• We have updated our Community Code of Conduct. Please read through the new rules for the forum that are an integral part of Paradox Interactive’s User Agreement.
Scott1964: If I make it that far, I shall consider it an achievement in itself! Provided France and the HRE keep to their natural borders (hah!) I don't think things could possibly get any weirder.

Loki: It was a bit tedious, but once you've played a few games from the same starting point, you start to get an idea of which singles you want your children to marry. That takes much of the tedium of searching for matches out of the equation.

Sir Garnet:Welcome aboard! I hate to admit it, but it took me a full 90 seconds to get that joke! I hope you enjoy the rest of the AAR.

Estonianzulu: There's at least one more, Bleddyn and Morien had a daughter sometime before I annexed the rest of Wales. Children (like any other character) will only request a council seat if they have a higher x stat (x being the stat required for that position, so Intrigue for the Spymaster position, etc.) than the current holder of that council position.
 
I'm glad they made that change. No more 6 intrigue sons storming off because you wouldn't name them spymaster.
 
I'm glad they made that change. No more 6 intrigue sons storming off because you wouldn't name them spymaster.

Personally I think if they are a few points behind they should still ask for it (nepotism and all that, it's not like the characters can see each others traits to determine who is better). I'd also like to see a special option whereby if your son has the diligent trait (or not the sloth trait), you can tell your son/the applicant he needs to train x stat a little before he can have a job.
 
Chapter III: Whom the Gods Wish to Destroy, They First Make Mad

There is a fine line between greatness and megalomania, and many great men throughout history have crossed this line. Duke Bleddyn was no exception. Ever since his epiphany in the forest some four years ago, he seemed to his family and courtiers obsessed with the destruction of the Saxons. He attributed his successes against the southern lords to divine intervention and began to develop delusions of grandeur – when one begins to compare himself to King Arthur it's safe to assume one does.

Bleddyn may have genuinely believed he could have take on the entire Saxon army by himself, but fortunately, his retainers had a more realistic grasp of the situation. Contrary to Bleddyn's Arthurian fantasies, the Britons could at most levy an army of 750 soldiers. The Saxons had on the other hand proved themselves one of the foremost military powers of Europe at the Battles of Stamford Bridge and Hastings, and even though they were currently embroiled in a bitter war against the Duke of Normandy, they could still manage to levy some 1-2000 Fyrdmen to deal with a potential “Welsch” threat. To make matters worse for Bleddyn, the Saxons were finally gaining the upper hand in the Battle for England: the Normans suffering a decisive defeat at the Battle of Caen. Many of Bleddyn's vassals now predicted a Saxon victory, and persuaded the Duke to bide his time.

The Battle for Britain would continue until 1071, as Bleddyn's vassals predicted it concluded with a Saxon victory. Bleddyn was no less obsessed with conquering the Saxons now then he had been five years before, and so it was up to his eldest son Cadwagan to find a way of occupying his father lest he do something rash. As it turned out, his wife had the answer. Princess Adelheid's brother, the Holy Roman Emperor, was on crusade in Pommerania against the Pagans. As Gwynedd and the HRE were allies, the former would be obliged to help the latter. Cadwagan hoped that a crusade would help satisfy his father's bloodlust, and convinced Bleddyn that God's work came before Arthur's. He was to be sorely mistaken.

Untitled-1.png


Bleddyn accepted Cadwagan's offer with alacrity, but his motivation was neither bloodlust nor altruism; it was papal favour. Bleddyn had calculated that he would be unable to invade England without Papal favour, and a crusade looked like a good place to acquire some. Apart from invading the Saxons, Bleddyn had another reason for wanting to gain favour with the Pope: he wanted to become King. In the middle ages, one could not hope to form a kingdom without recognition from a higher authority, or rather, his representative on Earth, the Pope. Bleddyn hoped that with Papal authority he could claim the title of King of All Britons for himself. In doing so with Papal permission, even Harold Godwinson would have to recognise his authority.

