Good to see I'm not the only one who assaults for no reason (although in your defense, you had an RP reason to do so). Did you annex both Ferarra and Siena? I'm not quite clear from your post.
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I cannot feel too sorry for Muhammad, he seemed a bit too attached to his tea set. Still, if the regency is a long one that will prove annoying for yourself, especially as your infamy is low and further conquest was quite possible. How long until the heir can take the throne?
A good reason why you shouldn't try to assualt a breach while riding a horse! Nothing says 'Priority Target' quite like riding up in fancy armour on a thoroughbred.
I don't think a regency's a big problem at this stage. There's enough happening to keep things interesting, and I'm still scared of what Aragon might do.
I don't think a regency's a big problem at this stage. There's enough happening to keep things interesting, and I'm still scared of what Aragon might do.
Sorryy for the lack of updates, my life has been crazty lately, but i hope to return to normalcy after this week,
Avidian- I like to assualt especially if i am fighting a lightning war, so i can grab a province and peace out
RGB- Very Dangerous, obviously
MorningSIDEr- He was a bit too attached. I dont remeber the exact length of the regency, but it wasnt very long, i want to say four or five years, so it was bearable.
Enewald- Crazy, I know
Dewirix- what can i say, the dude likes to go out in style. I fear aragon a btit as well, but i could handle them. How is your conversion to Vicky two going?
RGB- Very Dangerous, obviously
MorningSIDEr- He was a bit too attached. I dont remeber the exact length of the regency, but it wasnt very long, i want to say four or five years, so it was bearable.
Enewald- Crazy, I know
Dewirix- what can i say, the dude likes to go out in style. I fear aragon a btit as well, but i could handle them. How is your conversion to Vicky two going?
Chapter 18: The Heart of a Lion
Nasr II of the Family of Nasrid was walking down the bleak marble floor in a silence that could shatter the souls of one thousand broken hearts. Standing at a perpendicular point from where I was standing and Nasr II was approaching was Nasr II’s mother, a forceful women whose large nose definitely brought attention to her. Standing next to her was the recently promoted Head Imam, Qasif, who was cleanly cut, an anomaly for most of the Imams I had seen. Among the crowd were multiple nobles and a few of the more powerful families in the Bourgeois class. They had all gathered there to coronate Nasr II, who had come to the throne after four years of a regency council that had left the country crippled both diplomatically and economically. Normally, Coronations were held in the Royal Palace at Granada, since it was the capital, but this time, it was held in the newly constructed Palace of Florence, whose grandness rivaled that of the Alcazar of Sevilla. It was only held in this very location on the insistence of Nasr II’s mother, who sated the reason that she wanted to inherit his title near the location of his birthplace, which was a twenty minutes horse ride outside of Florence. After what felt like hours, Nasr II reached the head of the room:
Qasif: When you place this crown on your head, you take the responsibility of not only your kingdom and people, but also the responsibility of spreading the glorious religion of Islam, and all it entails.
(Places crown on Nasr II)
Qasif: I now pronounce you Sultan Nasr II, conqueror of infidels, and the bringer of peace.
After the coronation, a large celebration broke outside of the castle in the city square. Multiple jesters had been hired, and mayflower poles had been strung up along the courtyard, attracting children of all ages to join in the fun. But instead of attending the festivities, Nasr II had immediately settled down to work, calling his most trusted advisors, which included most of his father’s dearest friends, including General Forquud, Sergi, the Artist, and Bevlat, the head of the treasury. Not there however, was Khaliq, who had recently retired from the service and now held a minor title and a small piece of land in Cadiz.
Nasr II: Greetings my dearest friends, I welcome you to the first court session of the reign of myself, Nasr II. I would love to exchange pleasantries with you all, but that is not the kind of man I am. I am a man of action, of doing, not someone who twiddles their thumbs all day as farms are left unattended, and our cities’ walls are left to crumble. So today, I call you to prepare for tenure of action, of change, change that shall shape our nation for the centuries to come. For multiple centuries, the abhorrent Portuguese have been raiding our lands, stealing our sheep, and slaughtering out kin. It is time for us to push back, seize their cities, and plunder their wealth that is rightfully ours.
