Aquitania Rising - A Duchy of Toulouse AAR

Prologue - A Rising Star​

Chapter 1 - Carpe Diem

As the year 1067 dawned on the Duchy of Toulouse, not much had changed. Guilhem de Toulouse was still a bachelor, anxiously awaiting the day when the object of his obsession, Agnes d'Aquitaine, would come of age and they could be wed. There has been much speculation regarding whether or not his desire was motivated entirely or only partially by a lust for power. Few records survive concerning the courtship and haggling that went into the Duke of Toulouse's proposals to the Duke of Aquitaine, trying to cajole him into granting permission for his daughter to marry the young de Toulouse. One record that does survive, however, shows the lengths Guilhem was willing to go in order that he might get the bride of his choosing.


A letter dated April 17, 1067 that was found buried deep within one of the state archives in modern day Toulouse was revealed to be correspondence between Guilhem de Toulouse and the then Count of Albret, Bernard-Ezi d'Albret. The letter seems to indicate that documents alleging that the county of Albret and all of its property was actually property of the Duchy of Toulouse had been found by historians in the service of Guilhem de Toulouse. The letter goes on to say that the Duke believes that his rights to the land were taken "without a thought to the most Christian standards to which we must adhere" (sans une pensée pour les normes les plus Chrétienne à laquelle nous devons adhérer). The Duke concluded his letter by saying that he forever divested himself and his progeny of any and all claims to the county of Albret.

Historians have speculated as to whether or not this was the just action that it appeared to be. On the one hand, there was significant evidence that the claim had been either fabricated at an earlier date or that it was procured by force. This leads some to conclude that Guilhem de Toulouse was merely doing what was proper for the time. To support their theory, historians point to the fact that not 40 years earlier under the French King Robert II (Robert le Pieux) reforms to enforce the Pax Dei or Peace of God were enacted. Robert II had instituted several reforms to cut down on intra-feudal violence. Historians claim it is these reforms and standards of behavior to which Guilhem was referring in his letter. Essentially, that with the new, more forceful, enforcement of Pax Dei it was much more in line with the law for the Duke to disclaim his rights to the county instead of trying to enforce them. Guilhem himself never gave any indication as to why he might disclaim the rights, but several sources from the period, including the diary kept by Frederi de Noailles who was Guilhem's chancellor, describe the Duke as a man that valued justice. None of them go into detail, however, as to what they mean by "valuing justice".

This lack of specific details regarding Guilhem's actions has led other historians to speculate that this was merely a power play. They highlight the fact that this "just disclaimer" came squarely in the middle of his negotiations with the Duke of Aquitaine whose daughter he was trying to wed. They go on to say, and perhaps not incorrectly, that if Guilhem had attempted to enforce his rights to Albret, that it would have put a serious strain on his negotiations with the Count of Albret's master, the Duke of Aquitaine. Historians that subscribe to this theory point to Guilhem's reputation as a somewhat flamboyant schemer and suggest not only that this was not a move motivated by justice and adherence to Pax Dei but rather a move entirely fabricated by Guilhem himself. As support, these historians point to the fact that it was only the Toulousian scholars that were able to find a record of this claim. They suggest that the claim was fabricated by Guilhem so that he was able to appear magnanimous to his peers and improve his bargaining position as he vied for the hand of Agnes d'Aquitaine. The truth of the matter will likely never be known, and so the best anyone can do is speculate to his motives. The year of 1067 was not, however, dominated solely by Guilhem de Toulouse's pursuit of Agnes. In fact, the young Duke managed to remain quite busy despite his frequent trips to Aquitaine.

The Duchy of Toulouse saw rapid expansion of its infrastructure during the years of 1067-69. Duke Guilhem personally financed an expansion of the forestry trade, so that more raw materials might exist for the construction of new homes and forts throughout the duchy. At the time, forestry was still very much a personal artisan trade with individual people selling crafts out of their homes or small shops. Guilhem de Toulouse revolutionized the trade throughout his personal demense by creating a forestry guild personally financed by the Duke himself, which hired each of these personal artisans and trained them to work together to increase production. This expansion in raw materials is one of the main reasons that Duke de Toulouse was able to later erect a new courthouse within the city of Toulouse as well as a new training ground for his soldiers. Most scholars attribute this sudden expansion in building to be a sign of things to come, a preparation for what the Duke believed to be the eventual destiny of the South of France to be free from interference from Paris and be an autonomous entity in its own right.


Not just the infrastructure, but also the court of Guilhem de Toulouse saw expansion throught 1067 and well into 1071. The young Toumas de Gourdon was appointed as the diocese bishop in 1068. This was significant for two reasons. First, the Bishop, at 16, was the youngest diocese bishop to be appointed by the Holy See in all of history up to that point. Contemporary historians noted that while the young Bishop possessed much intelligence, he was also known to have expressed less than polite disagreement with some of the doctrines espoused by the Vatican at the time. They speculate further that de Gourdon's appointment as diocese bishop for Toulouse was a means of dumping him into a court that already didn't have much respect. In fact, the court at Toulouse was viewed with disinterest, and in some cases disdain, by most of those close to the King. Jocelin de Courtenay, former head of the regency council for the young Phippe Capet, had remarked that Toulouse was a court where all the world's children went to play politics. This was, to some degree, an accurate assessment of Duke Guilhem's court, most of whom were under the age of 25.

No one in Paris was laughing, however, on February 11, 1068 when the dreams of a young Guilhem de Toulouse came true. It was on this day that he was finally permitted to marry Agnes d'Aquitaine as the world watched with awe.


The marriage threw French politics into an uproar as it made possible the unification of the entirety of Southern France under one household. To understand why this was such a troubling proposition, one only need look to the past history of the French nation, such that it was, up to that point. It was only recently, in 987, that the French had been united under Hugh Capet, whose grasp on power was tenuous at best. Any grasp on power the Capets had, was slowly eroded over the several decades between 987 and 1068, to the point that most historians describe most of the French nobility as being basic autonomous kingdoms that are linked to Paris and the Capets only on paper. William the Conqueror being the most notable example, up to that point, of a French noble acting completely autonomously from his nominal liege. the especially weak reign of King Henry I, predecessor of the current King Phillipe, had served to embolden the nobility into outright ignoring most directives that came from Paris. In fact, the large personal demense of the Capets was one of the only things holding the nation together. It was for this reason that the possible unification of all of Southern France under one man would be such a earth-shattering thing, especially in Paris. If accomplished, that man would have enough manpower and followers to easily declare independence from the Capets. It wasn't until late in February 1070 that the Capet's worst fears came to pass. Surviving documents from the time tell of a great feast hosted by Duke Guilhem de Toulouse to celebrate the pregnancy of his new bride.


The court in Paris held it's breath for nine long months, waiting to see the outcome. The succession laws in Toulouse did not allow for a female inheritance like those of Aquitaine, so, in order for Southern France to be united, Agnes d'Aquitaine would need to give birth to a boy. If she did, the child would automatically become the most powerful person in all of the French kingdom.

