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Werewhale

First Lieutenant
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Sep 11, 2009
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The Grace of Rome

Arms_of_Imperial_de_Brienne.png





Chapter 1: The Hedge Knight
Acre, February 16th 1228
5R2Px.jpg
After its conquest in the First Crusade, Acre was made the primary port of the Crusader Kingdom. It developed into the main port of the Eastern Mediterranean and brought massive wealth to the Kingdom of Jerusalem.




The port of Acre bustled with activity as usual as Baudouin I finally drifted in, its crew exhausted after the hasty journey. The trip had been estimated at two weeks, but they had made it in ten days despite unfavourable winds. The sailors were unhappy over having to row overnight on open sea several times when the wind betrayed them, but some monetary lubrication and a healthy dose of browbeating had whipped them into action. No delays could be afforded, was the mantra repeated during the journey until everyone was sick of it. The quote, attributed to Lord Maurice, had drifted down to the rowmen, who had soon taken to chanting it.

"No!" swish "Delays!" swish "Can be!" swish "Afforded!" swish!

Of course, sailors being sailors, the chant became the subject of a series of artistic modifications: "No delays can be afforded!" became "No whores can be afforded!" then "No Maurices can be afforded!" and finally "Lord Maurice can kiss mine arse!" After that, they started to become vulgar. Maurice didn't mind, as their little rebellion seemed to give them the energy to carry on.

Now with their destination in sight, he breathed a sigh of relief, feeling as exhausted as if he had been behind the oars himself.

"After this journey, your John better measure up to his reputation," grumbled a low voice beside him. A tall and bald man joined him at the bow, wearing a scowl that Maurice suspected had etched itself permanently into his face over its fourty years of residence.

"You are just as well acquainted with his reputation as I am, Count Narjot," replied Maurice, bowing his head slightly. As a Count, Narjot de Toucy was the highest-ranking noble in the delegation and titular leader, even though the mission had been Maurice's idea from the start, and operated despite the reluctance of his more prestigious counterpart. Whereas Maurice could only claim nobility for a couple of generations, Lord Narjot de Toucy could trace his ancestry back to the times of Charlemagne, claiming relations to several kings and emperors along the way. He couldn't even accuse him of leeching of his family's prestige, for he had personally conquered the very lands he ruled today. He had been sixteen years old at the time. He was the sort of man Maurice did well not to insult.

"His reputation," scoffed Lord Narjot. "A reputation as a soldier of fortune. A mercenary who wanders Europe in search of glory and plunder. He takes up crowns nearly as quickly as they fall of his brow. And this man you would choose to..." he trailed off and shook his head. It had taken a lot of effort to convince the severe lord of this course of action, but Maurice had apparently succeeded, and he despised it. Even though the Duke of Naxos outranked Narjot within the Empire, the young Angelo had refused the regency in favour of the older and more experienced count. It was no mean feat to talk a man into willingly surrendering the most prestigious and wealthy office of the Imperial Court, not to mention the powers available to any regent to advance the interests of his family.

* * *​

"... and now we have reports that Nikaea is buying up grain and arms and preparing for an invasion. War is coming, and we don't know if we can win it," Maurice finished.

John de Brienne threw his head back and laughed. Maurice felt his face drain of blood and looked over at Count Narjot, who met his gaze with an expression that promised bloody murder. The other faces at the table did little to comfort him: Narjot's eldest, Philip, had his mouth full of mutton and didn't seem to understand the joke, but chuckled awkwardly anyway; Bishop Simon of Constantinople's shoulders slumped and he looked down at his plate; Onfroy de Cula's lips turned white and he looked ready to throw his goblet at the man; Baron Edward of Blachernae sat back and rubbed the bridge of his nose, shaking his head gently; Queen Alix of Jerusalem closed her eyes and failed to suppress a grin of her own; Baldwin d'Ibelin gave a single snort; Bishop Aymar of Adelon, titular Patriarch of Jerusalem, looked scandalised.

John's mirth finally subsided enough for him to speak again: "Hate to put an end to that winning streak, eh?"

"Your Royal Highness!" squawked the Patriarch, "John!" scolded the Queen and Philip de Toucy shouted a muffled protest, but all this only sent the former King of Jerusalem into another fit of laughter. Since the Fourth Crusade had sacked Constantinople and placed Baldwin, Count of Flanders, on the Throne of Caesars twenty-four years ago, the Empire of Romania had known nothing but decline, breaking apart under the strain of a hostile populace and the advances of the Kingdoms of Bulgaria and Epirus and the Empire of Nikaea, which claimed to be the true successor to the Roman Empire.

ichGH.jpg

"Do you think this is some kind of joke?!" a voice roared. Maurice instinctively looked to his left, where Narjot was sitting, but found himself looking down at him, still in his seat, meeting his gaze with a surprised and impressed expression. It was Maurice himself who had leapt to his feet, throwing his chair to the floor, and screamed at His Royal Highness at the top of his lungs.

