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Saithis: There was no direct inspiration, I just needed a classic moronic soldier to balance the idiocy both within and without the castle walls. Jordan has lousy stats and a learning score of 0, so he was perfect. Hugh would definitely pull him off, casting-wise. There's even a slight physical resemblance. :)

Avindian: Thanks! Always great to nab another reader.

Estonianzulu: Well, sounds more dignified than "I'm a coward", which is what he meant.

AlexanderPrimus: Wow, look who's reading! :) I hope you'll enjoy it as much as I enjoy reading yours. Or at least half as much. Well, third, if you're lucky... Maybe a qua... Anyways, welcome aboard.

Next update should be up later today.
 
3.​

The sun had already sunk beneath the horizon when Roger returned from his trip to Gaeta, trudging down the dusty path to the castle of Teano on his miserable old nag. It was late August in the year of Our Lord 1068, and the hot and humid day had given way to a warm and pleasant evening. Roger was tired, but it was that pleasant sort of post-coital, pre-hangover fatigue that he always felt after a hard day's work of attending to county matters. He had another productive day of stewarding the fledgling economy of the County of Capua, focusing his direct investments into its highly competitive service establishments, and was now dragging himself home with the intention of treating himself to a well deserved rest. Small fires were scattered around the path, bathing it in shimmering orange light. Crickets were chirping, and a balmy summer breeze carried the faint salty scent of the Tyrrhenian Sea across the landscape. Roger's lips curved into a weary smile. Moments like these reminded him that coming to Norman Sicily wasn't as bad an idea as it so often seemed. It was a lovely place, he thought. Shame about the people.

"Good evening.", Roger said, limply waving to a pair of guards who were leaning on their spears and trying to stay awake near a campfire.

"Kalispera.", one of the guards replied.

"Still here, are we?"

"Yes.", the Greek replied in heavily accented French.

"Not going away any time soon?"

"No."

"Oh well. Have a pleasant evening, gentlemen."

"Thank you for fruit.", the other Greek added.

"What?"

"Ehh... How you say... Basket?", his companion offered, waving his hands about in a circle meant to suggest a basket.

"Oh, that. You're welcome. Thanks for the, uh, whatever that thing you gave us was."

"Gonadopitta."

"Sorry?"

"Gonadopitta. Chop goat...", the Greek explained, grabbing his privates after the goat bit, "... wrapped in pitta bread. Is local delicacy."

Roger's innards turned. By now, both sides had abandoned all pretense of hostility and resolved to sit out the war until news from Naples arrive. Nearly two weeks earlier, the two opposing armies celebrated the ninth month of the most peaceful siege in the history of warfare by exchanging complimentary gifts. The Normans sent a basket of fruit from the Count's own garden, and the Greeks sent a bag of their local delicacy, which only the most adventurous or gluttonous of the castle defenders ventured to taste. Roger was glad he wasn't one of them.

"I see. Well, good night."

The guards nodded and Roger continued on his way to the castle, where the drawbridge was already lowered in expectation of his arrival. He rode in, delivered his mount into the care of a nearby stable boy and slouched towards his chambers. Too tired to slough off his clothes, he crawled onto the bed, turned to his side and fell asleep, the candle at his bedside still burning.

Several hours later, a pungent, brimstoney stench wormed its way into his nostrils, rousing him from his slumber. Scrunching his face in disgust, he took a moment to gather his wits and attempted to deduce where the stench was coming from. LeBoeuf, he initially thought, but then remembered his retainer had been relocated to the servants' quarters for snoring and other offences. Grumbling, Roger opened his eyes and squinted in utter befuddlement at the still lit candle on the bedside table. Why was the flame burning green?

"Salopard...", a raspy voice croaked from somewhere in the room. Roger was still squinting at the flickering green flame, trying to make sense of it.

"Salopard! Wake up, you worthless sack of flesh!", the voice rasped and hissed, increasing in volume and echoing through the room. By now, Roger was startled to full wakefulness, and laboriously sat himself up, facing the direction from which the voice was emanating.