It's said that November 30, 1070 began like any other day at the court of King Phillipe I Capet. It wasn't until late afternoon when there is a record of a rider galloping into the courtyard with a single piece of paper clenched in his fist. The messenger was reported to have burst into the royal hall, interrupting the evening meal and causing more than one noble lady to shriek in fright. The diary of Guy de Rochefort, then marshal of France, reports that the King, after having read the missive uttered a singular phrase: "Mon Dieu, c'est un garçon"


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Well, that's it for Chapter 1 of the prologue. I'm anxious to hear what anyone thinks regarding the writing style, or use of screenshots. I've tried to tell a story centered around the events as they transpired in the game. Suggestions, feedback, and constructive criticism always welcome!

Responses:

timetogetaway- Yes, it is a quasi-history book AAR. I may intersperse narrative sections as my inspiration is drawn heavily from Homelands/Bastions by Mr. Capitalist. Hope that you enjoy it all!

SplendidTuesday- Thanks for the comment! Yes, I saw an AAR long ago that used the strategy of marrying the two houses, and decided to copy it. Hopefully I'm able to break away from the pack and do something different after that though. As for the name Zavie, I've started this scenario several times as Toulouse and have also always gotten the name Zavie. The only differences I've noticed is that he'll occasionally have the inbred trait for some reason. I lucked out this time though and didn't get that particular gem.

SplendidTuesday- Well, I can assure you I won't be going South. As for going for a kingly title, you'll have to wait and see.

And without further ado, here's the next update:

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Chapter 2 - Tempore Angustiae - Part 1

The year of 1071 turned out to be one of great upheaval for the Duchy of Toulouse. A year that came in like a lamb, as they say, went out like a lion. It all started innocently enough with several marriages for the de Toulouse household. Duke Guilhem had spent the first few months arranging for his cousins to be married off to young capable women from around France who he promptly appointed to high-ranking positions in his court. It remains unclear what prompted Guilhem to grant women such prestigious positions in his court, especially at the expense of his male family members. In fact, over the course of 1070 and 1071, the Duke slowly replaced his distant cousins that were serving as his various court officials with their wives or other non-related persons. This has led some to speculate that perhaps Guilhem was a sort of visionary that was ahead of his time. It is the first known instance in a feudal society of people being appointed by merit, as opposed to birthright or familial relation. Skeptics are quick to point out, however, that these women were all of either noble birth or from wealthy merchant families, and that it is much more likely that these appointments were a ploy by Guilhem to gain the support of their respective families. Regardless of the motivation, 1071 began with a flowering of intellect at the court of Guilhem de Toulouse.


This is one of the main justifications historians use to explain how the "Wine Crisis of 1071" was averted. The details of the crisis remain a bit hazy, but surviving accounts seem to indicate that it began with the destruction of several wineries by fire in early March 1070. At the time, it seemed like there wouldn't be any large issue as the wineries were quickly rebuilt, and no permanent harm seemed to have been done. It wasn't until January of 1071 that many of the vintners found a substantial lack of well-seasoned barrels in which to store their latest wine produce. This led to an outright panic among peasants, merchants, and nobles alike. To fully understand why this was such a tremendous problem, one would first need to understand the economy of Southern France at the time, specifically that centered in the Duchy of Toulouse. The economy of France had been devastated at the fall of the Roman Empire, both agricultural production and urban trade had seen significant decline. The French economy saw a revival throughout the Carolingian Age, which was continuing in the 11th century. This revival, however, was still relatively fragile and large shifts in supplies could result in a widespread economic downturn. Compounding this problem was the fact that many areas of what was then known as France were devoted to a narrow band of products that were well-suited for their climate and geography. Toulouse was no different in this respect. The economy of Toulouse was heavily dependent on the production and sale of its already prized wine. Therefore, the prospect of losing a majority of their wine production for the year was a terrifying idea in the minds of anyone in Toulouse.

Luckily for both Duke Guilhem, and the Duchy as a whole, the worst did not come to pass. The Duke personally led an expedition of merchant vessels to Italy and secured several hundred well-seasoned barrels to store the year's wine production in, and, in doing so, saved the economy of Toulouse. There is a division among scholars as to who was responsible for ACTUALLY saving the Duchy. Apologists for the young Duke claim it was a recognition of the far-reaching consequences of inaction, and a willingness to commit his personal finances to securing the barrels that saved the duchy. In fact, Ugues de Toulouse the Elder, marshal for the Duchy of Toulouse and also probably the first Guilhemian apologist, wrote a letter to his son, Ugues de Toulouse the Younger calling Guilhem the "savior of Toulouse, without whom we'd surely be doomed." (sauveur de Toulouse, sans qui nous serions sûrement être condamné). There is some merit to this suggestion, as contemporary records show that only Duke Guilhem had the funds and relative power necessary to secure the barrels. More skeptical historians, however, have a different view of things.

Some historians claim that the prestige for solving the duchy's looming economic disaster should rest solely with the newest addition to the duchy, the duchy's steward Heloise of Bourges. Heloise had come to the duchy recently after being married to Guilhem's cousin, Peire de Toulouse. From the moment she arrived, its reported that Heloise dazzled the young duke with her command of numbers and finances, and it didn't take him long to appoint her as his new steward. Supporters of the theory that Heloise was the actual savior of Toulouse point to the fact that it isn't until her arrival that documents surface discussing the possible impending economic doom that the duchy might face. Furthermore, historians note that Guilhem was widely known to be a man with a poor command of numbers and finances. Therefore, say some historians, it seems unlikely that he'd have been able to devise, negotiate, and implement the complex contracts that were necessary to secure the supply of barrels for Toulousian wine. The diary of Heloise de Bourges seems to provide support for this theory as well. In the months preceding the wine debacle, Heloise had noted that the Duke had again fallen asleep during her briefing on the wine crisis. She goes on to express frustration about the lack of a solution being developed. Apologists counter that even if the plan itself came from Heloise, its implementation would have been impossible without significant financial and political backing by the Duke, which therefore entitles him to credit. Whatever the case may be, however, we do know that the Toulousian wine production for the year was saved.

The wine crisis seemed insignificant when it was compared to the troubles that rocked the duchy to its very core only months later. It still isn't known precisely who was responsible for the attack, and, from a historical perspective, it is fairly inconsequential. What really is important is the fact that the attack succeeded.


The far-ranging effects of the young Duke's death were not immediately felt throughout the duchy. It is said that his brother, Raimond de Toulouse, Count of Rouergue, was inconsolable. This support from the Duke's brother was of tremendous help in the chaotic weeks that followed the assassination of Guilhem. A regency council of three people was devised to rule the duchy during what looked to be a very long minority. The first, and perhaps most logical choice, was Raimond de Toulouse. Raimond was the next in line to inherit the duchy if something were to befall the young infant Zavie, and he was also a well-respected man throughout the duchy. Because of his position as both a nobleman, the young Zavie's titular guardian, and most skilled military commander in the duchy, Raimond was chosen to lead the council. The second member, was Toumas de Gourdon, the young diocese bishop for the Duchy of Toulouse. De Gourdon's appointment to the council was largely seen as an obligatory nod to the church authorities who were still very powerful within medieval France, though, the intellect of the young bishop was not to be discounted. The final official member of the council was Frederi de Noailles, the duchy's chancellor and now the foreign face for the young Zavie. In addition to these three official members, the Regency Council also received advice from the talented steward, Heloise de Bourges. The challenges of managing a duchy with an infant on the ducal throne seemed daunting enough, but to do so whilst also attempting to bring the murderers of Guilhem de Toulouse to justice was more daunting still. The trials that the council would face were only just beginning.