General Forquud: As much as I would like to take part in this Jihad, we still have a truce, which would send our people to the brink of revolt if they knew that they were being drug back into war after just recently being released from the chains of it. Also, the Portuguese have rebounded quickly and provide an army larger than what we can provide in the field.
Nasr II: General, you make a valid point, we shall wait, but when we choose to strike, we will aim for the heart of the lion.
Salim was outsides of the gates of Lisbon, a sprawling trade city that brought in lots of trade from Northern Africa and Portugal. He had recently been shipped across the ocean and refitted with heavy battle armor as to participate in the Sultan’s war that had been started in June of 1458 due to Aragon’s current war with their former allies. Alentejo had been quickly seized with a successful assault, which smartly, Nasr II had not participated in as his father. This would be Salim’s last campaign, and he planned on using the loot he gained from Lisbon to pay for a piece of land in the Italian countryside, but first, he had to survive first. The battering ram hit once, twice, thrice, but the fourth time, it fell down, revealing a horde or Portuguese Militia. With the sound of a trumpet, Salim and his countrymen charged into the fallen gates. Salim, not used to combat was shocked when using his iron mace; he beat in the skull of a boy that could be no older than sixteen. The fighting went on for several hours, but by then, the troops had broken through, and the looting began. The first house Salim barged his way into was unoccupied, with its tenants obviously having fled when the siege began. He did not find much of value except some gold jewelry, which may catch a fair price on the markets in Siena. In the second house, he barged in as he had done in the first, but there was a man waiting for him. The man lunged at the throat of Salim with his knife, but Salim caught his arm in time and threw him into the adjacent table, sending him sprawling. The man yet again lunged for Salim, but Salim caught him by the throat sending the man to the floor and the knife sliding across the stone. In a desperate attempt to save himself, the man began crawling for the knife, but before he arrived, Salim stomped on his hand, forcing a yelp of pain from his body. The man was finished, and as Salim went for the kill, the man uttered one word. Please. This word made Salim stop and look at the man. He studied him for a quick second; he had blue eyes, and dirty blonde hair. Salim realized that this man too was trying to get through his life, with his own ambition and dreams. And on that note, Salim took mercy on the man, leaving his house with everything but his china, which had been pocketed by Salim.
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After the fall of Lisbon, Portugal signed a peace handing over Alentejo and a sum of 150 million ducats.
Nasr II of the Family of Nasrid was walking down the bleak marble floor in a silence that could shatter the souls of one thousand broken hearts. Standing at a perpendicular point from where I was standing and Nasr II was approaching was Nasr II’s mother, a forceful women whose large nose definitely brought attention to her. Standing next to her was the recently promoted Head Imam, Qasif, who was cleanly cut, an anomaly for most of the Imams I had seen. Among the crowd were multiple nobles and a few of the more powerful families in the Bourgeois class. They had all gathered there to coronate Nasr II, who had come to the throne after four years of a regency council that had left the country crippled both diplomatically and economically. Normally, Coronations were held in the Royal Palace at Granada, since it was the capital, but this time, it was held in the newly constructed Palace of Florence, whose grandness rivaled that of the Alcazar of Sevilla. It was only held in this very location on the insistence of Nasr II’s mother, who sated the reason that she wanted to inherit his title near the location of his birthplace, which was a twenty minutes horse ride outside of Florence. After what felt like hours, Nasr II reached the head of the room:
Qasif: When you place this crown on your head, you take the responsibility of not only your kingdom and people, but also the responsibility of spreading the glorious religion of Islam, and all it entails.
(Places crown on Nasr II)
Qasif: I now pronounce you Sultan Nasr II, conqueror of infidels, and the bringer of peace.