He was suddenly very aware of the company he was in. The Queen of the Holy City, the Patriarch of the Holy City, and John de Brienne, who had led two Crusades and worn the crown of Jerusalem himself, then sacked Sicily in vengeance when Holy Roman Emperor Frederick dispossessed him of it. Maurice's grandfathers were a sheepherder and a Greek minor noble who hastily converted to Catholicism in the face of the invading Franks. Through a series of insightful business transactions and strokes of luck he had garnered enough wealth and goodwill to be elected mayor of Galata, which was what landed him in the Imperial Court. The silence in the room was deafening, but now that he had begun, he had to keep going.

"The... The very bastion of Christianity is... is under siege and you just sit there and-" he stammered, but John cut him off.
"That city was burned to the ground twenty-four years ago," he said, his mirth now turned into a sneer. "There is nothing left but wishes and poor imitations."​




uCXol.jpg
The Crusaders of the Fourth Crusade were massively indebted to the Venetians who sold them transportation and military support. In order to repay their debts they agreed to place the son of the deposed Emperor Isaac II, Alexios IV Angelos, on the Byzantine throne, as he promised them enough money to repay the Venetians and more. Greek politics turned foul on them, however, and after successfully installing Alexios IV, he was strangled by a Greek courtier before he was able to fulfill his promises to the Crusaders. When his successor, Emperor Alexios V Doukas, refused to honour the debts of Alexios IV, the Catholics attacked the city and subjected it to a three-day-long sack of uncommon brutality, destroying or looting numerous priceless relics and desecrating Greek churches, including the Hagia Sophia.


"You would know, you were there."

"And what do you mean by that?" snarled the old knight, all traces of levity vanished.

Maurice swallowed and began to truly regret speaking up as he did. This whole mission was a joke. Who did he think he was, trying to tell these people what to do? He had aimed above his station and was going to be burned, and badly. He opened his mouth, but only stammered.

Bishop Simon came to his rescue: "He means... well, you have committed certain sins and we offer you the opportunity to redeem yourself in-"

"Redeem myself?" John snorted, "I took up the cross. Again. I did my time. I followed that fool Pelagius into- Nevermind, what do you mean, offer me the opportunity? You haven't offered me anything, you've just been whining like a-"

"We would offer you the Crown of Caesars!" Maurice blurted out.

That shut John up.

"As Regent," added Narjot, "Emperor Robert passed away last month, and his heir, Baldwin, is only-"

"Oh, Regent is it?" mocked John, recovering from his momentary shock to contort his face into a snarl. "Not only would you give me a crown that is more burden than honour but you would have me relinquish it as soon as the boy comes of age!"

"Your Highness, we need you," growled Onfroy de Cula, leaning forward. "You are a proven commander and popular with the soldiers and the nobility! You are the only one who could turn the fortunes of the Empire around!"

"And as soon as I have done that, off goes the crown and I‘m back to begging for scraps! No thank-"

"This appointment is for life," said a low voice. It was the first time Baron Edward had spoken, but he caught the old paladin‘s attention at once, who stared at him, silent. "Baldwin will be your heir, but you will remain Emperor-Regent until your death. Your Highness, you can die with a crown on your brow."

John‘s expression remained frozen for several moments. Then his eyebrows gave a tiny twitch and relief washed over Maurice.

They had him.

YEUGC.jpg
 
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Sounds fantastic; a different tone than your last one, obviously, but I'll still sign on regardless.
 
Interesting start, I rarely see much said of the Latin Empire, so it will be interesting to see what you and Maurice/Jean do with her.
 
I am intrigued. Very much intrigued. And I see you put a lot of work into this.

Go oooooon...
 
Boo! Hiss! Death to the destroyers of the Byzantine Empire! :p

Oh, okay, perhaps I can put my historical biases aside and just enjoy this, you know, as a fictional story. ;) The writing is good and the setup is intriguing. Good luck!
 
Boo! Hiss! Death to the destroyers of the Byzantine Empire! :p

Oh, okay, perhaps I can put my historical biases aside and just enjoy this, you know, as a fictional story. ;) The writing is good and the setup is intriguing. Good luck!

I'm inclined to agree! =P

Interesting premise. Given that the historical Latin Empire did little better than slowly collapse over the course of six decades, John de Brienne seems to have his work cut out for him! How scary are your neighbors in game?
 
Havent read the update yet, but am posting to subscribe so I dont lose it
 
Hi Werewhale--you have been awarded the WritAAR of the week for this week. Congratulations!

