Novum Romanum Imperium -- A Tuscany DW AAR

17 February 1456, the Chancellor's office

Sextus Porcius Cato, Duke of Pisa, was in intense discussions with the current interim Chancellor of the Tuscan Empire, Marcus Tullius Cicero, Duke of Romagna. Sextus had developed a plan to try to Integrate Naples into the Empire more rapidly; by sending periodic bribes to key Neapolitan nobles, they would eventually allow an outright annexation of Naples. The only other notable event was Austria's war on Serbia. Although Austria took no land, they did force Serbia to isolate herself from the international community and pay a small indemnity.

That wasn't what the discussion was about, though. The Doge of Venice, apparently angry with Tuscany, had arranged to have the Pope excommunicate the Empire.



"Chancellor, this is serious. This could cause internal disorder as well as give any ambitious nation the right to attack us!"

Cicero briefly considered the situation. "I would say you're right, Sextus. We have two options; first, we can improve relations with the Pope. Second, we can improve relations with Venice and hope they see fit to lift the excommunication."

Sextus pondered. "I do not think the Emperor would approve of the first option. We've had a very strict policy of no relations with the Pope since Leo I's statue against him. Surely we could appeal to the Venetian love of money?"

Cicero smiled. "An excellent solution to our predicament, Sextus. It would seem you will be a good successor when the time comes. We will petition the Venetians to re-enter their trade league, and send periodic cash shipments to them."

Sextus nodded, and prepared the request to be forwarded. He also quietly continued to send small shipments to Naples -- the addition of new territory would help Tuscany in any wars that could result from the excommunication.
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4 January, 1457, the Imperial Throne Room

Sextus was preparing to give his first official report as the new Chancellor. Cicero's retirement party a few days earlier had been extremely lavish and tasteful. While he thought such expenses were a silly waste of capital, Sextus had to admit he'd had a good time. He'd even met a girl there -- although nothing was serious yet, she appeared to be quite prudently invested, an important facet in any marriage. He'd sent a formal request to her father, as was the proper thing to do.

He carefully perused his small pouch of documents. Everything was in order, just the way it ought to be. He entered the Imperial Throne Room.

Prince Gian greeted him with a rather sloppy salute. He was hardly ever in the capital, as he showed a greater appreciation for the treasures of Rome than he ever did for leadership. Gian was particularly fond of plays, hardly a suitable occupation for any noble, let alone the heir to the throne. Privately, Sextus thought that another heir ought to be designated, but the Empress proved to be incapable of producing children. He shook his head in disgust when he was sure no one was looking.

"Your Imperial Majesty, I have today's report ready for you."

"Thank you, Sextus. Continue."

"Emperor, I've compiled a new overview of the nobility.

Gian Gastone Datti, Prince of the Empire and Duke of Rome
Marcus Tullius Cicero, Duke of Romagna
Agrippa Tullius Cicero, Duke of Ancona
Sextus Porcius Cato, Duke of Pisa
General Gian Gastone del Moro, Duke of Sicily

"We still have no new Duke of Siena -- for now, the Dowager Empress can handle affairs, but she has repeatedly sent messages through my office to ask you to appoint one." He looked expectantly at the Emperor.

The Emperor sighed. It was at times like this that he missed Cicero. The new chancellor had proven to be an effective diplomat and administrator, but showed almost no initiative. It wasn't a lack of ability or intelligence, but merely what he considered 'proper.' He never questioned an Imperial decision; of course, Julius liked loyalty, but without at least some resistance he feared that he might lose sight of the important matters. Julius asked Sextus directly for advice -- Sextus merely deferred the question, responding "I could not possibly offer any substantive options -- I am too new in my office."

Julius hoped it would get better, but for the meantime, he merely waved the issue off and asked Sextus to continue.

"Very well, my Emperor. We've begun raising additional forces to start a second Legion of 9,000 men while we simultaneously expand the navy. Surprisingly, nobody has taken advantage of Venice's decision thus far; still, I think you are wise to continue preparing for a potential war. Italy is quiet right now -- Savoy has recently started a war with Sardinia, but this should not be a big distraction. Lastly, on your order, I have hired a team to build a Constable in Palermo; maximizing Sicily's wealth will be a welcome boost to our economy. That is the end of my report. Was anything unclear?"

The Emperor shook his head and dismissed Sextus, who executed a very stiff bow, backed away, turned, and left. Julius I made a mental note to ask Cicero to speak to Sextus; the boy was much too rigid and tactful, nothing like his father had been. For a moment, he thought of his old friend, the late Marcus Porcius Cato Minor. He missed him almost as much as he missed his father.
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13 February 1457, the city of Leipzig, Saxony

Agrippa Tullius Cicero was irritated. Why was he in this backwater little town, instead of at home in Ancona, where he belonged? He suspected his father had something to do with this; while the elder Cicero was no longer Chancellor, he still kept in very close touch with the new Chancellor Cato and the Emperor. He had doubtless heard of Agrippa's... indiscretions with Leopold VIII's daughter, and since Emperor Julius had begun considering trying to make himself the true Holy Roman Emperor again, Saxony needed to vote for Tuscany.



Saxony was interested in voting for Burgundy -- even with the very best relations, Tuscany was considered far too infamous to be a legitimate candidate at this time. It would take some time before this could be changed. He still couldn't leave, though. Sextus had formally demanded that Agrippa actually speak to the Elector of Saxony and prepare a detailed report! Agrippa liked the beer and bratwurst, but German women were just too thick for his tastes. Not like Italian women, or even that little vixen from Austria...

He snapped out of his little daydream, sighed again, and rode to the palace in Saxony. Might as well get this trip over with...
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18 September, 1457, Messina, Sicily, outside the camp of Legio II 'Sicilia'

General del Moro mopped his brow. He'd hoped becoming Duke of Sicily would mean the good life for a while. Instead, almost constant revolts in both Palermo and Messina demanded his attention. He'd even had to call for assistance from the Emperor's Legion, which currently was under the command of one of his younger sons, Bartolomeo. Although he did not officially rate the title of "General," Gian Gastone trusted his son implicitly, and planned to leave his Duchy to his son one day. He'd thought placing his loyal son in command of the First Legion -- the one most likely to see combat -- would free him to retire, unofficially. Instead, it was his son with nothing to do.

Achille d'Agnesi was the Sicilian traitor that was trying to make his Duchy disappear. The General had already won multiple battles against him, but they were almost always bloodier for him than for the Sicilian, who knew the land very well. The General had over a dozen wounds from this campaign alone -- more than he'd had the entire war to take Sicily in the first place.

While he rested after the latest bloodbath, he took a look at the diplomatic dispatches. He liked this new kid in the Chancellor's office, Sextus Cato. His dad was a hero to every Italian soldier; Sextus wrote very crisp and neat reports, easy for even an old soldier to read. This one was only one sentence long.

While Milan and Savoy remain at war over Sardinia, Aquelia has sneakily invaded and captured Sardinia for herself.

del Moro had to admire that. It was exactly what he would have done. Now, Milan and Savoy were fighting over a prize neither one could ever have, because Aquelia, ostensibly Savoy's ally, betrayed Savoy and scooped it up. He chuckled.

A few months back, a specialist hired by the University of Rome taught he and his troops some new marksmanship techniques. del Moro always enjoyed learning new methods of fighting, even if they did not make as big an impact as he would have liked. Still, compared to the rest of the world, the 7th Manual of the Army (often called "Land 7" for short) made Tuscany a leader in military thought.

He had one final bit of paperwork; an expense report for the army. This did not make him laugh. The Master of the Imperial Mint, Count Giuliano Chigi, had been unable to pay off the Imperial debt from the last war, and had asked all departments to scrimp and save. At least he didn't have any budget cutbacks, but he wanted to buy some new swords for some of his men. For now, though, it wasn't in the budget. These Sicilian swords were pretty nice -- perhaps he could capture some.
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24 January 1460, the Chancellor's office

Sextus finished carefully archiving his reports from the past few years. He was still stunned that his father had no detailed record keeping! The grateful Emperor Julius I had authorized a large expenditure to not only establish such a system, but sent five of his most capable Magistrates to assist Sextus in creating a new system of Weights and Measures that would surely benefit the Empire greatly.



Sextus thumbed through some of the foreign affairs telegrams. The war between Savoy and Milan ended very badly for Milan -- although Milan had not lost land, they were diplomatically isolated. Aquelia had also punished Ferrara, with the help of Burgundy, and created the newly independent Modena. Austria was now Defender of the Roman Catholic Faith.

The only other major event of the last few years was a new education program in Siena. Recognizing that territory inside the Damned German Empire was often carefully guarded, and fearing an ultimatum,the Emperor had moved the National Focus to Siena to Promote Cultural Unity. It seemed to work, although this meant reduced revenues and no army construction for a short time in Siena.

He sat down to prepare a detailed report on the new Weights and Measures system; he knew the Emperor appreciated specific and accurate statistics and depended on them to make a decision.
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2 January 1461, the Imperial Throne Room

Emperor Julius I was getting tired of funerals. 1460 had been such a productive year -- Messina received a Constable and the world was otherwise peaceful. His excommunication had not been lifted -- Cologne now controlled the Papacy -- but he would rather rot in purgatory than even consider apologizing to the Pope. He began to realize how corrupt the Pope was; perhaps the entire Catholic System needed some serious reform? This thought struck him powerfully. After a quite moment of reflection, he returned to the day's earlier events.

