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Taiisatai64

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Pro Fide, Pro Utilitate Hominum - For Faith, in the Service of Mankind


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Hello, and welcome to my first ever After-Action Report longer than a few posts in one of the multiplayer games I participate in. I will, naturally, be playing as the Knights of Saint John, a challenging nation that I have never played before in my life. The AAR will use a Narrative/History book/Journal mashup format. The game will be played on Divine Wind, 5.1, as much as I despise the Steppe Nomads government, I don't have a copy of HT3 that isn't Steam-based and I can't stand the ugliness of the pre-DW map. Start date will be the 24th of June, 1400... the feastday of the Nativity of Saint John the Baptist, patron saint of the Knights Hospitaller.

House rules:

- I will not re-load the save. This is a significant change from all my previous, non-multiplayer games, where reloading the save was a matter of course when things went bad. Also, no exploits. They are cheap and horrible.

- I will not change to Protestant, Orthodox or Reformed. I will remain a devout Catholic nation.

- In the same vein, I will remain a Theocracy for the entire game, unless certain roleplaying events cause me to change to a monarchy (powerhungry Grand Masters, perhaps?)

- I will not attack other Catholics without just cause.

- I will not commit absurd actions to save the Order's skin. For example, I won't go colonising in the Americas without due cause, I won't sail around the Cape of Good Hope and start taking India while having a bare handful of provinces in Europe, etc.

- I will remain Maltese-cultured, because I like pain, suffering, and tax penalties. Though I for one don't understand why the Knights are Maltese, they weren't the Knights of Malta until the 16th Century.

- Anything else I can think of during the course of the game.

My Goals:

- Retake the Levant, and establish a new Latin Empire in Greece.

- Take the Barbary Coast, and end the existence of the Barbary Pirates once and for all. The scum are a plague upon Christianity.

- Upon achieving these goals, I will expand as I see fit. Expansion will mainly be deeper into Arabia, and possibly down the Red Sea into India and Asia.

Game Rules:

- Normal difficulty
- Low AI aggressiveness
- Inflation on
- Spread of Land and Sea set to 75 years
- No lucky nations

 
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The Book of the Order

The Grandmasters of the Order

Grandmaster Philibert de Naillac, the Righteous (January, 1396 - July, 1408)

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Philibert de Naillac was an uninspired diplomat and administrater, but what he lacked in other disciplines he more than made up for in skill of arms and strategic talent.

In the fourth year of his reign, he commanded the forces of the Knights Hospitaller as they sailed to Adana, where he negotiated an uneasy alliance with the Byzantines and laid siege to the city of Alexandretta, which was taken as a new stronghold of the Order, along with the surrounding lands and townships.

In the year 1403, the Order declared a crusade upon the Karamani nation, but was soundly defeated despite Papal support.
In the year 1407, Philibert led a crusade upon the infidel nation of Morocco, long suspected of being sponsors to the Barbary Pirates. He was wounded in battle against the infidel, and died of infection on the 22nd of July, 1408.

He was posthumously granted the epithet "the Righteous" by the Pope himself for his part in spreading the true Faith.

Grandmaster Filibertus the Lowborn (July, 1408 - ????)

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Filibertus was a poor military commander and administrater, but an excelent and skilled diplomat. He continued the crusade against Morocco, winning the peninsula of Tangiers from the infidel, before returning home to Rhodes to put down a rebellion of Greek patriots. He also fought against the Ramazani when they rose up in rebellion against the Order, brutally ending their rebellion. In the year 1416, he established a claim to the nearby province of Mus, held by the Dulkadiri nation, and fought a crusade against the infidels who held it.

 
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June 24th, Feast Day of Saint John the Baptist, our Patron Saint, in the 1400th year of our Lord,

This is the fourth year of my reign as Grandmaster, and I fear that the Order will not remember me kindly. Although our decline began many years ago, during the reign of my predecessors, it is during my own term of office that the Order has truly shown the extent of its fall from grace. The priories that used to draw so many to our banner have fallen in number, indeed, and so too have the langues of the order. The seven tongues, in France, Provence, Auvergne, Italy, Aragon, England, and Germany, have fallen far. Support from good Catholic nations has almost been completely stopped, with many nations and noblemen seeing no point in investing in a dying and failed crusading Order. We rely almost entirely on ourselves, and no others.