There, at the foot of the bed, was an ethereal robed figure leaning on a finely carved wooden staff. It was shrouded in mist and shadow, its bestial yellow eyes glowing in the darkness and boring into Roger with frightening intensity. Barely audible screams and moans filled the room. The tip of the staff, carved into frightening shapes, began to glow green, and soon the whole room was illuminated by a soft gleaming light, the colour of cat vomit. Roger could make out the facial features of the figure quite clearly now, and his initial dread gave way to mild irritation.

lucius.gif

"Grandpa Lucius! To what do I owe this pleasure?", Roger sneered.

"Quiet you! I didn't come here to chit-chat!", Roger's grandfather - or, rather, his ghost - replied with an annoyed yowl. He was a sprightly old fellow who didn't look a day over 200 despite his advancing age. Judging from his incorporeal and semi-transparent appearance in Roger's chamber, it seemed like his age had finally stopped advancing and came to an abrupt halt, after a good quarter millenia spent commiting acts of unspeakable, unimaginable and highly unsanitary evil. Roger never liked his mother's side of the family, and the feeling was mutual.

"Too bad. I was just in the mood for a little chinwag with a demented old Satanist."

"I said quiet! You dare mock me, you snivelling little brat? I was the court magician of kings and emperors! I've seen worlds beyond this world, reached spheres of existence no mortal has ever beheld, conversed with the princes and magistrates of Hell itself! I discovered the secret of eternal life!", Lucius howled indignantly.

"Eternal life, eh? How's that working out for you?"

"Silence, impudent pup! I should have sacrificed you to the hungry maw of Grubgnulug, demon of gluttony, when you were still young and succulent. The time had come for me to descend to the plane of my Master, where I may serve him better. But you... I still have use for you."

Roger yawned.

"You are, unfortunately, the last living descendant of the de Monique bloodline."

"Oh? What about cousin Gilles?"

"Sacrificed him to Satan three years ago."

"And Raoul?"

"Spell gone horribly wrong."

"What about great aunt Belladonna?"

"Witch trial."

"And her son Jacques?"

"Blew himself up trying to make a homuncul... Enough! They're all dead! Except you, as luck would have it. Which means I shall have to use you to further my plans."

"Sorry, not interested."

"Foolish whelp! You have no choice in the matter! Besides, I know your heart. I know your lust for power and glory. I know what you're capable of doing to get your way. There is de Monique blood in you, even if it is diluted by that of your idiot father. You will do nicely. Very nicely indeed."

"And if I don't?"

"Then you will die in the most excruciating pain. And when you get to Hell, I shall personally see to it you're put through the most unspeakably vile torments for all eternity."

"Fair enough. What is your bidding, you crazy old bastard?"

"You are the heir to the de Monique legacy, and I expect you to honour it. Embrace your basest urges! Indulge your filthiest desires! Turn towards the Dark Side! Tread fearlessly upon the path of the Black Arts, and the Lord of This World shall reward you amply..."

"Amply? Last I heard you were a cash-strapped councillor in Reims. If that's all you get for two centuries of loyal service, I'm afraid I'll pass."

"Quiet, you... you... You! That's not important. My Master takes particular interest in this region. It is in a perfect position to undermine the power of the Papacy and the Muslims alike. But for that, we need someone more amenable to persuasion on the throne of Apulia... Someone like..."

"Myself?", Roger asked, perking up. The old man was barking mad, but there was little doubt that he had a direct line to Old Scratch himself. And if the boys down below were interested in using him for their own ends, surely he could use them for his.

"Yeeesss... Like yourself. You will soon receive the first of many boons. From thence, you will proceed to undermine the power of the Hautevilles, and see to it that their possessions fall into more suitable hands. I shall keep an eye on you, Salopard, and if you fail me, the consequences will be severe. Now, go back to sleep.", Lucius continued, and finally raised his hand, waving it in front of Roger's face. Roger felt sleep overcome him once more, and slumped back onto his pillow.