I had not seen your new AAR, so I posted the award on your Saltborn. You can also check out the WritAAR award thread here.

I'm eager to continue reading your AAR!
 
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Looking good there! Jean de Brienne is one of the most interesting persons in European history for sure, and the Latin Empire about the least covered aspect of it. Who knows if you haven't actually captured his personality with that colourful scene. ;)
 
Chapter 2: The First Test

Constantinople, July 29th 1228

OUoSF.jpg

John trotted down the street, his nose filled with the scent of burning wood and flesh. It was afternoon, he supposed, but the skies were dark with smoke. He himself had ordered the fire started in order to funnel the counterattacking Varangians into a killing ground after the Crusaders had captured the northwestern part of the city. Naturally, it quickly spread and left thousands homeless. More fires had erupted since then, by overturned candles, stray sparks or simple deliberate action on some of the more enthusiastic invaders.

He heard screams from within a house he passed, the terrified shrieks of a woman, and the raucous laughter of men. A part of him felt like he should do something about it, but he just moved on. Everything had gone so horribly wrong and the whole campaign had slipped out of control. He had appealed to Boniface to rein in the looters, but he had simply shook his head and said: "There's nothing that can be done, John. Accept that fact and retain your sanity."

He stopped in front of a church and watched armoured men emerge with heavy sacks which spilled gold and silver treasures as they hauled them onto a cart. Each and every one bore the Cross on their tabards. Each and every one was spattered with Christian blood. No divine lord struck them down as they looted to their hearts' content. Through the open door John could see blood on the floor, though he could not see the source. No doubt the knights had cut down a Greek priest who tried to stop them. Each of those men would go home and live out their days in luxury with the bounty they collected today. They would live long, full, lives and die happy. And that was it. There was no God to punish them, only Man, and Man looked on and did nothing.

Feeling dizzy, John turned to continue down the street but found himself meeting the gaze of a woman emerging from a nearby alley, leaning against the nearest wall for support. She was naked but for a few torn scraps of fabric that she half-heartedly covered her most private parts with, but John could still see trails of blood running down her inner thighs. Her face was bruised and her hair dishevelled and cut by someone who wasn't aiming to make her pretty. But it was her eyes that would haunt John the most. They were not filled with hatred or anger. Just confusion and hurt.


* * *​

John started awake, drenched in sweat.

"Your Imperial Majesty," a small voice said, "We will be arriving in Constantinople in two hours."

John grunted at the page in answer. He had ordered that he be woken when they were about to arrive. He heard the door to the cabin close and opened his eyes to look around. The low morning sun cast bars of light in through the small window, illuminating a small, fairly spartan captain's cabin. Not really fit for a Roman Emperor, he supposed, but it had to do. Berengaria stirred beside him and muttered something nonsensical. He responded with something equally inane, kissed her on the lips, got to his feet and began dressing himself. Thirty-six years separated them, but when they had met five years ago, he was instantly captivated. Her father, King Alfonso of Leon, had offered him his heiress in marriage, but John had passed over her in favor of Berengaria, for reasons he would never understand himself. Giving up a kingdom for a woman like a young man...

ajOXn.jpg

"You were dreaming again," she spoke from the bed. It was not a question, so John didn't answer it. "Was it the Sack?"

He had never spoken to her about what happened two dozen years ago. Well, not directly. She caught snippets from other sources, like men who had campaigned with him, or what he mumbled himself in his sleep when the night terrors were especially bad.

"Yes," he allowed, pulling his hose on.

"We- You need to talk about it, John."

"No," John said without looking at her. When he sensed that she wanted to try again, he turned around. "I’ve told you a hundred times. There is nothing that needs to be said. It's been twenty-four years. What's done is done and no good would come of bringing it up again."

Berengaria pursed her lips, but decided not to pursue the subject further, and John strode out the door.

He broke his fast on an apple and a clutch of fresh grapes they picked up in Traianopolis. Being a man of wealth and station, it was considered an oddity that he mostly abstained from the consumption of meat and chose to subsist on vegetables and fruit, but he was convinced that his diet was to thank for his good health in his advanced age. Compared to his Chancellor, Baron Edward, who was almost young enough to be his grandson, and who liked to gorge on steaks whenever he got the opportunity, he was energetic and virile, while the younger man‘s breath was taken by the slightest effort.

JlmKo.jpg
Despite his involvement in the Crusades, John de Brienne was highly critical of the church and her officials. While never going far enough to run the risk of excommunication, contemporary chroniclers, almost all of whom were priests or bishops, took care in portraying him as a indulgent hedonist in order to illegitimize his concerns. Recent studies, however, reveal evidence that the Emperor observed a strict diet of fresh greens, fish, and fairly little meat, and consumed alcohol only in controlled amounts. This may explain how he remained healthy even after reaching sixty years of age.