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Well, here is half an update for all you folks. I decided to leave you with a bit of a cliffhanger. I'll have the second half posted tomorrow, but, until then, I'd appreciate any comments and feedback!

Derahan- Thanks for the kind words! I'll keep it up as long as I can, or until CK does something wacky.

OpenBlueJoe- Everyone has their own particular duchies/dynasties they like to play. I'll always have a soft spot for the Irish duchies personally. There's something gratifying about bringing the Kingdom of England to it's knees whilst playing the Irish. I've also enjoyed my time in the Motherland playing as the various princes over there and trying to sort out that mess. We'll have to see how the Regency plays out in the end. They've got a long way to go until Zavie takes the reins!

Laur- The Visigoths are certainly important to the history of the area, but for the time being I'm focusing on just getting my independence! Time will tell if the people of Spain will begin to speak Occitan.

And here is the promised Part 2! Though it's a day late o
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Chapter 2 - Tempore Angustiae - Part 2

While the assassination of Guilhem de Toulouse and the subsequent institution of a Regency Council rocked the duchy to its very core, the immediate breakup, dissolution, and chaos that was expected to follow didn't seem to materialize. In fact, the remainder of 1071 was marked by a remarkable calm. This is thanks in no small part to the quick action of Raimond de Toulouse. As third in line to inherit the duchy, there was some expectation that Raimond might attempt to bypass his infant nephew to try and seize the throne for himself. In the beginning, some people even whispered quietly that it may have been Raimond himself that was responsible for the former duke's death. In the months that followed the assassination, however, Raimond, and to a lesser extent the rest of the regency council, demonstrated an incredible commitment to staying the course set by Guilhem. Frederi de Noailles made many trips to the Duchy of Aquitaine during 1072, all with seemingly innocent motivations. The truth was revealed, however, in a letter from Gui Guilhem d'Aquitaine, Duke of Aquitaine, to one of his vassals dated August 5, 1072. In it, the Duke of Aquitaine details the plans that he and the Regency Council for Zavie de Toulouse have been formulating with regards to the future of Southern France. The letter makes clear that it is now the intention of both the Duchy of Aquitaine and the Duchy of Toulouse to make every effort to gain their independence from the Capets of Paris.

In addition to the letter, an entry in the journal of Raimond de Toulouse from around the same time period records his happiness at "the glory that our Occitan brethren shall behold." (la gloire que nos frères occitane verront). Historians have speculated that this might be the first reference made to what would become the "Kingdom of Aquitania" in later years. This self-styled kingdom was intended to incorporate all the Occitan people of Southern France under one banner. This has also led some scholars to conclude that one of the reasons the idea of independence was so appealing to nobles in Southern France was that it was based around a shared culture. To truly understand this, it's necessary to look at the composition of the French people in the 11th century. In the northern portions of the country, as well as the north-central portions, most of the peoples were either Norman or what was generally known at the time as "French", which was really a more generic term for anyone living in France at the time. In truth, even the Occitan peoples could be considered French. Most everyone in France in the 11th century was there as a result of the settlement of the Franks in what was then Gaul back in the 8th and 9th centuries, but dating back to as early as the fall of the Roman Empire. In fact, the divisions between Southern and Northern France can be traced directly to the Roman Empire. During Roman rule, Southern France was known as Aquitania, while Northern France was known as Gallia. This seeming division continued throughout the Carolingian Era as the people of Aquitania, or Occitania as it was now called, developed their own language, literature, and art which was separate from the rest of geographical France. In the 11th century, this difference had become even more exacerbated. Nobles in Southern France began to self identify as Occitan instead of French, which caused immediate disunity with Paris and the rest of Northern France. It was this sentiment that scholars believe Raimond de Toulouse and the Regency Council, with the help of the Duchy of Aquitaine, hoped to tap into to help foster their planned rebellion. As early as September of 1072, the Duke of Aquitaine and the Regency Council of Toulouse began issuing directives to their vassals to not deliver tax funds levied by the Parisian Capets to the Royal Crown, but instead to send it directly to their respective liege lords. This led to an increase in the wealth and prestige of both the Duchy of Aquitaine and the Duchy of Toulouse, but the rather blunt message it sent to Paris was not well received.


To say the Capets were angry with the behavior of their nominal vassals to the South was an understatement. Contemporary reports from the court of Phillipe Capet say that when he was informed of the latest happenings in Occitan France, he spewed his mouthful of wine out and ordered the servant to be flogged. This extreme behavior, even by Phillipe's standards, serves as an indication of just how problematic the situation between the North and South was becoming. The Capets, since their ascension to power, had always ruled the other nobles in France by virtue of their larger coffers and larger armies. To be virtually cut off from half of their income was a prospect that would make any Capetian noble begin to pale and search for a solution. To that end, Phillipe Capet did what had always worked in the past, and what he knew best...looked for a fight. It's not entirely clear what the logic was behind Phillipe's decision, but there are two main speculations as to why, in March of 1073, the Kingdom of France joined in the German Civil War on the side of the Emperor. In order to understand the implications of this move, the relationship between Germany and France needs to be fully understood. Ever since the division of Charlemagne's empire into three separate kingdoms, the area that was known as Lotharingia (Lorraine) had been fought over by the German and French peoples. The territory was eventually ceded to Germany in 939 by then King of East Francia, Otto I. The French kings, who are inheritors of the kingdom of West Francia have always been jealous of the territory, and sought to re-incorporate it into their realm. That is why the French involvement in the German civil war is so curious. In the 11th century, the Holy Roman Empire was a patchwork of powerful duchies, quite similar in makeup to France. Unlike France, however, the monarch in the Holy Roman Empire was unable to keep his vassals in line. Beginning almost directly after, and as some historians have said "directly because of", the Norman conquest of England the vassals of the Holy Roman Empire began to break away. The first was the Duchy of Toscana, followed closely by the Duchy of Carinthia. After a lengthy conflict with the reigning Emperor Henrich III Von Franken, both duchies were able to secure their independence. This move, which Henrich seemed to have hoped would preserve his remaining empire only served to embolden the remaining powerful vassals into rebelling themselves. In 1073, almost the entirety of Germany was up in arms against the Emperor, most notably the Duchies of Upper Lorraine, Bavaria, and Swabia.

It was into that quagmire that Phillipe Capet had decided to wade. As was mentioned earlier, there are two potential justifications that seem to make sense when one considers why the French king would want to entangle himself in Imperial politics. The first, and perhaps most simple, is that it would achieve a dual goal by giving the surly nobles of France a common enemy outside their borders that they could focus on. Additionally, it might allow the Kingdom of France to regain part of the long lost Lotharingia that it had ceded to the Germans so long ago. The other justification was a bit more of a gamble, which is one of the reasons that many scholars consider it to be unlikely but, nonetheless, it bears mentioning. Essentially, it can be argued that Phillipe Capet used the war as an excuse to call up the troops of Southern France to go fight in Germany, so that the respective nobles in the South would not be able to raise their troops against him. This rationale is largely discounted due to the fact that it would require Phillipe to assume that already disloyal vassals wouldn't see through the ploy and simply raise their troops at his request. It is known, however, that Phillipe had amassed the troops from his own demense on the borders of Rouergue and Aquitaine. Scholars have speculated that this was an attempt by Phillipe to threaten the Southern nobles into doing his will. This theory is further strengthened by the fact that hardly any of the Northern nobles had their troops similarly called to fight for the King.