During my reign, I have attempted to ensure that we can rely upon ourselves for support, economic and military. The island of Rhodes is rocky and barren, dominated mainly by the great, impregnable fortress that is our Order's headquarters. Few that are not of our Order live here. Most of the people that live upon the island are lesser members of the Order, who till the fields, tend the books, and sail the fishing boats that bring in our main source of income. The seas are ours to command... or were, until the entire fleet was smashed to pieces by a concerted attack from the Barbary pirates, while it lay docked at harbor on the island of Cyprus. A bold attack... and I shall tell more of this affair later.

But it is not enough. If we are to have any hope of regaining the Holy Land for Christianity, we must first gain the income we need to support a larger army and fleet. For this reason, I have urged the Order towards trading; in Venice, in Genoa, even in infidel-held Alexandria. It is hard progress. The few clerks we possess are more inclined to counting sheep, fish and bushels of wheat before having them loaded onto a ship and carried out of sight, than they are of travelling across the dangerous seas, pirate-infested seas to set up franchises and trade networks in exotic cities. I fear it will be some time before trade produces the money we require so desperately.

Of course, there are other options beyond trade. For the past two years, I have been gathering all knights and servants of the Order on the island of Rhodes, at our headquarters. Now, we have marshalled together a force of one thousand knights and men-at-arms willing to crusade forth from the island, and some two-thousand lesser soldiers willing to hold the fortress on Rhodes in my absence. They are disciplined men, capable of holding a line better than any other. Many among them have won fame and glory of their own, in the tourneys and jousts of good Catholic lords, and serving aboard the decks of the Hospitaller fleet, fighting against the vicious plague that are the Barbary pirates. They are strong of heart and will, and most importantly, strong of arm. I now bide my time and wait for the opportunity to strike; whether it will be against the treacherous Cypriots, who we suspect of involvement in the sinking of the Order's fleet, or against the Greek principalities, or against the minor Muslim nations that cower beneath the shadow of the struggling Ottoman and Timurid empires, or even against the infidel nations of the Barbary coast, only time will tell.

In an effort to divine a future course for the Order, I have convened our senior members in council, at the heart of the fortress on Rhodes.

 
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The Island of Rhodes, sole dominion of the Order of Saint John, and the 1000 knights and men-at-arms that make up the Order's standing army. The remnants of the Order's fleet is currently at anchor in the harbor at Rhodes.

Philibert was the man who sat at the head of the long, rectangular table. He was a tall man with white hair and a well-groomed beard, broad of shoulder from his years wielding a sword, stern and hard-eyed from his years commanding soldiers on the battlefield, and now slump-shouldered and wrinkle-browed from the stress of his position as Grandmaster.

The seat across from him was reserved, as always, for any visiting dignitaries of sufficient importance to sit upon the Council; visiting Bishops or influential noblemen, mainly. To his left were the members of the small-council who handled matters of diplomacy and administration for the order; the Master of Coin, who handled the Order's treasury and the spending of it; the Master of Commerce, who commanded the Order's trade fleet; and the Grand Steward, who handled matters concerning the upkeep of the fortress, the tilling of the islands fields, the fishing of the surrounding seas, and other such domestic matters.

To Philibert's right were the members of the small-council who handled military matters. The first, directly to his right, was the Commander of the Guard, who handled the island's defenses, kept the fortress maintained, and ensured that the garison was well trained. The next along was the Grand Admiral, who commanded the Order's fleet, little as it may now be. The last along was the Grand Marshal, who commanded the Order's land forces. Other officers served under them - the Grandmaster of Horse, for example, served under the Grand Marshal, and oversaw the training and deployment of the Order's cavalry - but these were the men who he, Philibert, must give his orders to, to ensure that they were carried out in the proper manner. One must always follow the chain of command, as Philibert was so fond of saying, a fundamental part of discipline is that orders follow the chain of command.