After the coronation, a large celebration broke outside of the castle in the city square. Multiple jesters had been hired, and mayflower poles had been strung up along the courtyard, attracting children of all ages to join in the fun. But instead of attending the festivities, Nasr II had immediately settled down to work, calling his most trusted advisors, which included most of his father’s dearest friends, including General Forquud, Sergi, the Artist, and Bevlat, the head of the treasury. Not there however, was Khaliq, who had recently retired from the service and now held a minor title and a small piece of land in Cadiz.
Nasr II: Greetings my dearest friends, I welcome you to the first court session of the reign of myself, Nasr II. I would love to exchange pleasantries with you all, but that is not the kind of man I am. I am a man of action, of doing, not someone who twiddles their thumbs all day as farms are left unattended, and our cities’ walls are left to crumble. So today, I call you to prepare for tenure of action, of change, change that shall shape our nation for the centuries to come. For multiple centuries, the abhorrent Portuguese have been raiding our lands, stealing our sheep, and slaughtering out kin. It is time for us to push back, seize their cities, and plunder their wealth that is rightfully ours.
General Forquud: As much as I would like to take part in this Jihad, we still have a truce, which would send our people to the brink of revolt if they knew that they were being drug back into war after just recently being released from the chains of it. Also, the Portuguese have rebounded quickly and provide an army larger than what we can provide in the field.
Nasr II: General, you make a valid point, we shall wait, but when we choose to strike, we will aim for the heart of the lion.
Salim was outsides of the gates of Lisbon, a sprawling trade city that brought in lots of trade from Northern Africa and Portugal. He had recently been shipped across the ocean and refitted with heavy battle armor as to participate in the Sultan’s war that had been started in June of 1458 due to Aragon’s current war with their former allies. Alentejo had been quickly seized with a successful assault, which smartly, Nasr II had not participated in as his father. This would be Salim’s last campaign, and he planned on using the loot he gained from Lisbon to pay for a piece of land in the Italian countryside, but first, he had to survive first. The battering ram hit once, twice, thrice, but the fourth time, it fell down, revealing a horde or Portuguese Militia. With the sound of a trumpet, Salim and his countrymen charged into the fallen gates. Salim, not used to combat was shocked when using his iron mace; he beat in the skull of a boy that could be no older than sixteen. The fighting went on for several hours, but by then, the troops had broken through, and the looting began. The first house Salim barged his way into was unoccupied, with its tenants obviously having fled when the siege began. He did not find much of value except some gold jewelry, which may catch a fair price on the markets in Siena. In the second house, he barged in as he had done in the first, but there was a man waiting for him. The man lunged at the throat of Salim with his knife, but Salim caught his arm in time and threw him into the adjacent table, sending him sprawling. The man yet again lunged for Salim, but Salim caught him by the throat sending the man to the floor and the knife sliding across the stone. In a desperate attempt to save himself, the man began crawling for the knife, but before he arrived, Salim stomped on his hand, forcing a yelp of pain from his body. The man was finished, and as Salim went for the kill, the man uttered one word. Please. This word made Salim stop and look at the man. He studied him for a quick second; he had blue eyes, and dirty blonde hair. Salim realized that this man too was trying to get through his life, with his own ambition and dreams. And on that note, Salim took mercy on the man, leaving his house with everything but his china, which had been pocketed by Salim.
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After the fall of Lisbon, Portugal signed a peace handing over Alentejo and a sum of 150 million ducats.
Nasr seems a man of action and he was certainly correct in taking action against Portugal. A very useful victory gaining the gold and province as you have. I have to feel for poor Salim, very good of him to have spared the poor wretch who attacked him with a knife, but if only Muhammad was still alive, Salim would likely be looking at a promotion for having secured some china!
Let me assure you that this is not dead, I have been busy lately, and expect an update next week.
Enewald- Its not over yet
Mr. Captialist- Yep, but i was never conquered
MorningSIDEr- Muhammad would have made him the heir apparent.