Two nobles had been buried that day -- Duke Gian Gastone del Moro, General of the Empire, and Count Vitale Buti, Imperial Tax Collector. The General had died from repressing yet another revolt.



The Emperor was confident he could Centralize control no further. Bartolomeo del Moro succeeded his father as Duke of Sicily, but had requested that another General be hired -- Bartolomeo was still quite young, 22 years of age, and many felt it was improper for such an inexperienced fighter to be a general. He hired the late General's second in command, Ippolito Tonelli. A capable leader, he could move his troops with speed, conduct sieges, and was particularly skilled in training his archers. His only shortcoming was a lack of appreciation for the shock tactics of cavalry. Nonetheless, General Tonelli would be a fine substitute.

Valeri Buti, as Tax Collector, was extremely unpopular. It was something of a relief when it turned out he hadn't been assassinated; rather, he'd eaten some very bad pork, the result of an insistence that he only eat raw food. He contracted a very nasty disease and died shortly thereafter. Buti's replacement, a brilliant Philosopher named Bonaventura Bizzelli, was, in some circles, considered even brighter than Constantine.



The Emperor simply didn't like Bizzelli as well, though. He wasted his time on useless metaphysics and silly theological conundrums. Although the rest of Europe fawned over his logic and reason, the Emperor privately thought him an idiot blowhard who hid his actual faults by using cumbrous and dense language. Still, his prestige and credibility was useful.

Thinking of Constantine reminded him of his Chancellor, Sextus Cato. Julius had come to appreciate Sextus's eye for detail and voluminous knowledge of every arcane law in the Empire. He was very shrewd, but never presumed to step out of turn. He'd even been willing to offer criticism recently, but only in the most respectful manner. For his faithful service, Sextus had been awarded the Duchy of Siena; young Cato now had two Duchies, the only man in the Empire who could say that.
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15 March 1462, a gathering of artisans in Rome

Publius Porcius Cato, the younger brother of the Chancellor, had renounced public life to become a blacksmith. He thought only manual labor was honest labor, and his goods were prized throughout Europe. The nobles were particularly pleased with his work; it was refreshing to buy from a fellow noble (Publius was a Baron; Sextus had offered him the family Duchy of Pisa when he got the Duchy of Siena but Publius turned him down) and who was far more educated than the average blacksmith.

Just when he thought he could completely escape public life, however, a group of his fellow artisans had asked him to serve as their voice and present a petition to the Emperor. There was a lot of complaints about the high taxes on artisans recently; they couldn't even sell their businesses without the permission of the local Baron! Publius had agreed to serve as their representative, and was now waiting in the Imperial antechamber for an audience.

The first official to see him was Sextus. "Brother, what brings you to the capital? You have no official reports to present for many months now."

Publius explained his petition (privately annoyed that the only legitimate reason his brother could come up with was for a report) as Sextus frowned. "Brother, I must advise against this. As a Baron, you certainly have the right to request an audience, and I will see it is granted, but the Emperor has been particularly irritated with the Prince recently and may be in a foul mood. You might get executed."

Before Publius could register any surprise about his brother's concern, Sextus continued, "Of course, that could cause considerable harm to our family's reputation."

That seemed more like Sextus. Publius knew his brother loved him, and he loved his brother, but Sextus refused to show any emotions in public. It just wasn't proper. Publius insisted on seeing the Emperor, Sextus nodded, and showed him in.

The Emperor was indeed in a foul mood. Prince Gian had finally gotten it into his head that he could be an Emperor himself -- and he promptly disappeared, ostensibly on Imperial business in Constantinople. It had been three weeks since he had any word of his son, so Julius I was not particularly pleased to see Publius.

"Publius, your brother tells me you have a concern you need to bring to my attention?"

Publius took a deep breath. "Your Imperial Majesty, the artisans in the Empire are tired of the arbitrary taxes some of your less scrupulous nobles have been charging. In particular, a tax on salt instituted by the late Count Buti is still on the books; the Master of Mint Count Chigi insists it continue until the Imperial debt is paid off."

"Baron Cato, the Master of the Imperial Mint is well within his authority to approve or repeal taxes as he sees fit; I happen to agree that we do need to pay off this debt to relieve the burden of interest on the Imperial treasury."

Publius swallowed, hard. He knew if he pushed too hard, he could very well end up with his head on the chopping block, and that his brother would even sign the death warrant. "Emperor, the artisans do not object to doing their patriotic duty and paying their taxes. What they object to is an unauthorized tax that appears solely to enrich the recently departed."

The Emperor was startled. He asked Sextus to check the records; within three minutes, Sextus had returned and presented a report. "Emperor, I fear my brother is right. Although the tax is officially part of the code, Count Buti simply changed the numbers on his revenue reports without actually providing this revenue; he always evaded any attempts to investigate, calling it his noble prerogative to hold funds until you requested them. I regret I had not caught this sooner, Emperor, as we could have saved much trouble."

Julius I considered the new evidence, and with a stroke of his pen, abolished the tax.



"Publius, you have done your fellow artisans a great service. Are you certain I cannot persuade you to join your brother in government service?"

Publius shook his head, ruefully. "Unfortunately not, My Emperor. My clients would be greatly displeased, and my apprentices are already overworked. I would only ask that you consider relying on my foundry to supply any future needs you might have in the future."

The Emperor nodded. "I will do that, Baron Cato. Thank you again for bringing this to my attention; have a pleasant evening."

Publius bowed, shook his brother's hand, and left for Pisa. When Sextus had gone on and on about Imperial justice, Publius had thought his brother just an over-enthusiastic employee; he had to admit to himself that he was wrong.
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15 April 1463, the office of the Master of the Mint, Guliano Chigi

Count Chigi, an extremely excitable man, was even more excited this day. He'd paid of the debt a few days earlier, and was now told he would get a big influx of currency from some kind of church-political nonsense.



A couple of months ago, he'd authorized the construction of some marketplaces. With another 250 ducats, the navy and army could be even further expanded than they were now! Some Carracks could be a useful addition; he could even redistribute revenues to new technical research.

Count Chigi was trembling as he signed the order -- how could life possibly get any better?
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6 February 1464, the Chancellor's office

The Chancellor sighed and shook his head. Chigi was getting a little too hyperactive again. He could barely read the purchase order, but thankfully he'd already spoken with the technicians at the University of Florence's business school. They'd recently provided him with some plans for a new Workshop; five were immediately ordered, thanks to the surplus from the Emperor's decision to collect the money from the Church lands immediately as one lump sum.

He did have one concern though; his agents informed him that Ragusa was on the verge of collapse. As a vassal of Tuscany, the King of Ragusa had pleaded for funds, but the Emperor had declined, saying that Tuscan imperial funds were for Tuscans only.

Sextus privately thought that the Emperor thought the arrangement was more trouble than it was worth; he would probably abandon his stewardship over Ragusa at the first opportunity. Sextus admitted this was probably a sound move.
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15 June 1466, the Imperial Throne Room

The Emperor was pacing back and forth. 1465 had been a banner year for academic accomplishment -- Trade Depots and Training Fields were invented by some clever scholars, and while none had been built, the Emperor knew that new technologies were always valuable,even if sometimes it was indirectly so. However, a series of unexpected diplomatic moves by Austria had created an unusual opportunity.

Two months ago, Agrippa Tullius Cicero, still grumbling about his "interment" in Saxony, had reported that the heir of the Elector of Saxony had died in a freak hunting accident. He'd asked if the Emperor wished to press a claim of his own. However, before the Emperor could respond, a second more urgent letter notified him that Austria had already done so, and that the Emperor of Austria was also the Elector of Saxony now. Fuming, he'd thrown away his plans to convince an elector to vote for him yet again. That's when he had an idea -- perhaps the Emperor would look the other way if he tried to subjugate Ferrara?


A forged document, prepared by the court Philosopher, Bezzini

With this semi-legal casus belli (the Chancellor did not dream of contradicting the Emperor), the Emperor ordered Sextus to prepare an official declaration of war and deliver it to Ferrara personally. Sextus was busily at work, so the Emperor had time to consider this. Bohemia was allied directly to Ferrara; Savoy, Aquelia, and Venice had all guaranteed it's independence.

Still, by vassalizing Ferrara, they would not be "unlawfully" claiming territory and thus the Emperor could not intervene before or after the surely quick and successful war, a powerful motivation to declare war. After a few more minutes, the Chancellor entered the room, showed the declaration to the Emperor, who signed it, and Sextus set out for Ferrara.

War had come again to the Empire of Tuscany, and this deceptively minor war would bloom out of control.


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That's the end of Chapter 9. I've officially decided to break Chapter 10 into two parts; I will try to have the first part done by this weekend.

I'm going to make a silly mistake with Naples in the next update or two -- if anybody guess what that mistake is (it's vaguely hinted in this update), they can create a character, as our friend Michaelangelo had in the past. Who knows? Maybe they'll also become Chancellor and die a few years later!

Michaelangelo said:

The Austrian royalty must be married into every single royal family in Europe by now! It seems like every update they claim someone else's throne.
Ah, another chance at creating a character. I don't know if it counts as a mistake, but were you at war when your king died and thus couldn't inherit Naples?

Click to expand...

It is the Habsburg way, after all (or in this AAR, the Valois way). A good guess on the mistake, but no dice.

Boris ze Spider said:

Silly austrian ignoring Italy, they will pay in time.

Click to expand...

Indeed they will!

Deus Eversor said:

hah the excomunication... so much for controlling vatican...

btw... you still havent moved out of central italy? and i see poland is going for germany... how does it look?

Click to expand...