Now was the time for planning. For action. At last, the Order would regain its rightful place as harbingers of God's wrath.

But first, Philibert was forced to suffer through the droning lecture of his Master of Coin, a Frenchman known only as Pierre. The man was not considered to be a very skillful Master of Coin, and the Master of Commerce, Robert Douglas, was by no means an improvement, possibly the reason for the Order's struggle to establish trading connections, and support a military. It had been two years since the small council had been convened in full, and it appeared that the Order's economy had suffered for it, surprisingly so. To his shock, he learn't of just how dire a strait the Order's finances were... why, they earned a bare fraction of a ducat every year, with expenses included in the sums. The costs of the fortresses upkeep, the army they had marshaled, and even the tiny remnant of a fleet that remained, all conspired against them.

At last, Pierre was finished, and Philibert rose to make his speech, platemail armor glinting with polish, red and white surcoat untarnished by stains.

"My brothers," he began, "too long have we cowered on this rock, hiding behind the wooden wall of our fleet and depending upon the goodwill of Catholic kings and bishops for survival. I have heard Pierre, and I know now that we must make our move, or perish in stagnation... or worse, beneath the blades of the infidel Ottomans.
"While the Ottomans struggle with the Timurid hordes that have arisen from the depths of the Orient, we must make our move. We will strike against the Sheikdom of Ramazan, and from there make our base for further deployment against the infidel nations. This will undoubtedly bring us into a war against the Timurids, and we will have to pay them what tribute we can.
"The men I have gathered here will sail this very day, blessed as it is. I am sure our diplomats will reach the Ramazani before us, and inform them of our intentions. It is only honorable. I will command the army personally. In my absence, you, the members of the smallcouncil, will act in my place. When I return, I will want to hear news of the glorious trade our Order has established from you, Rob, or you will be replaced, I promise you that.
"Pierre, you will begin to mint coin of our own. We must boost the treasury, even if it means harming our economy in the long run. We will need more men and more ships if we are to have a hope of keeping our foothold upon Anatolia."

At this, he returned to his seat, to hear the advice and arguements of the council members. Before long, he had heeded what advice he would, disregarded what he would not, and dismissed their arguements. Before long, he stood upon the deck of the Gilbert of Syria, flagship of the small remaining fleet, as one-thousand soldiers were clambering aboard the other ships in the fleet, and supplies were loaded. It was, unfortunately, not until the following day that they set sail, but he slept aboard his ship never-the-less, and when dawn broke on the 25th day of the month of June, the fleet had begun to depart, sailing towards the coast of Asia Minor, and a glorious future for the Order.

 
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Usually, I don't read narrative AARs. But I like Knights and I like your style. So, I'll try to follow your history )

I played with Knights many times, and it was very interesting always. Striking Ramazan is good idea. Another, is joining to battle for Granada. You can't keep that land, but you could sell it for a lot of many.
In both ways, muslim lands are good for recruiting muslim cavalry, which is much better, than christian. Osman lands also could give better infantry until 1450-1500.

Good luck!
 
Usually, I don't read narrative AARs. But I like Knights and I like your style. So, I'll try to follow your history )

I played with Knights many times, and it was very interesting always. Striking Ramazan is good idea. Another, is joining to battle for Granada. You can't keep that land, but you could sell it for a lot of many.
In both ways, muslim lands are good for recruiting muslim cavalry, which is much better, than christian. Osman lands also could give better infantry until 1450-1500.

Good luck!

I know what you mean about narrative AARs; personally, I find them painful to read. But they are fun to write :)

I didn't think about attacking Granada. I guess it would be a decent idea to at last take Gibraltar, since that isn't a Castillian core, and it also gives me a little foothold for the war against the Barbary states.
 
The voyage was over in less than a week, much to the joy of many a soldier's stomach. The winds had been kind when it came to speed, but the waves were choppier for it, and Philibert found a large amount of his host leaning over the ship's rails and spilling what little food they had eaten into the great belly of the ocean. Philibert's only concern was that his host would be weakened for it.