Bleddyn, Cadwagan and a small retinue of troops left Wales for Pommerania in early March 1072. The weather was warming up after a particularly cold and brutal winter, and the Emperor – who had at this point made little ground against the Pagans – was hopeful of a “Spring Breakthrough”. Bleddyn and his retinue were enthusiastically welcomed into the Emperor's camp, where the Emperor and his marshal briefed the Britons on the situation. It seemed that the Pagan gods captured much devotion in the hearts of warriors, who flocked to the Pommeranian cause. This Warrior Cult had been a major cause of the Emperor's lack of a breakthrough. The Emperor believed that by destroying Pagan shrines and murdering members of their clergy, the Pommeranians would be shown just hoe weak their gods were, and lose their will to fight. Bleddyn and his Briton troops would lead the vanguard of this anti-Pagan assault.

Marching in the cold of a Pommeranian autumn was an unpleasant experience, even from the inhabitants of one of the most harshest climates in the world, Wales. The march was quiet, dead quiet, until the men marched towards the snow-covered forests where the Pagans were hiding. The Britons could feel an icy wind, which sounded to some like an eerie whisper. Bleddyn didn't know whether he was delirious or what, but the closer he moved towards the thick Pommeranian forests the louder the “whispering” became. He didn't realise it at the time, but the other men could hear it too. The Germans amongst them who had been veterans of previous sorties knew what was coming next, they gripped their shields and sidearms with a nervous anticipation. The Christians marched further and further into the white, snow-tipped forest, the whispering growing ever louder. Suddenly, the whispering stopped. Bleddyn ordered his troops to stop marching too, almost as if he knew what was coming next. A loud, bloodcurdling scream broke the silence, one, two, a thousand voices all screaming at once. To many of the Britons, the bloodcurdling warcries of the Pagans must have sounded like the voices of demons. Bleddyn prepared his troops for combat: pikemen at the front and sides, archers at the rear. He, his bodyguards and his fellow lords were in the middle, ready to shore up any flank that showed signs of collapsing. To the Pagans, the Christians must have looked like a wounded rabbit in a trap, little did they know that it was their families who were the rabbits.

For this was all part of the Emperor's battleplan. The Britons and a few hardened veterans from Saxony were to lure the Pagans out and upon doing so act as a wedge, driving through their lines and breaking through to the villages and shrines behind them. Upon hearing word that the vanguard had engaged the enemy, the bulk of the Imperial army would move in and surround the Pagans, giving the vanguard the chance to break through. The leader of the vanguard was thus required to have an exceptional talent for spotting and direction so that he could send his men in the right direction (one assumes that the bulk of the Pagan force would have charged directly south from their settlements) hence why the job was given to a Briton like Bleddyn.

The sound of the Pagans cries grew louder and louder, until finally they were in sight of the Christians. Bleddyn's eyes darted swiftly, leftwards and rightwards, until he spot what he thought was the Pagan's centre. Bleddyn ordered his archers to give the signal, one fire-lit arrow for a march, two for a run, three for a charge. Bleddyn ordered three arrows, which sent the imperial troops charging towards the forest. Bleddyn then did something most unexpected, instead of holding firm, he charged right for the centre. Here was a hammer who would wait for no anvil.

The Briton charge proved effective. The Pagans may have been zealous and tough fighters – who had beated better armoured opponents before – but this time they were matched in terms of zeal. Bleddyn had fought in forests before: he knew just as well as the Pagans did where to fight and where one might be trapped, and furthermore he knew that Imperial troops were on their way. He thusly encouraged the Pagans to surround his army, knowing full well they would leave their backs exposed to the Germans. Bleddyn, Cadwagan and the Britons all fought well, their wedge piercing through the barely-armoured Pagans with the momentum of a tidal wave. At last, Bleddyn saw the thinning of the centre, this was his chance to break through. With a loud yell, he ordered his men to push forward as fast as their legs could carry them. Cadwagan and a few hardened soldiers acted as a rear guard while Bleddyn, the archers and the bulk of the wedge “retreated” towards the Pagan settlements. The Pagan warriors tried to follow, but they were held up by the rearguard. By now, the Germans were in sight of the rearguard, the Pagans were trapped from both sides.