I've never really understood how cardinals work since you stopped being able to bribe them. My progress is a lot slower than I would have liked, but starting as an OPM, my options were really limited. Poland has kind of stalled, the last time I checked -- Bohemia briefly becomes Emperor at one point (tiny spoiler, no effect on the AAR) and that shut downs Polish expansion.

Remember, the first person who guesses what silly mistake I make with Naples gets to create a character ala Constantine!

History_Buff said:

I will guess that as the Excommunication is still in effect, the PU ends because excommunications automatically end all PU's on the rulers death. Either that or you forgot to keep sending the gifts and they broke off the PU.

Click to expand...

esemesas said:

You accidentally sent Naples an insult instead of a gift?

Click to expand...

Nobody's got it yet -- you're getting closer thought!

16 June 1466, the Chancellor's office

The response from Ferrara's allies had been distressingly swift. On the same day, Bohemia, Savoy, Aquelia, and Venice had all honored their alliances. Sextus Porcius Cato, Duke of Siena and Pisa, Chancellor of the Empire, held his head in his hands. With Bohemia, Tuscany was outnumbered on land. With Venice, Tuscany was outnumbered at sea. Chancellor Cato sighed. The second Legion didn't even have a general yet! This war was far too hastily conducted, and Cato had a sickening feeling that hundreds of soldiers would die on both sides, just to claim sovereignty over a tiny little country, Ferrara, a single province.

Still, Cato took a deep breath. It was not his place to criticize the Emperor. Surely the Emperor had foreseen these temporary setbacks and had a plan in place. He could only wait and hope. He was glad that he had no children, unlike his brother Publius -- he'd even heard some nonsense about his brother volunteering for the legion himself! Thankfully, the Emperor had wisely seen to place his brother in the Legio II 'Sicilia' -- that way, he could be out of harm's way.
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8 August 1466, the Camp of the First Legion, Ferrara

On the one hand, the General of the Legio I 'Imperator', Ippolitus Tonellius was not happy. Unlike his predecessor, the formerly-named Tonelli had conformed to the Imperial tradition of Latinizing one's name upon entering Imperial service. The General knew what the goals of the war were -- to subjugate Ferrara -- and knew that he would not receive any Ducal title, as only directly annexed territories were administered by Imperial citizens. Emperor Julius I had recently ruled that Malta was part of the Duchy of Sicily, and thus Bartolomeo del Moro would inherit Malta as well as Palermo and Messina. del Moro was nominally the head of the second Legion, stationed in Sicily, but he did not attend to his duties very frequently and, as a result, was never formally commissioned a general.

On the other hand, however, he was pleased how quickly his troops had performed their duty -- the King of Ferrara was on his way to Florence to swear undying loyalty and allegiance to the Emperor of Tuscany.



Perhaps, if he acted appropriately, Tonellius had a chance to earn some other noble title as a result of his great success! As the son of a peasant, the General had a very difficult life growing up -- his own children (only daughters thus far, to his great disappointment) must have a better one. He'd not joined the army out of loyalty or any great feelings of patriotism, but to secure a comfortable future for himself and his two daughters.

All of this was immaterial, for now. Even though Bohemia had not yet put in an appearance, the Bohemian army was no push over, and the General had already asked for reinforcements. Perhaps that useless second Legion could provide some manpower!
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23 October 1466, the Settignano

Publius Porcius Cato had never been so sick in his life. As the brother of the Chancellor, he'd been given special treatment, despite not wanting any, and was on the flagship of the First Classis. Cato, unlike his brother Sextus, was initially little more than a blacksmith. Publius wanted no part of nobility or government service; he just wanted a simple life for his family. That had changed earlier in 1466 when he served as the voice of some discontented artisans from Pisa. A grateful Emperor had tried to offer him his own Duchy, wealth, or even a seat at the Emperor's Council, a high honor, but Publius had chosen to decline.

That was until the war with Ferrara. Publius was at first pleased by the war, which he thought would be quick and would give him a nice profit for a few months as he was given extra metalwork by the Emperor. Hard at work at the forge, Publius spent a few blissful days, until the local town mayor -- a pompous ass who never liked the Catos -- had his smithy closed, ostensibly for health reasons, but in reality to help the mayor's brother, a competing blacksmith. Furious, Publius challenged the mayor to a duel; unfortunately for him, the mayor was as bad with a sword as he was with ethics, and Publius ended up killing him. Publius refused to use his influence to get out of his situation, instead telling a judge he would volunteer for the army if the judge would allow his wife and children to stay in their small home. He sent a note to his brother, informing Sextus he'd enlisted, then reported for the nearest recruitment camp.

He could not keep his identity secret, and the sergeant in charge of recruitment at first refused to accept his enlistment. When Publius presented the order from the judge, the sergeant let him into the army, but personally informed the Emperor, who kept him away from the fighting. Publius tried everything he could to get assigned to a regiment that would see combat, but the Emperor himself had ordered the appointment, and nobody would dare question the Emperor's decision.

The now-Lieutenant Cato (Publius hated the title, as he felt he hadn't earned it) was given a small room on the Settignano, next to a Lieutenant of the Imperial Marines. They were expected to land in Siena in a few days -- they'd driven away the Savoyard fleet that had tried to intercept the sortie. Publius was thoroughly seasick and miserable and hadn't left the room since they left Malta.

As he sat in the corner, trembling, he kept asking himself how he ever got into this mess, and wondered how his brother was doing.
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9 February 1467, the Chancellor's office

Chancellor Cato carefully examined the report from the ambassador to Brandenburg. He'd never heard such complaining when he gave this lucrative post to Agrippa Tullius Cicero, the ex-Chancellor's son. As the Duke of Ancona, Agrippa was expected to fulfill certain duties from time to time, and given his extensive international experience, he was often called upon to handle delicate diplomatic situations. Agrippa was an excellent diplomat, but unfortunately tended to cultivate female contacts that were rarely unattached. Agrippa enjoyed the life of privilege immensely, and hated working with Germans, whom he considered far too dour and boring. Cato himself admired the Germans for their work ethic and attention to detail.

The most recent report from the reluctant Ambassador, after complaining about the lack of beautiful women there (Cato wondered how anybody with such an important office could find time to dally with women; he was Chancellor and spent most nights alone in the office), nonetheless brought some welcome news. With Bohemian armies marching south toward Tuscany, Brandenburg had begun occupying Bohemian lands, virtually unopposed. This was somewhat distressing, since that meant many more soldiers in Tuscany, but encouraging in a strategic sense. On the heels of the defeat in Romagna, Cato was willing to take any positive news.


The battle report from the First Battle of Romagna, dated 29 December 1466
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11 May 1467, the Second Battle of Romagna

Publius Cato had had very little positive news the last few days. Almost the moment his feet were dry, the General had ordered the Second Legion to join him in Florence to prepare an attack to relieve the siege. Publius had been promoted to Captain, a promotion he'd earned several times over, and with most of the men in the legion saluting him, he allowed himself a brief smile at how proud his father would have been. Of both his sons.

As Captain, Cato was the de facto head of the Legion, since the Duke of Sicily felt it was not his duty to worry about the affairs of the Legion assigned to his island. The moment he arrived in the General's camp, though, he was assigned as the General's aide. The General was a reasonably good commander, in his estimation, but his subordinates were idiots, and the General did not have a viable second-in-command. Cato thought perhaps he would get promoted to fill that post, but was mostly sitting around filing paper work. It drove him insane.

The most recent report he was to file detailed the enemy's strength -- Filippo III, King of Aquelia, personally led the combined Aquelian and Bohemian forces, some 20,000 strong. The two Legions combined had fewer than 13,000. The Bohemian cavalry were devastating, tearing through Tuscan lines with almost disturbing ease -- one enterprising Tuscan cavalry unit had gotten into the rear, briefly, of the Bohemian line, but there were an awful lot of soldiers to fight.

Tuscan longbows rained arrows down, but the cavalry kept coming. The colonels of three regiments were planning a charge among them -- a charge! Cato knew this was lunacy. A charge would break Tuscan lines and let the superior cavalry knife through to the rear. Enough was enough. Cato went to the General and asked permission to visit his brother after the battle was over. Perhaps it was finally time to use the influence of one of the oldest and most powerful families in the Empire.
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1 June 1467, the Chancellor's office

The Imperial Chancellor eagerly awaited news from the battlefield, but for now was sifting through some of the more recent diplomatic advisories. Poland and Meissen had entered the war on the side of Bohemia, and Poland had taken overall command of the alliance. This was bad news for Brandenburg; they'd slowly made progress in Bohemia, but now Polish troops flooded over the border.

An aide entered the office, bowed, and proclaimed, "Chancellor, a courier has arrived with the latest battle reports."

"Thank you, lad. Send him in."

When the courier entered, Sextus was delighted to see his younger brother, Publius accompanying him. "Brother, it is good to see you! I had heard that the battle was going badly and that perhaps you might injured."

"No, Brother, I am fine. I cannot say the same for the Emperor's legions, however. Here is the casualty report from our recent defeat in Romagna."



Sextus was appalled. Nearly 20,000 casualties, almost split evenly! What a waste of tax-paying citizens. The family lands were being threatened, too, as a few regiments of Bohemian and Savoyard troops were in Pisa and Siena, beginning to siege their capitals. At least his brother was safe.

"Sextus, I think I need to speak to you and the Emperor about the situation in the field -- it is in dire straits."

The Chancellor nodded, informed a herald he was on his way with his brother, and both entered the throne room.

Julius I smiled upon their entry. "Ah, the brothers Cato, together again at last! How is the front?"