Now the fleet was nearing the sandy beaches of the Ramazanian coast, and his men were mobilizing, preparing for the initial landing. Philibert thought it unlikely that the Ramazanians had enough men to muster a defense along the coast, and knew they would prefer to make their stand at the city. He also knew he had enough men to surround and besiege the city, though with difficulty... if the Ramazani were to muster a relief force, or make alliance with one of the other nations nearby, they would probably easily break the siege.

A cry from the crows nest above brought his attention back to the present.

"Sails on the horizon," called down the watchmen, starting a frantic rush by crew and soldiery to make ready for battle, and the signalsmen rushed to order the other ships into battle positions. The fleet was a beleagred and sorry one, and Philibert had relied upon the advantage of surprise to get it within landing distance of the shore. He knew that even the poor Ramazani fleet would be able to vanquish his own, given the chance.

"What flag?! What flag?!" roared the captain up to the crows nest, his horribly scarred face twisting with worry.

"Er... captain, they looked to be flying the Roman ensign!" was the returning call.

**********​

On the shoreline, Philibert met with Emperor Manuel II Palaiologos. A hundred paces behind him was his own host, drawn up in battle lines, all one thousand of them. A hundred paces behind Manuel was the Byzantine host; a good two thousand foot and a thousand cavalry, by his reckoning. Off the shore, both Byzantine and Hospitaller fleets lay at anchor, but the Byzantine fleet outnumbered his own sevent to one, and swift warships and galleys as well as fat-bellied transport ships made up its numbers.

Never-the-less, the Grandmaster was not a man easily cowed. He was dressed in full platemail, shining in the evening sunlight, and had brought with him an honor-guard of twenty of his best knights, clad in full armor, mounted upon tall, proud destriers in heraldric barding. In contrast, Manuel had brought only a handful of men, but from their look, they were not men to be trifled with. Varangians, he guessed, remembering tales of the fearsome Varangian guard from his childhood. Whatever they were, they were all armed in heavy platemail, with five-foot greatswords sheathed over-the-shoulder, and heavy siege crossbows held, unloaded, in hand. Unmounted, they were still to a man massive in size. Once again, Philibert mused that these were certainly not men to be trifled with.

"Your Grace," Philibert began, "I understand your claim to this land. But our fleet arrived first, and my men were the first to set foot upon this soil. We were arrayed and ready to march hours before you. By rights, the siege is ours, and this land is ours. Rest assured, you will be compensated... but this land belongs to the Order now."

Manuel bowed his head in assent. His face was well lined; the man looked to be in his 50s, and aging poorly.

"Aye. I suppose that I could fight you for this land... and no doubt I would be the victor. But I could not suffer my men to die in vain. We have heard of the valor and discipline of the Knights of Saint John, we Byzantines. To defeat you would tax our strength, and we would need all of it to face the Timurid hordes, once we had taken the province. So I will allow you to take the city... in fact, I will aid you. And when you lose it to the howling barbarians that now beset our enemies, the Osmans, we will come, and we will take it back."
At that, Manuel turned, and rode back to his own host. Philibert was left to do the same, and begin the march towards Alexandretta, alongside his uneasy allies.


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The combined forces of Rome and the Knights of Saint John lay siege to Alexandretta, capital of the Ramazani nation, while their fleets lay at anchor off the coast.

 
Hmm not bad. I will definitely be following this post :) I've always loved playing the Knights. The only problem is that I lose very quickly whenever I tried to do what you intend to do haha.
 
This sounds .. challenging.
If not for the walls of text I'd be following it immediately :p
 
at first me too got frightened by the amount of text in the posts but the quality of the named text turned my opinion :)

good luck to You on your quest!
 
Fascinating idea for an AAR; I'll follow along.
 
at first me too got frightened by the amount of text in the posts but the quality of the named text turned my opinion :)

good luck to You on your quest!

Thank you!

Looks interesting.

I'm onboard for this one. :)

Welcome aboard :)

I'll follow :)

Hi tamius :p

Fascinating idea for an AAR; I'll follow along.

