City being only another usurper; The Fatimid Caliphate recognizes the Croats as the more legitimate inheritors of the mantle of Emperors of the East. The fratricidal mess in Anatolia will henceforth be referred to as "the Greeks".

Whats the date in this noble game good sirs!!
 
Moar islands!



The treaty of Corfu

The vassal Corfu from the Croats to the Caliphate

By the stated Komnenid logic of any Emperor not holding the City being only another usurper; The Fatimid Caliphate recognizes the Croats as the more legitimate inheritors of the mantle of Emperors of the East. The fratricidal mess in Anatolia will henceforth be referred to as "the Greeks".


See ? This ^ is what I talked about.
 
"If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster / and treat those two impostors just the same"; thus the poet enjoins mankind to equianimity. Twice, now, Komnenoi emperors have held Triumphs, in the old Roman style; it was only to be expected that Disaster would eventually catch up.

The direct line of Arkadios (whose son Tomas begat Michael the Elder, who begat Michael the Younger, who begat Basileios) ends with Basileios, dead at the age of ten by an assassin's blade. A cousin of a collateral branch might have taken the purple; but which one? Had Basileios died of illness, the family would have arranged to have its chosen heir in the capital, with a contingent of personally-loyal troops at the ready. But who truly expects the death of a child, except those who arrange them? In the chaos after the assassination, with rioting mobs swirling through the City and the Komnenos Strategoi out in the provinces, the Senate meets and, for the first time in hundreds of years, imposes its will independently... more or less. Its choice falls on Thomas Palaiologos, of an illustriously patrician family, with a lineage going back centuries. A man of senatorial rank, as are all the great magnates of the Empire, entitled to speak on the selection. An accomplished rhetor, cutting an imposing figure as he browbeats the Senate in a time of crisis. A Strategos in his own right, holding the eastern march of Trebizond against the wild hillmen out of the Caucasus; in the capital on unspecified business, with a bodyguard of a hundred men. Not a large force, but veterans all and well led; enough to be decisive when all is uncertain. All hail Thomas, thrice-exalted Autokrator, chosen of the Senate and the People of Rome!

Another dynasty might have risen in revolt; the armies, if it comes to it, are largely led by Komnenoi, and the Trebizond theme cannot alone uphold the purple. But Thomas is childless and old, posing no true dynastic threat; and, in this year 1209, the purple is no prize. The enemies of Rome have taken advantage of the turmoil; Croatian armies pour across the Balkan border, in Italy a hundred banners of revolt are raised, the Samos and Dyrrachion Strategoi assert their equal right to the throne, the infidel corsairs rub their hands with glee. The Senate wishes to assert its power to choose Emperors? Very well; let the Senate take the blame of the ensuing disaster. When Thomas dies, the Komnenoi will still be there, and the people will remember who led the Empire to glory, and who allowed Italy to be lost. By whose decree did traitorous Slavic mercenaries guard the gates of Byzantium, later opened to the Croatian invaders? Who refused to send troops to lift the siege of Rome, citing the need to crush internal rebellion? Who, indeed, rose to the throne in an irregular manner, thus provoking that rebellion? And on the other hand, who accepted with stoic calm the decree of the Senate, and loyally led the themes against the rebels? The people will remember, when the time comes. Already they groan to the tramp of foreign boots in the City of Men's Desire; already the old days of Komnenoi rule seem a dream of a Golden Age. Such an interlude, such a legend, cannot be bought for any money; it would be a foolish dynasty that rejected it. And though many epithets have been flung at the sons of Mikael, 'fool' has never been one of them.

Mikael refused to rise against the Mad Emperor Dukas; Arkadios did not take the purple, when his veteran theme held Constantinople and none could have opposed him. Both gave as their guiding principle legitimacy, the one thing that cannot be had by force. To rise against a lawfully elected Emperor damages the one thing that gives the purple its value: The willing obedience of men. This is the strength of the Komnenoi, that they uphold the law, and that men know it. It is not to be cast away for short-term advantage. That is especially true in the middle of a two devastating wars, one civil and one foreign; in such times, one more revolt might be the death of the Empire itself. What sort of fool reaches for a prize, when the very act of reaching may destroy his goal? Not, at any rate, a Komnenos.

Thus far pragmatism; there is one more thing to consider. The Komnenoi are, when it comes to it, not only dynasts but also Romans. It is useful to be seen as loyal to the Empire, to present a public image of service even when the Purple goes to another. It is also virtuous to genuinely serve the Empire thus. Komnenoi are men like other men, and no saints; none of them is immune to ambition. But still they have an ideal of service, and a desire not only to be seen as, but to be, Romans of the old school. To serve the Republic, Mucius Scaevola thrust his hand into the fire, and won a name that has lasted a thousand years; shall a Komnenos balk, merely at being denied the purple? No. Mikael said it: His proudest title was not, "Strategos of Antioch", but "Citizen of Rome". That honour cannot be taken away; that honour carries responsibility with it. The Komnenoi banners will be raised to uphold the empire, not to tear it apart.

Virtue, they say, is its own reward; but sometimes, it is a weapon. The Komnenoi wield loyalty to the Empire, and dutiful service to the lawful Autokrator, like a rapier: It strikes precisely, and inflicts deep wounds. The peasants have a name, now, for this time of troubles, of wasted fields and slaughtered men; a name that bodes well for a restoration of the dynasty. They call it the Palaiologos Deluge.