Without a word, Sextus handed the Emperor the battle report. Julius grew very, very pale.

"God above, so many dead? Somebody must answer for this! Perhaps I should recall the General, if he cannot behave properly."

Publius shook his head. "Your Imperial Majesty, General Tonellius is doing the best he can; the problem is his subordinates. Many of them were appointed Colonel just because they're rich or nobles, while talented officers are being wasted as mere Lieutenants or given guard duty assignments. All the noble idiots care about is glory, and think nothing of risking hundreds of men to fulfill their bloody dreams."

The Chancellor ventured that perhaps some restructuring was needed before the fight could be truly won. The Emperor concurred. Publius was to be promoted to Colonel of the Imperial Staff, and would, together with his brother, prepare a list of new officers for early retirement or promotion. The Emperor promised to use all of his authority to ensure the new assignments were granted to the last detail. Publius hated paperwork, as all field commanders do, yet knew this was absolutely essential to prevent another bloody defeat. Poring over these lists would be incredibly time consuming, so Publius had a letter sent to Pisa to ask his wife to bring their children to Florence until the war was over.
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21 December 1467, the Imperial Throne Room

The Throne Room of the Tuscan Empire was a very busy place these days. With the fall of Palermo and Romagna, both Duke Cicero and Duke del Moro had brought their families to the Imperial capital. Both had been added to the Imperial Council for the duration of the war. Julius I was delighted to see his old friend again, but he had nothing but an icy glare for young Bartolomeo. Instead of leading his Legion, as his father would have done, del Moro had given his idiot cronies command, and one of these idiot cronies had bravely but stupidly ordered an assault on Pisa to relieve the siege there. Not a single person from the Second Legion returned.


The Battle of Pisa, July 1467

Only the combined efforts of ex-Chancellor Cicero and current Chancellor Cato had convinced the Emperor not to have del Moro hung for treason. The Duke of Sicily had wept for three days over the defeat, and resolved never to shirk his duty again. Still, Bartolomeo was the youngest Duke in the room, barely even 25 years of age. It was unfair to ask so young a lad to take the unpleasant task of reforming the army.

It was an unpopular job. Cicero had turned it down on the spot -- he wanted no part of further government service. The Chancellor was too busy with his own work. General Tonellius was still commanding the First Legion and preparing the defenses of the capital. When all eyes turned to Colonel Cato, he sighed and agreed. He knew he'd never get his life back as a mere blacksmith now. Even worse, the only way he knew the remaining Colonels would listen to him was to give him a higher noble title than they had -- his elder brother formally transferred the Duchy of Pisa to Publius, so that his full title was now Colonel Publius Porcius Cato, Duke of Pisa. That was a title that would attract the attention of any Baron in the field.

To make Cato's job a little easier, the General had won his first victory since defeating Ferrara -- although the Battle of Ancona was not kind to his Legion, the enemy had to quit the field, and the First Legion was in hot pursuit.



The only way Publius would agree to his new responsibilities and title was if he could return to the field, a request the Emperor granted reluctantly. At least Julius knew Rome was still in good hands -- with his mother, the Dowager Empress Lucia in command, even his ignorant son couldn't do anything too terrible, even if he was Prince of the Empire and Duke of Rome.
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12 February 1468, the Camp of the First Legion, Siena

Colonel Cato was not very popular his first day in the camp -- he'd fired all but one of the colonels and replaced them with battle-hardened veterans. The colonel that remained showed incredible promise in the field -- he only gave the name Lucius, which was odd for a dark-skinned fellow, but Publius never questioned results. The other colonels were all sent back to their homes, grumbling the entire time.

Cato's restructuring paid immediate dividends. A Bohemian army had been completely routed at the Battle of Siena.



Colonel Lucius was the star of the show in the field, as he'd tricked one of the Bohemian regiments into falling into a carefully laid ambush. Even though Lucius spoke with a strange accent, his troops trusted him implicitly, and the other new colonels followed his lead. Privately, Cato thought that Lucius could be a General himself someday very soon. Lucius was far superior to Cato himself, and Publius admitted that his job was done. He mounted his horse and prepared to return to Florence.
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23 May 1468, the Throne Room of the King of Poland

Agrippa Tullius Cicero was in a very bad way. Although things were still going quite well on the battlefield -- General Tonellius and his brilliant Colonel Lucius had eliminated Savoy's army in Siena -- elsewhere the Empire's fortunes were not as good. Messina had fallen to Aqueilan troops, as had Abruzzi, a Neapolitan province. The fully reinforced First Legion was on the move to retake Abruzzi while the hastily formed Armata di Firenze, 4,000 strong, continued the siege of Romagna. After the fall of Messina, the crews of six galleys had given their lives so that the rest of Classis I could sail safely back to Rome.

However, Agrippa himself had plenty to worry about. An army led by the King of Poland had taken Berlin, and he had been taken prisoner. He would either be held for ransom or possibly even executed. Agrippa knew his titles would not impress the King of Poland. Agrippa never learned how to speak Polish, but the King of Brandenburg did, and the two Kings were in frantic conversation, presumably about him.

After sitting in a prison cell for four hours, the King of Brandenburg himself addressed the young Duke. "Agrippa, it would seem you will finally get your wish. You're on your way back to Tuscany. In a way, I envy you -- you're getting off easy because the King of Poland needs somebody to deliver this to your Emperor."


The Treaty of Berlin, dated that day

"I wish my men could have been more valuable -- I hope your Emperor will look on Brandenburg kindly and perhaps some day help liberate my people."

Agrippa shook hands with the King, at once happy he was free but sad to see such a brave man forced into becoming a mere figurehead.
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18 December 1468, the Imperial Throne Room

Emperor Julius I had gotten help from an unlikely source. An army of Sicilian nationalists attacked a combined Venetian-Savoyard army in Palermo, and had begun to occupy the province. The King of Aragon offered an alliance, but unfortunately indicated he would not intervene in the present war.

Abruzzi had been retaken by the First Legion, and the only troops left in the Italian peninsula, apart from Tuscany's, were two Bohemian armies of about 13,000 men, one in Romagna and one in Napoli.

The Emperor had two options. First, he could send the First Legion from Abruzzi to Romagna and join up with the 6,000 man Armata di Firenze (without a Legionary standard, the Emperor could not officially rename it the second Legion), along with two thousand reinforcements from Pisa.

The second option was a combined Neapolitan-Tuscan strike on the Bohemian-Aquelian army in Napoli. Both were risky, but if they could eliminate one of the armies, perhaps Bohemia would sue for peace, taking the real danger out of the enemy alliance.

The Emperor considered both options carefully; if he didn't choose the best option, it could be disastrous.
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17 October 1469, the Chancellor's office

For the first time in a long time, Sextus felt he could finally breathe. Bohemia was finally out of the war!

At the end of the day, the Emperor ultimately had the choice made for him. Napoli fell, and the army that was occupying that province moved on to Apulia -- Naples moved to retake their capital. With the Neapolitan army tied up, the Emperor ordered the Armata di Firenze to engage Bohemian forces at Romagna, then sent the First Legion at all possible speed to join the battle. The battle had proceeded not one day when an emissary from Bohemia carried an offer of peace from the King.


The Bohemian offer

Ragusa had been something of a drain on the Tuscan treasury ever since it had been acquired -- the Emperor gladly gave them their freedom to end the war against Bohemia. Technically the war wasn't over yet, but isolated, the Italian allies could be defeated one by one. Poland would capitulate in time, as it always did.

Sextus rewarded himself with a small glass of wine; victory was in Tuscany's grasp.
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5 November 1469, the Imperial Throne Room

"Gentlemen of the Empire, I want to thank you all for coming."

The Emperor, Julius I, had a very grave look on his face. He knew his decision was incredibly unpopular -- even Sextus reacted badly when he announced the new war with Modena.

Once the threat from Bohemia had been lifted, the Emperor wanted to make a bold move. Without consulting anybody else, he declared war on Modena to subjugate it to the will of the Empire of Tuscany.



The Emperor wanted to score a diplomatic coup of his own -- after all, only Milan wasn't already at war with Tuscany, and the now battle hardened legions could surely handle some soft Northeners, right?

The Emperor sighed. If only Milan had answered by herself. He knew this next piece of news would be especially unpleasant.

"Many of you have questioned my decision to start a second war before the first was over. I may be Emperor, but I am not a tyrant, and I respect your rights to think critically -- without critical thinking, we would not be among the freest of the peoples of Europe.

"That being said, we now face a very daunting challenge. Milan has called one of her most powerful allies -- the Duke of Burgundy. I will not lie to you and say we are certain to win; others might claim that, but not me. This is likely to be even more harrowing than our recently concluded fight with Bohemia. I am confident we will prevail, if we can pull together and God is with us; ultimately, none of us can know His plans.

"To ensure we do not meet with catastrophe, I am making a somewhat unorthodox decision. I am re-establishing the office of Marshal of the Empire. We need a single leader in the field in these times of trouble. Publius Porcius Cato, Duke of Pisa, will you take up your father's title and serve the Empire, as he did?"

Nobody made a single sound, but everyone turned to Publius, once again. As he rose, everybody listened intently.

"Emperor Julius, my lords, it was never my intention to enter government service. I long for the days of my hammer in my hand and red-hot iron on my anvil. I have not seen my twin sons, Marcus and Marius, for months. My wife, Lucretia, has patiently raised my children while I have been in the field. Therefore, if I am to take on this heavy burden, I have some requests.