Regardless of his motivation however, both the Duchy of Aquitaine and the Duchy of Toulouse agreed to raise their troops for the king. Historians cannot seem to agree on why exactly both duchies, who months earlier were cementing a plot for independence, would easily and willingly hand over their troops to the king. Some speculate that it was Phillipe's troops that caused the traditionally proud and independent Raimond de Toulouse to bend to Phillipe's will. Others say it was merely a ploy by both Aquitaine and Toulouse to gain time to solidify their positions before declaring independence. Whatever the case may be, the events that happened after the deployment of Aquitaine and Toulouse's troops have led many historians to suggest that the identity of Guilhem's killer may not be so secret after all.


Every since the assassination of Guilhem, the Regency Council had been expending many resources trying to track down those responsible for his death. While no one has been able to conclusively link anyone to the assassination, several signs point to a conspiracy between the Capets and one of Guilhem's vassals. Shortly after one of the King's commanders took command, in association with Marshal Ugues, of the Toulousian troops the Count of Foix, Peire-Barnard de Foix, declared that he would no longer serve an infant or a Regency Council that defied its lawful sovereign. This threw the Regency Council into a panic. Frantically, riders were sent to recall Ugues de Toulouse and his troops to come to the defense of their duchy. Additionally, overtures were sent to the largest landowner in the duchy, Raimond-Barnard Trencaval who was Count of Carcassonne and Montpellier, to raise his troops in the event that Marshal Ugues could not return in time. A week or so later on April 10, 1073, there is a scouting report that showed the Count of Foix had amassed his troops along the border of Toulouse and was making fast progress towards the city. Curiously though, the Count of Foix never crossed the border. Historians have speculated as to the cause of his apparent hesitation, but one dominant theory has arisen to explain it. Historians have speculated that this apparent independent rebellion was actually financed and supported by the Capets in an attempt to cause the Duchy of Toulouse to collapse, or be replaced by the Count of Foix who is now known to have been a staunch supporter of the Capets that had secretly been sending money and messages to Phillipe throughout the majority of 1072 and 1073. Supporters of the "Capet Rebellion" theory point out that the reason Peire-Barnard mostly likely waited at the border was because he was following some sort of plan. The question then becomes, what was he waiting for? A letter from the Capetian commander accompanying the Toulousian troops and Marshal Ugues seems to provide an answer. In the letter, the commander talks about his reluctance to perform his "terrible duties" (devoirs terribles) for the King. He never makes reference to what the duties are, but scholars have speculated that the commander had been ordered to either arrest, or more likely kill, Marshal Ugues at some appointed time. They go on to surmise that he was then to take command of the remaining troops and march back towards Toulouse itself to join up with the Count of Foix's forces. Apparently, however, the commander either became too frightened to actually perform the task, or something prevented him from doing so.

This theory, as its critics would point out, has at least one major flaw. Even if the commander had assassinated or arrested Marshal Ugues, the problem of the troops remained. A large part of them were from Toulouse itself or the surrounding countryside. It seems unlikely, say the critics, that these troops would, first, willingly follow the man that had just killed or arrested their former commander, and, second, that they would then agree to march against their own families. Indeed, while critics of the "Capet Rebellion" theory acknowledge that it would fit nicely into the vast Capetian conspiracy that it was later painted to be, they feel that the true motivation is a much more simply and plausible one given the nature of French politics in the 11th century. In addition to his communications with Phillipe Capet, the Count of Foix also spent the majority of 1072 and early 1073 communicating with his neighbor, the Count of Montpellier and Carcassonne. Surviving letters between the two reveal a mutually held belief that a "change of leadership" was in order within the Duchy. It's speculated that the two Counts hatched a plot whereby the Count of Foix would replace young Zavie and the Regency Council as the ruler of the Duchy of Toulouse. It seems they also had planned to garner royal support for their action by returning the back taxes owed to the Crown. While the plot between Trevencal and de Foix was only hatched in 1072, there is evidence from surviving journals and other sources in Foix that suggest the Count of Foix had grown unhappy with the rule of the de Toulouse family long before he concocted his rebellion. This seems to lend further credence to those that suggest the Count of Foix was responsible, or at least complicit, in the assassination of Guilhem de Toulouse. Regardless of the planning, however, the plan did not play out the way the Count of Foix had hoped.


While the Count of Foix waited on the border of Toulouse, presumably for the support of some ally, answers to the cries for help of the Regency Council finally reached the city. Toumas de Gourdon had been dispatched returned from meeting with Raimond-Barnard Trencavel and he finally returned with dire news...the Count would not be raising arms in defense of the Regency Council. Raimond de Toulouse was outraged when he heard the news, and immediately left the city to raise his own troops in Rouergue. Historians have speculated, however, that this was probably the best outcome the Regency could have hoped for, given the known royalist leanings of Count Trencavel. In fact, many credit the bright, young Toumas de Gourdon with convincing Trencavel to abandon his plan for joining with the Count of Foix and instead staying silent on the sidelines of the fight. Historians note that de Gourdon was noted for using the power of the church and fear of eternal damnation to convince otherwise stubborn people that their course of action might want to be re-considered. Scholars point out that this particular method of persuasion would have resonated well with the overly religious Raimond-Barnard Trencavel. Bishop de Gourdon, for his part, never mentioned what exactly took place in his meetings with Count Trencavel, it was reported that the only thing he was willing to say regarding the meeting was that, "God works in mysterious ways." (Dieu travaille de façon mystérieuse). Whatever the case may be, we do know that Count Trencavel did not raise his troops either for or against the Regency Council. The second messenger that arrived in the city of Toulouse in May 1073 brought happier news. The rider sent to warn Marshal Ugues of the Count of Foix's treachery had arrived in time, and Marshal Ugues had already turned his forces around to meet the new threat. In fact, the rider reported that battle had been joined between the two forces a few days ago and that, when he left, Marshal Ugues had the better of the Count of Foix. This news was received with great joy in a city that had been living under the fear of impending siege for the past few weeks, and it is said that the church bells rang loudly while peasant and noble alike danced in the streets, praising God for the heroic Marshal Ugues. The celebration was short-lived, however, as only days later a messenger arrived with dire news.