Hours later, he was vigorously shaken awake by LeBoeuf.

"Milord! Come quick!", LeBoeuf shouted when Roger opened his eyes.

"LeBoeuf, let me go or I'll stab you.", Roger mumbled, frowning. Seeing LeBoeuf's ugly mug first thing in the morning was not a good way to start a day. His head felt like it was cleaved in half by a clumsy executioner and then hastily tied together again with bits of string. He looked to his side, noting the candle had burned itself out overnight.

"The war is over, milord! Count Richard sends news that the Greeks have surrendered."

victory.gif

"Finally...", Roger replied, propping himself up with some difficulty, "Right, LeBoeuf. Make the necessary preparations. We're leaving for Naples immediately... Ugh, well, not quite immediately, but today, certainly."

He looked around the room. There was no hint of the brimstone stench, nor any sign that his grandfather's ghost had been present here during the night. Perhaps it was just a crazy dream, Roger concluded, some wild nightmare brought on by exhaustion and too much wine. It must have been a silly dream, Roger thought as he stumbled to his feet.

"Yes, milord.", LeBoeuf obliged, "Oh, if I may ask you, milord..."

"I'm going to regret this, but yes, you may."

"Um... Who were you talking to last night?"
 
Another couple of fine updates (I missed reading the previous one first time round). However, I'm not sure about the demonic influences and smelly ancestors sneaking around in the night. Satan is often quite boring. Of course, it might very well be the case that you're planning something really interesting with it.
 
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I look forward to seeing what this is all about.
 
Well that was quite a twist... :)

Brilliant AAR! Didn't read the earlier one but this is quite something.
 
Eams: Oh, don't worry. This will by no means be a major part of the storyline, just a little sideline that's quite useful for padding otherwise uneventful updates and weaving certain events into the narrative. As for interesting, well... We'll see. :)

Saithis: It will all be revealed. Not right now, of course, but eventually.

Kazmir: Thanks for reading! I'm glad you enjoy it.

Waringham: Must you even ask? ;) Roger's too much of a cynic to worship anyone but himself, so Grandpa Lucius will likely be in for some surprises down the line. And yes, that's a particularly groanworthy pun. You might even say it's hellishly bad. (Heh! Heheheh! He... I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. :sad:)

nette001: It's hard to find good underlings these days. Also, thanks for reading.

arosenberger14: Thank you for the compliments and welcome aboard.

Right, I see the SalopAARds have finally dragged themselves over the 1000 views mark, and it's always great to snag some new commenters. I hope I'll be able to keep your interest for the long haul. Next episode should be up Saturdayish. Now that Roger's officially a Count, it's time to get down to business.
 
Since Roger is married to Rocca de Hauteville, couldn't his children inherit the Duchy of Apulia (and then become Kings of Sicily and Italy)?

Great AAR! I remember and loved the first one (especially the funeral) and look forward to more hilarity as this goes on!
 
Saturday eh? I look forward to it.
 
I wonder if that greek food didn't have some excitingly recreational chemicals included. There's more of LCD than Lucifer in that vision
 
I'm waiting eagerly for one too! :D
 
I am just sad I never took the time to read this before, as this style of humor and writing is simply fantastic and just up my alley.

Though for some reason all this Satan talk reminds me of the really terrible Roger Corman flick "The Undead".
 
I like a good crotchety ghost story. Richard's quite a wonderful character. LeBoeuf bursting through the door to announce a siege by nineteen dudes was wonderful too -- very CK2, with its stupid alerts. The Blackadder vibe is strong, with Jordan done by Hugh Laurie and Richard portrayed by Rowan Atkinson. LeBoeuf might be a drunk Stephen Fry from Blackadder II.

The devil works fast. Let's see what you do in the land of the Spartenos.
 
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