"First, I am relinquishing my title as Duke of Siena, effective immediately. Instead, I would ask to be allowed to move to Malta, where I can live out the rest of my days, with my family, in peace, after this war. I will not be subject to recall for any reason unless the very existence of the Empire is threatened.

"Second, upon my retirement, I do not want any celebrations, parties, or functions of any kind. My only contact with the government will be with my dear brother, and then only as my brother and not as Chancellor.

"Third, my sons are to be exempt from any call-up in this or any other war. Neither is of army age yet -- they are 12 -- but they could be very soon, if the pattern of previous wars is repeated. They are, of course, free to volunteer if they so choose, and they may choose any occupation they like, but they cannot be compelled to serve for any reason.

"Finally, Colonel Lucius is to be given command of the second Legion. I recognize that Imperial tradition only normally recognizes one General, and General Tonellius has done a fine job, but should a second General be allowed, I must insist that Lucius is that General.

"Emperor, do you accept my requests?"

The Emperor could but nod. Another man would have been furious that he was being dictated to -- Julius even entertained the thought, briefly, that his father would have been among them. Nevertheless, Julius knew that these were all very reasonable.

"Then I accept. May God smile upon us and Tuscany in this hour of need."

The Emperor officially proclaimed Publius Porcius Cato to be Marshal of the Empire and Duke of Malta. Siena would revert to his brother Sextus, until such time as Sextus chose to relinquish it. Malta was officially removed from the Duchy of Sicily -- Bartolomeo del Moro knew better than to complain, as he was in large part responsible for the failures early on in the first war.

"My friends, we have completed but the first phase of the Great Italian War -- with the leadership of Marshal Cato and the grace of God, we will be victorious! Glory to the Empire!"


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I'll have the second part of Chapter 10 done by Sunday; you have until then to guess what silly thing I did with Naples that I shouldn't have.

Fyropyro said:

Great AAR, I really appreciate the narrative, its quite in depth. And the naples thing has got to have something to do with you losing PU, but i cant imagine what XD

Click to expand...

Not quite. I'm going to give out one important hint, that may give up the ghost, but I'm willing to take that chance: it's something to do with a change introduced in DW.

History_Buff said:

You forgot that after 50 years that you could integrate them into your country. Either that or you forgot that that integration does not give you cores, so you have to eat the imfamy from the provinces.

Click to expand...

Wrong on the first one; right on the second. We have a winner! Both the infamy and the lack of cores were an unpleasant surprise -- I'll need to be more patient in the future. PM the details for your character -- name, occupation, age, place of birth, etc. -- and I'll work him/her into the story somehow.

Also, I've finished editing screenshots for the second part of Chapter 10 -- looks like you'll get one more (albeit short) chapter before I need to play more. I'm not going to update at all next week (self imposed exile -- I've been slacking on a number of RL things; I'll still monitor the forums and post, but no updates), but Chapter 10, part 2 looks like it will be insanely long (I had to trim out some screenshots to get under 20) so that should satisfy many of you. It should be up either this afternoon or this evening.

1 January 1470, the Imperial Throne Room

Christmas was not a particularly joyful time for Emperor Julius I. His decision to start a second war was not very well received, but that was not what Julius was concerned about.

The Dowager Empress Lucia Porcia Cato, mother to the Emperor and aunt to the Chancellor and Marshal of the Empire, had died Christmas morning, just shy of her 70th birthday. Lucia had long outlived her brother and husband; many thought she could even outlive her own son. She was incredibly popular throughout the Empire. In fact, some less scrupulous sorts postulated that the Emperor had killed his mother to take the focus off of his war. Nobody took this seriously, but it did occasionally cause him sleepless nights.

It did create quite a problem -- his son was now officially Duke of Rome, and even in his thirties he wasn't entirely reliable. Julius still shuddered to think of his son actually someday becoming Emperor -- Gian Gastone had absolutely no gifts for military or diplomacy, and was only slightly mediocre as an administrator. Well, if Gian did plan on being Emperor, he would have to prove himself in Rome.

Julius at least had some good news of late. France had taken Savoie from Savoy, which greatly weakened one of his rivals. After scholars had made another breakthrough in Government administration, Julius set out plans for a Grand Army. In practice, all provinces of the Empire were expected to contribute more men to the Legions.



The First Legion had already engaged Milanese troops in Modena; the first step to this war needed to be subjugating them.
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12 January 1470, the camp of the first Legion, Modena

General Ippolitus Tonellius was starting to get a nasty reputation as a butcher. Although the enemy quit the field first, the First Legion took many more casualties in the Battle of Modena. He cursed his lack of Cavalry -- worse, the King of Milan, Filippo Maria I Visconti was personally leading the Milanese into battle. This gave his men a little more courage, and all of the General's skill in leading the Tuscan longbows could not overcome the Milanese advantage in shock tactics.



He remembered the old Greek General Pyrrhus, and knew that, for now, Milan was better able to replace losses. New regiments were being raised throughout the Empire, but the policy of using colonels of non-noble origin backfired -- some of the noble officers under them would constantly ignore commands or even actively defy them. As a Baron, Colonel Lucius was able to control some of them, but even he had problems with the more arrogant Lieutenants.

Ippolitus hoped this new "Grand Army" would work; even the legendary Marshal Marcus Porcius Cato Minor could not beat these troops into true fighting shape. The current Marshal, Publius Porcius Cato, was a brilliant strategist and planner, and had experience leading men into battle, but the Emperor had ordered the Marshal to stay in Florence instead of visiting the troops.

The General had but one option -- to wait until he was relieved. Modena might not capitulate easily, but it was excellent defensive ground and if Milan wanted to come at it, he welcomed the opportunity.
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15 April 1470, the Camp of the First Legion in Modena

Colonel Lucius, who usually refused to give any further information other than his name and rank when asked, was getting more and more perturbed with his so-called Commanding Officer. The General often complained to his olive-skinned Colonel about problems of discipline in the ranks, and blamed the surprisingly high casualties on that.

Lucius knew that selecting officers of non-noble origin was a risky move, but he knew why Marshal Cato had done it and thoroughly approved. He did not dare reveal his own noble origins for fear that he would just reinforce the prejudice of many of the noble's sons who had somehow bought a lieutenancy.

He'd gotten word from the Marshal that at least one power was out of the war -- Achaea had been bought off for 60 ducats, a princely sum. He wasn't entirely sure why Achaea should have been bought off, although Sicily had already been largely occupied from the first phase of the war. In any event, it was one less strategic headache.

Suddenly, Lucius was distracted. He saw a lot of dust on the horizon, and one of his scouts just appeared over the ridge. He mounted his own horse and rode out to meet him.

The scout saluted when he saw the Colonel ride up. "Colonel Lucius, the Milanese have formed a sizable army! I counted at least 15 regimental flags; maybe more! I think they'll be here by 20 August at the latest."

Lucius swore. He wasn't yet ready to form an effective defense, and Milan knew it. He had to report this to the General; there simply wasn't time to continue the elaborate fortifications the General preferred. A newly risen regiment was ordered to drive off the single Milanese regiment besieging Romagna; it was more useful there than with the first Legion. He only hoped that they could give as good as they got.
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29 May 1470, the Imperial War Room

The brothers Cato, Chancellor Sextus and Marshal Publius, had been very busy the last few days. Another partner of Poland had surrendered; Venice was content with a mere concession of defeat. This move instantly gave Tuscany command of the sea, a welcome development strategically.

"Sextus, have the reports for today's fighting arrived yet?"

"Not yet, Brother. They should be here soon."

Publius, who had only very reluctantly taken his father's position as Marshal, was not entirely displeased with the results in the war thus far. The battle in Romagna was almost a coin flip; casualties were dead even on both sides. He'd heard very little about the Second Battle of Modena, but trusted Colonel Lucius, if not entirely the General, to get the job done. He'd ordered some additional ships to be constructed in Pisa; more galleys, and eventually, two more Carracks. They needed to retake Sicily, eventually, but for now Milan was the chief threat to Tuscany. Burgundy had mostly landed in Malta and in Naples.

Sextus was trying to see if he could get the Polish alliance out of the war. They'd recently demanded the release of Urbino, a price he could not pay. In about a year, Roma, Romagna, and Ancona would be Tuscan possessions for fifty years -- that meant they would officially be considered "core" provinces according to international law. He kept trying though. He completely trusted his brother to lead the army to victory no matter the odds, but that didn't mean that Sextus couldn't even the odds a little more with some clever diplomacy.

At that moment, a haggard looking young man -- he'd ridden hard for several hours -- entered the War Room, saluted Marshal Cato, and handed him a report from Modena.


Casualty figures from the second Battle of Modena

"Soldier, explain this report."

The courier nodded. "Sir, General Tonellius made a strategic withdrawal to preserve our army. He is expected to be in the capital in a couple of days; he highly doubts that Milan will attempt to siege Florence, but should instead recover their losses and mount a second assault only later."

"Very well, son. Let the General know that we are trying to raise more regiments for him, but we've had little success thus far. Dismissed."

The courier saluted one final, then walked out the door he came in.

The Chancellor spoke first. "Publius, I am not the expert in military affairs you are, but should we not have done much better?"

Publius scowled. "You're exactly right, Sextus. We need somebody to push these men just a little harder, somebody with more credibility than I have. I need Lucius in the field or I'd put him in charge of training. Perhaps I should speak with the Emperor, and convince him to hire a new Commandant."
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23 September 1470, the Marshal's office

There was a stout knock at the door. Marshal Publius Porcius Cato, Duke of Malta, answered, and was pleasantly surprised to see his old friend Colonel Lucius at the door.