Mr. Captialist- Yep, but i was never conquered
MorningSIDEr- Muhammad would have made him the heir apparent.
Chapter 19: Ordinance 73
Naqi Hasemar had stepped out of the tent into the broken earth. The sun was just rising over the sun-blazed vineyards of Cadiz, which happened to be where the Third Jaysh was stationed briefly before receiving orders to move to defeat a rowdy group of reactionaries outside of Murcia. After the morning meal was served, military drills were carried out, consisting of mock cavalry charges and long marches up and down the hills that vineyards that would later in history be known as the Sherry Triangle. After a long day’s work, many of the men had begun to settle down, sharing stories of home over a warm fire. However, instead of bonding with his men, as he usually did, the captain of the Fourth Regiment had begun to undress into his pajamas. His tent was a good size, composing of a twin sized bed and a large oak desk for him to scribble out messages. He had just finished putting on his faded, striped nightshirt when the sound of a trumpet blared, causing Naqi to jump and almost fall over. Quickly redressing into his officer’s garments, he opened the flap that closed off his hidden luxuries from the possible jealousy acquired by the poorly paid foot soldiers, with most barely able to afford to feed their families. Approaching from the distance was a messenger from the royal court, judging by the bright yellow designated to those who deliver messages and ordinances, no matter how unimportant. Once he approached 10 meters from Naqi, it was noticed that the messenger carried a scroll, the same type of scroll that generally bared news about ordinances, and ordinances coming to the army was almost never good, usually because they were made by people who had gone through little or no combat at all. He arrived about 2 meters from my destination, unfurled the tattered piece of paper.
Messenger: I have arrived today to inform you of the changes instituted by ordinance 73, crafted by the king himself. It reads as follows, “As of now June 21st, 1460, I, Sultan Nasr II of the Granadan Kingdom, is now proclaimed sole leader of the military forces, offering commands to all below me. The militia, raised solely for the duty of defending our glorious kingdom, is to be under my command for the entirety of my life, and of the lives of my plentiful heirs that shall follow me in leading our kingdom. Anyone found violating this ordinance will be tried for treason, which is punishable by death.”
The messenger rolled up the scroll, hopped on his cream colored horse, and galloped off into the distance. Naqi put his nightclothes back on got into bed, and wondered why he had joined the army in the first place.
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The rain fell like the tears of gods, forcing me to be agile, as to not have one of them force me into a puddle, definitely sending me to my doom. After multiple hours, I needed sleep, dodging a burning branch from a tree struck by lightning. I found refuge from the harshness of nature in a keep outside of Pisa. Entering the keep, I saw a gathering of people, mainly nobles, carrying two large leather sacks, which must have had over 400 ducats in each. Also present were a small, relatively young man, bearing the colors of a royal official, presumably tasked with the transportation of this money to the ports in Siena, which would then be transported to Sevilla, with the final destination of the gold being the capital, Granada. A discussion between the three men ensued, detailing the transaction that was about to ensue.
Royal Official: So this here money is to be donated to the Sultan of Granada, for his use, whatever it may be?
Noble 1: Yes, this is a part of a widespread gift from the House of Masabar family to get on, err, better terms with the Sultan.
Royal Official: How much money should be expected, so I can relay this information to the Sultan.
Noble 2: In total, it is estimated that over 20,000 ducats will be donated, along with other items of value, including silks, jewelry, and ivory.
Royal Official: Thank you for your donation, I am sure his Lordship will be pleased with your donation to say the least.
I watched the royal official depart as I collapsed into a corner and fell asleep.