Details remain scarce as to what actually transpired, but from what detail do remain it seems as though Marshal Ugues fell victim to an ambush. Despite being Marshal for the Duchy of Toulouse, Marshal Ugues was only an average battlefield commander. Contemporary records indicate that while the marshal possessed above average skills as a combatant, his ability to employ advanced tactics and strategies was somewhat lackluster. This is especially important because, while not a tactical genius, the Count of Foix was known to be an above-average commander in the field. According to surviving accounts of the battle, on the third day Marshal Ugues was lured into charging the enemy's left flank, which gave way easily. Without regard for a potential trap, the marshal continued headlong into what ended up being the bulk of de Foix's reserves. The contingent of men that Marshal Ugues was leading, were quickly surrounded and decimated. When news of his death reached Toulouse it was said that Frederi de Noailles, head of the Regency Council in Raimond's absence, ordered the windows of the castle to be covered in black and that all the townspeople wear black for a full week to mourn the passing of Marshal Ugues. It once again seemed as though Toulouse might be facing a potential siege if the forces of Marshal Ugues were not able to continue the fight, absent their commander. As it turns out, however, fortune continued to smile down on Toulouse. Reports dated June 3, 1073, several days after news of Marshal Ugues death had reached the city, indicate that the forces of Gui Guilhem d'Aquitaine and Raimond de Toulouse had reached the battlefield and engaged the forces of the Count of Foix. Raimond de Toulouse, unlike Marshal Ugues, was a renowned military tactician and battlefield commander. It's said that when news of his arrival reached the Count of Foix's camp, some soliders deserted that very night. Raimond fully lived up to his reputation over the course of the next two days as the battle once again raged. At its conclusion, the entirety of the Count of Foix's forces were either captured or dead at the hands of the now revenge-minded Toulousians.


Raimond de Toulouse wasted no time in laying siege to the Count of Foix's castle, which, thanks to the battle the previous day was guarded by a skeleton garrison. Nonetheless, the Count of Foix succeeded in holding off the attackers with his men for over a month before, on July 24, 1073, he was taken prisoner by his own men who had been cut off from supplies for almost a month. Sources from the soldiers of the Toulousian army record that the Count was dragged from the castle kicking and screaming in his bed clothes, all the while cursing his men as traitors and cowards. The other, and perhaps more truthful account, recorded by Toumas de Gourdon, who had stayed with the besieging army, was that the Count of Foix was taken into the camp with all the dignities one could hope for a man of his station, and that he was treated with the utmost respect. But however much respect he was treated with during the surrender did not translate to his death. It was the custom, and to some degree the right, of noblemen in 11th century France to be granted death by beheading, which was considered more dignified than the traditional death by hanging used for criminals from the lower and middle classes. A surviving account from a soldier who witnessed the events tells us how Peire-Barnard de Foix, Count of Foix, met his end:



Shortly after the Count of Foix's execution on July 25, 1073, the young Zavie de Toulouse was formally invested by Toumas de Gourdon as the new Count of Foix. Some contemporary records show that the execution of the Count and the seizure of his lands in the name of Zavie by the Regency Council caused the other vassals to voice some complaints. None of these grew into any serious threat at the time, however, as the lesson taught to the Count of Foix served as a warning to the enemies of Toulouse both near and far that dissension would not be tolerated. The years of 1071, 1072, and 1073 proved to be a trying time for the Regency Council, but, for the time being it appeared as though they were once again the well-settled masters of the Duchy of Toulouse.
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Alright, there's the second part of Chapter 2 finished! I apologize for the brief delay in getting this posted, but I hope it was worth the wait. I plan to do a brief interlude covering the reign for Guilhem de Toulouse before I post the next full update. Comments, questions, and feedback always appreciated!

SplendidTuesday- Zavie is shaping up to be a nice ruler. The next update takes the Council on a new grand adventure as Zavie has nearly reached majority.

Ruwaard- I'll admit my knowledge of early medieval French political organization is a bit lacking. Thanks for the correction! Right now, the Regency Council, and to a lesser extent Zavie, are interested in a unification of all the Occitan peoples. From there, we'll have to see where Zavie or his heirs take the kingdom. Thanks for the comment!

Alfredian- Thanks! I tried to come up with something appropriately medieval.

Alright, here's an interlude update that discusses the reign of Guilhem de Toulouse.
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It's difficult to ascertain precisely the effect one person was able to have on history. This is especially true when a person only lives to affect history for a short period of time. Guilhem de Toulouse remains a virtual mystery to modern day scholars despite having a potentially profound affect on the world today. We know that he was not involved in any major wars, nor was he noted as a particularly scholarly man. Sources indicate, however, that he laid the groundwork for a stable and prosperous Duchy of Toulouse that he was able to pass on to his son a few months after his birth. It's also known that he was well-regarded by most of his vassals and the other nobility in France. The notable exceptions being the Count of Foix, Count of Carcassonne and Montpellier, and the Capets in Paris some, or all, of whom could potentially be linked to what has been called an untimely death.

Historians have speculated on many occasions as to what might have happened if Guilhem had lived longer. It's certainly true that in the world of medieval politics it was always better to have a respected leader on the throne as opposed to a minor or regency council. This has led some to speculate that the events that happened after his death may have been avoided altogether. Regardless of what may have happened, however, we do know that Guilhem left behind a stable, prosperous duchy. This, to be quite frank, was about the extent of his material effect on the world. He had built up industry, prevented an economic disaster, and enriched most everyone within his duchy. Additionally, his court is the most notable 11th century example of promotion by talent as opposed to status. Most historians agree, however, that these things were not his most notable or lasting impacts.

While it's true that it was a somewhat rare thing to see a French noble governing for the benefit of their people in the 11th century, historians generally agree that while Guilhem's actions in that regard were commendable, they were hardly the defining point of his reign. Instead, modern scholars point to a more intangible effect that the young Duke had on all of Southern France, the espousal of cultural unity. Guilhem de Toulouse is probably one of the sole reasons the idea of independence for Southern France took hold as strongly as it did among both the nobility and the regular citizenry of Occitan France. His ability to convince others to adhere to the vision he'd laid out, even after his death, is what most historians agree to be his greatest legacy. The young Guilhem never lived to see his dream realized, but his descendants would seek to carry out the dream of Occitanian Unification and Occitanian Independence for many years to come. There are few men that can claim that their vision inspired a generation. Lucky, say some, for Toulouse, Guilhem de Toulouse is one of the few that can.

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Well, that's the *brief* interlude talking about Guilhem de Toulouse's reign. I'd appreciate any feedback you have on these. Specifically whether you'd like me to keep doing them. Guilhem's is perhaps not the best example because he didn't live that long, but who knows. Comments and feedback always appreciated! I should have the next update for you tomorrow!