"Lucius, come in! I trust you have a proposed battle plan from the General?"

Lucius crisply saluted, then unfurled a map he'd brought along.


The axis of advance for the First Legion

"Marshal, the General did not expect Milan to invade Pisa, but it has given us an advantage. We can, virtually unopposed, take Modena, and then proceed to occupy Milan, perhaps even knock them out of the war!"

Marshal Cato grinned. The last few months had been pretty dull. Burgundy announced a personal union with Norway, while the Sicilian rebels had fully occupied Messina -- a risk, but one that was easily deflected. Two more regiments had joined the first legion, giving them 12,000 men -- a perfectly adequate number for the task that Lucius propsed. Then, his expression darkened a bit.

"Colonel, has the General perhaps overlooked something? Florence will be without protection, apart from our loyal garrison soldiers. What if Milan seizes Pisa, then moves East?"

Lucius sighed. "Marshal, permission to speak freely?"

"Granted."

"This is not the General's plan. The General's plan is to retake Pisa. It took me two weeks to convince him that Pisa was less valuable then knocking out Milan. I think that even the Imperial Capital is worth the risk; not only could we get Milan out of the war, but if we weaken her in some way, we could perhaps take some land from them in the future."

The Marshal considered this for a moment. "Colonel, your plan is approved. The Emperor has already anticipated your request and many of the imperial officials have already gone to our provisional capital in Rome. Only myself, my brother, and the Emperor remain here in Florence. I have every expectation that you will meet with success. Glory to the Empire!"

Lucius saluted one final time, repeated the Empire's motto himself, and excitedly turned to leave. He'd gotten away with it! General Tonellius actually never proposed this plan at all; the General had never even seen it. Lucius knew he would favor a bloody frontal assault on Pisa, and had created this plan by himself. He smiled to himself, and had nearly reached the door when he was interrupted by the Marshal.

"Oh, and Colonel?"

Lucius spun around. "Yes, Marshal?"

"I'm no idiot. I know whose plan this is. If I honestly thought that the General had come up with it, I would have told you no. He is an effective leader of men, but a terrible strategic thinker. I often wonder if we promoted him out of a lack of alternatives rather than his capabilities. In any case, I know you must be diplomatic, but I expect total honesty from my subordinates. Understood?"

Lucius's big grin was toned down a notch. "Understood, Marshal."
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28 October 1470, the Throne Room of Modena

General Tonellius considered this his finest hour. After a quick assault of the weakly defended fortress, the King of Modena capitulated almost immediately.

In retrospect, Colonel Lucius had been right. At first, he was furious at Lucius's insubordination, and had strongly considered court martialing him. That was before he realized the prestige and authority that breaking two different nations beneath would give him. Marshal Cato had only signed on for this war; perhaps it was Ippolitus Tonellius's turn to carry the Marshal's baton?

As the King of Modena took the Oath of Allegiance to Emperor Julius I, he handed the treaty to the conquering General.


The treaty of Modena

He signed it on behalf of the Empire, then announced the peace to the entire Legion. They cheered and chanted his name; the effect was intoxicating.

Colonel Lucius was pleased, but also a bit troubled. The men were exhausted, and if Milan was aggressive, they could break and run at the first sign of renewed battle. He quietly sent out orders to begin digging in; there was far more to do before this war would end.
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11 February 1472, the provisional capital at Rome

Gian Gastone Datti, Prince of the Empire and Duke of Rome, belched as loud as he could. All of a sudden, his little corner of the Empire was important again! His father never visited, and most foreigners found him vulgar. Still, he was an Emperor's son, and would soon be an Emperor himself, he reasoned, and they would have to respect him and his authority!

Just eight days earlier, he had hosted a huge celebration -- the former Papal territories were now core territories of the Empire of Tuscany. Some would have felt slighted that no important government officials attended; all Gian cared was that he got plenty of gifts and all of his friends could revel with him in his glory. He took a big gulp from his wine glass, spilled at least half of it, and toasted the brothers Cato, who were talking quietly in the corner. He slightly irritated that they ignored him, their Prince, but a servant brought him more wine and his attention was quickly diverted.

Sextus was reviewing the diplomatic situation in the Empire. Norway and Modena were now (or perhaps again) part of the war; Norway had joined Burgundy, while Modena had switched sides and now fought on the side of the Empire. Riga had just presented a request for white peace, which he intended to accept. Julius I had also tasked him with making Cologne vote for Tuscany in the Damned German Imperial elections; a dubious task but one he intended to fulfill, if possible.

Publius, on the other hand, was simultaneously pleased and concerned. He had 15,000 men under arms, fulfilling a mission that Emperor Julius I had personally assigned him -- as a result, the Empire was more prestigious and his officers a little more proud of their military tradition. Milan was ready to collapse any day now -- the only resistance had crumbled as soon as Tuscan troops crossed the border. At sea, the Classis I had captured two additional ships -- a galley and a cog.


Battle summary, dated October 1471

However, Florence had been occupied by Milanese soldiers, and they had already begin marching toward Siena. 14,000 Burgundians were in Abruzzi, and the only province that remained in Neapolitan hands was Napoli, which was being besieged by 9,000 Aquelians. Naples could not sign a separate peace -- after all, Julius I was their King -- but they needed to continue to resist until Milan fell and the Legions could march back south.

Both briefly glanced at the Prince -- he'd quickly become a disgusting, drunken slob, who only cared about himself. Every day, both Publius and Sextus prayed for Julius's long life a little harder.
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11 March 1472, the Chancellor's office in Rome

Sextus was very worried. He'd scored some very nice diplomatic successes. Funj and Cleves agreed to white peaces, and he was currently reviewing the terms of a treaty with Aquelia -- an important one, since they held most of Naples, and Napoli could fall at any time. They wanted 73 ducats -- a little more than half the treasury -- but it was worth it. He just needed the Emperor's signature to make it official. He'd even learned that Umbrians, for a while the most dangerous group in the Empire, had completely and enthusiastically backed the Empire in this war, a most welcome development.



However, Burgundy's army had already surrounded Rome and begun to occupy it. Nobody knew where the new provisional capital would be; Milan had to fall, and fall soon, or the Empire of Tuscany could be obliterated from the face of the Earth.
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18 April 1472, the Imperial Throne Room in Florence

It had been an incredibly close call for Emperor Julius I. The Burgundians had taken Rome; the Imperial officials narrowly escaped to some docked ships, protected by the Classis I. He mentally knew he owed his life to Publius and Sextus; if not for Publius's work with the army, Milan would not have capitulated just a few hours earlier that day.



Sextus had made some impressive diplomatic gains as well. Parma and Sweden were now allies of Tuscany, Parma an active partner, Sweden an inactive one. Even better, Poland had accepted peace with the Empire of Tuscany, but it was not an inexpensive one.



The entire Imperial treasury was gone -- worse, the alliance with Aragon was severed. Still, Tuscany faced only one war now, but a war that was by no means over. Burgundy still had fourteen thousand troops, and it would take a few days for the armies in Milan to come back south. 18,000 Tuscans had already returned, and were being reorganized into proper legions, but they were not yet ready to strike. Perhaps another of Colonel Lucius's bold plans was in order.
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1 July 1472, the camp of the First Legion, Florence

Marshal Cato made a rare appearance in the field; he needed to see how the troops were doing and see if he could lend any additional support to General Tonellius. He brought along a report, prepared by his brother, of estimated troop strengths of each side in the war.



The Marshal was in a conference with the General and Colonel Lucius.

"Gentlemen, I need options here. The Emperor is anxious to end this war, as I am sure you both are. I can tell you that three more regiments will be ready in about 45 days; however, I need to know what you intend to do."

General Tonellius's response was immediate. "Although it pains me, I have to keep the first Legion here. The Duke of Burgundy is personally leading the siege of Ancona. Thankfully, some of our allies -- two regiments from Modena and two from Ferrara -- are attempting to retake Rome, but for now, we must defend the capital."

Colonel Lucius looked agitated. The Marshal, amused, asked what was on his mind. He got it.

"Marshal, I think this plan is... moronic, begging the General's pardon. We have superiority at sea -- why not retake Sicily and Malta? We could even retake most of Naples, and then strike at Burgundy from the rear! The defenses of Ancona are strong -- surely they will hold!"

The Marshal considered both options carefully. "You have both made strong points. I believe, at this juncture, we have the manpower to do both. Here is what we shall do. General Tonellius, you will have 12,000 men -- I urge you to hold as best you can at Florence, and kill as many in battle as you possibly can, if given the opportunity. Colonel Lucius, I am going to give you direct command of eight regiments -- destroy the Duke of Burgundy's armies in Malta and Sicily, then cross the straits of Messina. Any questions?"

Both men shook their heads, saluted, and rode back to their commands. Publius was left alone; privately, he worried that neither army would have enough men, but trusted in his commanders to get the job done.
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7 March 1473, the camp of the 'Armata de Cremona', Malta

Colonel Lucius was extremely proud of his men and the job they had done. In less than a year, they had defeated two armies and retaken Sicily.

First, he'd retaken the rebel stronghold of Palermo. When he found out who had organized the resistance, he was absolutely stunned -- it was Bartolomeo del Moro! He didn't even recognize the Duke, as he was covered in mud and plenty of wounds. He was impressed with the thorough job del Moro had done; while he was not a brilliant battlefield commander, del Moro was an exceptional partisan. He shook hands with the Duke, but knew he had to attack the garrison in Messina. He chased the Burgundian troops for days, but finally got them into a decisive battle -- the Battle of Palermo.