Bleddyn could by now smell smoke; he could see it too, hanging over the tops of trees like vultures circling over a dying animal. He drove his horse forward, his men charged too. They could almost taste the slaughter that they were about to deliver. At last, they saw the forest thinning, they saw the thatched rooves huts, houses and the monoliths which so marked Pagan temples. With one loud yell, they fell upon the settlement, slaughtering anyone in sight. The archers lit torches and threw them at buildings while the others went about their looting and pillaging. The great monoliths of the “sacred “ temples were pushed to the ground and the priests and priestesses who fled were hunted down like game. The men felt no remorse for their actions, they relished in the murder of countless women and children of all ages. They were after all, doing God's work.

Bleddyn had his fair share of looting, pillaging and murder of innocent heathens too. He was mounted and therefore was most adept at hunting those who tried to flee; he counted at least fifty heathens who died at his hand, most of whom priestesses from the nearby grove. Some screamed, some pleaded while most begged their gods for salvation; it was all to no avail. But one young priestess was a notable exception: she was young, about sixteen or seventeen years of age and had dark, raven hair. Her faith must have been stronger than the others, for she did not scream, she did not beg nor did she even pray. She stood firm, her index finger pointing sharply at Bleddyn, her eyes fixed on her soon-to-be killer. Bleddyn stopped momentarily, perhaps impressed by his opponent's resolve. She began to chant, louder and louder, and Bleddyn began to feel a pain in his chest. She began to laugh, wickedly. Bleddyn threw his sword at her in anger; it pierced through heart and body, killing her instantly. She died with a smile on her face.

For sometime after the battle, Bleddyn felt strange and poorly. No arrow or blade had pierced him, no blow had struck him, and yet he felt a sharp chest pain for weeks afterwards. He was mentally scarred too, the image of that girl, laughing at him, was burned into his memory, only to haunt his dreams for many nights to come. He began to wonder if he had been cursed.

infirm.png


Bleddyn's objectives however, had been met. Stories of his valour in battle reached far and wide, as far as the Holy Father in Rome even. The Pope sent Bleddyn his best wishes, and more importantly, a cache of gold for his piety and devotion towards the Church.

CK2.png


Bleddyn responded in kind, selflessly donating two of his demesnes (Gwent and Glamorgan) to the Catholic Church. He no doubt hoped that such a show of piety would cure him of his “ailment”.

gwent.png
glamorgan.png


With the approval of the Pope in Rome and the Britons at home, Bleddyn could at last call himself a King. The Britons had a Ruler once more.

kingdomofwales.png

Bleddyn's task was far from complete however, Avalon beckoned...
 
A very good update. The account of Bleddyn's campaigning in pagan Germany is especially enjoyable. Unsurprisingly his crusading and granting land to the church is not quite for solely religious reasons, instead primarily so that he can claim the throne of Wales, but it has served such a purpose. Thus he is now King with a seemingly recovering England as neighbour. Taking the British Isles is going to be difficult.
 
morningSIDEr & Loki: Thank you for the kind words! The key to defeating England is to ignore England. William and Tostig still have their claims on England and Northumberland respectively, and could conceivably try to retake the throne from Harold sometime in the near future. More importantly from a Welsh perspective, Ireland and Scotland remain divided, and neither the Kingdom of Scotland nor any of the Irish lords show any signs of rectifying this. I don't think the penniless Britons are quite ready to take on the Kingdom of Scotland yet, but we should be more than capable of taking on any of the Irish or Norwegian-Scottish lords, and moving onwards from there.

Zzzzz: Welcome aboard! I downloaded a mod sometime ago (the name of the mod escapes me, as does the name of it's creator) which adds several extra empires to the game: Spain, The Frankish Empire, Russia, PLC, Nordic Empire (Scandinavia) and Great Britain. I'll post a picture of the De Jure Empires below.

dejureempires.png


To form the Empire of Great Britain we require England, Scotland and Wales. Ireland is an optional extra.
 
Interesting and compellingly written. I'm quite enjoying Bledynn's very gradual mental unravelling, as his obsessions take over his life. So far he's been successful, but how long until all that divine providence runs dry? All those sons are going to be mucho annoyed by a switch to primogeniture, I think, and the fact that Bleddyn's eldest daughter is married (presumably not matrilineally) to the King of Scotland portends some rather nasty dynastic squabbles later on.

Great AAR, in all respects. I'll try and keep up. :)
 
Uh oh, now you've gone and done it. King in mind and body. Unfortunately it'll take more than vissions to stick it to the Saxons.