Excelent!

The Knights are one of my favourite nations to play. Usually I colonise the Americas and then look to Europe. Good luck, I'll be following.

Aye, that seems to be the most common start since the expansion that made every nation in the Mediteranean islands either a vassal, a core, or guaranteed by a ridiculous number of nations. But guarantees expire....

Interesting. Good start
And some of us are not as off put by text as others.

That's good to hear :)
 
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March 31st, Feast Day of Saint Benjamin the Martyr, in the 1401st year of our Lord.

I have been a year on campaign in this God-forsaken place. For a year, we have laid siege to the city of Alexandretta, its high walls defying our troops. During the siege, we met the barest fraction of resistance, fighting disheartened peasants armed with sickles and clubs. The Byzantines have proven worthy allies, helping us to encircle the city completely without spreading too thin our forces. The Byzantine cavalry has often ravaged the countryside, however, and I dislike the tales I heard about their barbaric behaviour. Alas, I am in no position to complain.

But, God's will has finally been accomplished. Our siege equipment tore a gaping breach in the walls of Alexandretta, and I sent my men into the gap to take the city. Although the defenders had the advantage, the long siege had disheartened them, and they lacked for food and water besides. They had suffered only a few hundred losses before they were throwing down their swords and crying for mercy. The Order has no mercy for sniveling cowards, however, as they soon learned.

With the city taken, the rest of the province is at our mercy, and we will have established a foothold upon the shores of Anatolia. But we must also prepare ourselved, for the Timurids will not take kindly to our presence here. I am prepared to pay a tribute to the savages, if need be, but I pray the Osmans will deal with them quickly... but not too quickly, for we rely upon their weakness for survival. I must also prepare plans for further expansion, into either neighbouring Karaman, or Timurid-occupied Dulkadir.
 
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The current situation in Anatolia. The Knights Hospitaller now possess strongholds in Rhodes and Adana, although the Karamani are gathering for a suspected strike into Adana. The Order is therefore attempting to rebuild a small portion of its galley fleet, to protect its headquarters from naval assault.
 
Philibert scratched at his beard, deep in thought. Sitting across from him was Rodric Melzi, the Order's Grand Marshal.

"My lord, all our proposals of a military alliance have fallen through. Even the Papacy will not aid us. We are on our own, with no place to easily expand," said Rodric, his voice raspy from years of shouting commands, "The Timurids have been dealt a great defeat at Sivas by the Osmanli, and are retreating to Dulkadir. But by all reports, the force that was met by the Osman was a mere fraction of the savage's strength, and any path of expansion into the Timurids will bring us into conflict with the Ottomans, and the other Muslim nations that infest Anatolia. They are more powerful than us, my lord... we have no hope of defeating them without allies, and-"

With a sigh, Philibert raised a hand and motioned for silence.

"I hear you, Rodric, I hear you. Trust in me. Trust in God. He will see us through this. We must wait, and be patient. A solution will appear, in time, I know it will.
"Our next target shall be Cyprus. The Cypriots are a vain and sinful people, who prefer to feast on wine and grapes, and partake in petty politics, then to aid their Catholic brothers. And we both know the service the Cypriots did us against the Barbary pirates... our entire fleet, sunk in their harbor! I promise you, that will not go unavenged.
"Unfortunately, the Cypriots are protected by the Frenchmen, just as we are. If we attack, the French will rush to their aid. We must wait, for surely relations between the two nations will collapse in time. Or, we could attempt a more... dishonorable approach..."

With a wave of his hand, Philibert ushered a cowled figure into the room. The man was swathed so deeply in a black, hooded cloak, that not even the shape of his chin could be made out. The only visible feature was two bright, green eyes, shining out from under the hood.

"I am sending a... er... emmisary to the Cypriots. He will attempt to incite the Orthodox population there to rise up against the Catholic ruling-class, and cast them down in favor of an Orthodox administration. When the French learn of their heresy, they will have no choice but to sever ties between the nations, thus opening them to an invasion..."

 
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