The Battle of Palermo, 31 December 1472

With Sicily secured, an amphibious invasion of Malta took a while longer, but ended in an astounding triumph.



Still, he was worried. He'd gotten a smattering of news after he made contact with Malta's governor, but this news was not good. A huge battle erupted between General Tonellius and the Duke of Burgundy -- it had been raging for over a month and it looked like Tonellius might break. He needed to get back to the mainland as quickly as possible and lend his support.
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8 June 1473, General Tonellius' tent, Florence

1473 had not been a good year, tactically, but a brilliant one strategically for the General of the First Legion. He'd inflicted plenty of punishment on the Duke of Burgundy. Shortly after he'd gotten word that Malta was secure, he gave the order to retreat from Florence.


Casualty report from the Battle of Florence, dated 29 March 1473

Another battle quickly ensued, this time in Pisa, and while he again inflicted prodigious casualties on Burgundy he again was forced to quit the field.



A map of the Empire gave some promising news. Burgundy had 8,000 troops left in Italy -- half in Parma, with the other half fighting 9,000 troops from Naples and Modena. Lucius's troops had already landed in Siena, relieved the siege by the 4,000 Norwegians, and was in hot pursuit.

For the first time since the war began, General Tonellius was now confident that victory was certain -- Burgundy would eventually have to surrender, especially if Julius I had no interest in territorial annexations.
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17 January 1474, the Chancellor's office

Sextus could not believe Burgundy's latest peace offer. They wanted the entire Imperial Treasury! Were they mad?

As usual, the hero of the war continued to be Colonel Lucius -- overdue for a promotion if anybody ever was -- who had destroyed two entire armies; he'd offered a few troops to defeat the Burgundian army in Siena and obliterated the Norwegians in Rome himself.


The battle of Siena, 19 June 1473


The battle of Rome, 21 June 1473

Another attempt to land troops was thwarted by the Classis I -- although no enemy ships were captured, it was too far away for Burgundy to land troops in Italy. The First Legion had gone to Parma and eliminated the army from Burgundy there, and with the Neapolitans, 22,000 troops protected the independence of Milan's former province. Finally, a brand new battle report showed that Lucius had struck one more blow, killing nearly 2,000 soldiers from Norway who had invaded Abruzzi.



Sextus grinned and tore up the peace offer; Tuscany had no need to pay for peace.
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17 May 1474, the Imperial Throne Room

Emperor Julius I was absolutely beaming with pride. He'd just received an official peace offer from Burgundy, who were now willing to accept a white peace with Tuscany.



In the end, it had been the Tuscan fleet that had destroyed the hopes of Burgundy. With no direct access to Tuscan soil, only amphibious landings would have revived Burgundy's chances, but the mighty Classis I had destroyed the entire navy of Burgundy in two battles.


The battle of the Ligurian Sea, March 1474

The second battle of the Ligurian Sea eliminated Burgundy's last two transports.

Julius I used the opportunity to address the people of Tuscany, who had suffered long and lost many a son.

"My friends, my people, we have accomplished our goal! Modena and Ferrara have submitted to our authority, while we have new friends in Parma and Sweden. Many have died to secure our borders, but we have triumphed! It is time to celebrate and enjoy a long peace" -- at "celebrate", a drunken cheer erupted from the Heir to the Throne -- "and the prosperity that is rightfully ours!

"I have two promotions to announce. First, I have hired a new Commandant for the army; Marshal Cato has repeatedly asked for new training procedures, and I am confident that this gentlemen will prove to be a superb leader.


The new Commandant -- his name is widely assumed to be an alias

"Second, we have finally learned the true name of our brave Colonel! Lucius Graecus Scholasticus, the son of our ex-chancellor Constantine, is hereby promoted to General of the Empire, and is proclaimed the Proconsul, or Military Governor, of Modena, as well as Count of the Empire. General Tonellius is also given the title of Count of the Empire and shall be considered Proconsul of Ferrara.

"To the soldiers and sailors of the Empire of Tuscany, and the hard working men and women that kept us fed, clothed, and sheltered, I thank you all from the bottom of my heart. Glory to the Empire!"
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Two items. First, HistoryBuff, don't worry, I'll properly introduce your character next update Second, Lucius is an exciting 1/3/4/1 General.

The next update may actually be tonight -- I want to clear my plate so I can button down and be a good lecturer when my summer course starts next Monday. It won't be terribly long or detailed, but many interesting events shall transpire.

7 June 1474, the Imperial Throne Room

The new Commandant, Andreas Germanicus, knelt at the Imperial Throne. He had to give the Oath of Fealty to the Emperor, and he was particularly suspect because of his foreign roots.

"I swear, unconditionally, to protect and serve the Empire of Tuscany. My talents, my assets, my family, and, if necessary, my life, are subject to the Emperor's will. I renounce any and all ties to any other nation or principality. I truly and firmly believe in the rebirth of the Roman Empire and I will do whatever is necessary to ensure its return. Glory to the Empire!"

Julius I bid him arise, then presented him with an officer's uniform. Andreas would officially be a Colonel in the Tuscan Army, and given the rank of Count of the Empire. He had come quite a long way for one so young.

Scarcely 21 years of age, the former Baron Andreas von Mecklenburg was tired of the petty squabbles, backstabbing, and deceit in his home and in the court of the Valois dynasty. In the Imperial army, he'd been a Lieutenant in his father's regiment. Andreas was incredibly ambitious, and when he asked when he would get command of a regiment of his own, he was simply told, "When it is time."

That just wasn't good enough for Andreas. He constantly campaigned for a colonelcy, yet refused to besmirch his father's character, which a General ordered (the General did not trust Andreas's father, and the General had powerful ambitions of his own. Furious, the General falsified a report from Andreas, then hand delivered it to the Emperor of Austria. When his father got wind of this "betrayal", he kicked his ungrateful son out of the family home in the city of Mecklenburg and disinherited him. With a pregnant wife and an infant daughter, Andreas tried to find service at many a German court, but each one rejected him. The powerful General had blacklisted him.

Tired, cold, and hungry, he arrived in the Empire of Tuscany shortly after the infamous Battle of Florence in the Great Italian War. He observed the action from a distance and saw how disorderly everything appeared. It was certainly not that way in the Holy Roman Empire! He decided to take action; he took an assumed name, Luigi Masalpina, and petitioned the Emperor to let him enlist in the army.

Julius I had actually heard of Andreas, and was not fooled by the alias. He quietly listened to the young German's proposals, and realized that many of them had considerable merit. So Julius struck a deal. He would hire Andreas von Mecklenburg as Commandant for the Imperial Army. Andreas would need to choose an appropriate Latin name (Germanicus was an easy choice). After he swore an oath of fealty and renounced his citizenship of Mecklenburg, Andreas would be named a Count and promoted to Colonel. Andreas did not hesitate for a moment -- this was exactly the opportunity he craved and he could not wait to see what his methods would bring to the Empire of Tuscany.

This opportunity would come much quicker than he thought -- mere weeks after he was hired and began to drill the troops, a large rebellion against the Emperor's policy of centralization broke out.


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14 October 1476, the Chancellor's office

It was again time to hire a new adviser. The Chancellor, Sextus Porcius Cato, Duke of Siena and Pisa, hated this part of the job. Most of the applicants outright lied, and those that didn't were usually unqualified anyway. A Master of Mint was considered vital to the interests of the Empire, and so he was quite pleased when the name of Cosimo Bartolini crossed his desk.



This lad looked like he was going places. A brilliant economist, and reputedly from a good family. Cosimo was not a noble, but his father was, a Baron in Rome. Sextus wrote a sterling recommendation and passed it along to the Emperor personally. He was very pleased, overall, with the current Imperial Council. All were five out of six stars. He'd earlier met with the German, Andreas, and was impressed by how ambitious he seemed to be. Sextus had to remind Andreas that only Tuscan-born nobles could ever become Dukes, multiple times, but this did not discourage the Commandant, only made him even more determined to be the first. The court Philosopher, although he was getting on in years, was nonetheless extremely popular.

A good court. All of the Dukes were loyal beyond question -- even del Moro had proven himself to be an excellent Duke, when he was given the opportunity. He thought, briefly, of his brother, who had stuck to his word and left for Malta literally hours after the peace with Burgundy was signed. Sextus briefly wondered if there would ever be another Marshal of the Empire -- Lucius certainly seemed qualified, but loved command in the field too much. Tonellius, unfortunately, proved to be an idiot. He simply couldn't be trusted without very clear instructions. Andreas might be a reasonable choice, but he was awfully young, and nobody knew for certain whether or not he could be trusted. If his training proved to be exceptional -- the quick disposal of the rebellions showed it was certainly better than they had in the past -- it was certainly possible.

Perhaps a war would let him prove his mettle. Sextus knew that war would not actively pursued by Julius I -- it was just too unpopular. Still, the diplomatic situation in Europe was always shifting.
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4 May 1477, the training field outside of Rome

Andreas Germanicus wiped a bead of sweat from his bow. It certainly was never this hot in Mecklenburg. He'd been training this squad for about three hours now -- many of them had never even seen a Longbow before, let alone fired one. He chuckled to himself softly, watching one particularly inept soldier fall on his ass every time he tried to fire his bow.