Chapter 3 - Aurora Nova

After the shock and terror that came with the rebellion, and subsequent execution, of Peire-Barnard de Foix, the Regency Council and the entirety of the Duchy of Toulouse, needed a break. For the remainder of 1073, and throughout 1074 the duchy experienced a remarkably calm period. Reports from around the time detail burgeoning markets in Toulouse itself as the newly constructed forestry industry got on to its feet. Additionally, census reports taken in Toulouse in 1074 indicate that the city added almost 10,000 new inhabitants over the course of 1073-74. Historians have begun to refer to this period of mid-1073 till the end of 1074 as "The Calm" because it was after this point that things began to radically change in France. As was noted earlier, the French political structure in the 11th century saw the nobility being ceded enormous amounts of power and autonomy where the King had been relegated to an almost solely religious role. Upon ascending the throne, Phillipe Capet had sought to change this. He'd begun trying to exercise more and more control over his nobles in an effort to reign them in. The first notable example of this was the institution, and attempted enforcement, of Pax Dei. Sources close to King Phillipe recorded that he believed it to be a logical extension of his mainly religious role that few people would object to, and, as it turned out, he was correct. Even Gui Guilhem d'Aquitaine and Guilhem de Toulouse accepted the King's pronouncements regarding Pax Dei. For Phillipe, however, this was just the beginning. He then began to demand more and more taxes of his vassals, and required them to supply him with a certain number of armed men per year that were to come and serve on his personal demense. These set of demands, as well as several others that began to come after, were those that the Southern nobility chose to ignore. Nobles in the North, however, didn't have this luxury due to their relatively small holdings and their proximity to Paris. This led to an increase in tensions between the nobles and the crown. King Phillipe, however, was no fool. He knew that his forces were more than a match for any one of the Northern nobles, and perhaps even a coalition of a few of them, but he knew that he could not withstand an uprising of the entire North, especially when he could not count on Aquitaine or Toulouse for extra troops. Therefore, King Phillipe decided to single out certain nobles for special treatment. These nobles, most notably the Duke of Flanders, were exempted from most of the taxation and other burdens that the other nobility had to labor under.


While the Duke of Flanders was the most notable, and powerful, of these nobles, he was not the only one. The Duke of Anjou and the Duke of Champagne were both also afforded special treatment from the crown, in exchange for helping to enforce his will against the other nobles in the North. This group has come to be known as "The King's Men" among historians. King Phillipe and his cohorts were ultimately very successful in forcing the other nobles in Northern France to submit to King Phillipe's demands. It was only the common cause for independence that had bound Aquitaine and Toulouse together that made them relatively immune to the pressures of the Capets. This does not mean, however, that they were left to their own devices. Frequently, either King Phillipe or the noble he was trying to bend to his will would undoubtedly try to draw one or both of the Southern Duchies into the conflict. It was a case of the former being true on January 1, 1075. A letter addressed to Raimond de Toulouse was discovered during the renovation of the castle in Rodez, Raimond's capital. It was a fairly typical letter of the time period where King Phillipe was requesting the Duchy of Toulouse to mobilize its troops for one of a variety of exercises. This particular letter is of note, however, because the request was to mobilize not against a foreign enemy, but a domestic one.


Herbert de Vermandois was not especially powerful in his own right. He ruled over only three provinces in central France, that together comprised the Duchy of Valois, and they were dangerously close to the Capetian demense. This, to all outside observers, made him seem an unlikely candidate to bring "The Calm" to an end, but fate had a different destiny in mind for the Duke of Valois. On approximately the 1st day of January in 1075, the Duke of Valois declared his independence from France. It's unknown whether or not the date had some significance to the Duke or his rebellion, or whether or not it was just a random occurrence, but nonetheless it caused the year of 1075 to open with a resounding bang. Records from around the time indicate that the Duke of Valois had spent the autumn and winter of 1074 gathering his men in the towns that bordered Capetian lands. When de Vermandois was finally prepared in January, he launched a lightning campaign into the personal demense of the Capets. Letters between Duke de Vermandois and his commanders indicate that he was attempting to quickly seize the Capetian demense, and force them to terms before King Phillipe was able to call for any of his allies. Initially the campaign met with tremendous success. The lands surrounding the fortresses of the Capets, including Paris itself, were quickly seized by the forces of Valois, and it seemed as if the King might be forced to capitulate to de Vermandois. Most historians agree that this desperate situation at the end of January 1075 is what caused King Phillipe to reach out to all his vassals, including the Duchy of Toulouse. Unbeknownst to the King, however, several days before his messenger arrived the Duchy of Aquitaine and the Duchy of Toulouse, through Frederi de Noailles, had signed a historic accord. The two duchies had pledged themselves publicly to each other and sworn that Southern France would be free from Capetian domination, or that the Houses of de Toulouse and d'Aquitaine would be destroyed in the attempt. Needless to say, both Duchies immediately refused the call of their King to come to arms against another rebellious vassal. Without the support of the South, the Capetian situation went from bad to worse. Several of their fortifications fell to the onslaught of the forces of Valois and even Paris itself seemed ready to capitulate, which was an eventuality that would mean the end of the war for King Phillipe. The calls from King Phillipe continued to arrive in the South and each time were resoundingly rejected. In fact, the last messenger from the King to be received in the Duchy of Toulouse was dragged out of the castle personally by Raimond de Toulouse. The true importance of that messenger's arrival was almost lost to history, if not for the dutiful record keeping of Toumas de Gourdon. Bishop de Gourdon remarks in his journal entry for June 19, 1075 that meetings beyond those made publicly known were held with this messenger. De Gourdon alludes that this person sent to the Duchy was not simply a mere messenger, but a high-ranking official within the court of King Phillipe Capet who was sent as a sort of last ditch effort to secure the troops, money, and support of Southern France during this rebellion. What came out of the meeting, however, was the last thing that King Phillipe could have hoped for. The Bishop of Toulouse goes on to say that not only did the Regency Council refuse to raise their troops for the king, but strongly suggested that they might join the rebellious Duke of Valois in order to secure their own independence. The Bishop records in his journal that they made clear in no uncertain terms that the only way Toulousian troops would be marching to Paris, was if they were there to help bind King Phillipe in chains. No one, not even the brilliant Frederi de Noailles, could have predicted the impact that lone meeting would have on the future of the French nation and the Occitan people.


Scholars are still unclear on exactly what circumstances led to the Treaty of Rodez in November 1075, but all agree that it was the beginning of a new era in the Duchy of Toulouse. Between the end of January 1075 and November 1075, the rebellion had gone through many different phases. King Phillipe had managed to escape Paris with the aid of a loyalist breadmaker. Accounts of the escape differ, but the most commonly accepted is that the King disguised himself as a baker's apprentice and was allowed out of the city. The version that has the king baked inside a large cake and wheeled out of the city by the baker has less factual support, but perhaps is more interesting to imagine to the average history student. Whatever the case may be, King Phillipe's escape allowed him to rally what remained of his forces and free several of his stronghold's from the forces of Herbert de Vermandois. This proved to be the beginning of the end of the Duke of Valois's rebellion. While King Phillipe was a lackluster statesman, he was widely considered to be, even among his enemies, a renowned tactician and military commander. Once free from the confines of the royal castle in Paris, King Phillipe rallied "the King's Men" and their troops and began to systematically hunt down and destroy the rebel forces. Many military historians agree that failing to quickly capture King Phillipe had doomed the rebel cause many months earlier. The forces of the Duchy of Valois were far inferior in armament and numbers to the loyalist forces, so only a lightning campaign would have been enough to allow for a rebel victory. Historians generally commend the Duke of Valois for recognizing this fact, but fate was not kind enough to allow him to succeed in carrying out his rather well made plan. Therefore, by November 1075, the rebellion and cause of independence was nearly over for the rebels from Valois, for the Duchy of Toulouse, however, it was just beginning. Frederi de Noailles, the renowned chancellor for the Duchy of Toulouse, had spend most of his time during the Valois rebellion negotiating with representatives of the King in the ancient city of Marseille, which, at the time, was part of the independent Duchy of Provence. Few records of the negotiations still exist as they were conducted with the utmost secrecy, but Chancellor de Noailles recorded in his journal his planned course of action:


The chancellor's words turned out to be prophetic. The negotiations that he led in Marseille eventually led to the unprecedented Treaty of Rodez, which guaranteed Toulousian autonomy within the French kingdom. While the document contains much fluff about France's continued "overlordship" and "supervision" of the territory, it is clear to any objective outsider that this document granted Toulouse the independence that it had been seeking for the past decade. The Regency Council celebrated their triumph in magnificent style, with festivals and feasts lasting nearly a month. Raimond de Toulouse personally financed a tournament to be held in honor of Duke Zavie de Toulouse and Toulousian Independence. The joy that washed over the newly independent duchy was, however, somewhat muted. Absent from all of the joy and frivolity was Duke Gui Guilhem d'Aquitaine, long-time friend and ally of the Duchy of Toulouse. For reasons that are still unclear, the Duchy of Aquitaine was never included, or in fact invited, to the negotiations which led to the independence of Toulouse. Therefore, the Duke of Aquitaine found out only when the treaty was officially announced that his long-time allies had gained their independence without him. This, perhaps obviously, caused an ever-widening rift to form between Duke Gui Guilhem and the Regency Council. There are several letters between various members of the Regency Council and the aging Duke of Aquitaine that illustrate the falling out. In the end, the Duke of Aquitaine refused to take part in anymore discussions about "Occitan Unity and Independence". In fact, from the beginning of 1076 until his death, the Duke of Aquitaine was noted as being one of the staunchest supporters of the loyalist movement within the French kingdom.


The falling out with the Duke of Aquitaine put the newly independent Duchy of Toulouse in a precarious position. Aquitaine had commanded most of the money, resources, and most importantly troops, which helped to make more real any threats that the Southern Nobles had made towards King Phillipe. Without Aquitainian protection, the Duchy of Toulouse was at risk of being re-absorbed into the Kingdom of France, once King Phillipe was in full command of the country. To help bolster their position, they needed new allies, so the Regency Council once again called on Frederi de Noailles to serve the duchy. De Noailles first course of action was to attempt to repair relations with Aquitaine, which met with limited success. The chancellor was able to convince the Duke of Aquitaine to not support any military action against Toulouse, but not to once again enter into an alliance. The Duke of Aquitaine remarked that the notion of Occitan brotherhood had died with the Treaty of Rodez. Seeing that avenue closed to him, Frederi reached out to other Occitan rulers throughout the area. He found a more than amiable partner in the Duchy of Provence. Negotiations with the independent duchy continued throughout 1076, but in November the treaty was finalized. The Duchy of Toulouse and Duchy of Provence had pledged fraternal loyalty to each other and their new cause. The dawn of 1077 saw a new power growing in Southern France, throughout all the halls of France word of this new "Occitan Alliance" was whispered in dark corners and feasting halls. Men of Occitan heritage and their families were said to flock to the two duchies so that they could be a part of this new world developing in Southern France. One thing was for certain, by the end of the year 1078, the influx of Occitan people to Toulouse had caused a massive upswing in the wealth of the duchy and its people. What the future held for this Occitan Alliance remained to be seen, but, for now, the people of Toulouse and Provence could revel in their new friendship and independence.


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Well, there's another update for everyone to enjoy. Toulouse has managed to gain its independence, but it cost them the support of Aquitaine in the process. It remains to be seen whether this new "Occitan Alliance" will stand up to France if it comes to that. As always, comments and feedback are always appreciated. I'd especially like to hear back on the reign summary, as I've been trying to decide whether to do one for the Regency Council before I begin the Zavie updates in earnest. Thanks to all who continue reading!

Andrzej I- We'll have to wait a bit longer to get to the reign of Zavie I, but in the mean time. I thought I'd treat you all to a view of the world in 1080. As for Valois, they were completely annexed. It was a sad thing, but he had no real chance IG, the AI was too stubborn.

Saithis- Only time will tell where Zavie will take the Toulousians. Hopefully somewhere interesting!

Thanks everyone for the continued commenting. I haven't had a chance to write the latest update yet, but I decided to provide everyone with a look at the world in 1080 starting with Western Europe. It seems especially appropriate given that we're right on the cusp of Zavie taking the wheel, and, hopefully he'll have a significant impact on this map. Anyway, here's the first installment of three!
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Given that we've spent a considerable amount of time discussing the events of Toulouse specifically, it's important to remember in what context all these events were occurring, both in France at large as well as the entirety of Europe.



France hadn't changed much visibly since 1066. On paper, the King Phillipe of France was one of the most powerful monarchs in the world, in actuality however, he remained fairly impotent. The Duchy of Anjou is a good illustration of this fact. The Duke of Anjou had formerly been a member of "The King's Men", but through a combination of factors, the year 1080 saw him rebelling against the monarch with whom he had shared close ties not 3 years before. Most historians attribute this to the fact that the Duke of Anjou had been the weakest member of The King's Men, and that after the Duke of Aquitaine was no longer as imminent of a threat he had outlived his usefulness to King Phillipe. Whatever the case may be, in 1080 the small Duchy of Anjou rebelled against France, but France was otherwise undisturbed by domestic problems at that point. In the northwest, Brittany still retained its independence most probably through it's advantageous alliance with its neighbor, the Kingdom of England. The Duchy of Normandy was still very much a part of the growing kingdom of England, and it was said that King Phillipe, who was not on good terms with his former vassal, was anxious about a possible invasion from England.

In the South, Toulouse and their new ally, Provence, dominated the Mediterranean coastline. The land of the Toulousians had not seen any expansion since 1066, but the young Zavie de Toulouse was still poised to inherit the Duchy of Aquitaine, which would make Toulouse a rival for the most powerful country in the French region.



Next door in the Iberian Peninsula, war continued to ravage the land. The Christian realms of Galicia, Castille-Leon, Navarra, and Barcelona continued to try and push the Muslim lords back to the African coast, but it was proving difficult. The rivalries between the various Jimenez branches continued to prevent the unification of the Christian realms against the so-called "Muslim threat". While they had yet to lose any significant territory to the Muslims, Castille-Leon had already lost territory to Navarra. Galicia retained all of its holdings from 1066, and had made no attempts to expand. The Duchy of Barcelona was the only Christian nation to make any attempt at striking at the Muslims. To that end, they were able to secure some coastal provinces in Central Iberia, but without the support of the other Christian rulers, it was unclear how long they would be able to hold it.

The Muslims, on the other hand, had demonstrated a mentality that was precisely contrary to that held by the Christians in the North. Seeing the benefit of protection in unity, many of the minor Muslim lords that would have otherwise been easy prey to the larger Emirates pledged eternal allegiance to the Sultan of the Seljuk Turks, who had been very successfully dismantling any and all foes as he dominated the Near East. While it's true that the Sultan likely would not be able to support the Muslims of Iberia in any meaningful way, it did serve as a banner around which almost all of Central Ibera was united, which meant that anyone, Muslim or Christian, that wished to seize territory would have to face the united forces of all the minor lords there. One notable exception to this was the Emirate of Sevilla, which continued to maintain its independence. Sevilla, like the Duchy of Galicia to the North, seemed content in 1080 to remain within their original borders, and showed no signs of expansionism.