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Naqi Hasemar had stepped out of the tent into the broken earth. The sun was just rising over the sun-blazed vineyards of Cadiz, which happened to be where the Third Jaysh was stationed briefly before receiving orders to move to defeat a rowdy group of reactionaries outside of Murcia. After the morning meal was served, military drills were carried out, consisting of mock cavalry charges and long marches up and down the hills that vineyards that would later in history be known as the Sherry Triangle. After a long day’s work, many of the men had begun to settle down, sharing stories of home over a warm fire. However, instead of bonding with his men, as he usually did, the captain of the Fourth Regiment had begun to undress into his pajamas. His tent was a good size, composing of a twin sized bed and a large oak desk for him to scribble out messages. He had just finished putting on his faded, striped nightshirt when the sound of a trumpet blared, causing Naqi to jump and almost fall over. Quickly redressing into his officer’s garments, he opened the flap that closed off his hidden luxuries from the possible jealousy acquired by the poorly paid foot soldiers, with most barely able to afford to feed their families. Approaching from the distance was a messenger from the royal court, judging by the bright yellow designated to those who deliver messages and ordinances, no matter how unimportant. Once he approached 10 meters from Naqi, it was noticed that the messenger carried a scroll, the same type of scroll that generally bared news about ordinances, and ordinances coming to the army was almost never good, usually because they were made by people who had gone through little or no combat at all. He arrived about 2 meters from my destination, unfurled the tattered piece of paper.
Messenger: I have arrived today to inform you of the changes instituted by ordinance 73, crafted by the king himself. It reads as follows, “As of now June 21st, 1460, I, Sultan Nasr II of the Granadan Kingdom, is now proclaimed sole leader of the military forces, offering commands to all below me. The militia, raised solely for the duty of defending our glorious kingdom, is to be under my command for the entirety of my life, and of the lives of my plentiful heirs that shall follow me in leading our kingdom. Anyone found violating this ordinance will be tried for treason, which is punishable by death.”
The messenger rolled up the scroll, hopped on his cream colored horse, and galloped off into the distance. Naqi put his nightclothes back on got into bed, and wondered why he had joined the army in the first place.
Uploaded with ImageShack.us
The rain fell like the tears of gods, forcing me to be agile, as to not have one of them force me into a puddle, definitely sending me to my doom. After multiple hours, I needed sleep, dodging a burning branch from a tree struck by lightning. I found refuge from the harshness of nature in a keep outside of Pisa. Entering the keep, I saw a gathering of people, mainly nobles, carrying two large leather sacks, which must have had over 400 ducats in each. Also present were a small, relatively young man, bearing the colors of a royal official, presumably tasked with the transportation of this money to the ports in Siena, which would then be transported to Sevilla, with the final destination of the gold being the capital, Granada. A discussion between the three men ensued, detailing the transaction that was about to ensue.
Royal Official: So this here money is to be donated to the Sultan of Granada, for his use, whatever it may be?
Noble 1: Yes, this is a part of a widespread gift from the House of Masabar family to get on, err, better terms with the Sultan.
Royal Official: How much money should be expected, so I can relay this information to the Sultan.
Noble 2: In total, it is estimated that over 20,000 ducats will be donated, along with other items of value, including silks, jewelry, and ivory.
Royal Official: Thank you for your donation, I am sure his Lordship will be pleased with your donation to say the least.
I watched the royal official depart as I collapsed into a corner and fell asleep.
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The deconquista continues! And now with more funds!
I have to say the prose you produce now is by turns pretty inspiring...though, it's odd to hear the (admittedly beautiful) phrase "the rain fell like tears of gods" in plural is...unexpected in a muslim setting.
I have to say the prose you produce now is by turns pretty inspiring...though, it's odd to hear the (admittedly beautiful) phrase "the rain fell like tears of gods" in plural is...unexpected in a muslim setting.
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Always a good idea to remain on excellent terms with your overlord via hefty bribes showing your esteem for the great man. Uhm...not bribes, gifts. Good to see Nasr getting into the swing of things already, passing legislation and frightening his vassals enough that they hurriedly pay over extra 'taxes'.
I never imagined Granada could be successful, I applaud you good sir, uhm, spider... thing. The spider running some of the narrative is a nice touch!