Still, he was impressed with the results thus far. He'd already trained the first two Legions -- General Tonellius's Legio I 'Imperator' and General Lucius Graecus's Legio II 'Sicilia'. The new third Legion -- Legio III 'Butterius', after the beloved General -- was still very raw. Three legions of 9,000 men -- a total of 27,000 -- was the largest in Italy now. The fleet had 24 ships, which was still much smaller than Venice, but larger than everyone else.

War had been declared just three days ago. The King of Milan apparently thought that the Empire of Tuscany would abandon its friends in Parma, but the Emperor did not hesitate one moment when Parma called.



This was a savvy move, thought Andreas. Before the rest of Europe would recognize the formation of Italy, the region of Lombardia needed to be a Tuscan core -- since this was the Milanese capital, it meant that the Emperor needed to try to take some lands, which would either force the relocation of the capital of Milan or let him annex the entire Kingdom in a future war. Milan's declaration of war prevented the Holy Roman Empire from getting involved -- he still couldn't bring himself to call it the Damned German Empire, as most of the officials and even Julius I did. Her allies were meaningless, and all of Tuscany's allies answered -- Naples, Modena, Ferrara, and Sweden.

Of course, one of those allies did not properly exist any longer. The Treaty of Napoli formalized the complete integration of the former Kingdom of Naples into the Empire of Tuscany. Privately, Andreas realized this was a mistake -- if he had simply waited until his son inherited the throne, there was an excellent chance he would formally inherit Naples, and all of the lands would be considered "core." Regardless, Andreas knew that most of the Army of Naples had disbanded, so there weren't really any new officers. He was in prime position to, perhaps, get at least provisional command of the third Legion. General at 22 sounded awfully tempting.


The Treaty of Napoli
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29 July 1478, the Imperial Throne Room

Unlike the Emperor's other wars, the war against Milan went incredibly quickly and with few casualties. After a single battle, Milan was virtually defeated.



Unfortunately for Julius I, however, he lost both of his generals. Ippolitus Tonellius died of his many war wounds during the battle. Lucius Graecus was felled, not by war, but by peace, as a fall off of his horse cost him the use of his legs. Lucius did not die, but he was clearly unable to fight in the field. He was proclaimed Marshal of the Empire and given a nice office in Florence, and used his still brilliant tactical and strategic mind to help the field commanders. [1] Andreas Germanicus got some seasoning in the field, but ultimately, there just wasn't much opportunity to be decisive -- the Milanese were incredibly stupid to come after Parma in the first place, and none of their allies supported them.

As the Emperor signed the treaty, he was practically salivating over the thought of eliminating Milan as a real challenger to the Empire of Tuscany.


The Treaty of Rome
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3 February 1479, the Chancellor's office

Sextus scowled at the note he'd received from the Damned German Empire.



It was an insult to Tuscany's sovereignty -- it was Milan's own actions that lost them the territory, so what business did some foreigner have demanding the territory? It wouldn't even go back to Milan; the Damned German Emperor would "administer" it as part of the Empire proper. Not for the first time, Sextus wondered if the whole business of being a member of the Damned German Empire was worth the hassle.

Other events had gone against the Empire of Tuscany as well; some bad wine and corruption weakened the Empire internally.





Sextus knew that the decision had to be the Emperor's, and so set out for the Imperial Throne Room. Marshal Graecus was already there; he'd heard the news and ordered his servants to carry him in.

"Marshal, Emperor, the Damned German Emperor wants us to hand control of Brescia, one of our new provinces, to him. I know all of us here find this profoundly distasteful, but if we accede to his request, we will gain some prestige. The alternative might be war with Austria; I do not think we could win this war without some more powerful allies."

Marshal Graecus nodded grimly. "Emperor Julius, I agree with the Chancellor; better to give away some worthless land then to cause a war we might lose. Let us let the Chancellor search for some powerful allies; if Austria requests this again, we will act appropriately."

Emperor Julius I was not at all sure. "Gentlemen, I appreciate your input. It is true, Austria has incredibly powerful resources we cannot hope to match. Still, perhaps they would not risk war, with the Turk on their doorstep and the Russians not far away?"

The Chancellor shook his head. "Your Imperial Majesty, we cannot defeat Austria in battle. Although Sweden, Ferrara, and Modena are reliable and staunch allies, Austria is likely to bring along other European powers, and much of the Damned German Empire might even support Austria. Our army is growing, and will grow stronger still, but we have no truly skilled commanders and our army is one third the size of Austria's."

Julius I was actually taken slightly aback. This was the first time that Sextus had ever publicly challenged one of his decisions; granted, in a small setting, but he was both pleased and worried that Sextus felt secure enough to offer contrary advice. Nonetheless, he had to admit that it was just his pride talking. He knew he could not realistically expect a positive outcome in the event of war with Austria. He agreed, but very reluctantly, and signed the request from Austria. He sent out two riders; one to notify the Governor of Brescia, and one to Austria with the signed document.

Julius I had one more concern, but right now he had no answer -- he needed a new Duke to govern Cremona, the other Milanese territory. Nobody stood out as ready for a Duchy. Andreas was too young and a foreigner; Lucius Graecus was an honorary citizen, thanks to his father, but somebody in his condition could not adequately serve as a Duke. Giving his idiot son more territory made him shudder with revulsion. He briefly considered asking Publius Cato, but knew he would refuse. None of the other Counts had distinguished themselves enough to deserve a promotion. Cicero would refuse -- he enjoyed retirement too much -- and his son was busy in Ancona. He would have to keep an eye on any young Tuscans that seemed vibrant enough to take the post -- for now, it would remain under direct Imperial administration.

Naples was a nightmare -- that could be as many as three more Dukes! -- so for now, it too would be directly administered by Julius. He was distantly worried he was taking on too many duties, but dismissed his concerns. There were simply too many important posts and not enough trustworthy individuals.
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28 July 1480, the Imperial Throne Room

Julius I was weeping as he had never wept before. The greatest tragedy in the Empire since the assassination of his father and his uncle struck like a bolt of lighting one hot July day.

1479 had been a very quiet year -- a bold philosopher had begun arguing for more rights for intellectuals, and Julius I had agreed, but that was the only major event.



When he awoke that morning, however, he was totally unprepared for what happened. His son, Prince of the Empire and Duke of Rome, had died of some rare fever. He'd been perfectly healthy the day before -- Julius I had visited his son to try one last time to get him to change his party lifestyle -- but now, Gian Gastone Datti was dead.



He was absolutely torn to pieces. He still loved his son, even if he never truly appreciated or understood the business of being Emperor. Even worse, now he had no heir. Although Julius was by no means old, he was aging far too rapidly. He simply had too much to do. In addition to being Emperor, he also had the daily headaches of directly administering Cremona and the former Kingdom of Naples. He kept this from everybody, but he was usually coughing up blood once or twice a week now and usually felt a burning sensation in his stomach whenever he had anything but the blandest of foods. His doctor was extremely concerned -- a bleeding ulcer was nothing to sneeze at -- but Julius could not slow down, and now he needed to administer Rome directly too.

A kind young maiden comforted him; he'd been spending quite a bit of time with her, since his wife, Empress Syracusa, was completely unable to have children. This young maiden was actually nine months pregnant -- nobody knew that Julius was actually the father. While Julius wept, the young maiden, whose name history never bothered to record, whispered four prophetic words to the grief-stricken Emperor.

"It is a boy." [2]
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25 March 1481, the Imperial Throne Room

The Empire of Tuscany had slowly recovered from the tragedy of losing the heir to the throne. The new heir, whom Julius had also named Gian Gastone, seemed exceptionally bright. [3] Julius seemed to be better than ever, playing and spending plenty of time with his new son.

The Chancellor had begged his brother to help take some of the pressure off of Julius I, and so Publius was now Duke of Naples and Malta. Lucius Graecus retired as Marshal of the Empire to become the Prince's regent as Duke of Rome. Andreas Germanicus, at the age of 28, took his place as Marshal, the youngest anywhere in Europe.

The morning of 25 March 1481, the palace servants went to wake Julius I and bring him some breakfast; he was oddly enough not in his bedchambers. Some discreetly asked the young lady that had taken the Emperor's fancy, the Prince's mother -- she had not seen the Emperor since the child was born. Then they heard a scream from the Throne Room.

The servants contacted the doctor, and all fled as quickly as possible. There, on the throne, sat Julius I. He was dead. The doctor, examining him carefully, proclaimed a heart attack to be the cause of death. All Imperial officials were called to the Palace; they needed to find out what they would do next.

Gian Gastone was now Emperor John I of Tuscany -- he was also barely a year old. Who would be his regent? Would other countries take advantage of Tuscany's tragedy? Nobody knew the answer.

Julius I had been the most successful Emperor in Tuscan history. He had added, just in his reign, Sicily, Naples and Cremona to the Empire of Tuscany. He had turned Tuscany from a mere afterthought to the most powerful realm in all of Italy. Nobody called him Julius the Drone or Julius the Bee when they spoke of him now. There was only one nickname for him now.

Julius I Magnus. Julius the Great.


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[1] You'll have to take my word for this. I originally set General deaths as an icon instead of a pop-up; for the most part, I never cared. All I know is, at some point, both Generals "died."

[2] I struggled to find a satisfying solution -- the event seems to indicate that the baby is a sea monkey, not a human being, and is born in one day. For RP purposes, we'll say she fortuitously gave birth the exact day the old heir died. It's more plausible than a Miracle-Gro baby.

[3] He's 3/6/6 -- a very fine ruler, if he survives.

This will be the last update for this week; we're in for a long regency. I haven't played since the end of this update, so I'll need to do that first, obviously.

I'll still monitor the thread and answer any comments and/or feedback.