The final area to cover for Western Europe are the British Isles. Here, there were three major changes that had taken place since 1066. First, was the virtual collapse of the Kingdom of Scotland. It's unclear exactly what caused the downfall, but in the years leading up to 1080, the Duchy of Moray had declared its independence from the crown of Scotland. Additionally, several small counties had been absorbed by the independent Duchy of the Western Isles because the Scottish King, Domnall mac Mail Choluim of Dun Chailleann was unable to enforce his claims to them. Things are looking up, however, for the Scottish crown. The Duchy of Moray which had been rebelling against the King of Scotland for nearly 15 years had suffered a major defeat in 1079, which allowed King Domnall to occupy much of the Duchy's territory. It remains to be seen whether King Domnall will be able to re-unite Scotland or whether he, like his father, will become another victim of the ongoing Scottish Civil War.

Southern England, by contrast, was a much less contentious and warlike place in 1080. From 1066 onward, King William I de Normandie had been steadily expanding his realm and solidifying his position in England. He was able to appease both the old Saxon nobility and the new Norman nobles by agreeing to allow old Saxon laws to apply in lands ruled by the Saxon nobles, and for the new Norman laws to apply in areas ruled by the newly immigrated nobility from France. This served to give King William a solid base from which to make overtures to the Lords of Ireland. Initially, the "Kings" of Ireland scoffed at the idea of bowing to the English king across the sea, but, in the end it was their own mistrust of each other which led them to become vassalized. Beginning in 1066, the Duchy of Leinster began aggressively expanding across Ireland, seizing the county of Mide and the county of Tir Eoghain by the year 1070. This rapid increase in power for the Duchy of Leinster upset the delicate balance that had kept Ireland stable for the last several decades. In order to protect his lands from eventual encroachment by the Leinster forces, the Duke of Munster sought the protection of King William, which he gladly gave. After the first Lord of Ireland knelt before the English throne, it was only a short time before the rest had as well. The unification of Ireland left the Kingdom of England one of the most powerful realms within Western Europe, and the world in 1080 waited with bated breath to see where King William might direct his might next. Apart from the unification of Ireland, the only other notable event was the unification of Wales. Around 1072, the Duchy of Gwynedd succeeded in securing the loyalty of the various Welsh lords and having their Duke, Bleddyn ap Cynfyn Mathrafal proclaimed King of Wales. Records from the time indicate that the tiny Kingdom of Wales was on almost constant alert, as it felt that it was only a matter of time before the forces of King William came rushing over their border to put an end to their independence.

Western Europe had seen some significant changes since 1066, but that isn't to say the rest of the world was free from change either. The next installment will be an overview of the political situation of Central Europe in 1080.
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Alright, there's an update on what Western Europe looks like in 1080. I can try to answer any questions you might have, but I'll admit that I wasn't really paying much attention to the other areas of the world while playing. I'm not sure whether I should continue to do a world update for the next update or continue with a real update. If you guys have a preference let me know, it'll make the decision easier! As always, comments and feedback are appreciated.

Sorry everyone for the delay, but my internet has been ridiculous lately. Here's the next world update! I may put in a real update before I do the next world update. Enjoy!



Last time we reviewed the status of the Western European world. This time we'll be discussing the state of the Central European powers from Scandanavia to Italy.


Three nations really comprise the Scandanavian region, Norway, Sweden, and Denmark. In terms of expansion, Denmark has been the most aggressive. While Norway and Sweden have been involved in several minor wars, little territory has ever changed hands between the two nations, though Norway has been able to make small territorial gains against it's neighbor in both the North and South. Denmark, on the other had, has simply chosen to abandon the idea of expanding north. Instead, the Danes chose to push out against the pagans along the Baltic coast, and had successfully taken some of the land formerly ruled by the Tribe of Mecklemburg. Additonally, they've added the county of Lubeck to their holdings. Were it not for the brief breath of stability in Northern Germany around 1080, many historians suggest that Denmark may have attempted to bring some of the Northern German princes into their dominion. The only other significant remaining power in Scandanavia are the pagans, which still control a significant portion of Northern Scandanavia as well as much of the Baltic coast. In 1080, it was unclear whether Denmark's expansion along the Baltic would continue or whether they would consolidate their gains.



The next area that is ripe for discussion is the German lands and Near Eastern Europe. The most obvious and notable change here was the utter collapse of the German kingdom. While most princes along the border with Capetian France, and nearly all of the princes of the North still sword fealty to the Von Franken kings, nearly all of the nobility in Central and Southern Germany had broken off to form a loose confederacy of princes. While not an actual nation, the duchies that had rebelled from Germany had formed a loose coalition using mutual defense pacts and alliances to protect themselves from outside, primarily German, aggression. This "Confederacy of German States" or "CGS" was one of the main reasons that the Southern German duchies weren't slowly re-incorporated back into the Kingdom of Germany, which had been the case previously from 1070 to 1080. In 1080, the two powers were in a period of Cold War, where neither side was actively fighting the other, but there was much outside political wrangling in an attempt to destroy the power base of their opponent. The CGS wished to see the Von Franken's cast from the throne of Germany, and the titles re-distributed. The Von Franken's, unsurprisingly, wished to re-incorporate their former vassals back into their realm. Both sides turned to their neighboring countries for help and support, but the result was lack luster. The Kingdom of Poland, who received frequent envoys from the Von Frankens, never made any attempt to support either side. Historians speculate that they were more concerned with a unified Germany under anyone, than they were with a divided Germany. Additionally, letters from the time indicate there was significant tension with the pagans along Poland's northern border in 1080 and beyond, which may have given the Polish King pause.

The other two powers frequently solicited were Hungary and France. France, though allied with Germany, was much more concerned with rebellions at home than becoming involved in another German Civil War, so was remarkably absent during 1080 and beyond. Historians have speculated that if France had joined Germany in an attack on the CGS that it may have resulted in the Confederacy's collapse and re-integration into Germany proper, but this never actually came to pass. Hungary, similar to Poland, also never became involved. While larger in terms of manpower and territory than Poland, Hungary faced similar problems. The Hungarian Arpads viewed a united Germany as a greater threat to their security and independence than the currently divided one. Additionally, the Tribe of the Pechengs as well as the Russian Princes were constantly warring on Hungary's borders, which always caused increased tension. All-in-all, the German powers were left isolated in this period to deal with their problems.



Italy is the next area of discussion. Here, the German civil war dominated the Northern part of the region, with the Von Frankens retaining a single province in Italy, while the CGS controlled almost the entire northern portion. Dominating the central part of Italy were the Papal States, who remained close to their borders in 1066, and the Republic of Pisa, which had expanded to exercise dominion over Corsica and Sardinia. The Southern part of Italy continued to be dominated by the de Hauteville dynasty of Apulia, though one of Apulia's former vassals had defected and fled to the protection of the CGS, Apulia remained poised to become a very powerful contender, especially if they decided to move north against the CGS.

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Well, there's central Europe in 1080. As I said before, I think I'll be doing a substantive update before the next world update on Eastern Europe. As always, comments and feedback are appreciated!