As Berengaria joined him on deck, watching the Harbor of Julian draw closer, he spotted a group of men awaiting their arrival, flanked by alert men-at-arms.

“A welcoming committee for the Emperor?” suggested Berengaria and nudged John, smiling.

“No,” said John, not returning her smile, “We will plan an official arrival later. March through the gates. Flower petals and chariots. This is not a normal welcome. See there?” he pointed, “That’s de Toucy’s boy. I see Onfroy de Cula, and there’s Maurice de Galata. Most of the others look like military men. If this was a social call, there would be a lot more useless dignitaries present and none of them would be wearing armor.”

Berengaria frowned. Onfroy de Cula, especially, seemed to have brought out his heavy suit of chainmail, worn under a tabard with his house sigil. Philippe de Toucy was also present, managing to look slightly intimidating by virtue of his sheer size, despite his jowls flowing over his hauberk. Maurice stood to the side, his small and rat-like posture exacerbated by current company. When he had departed from Acre, he had sent them straight to Constantinople with specific orders while he and a delegation, his Chancellor included, visited the courts of the lords of Greece, to renew their oaths of fealty and to smooth diplomatic relations. Duke Angelo Sanudo of Naxos had bent the knee readily and lent his ships and personal presence to the missions, but Prince Geoffrey de Villehardouin of Achaia and Duke Guy de la Roche of Athens were less forthcoming. He had, however, managed to broker a betrothal between Baldwin, his heir and titular co-Emperor, to Eirene Angelos, daughter of Despot Theodore of Epirus. Hopefully, that would secure the western border. With his Greek counterpart across the strait able to muster more than twice his number of soldiers, the Frankish Emperor could afford no distractions.

flVZl.jpg

As John and Berengaria stepped onto the dock, the delegation kneeled before them.

“Skip the pleasantries and get up,” he barked as de Cula started to intone a formal greeting, “Why is everyone looking so grim?”

Onfroy de Cula wasted no time in replying: “The Emperor of Nicaea has just declared war.”

fTxNW.jpg
At thirty-six years of age, Emperor John Batatzes was in the prime of his life, and had already bested the Latin Empire four years ago, when he had to fight to gain his throne against the attempted usurpation by the Latin-backed Isaac and Alexios Laskaris, brothers of John's father-in-law.
 
Interesting start, I rarely see much said of the Latin Empire, so it will be interesting to see what you and Maurice/Jean do with her.
That's exactly the reason why I decided to play them. I was actually going to start in 1216 or something, but by looking in the dynasties.txt, I found that de Brienne had a unique coat of arms (if you have the DLC), so I looked them up on google and was intrigued. Anyone who is looking for ideas for their AAR, I recommend looking through common/dynasties.txt and Ctrl+F "coat_of_arms", look them up on google and then find them in the game. You'll find a lot of interesting starting points.

Interesting premise. Given that the historical Latin Empire did little better than slowly collapse over the course of six decades, John de Brienne seems to have his work cut out for him! How scary are your neighbors in game?
Terrifying! Any one of them could trounce me pretty badly, and Nicaea has more than twice my numbers and permanent casus bellis on all my lands.

Looking good there! Jean de Brienne is one of the most interesting persons in European history for sure, and the Latin Empire about the least covered aspect of it. Who knows if you haven't actually captured his personality with that colourful scene. ;)
Indeed! The more I research him, the more I am awed and intrigued by him. Even at the age of eighty, he was leading cavalry charges against the Bulgarians and Nicaeans. All this from the second son of a count in France(a baron in CK2) who was going to be educated as a priest. I recommend the wikipedia article, it's fairly concise and touches on his greater exploits. Also, his name keeps popping up in prominent positions all around the Eastern Mediterranean.

Sounds fantastic; a different tone than your last one, obviously, but I'll still sign on regardless.
Thank you!

intriguing... *subscribed*
Yay!

I am intrigued. Very much intrigued. And I see you put a lot of work into this.

Go oooooon...
Thank you! And yes, I will.

Boo! Hiss! Death to the destroyers of the Byzantine Empire! :p

Oh, okay, perhaps I can put my historical biases aside and just enjoy this, you know, as a fictional story. ;) The writing is good and the setup is intriguing. Good luck!
Thank you, I'll need it.

Havent read the update yet, but am posting to subscribe so I dont lose it
Yay!
(Also, you can click Thread Tools up in the right corner and subscribe without posting. But then, the writer won't know you did.)

Hi Werewhale--you have been awarded the WritAAR of the week for this week. Congratulations!

I had not seen your new AAR, so I posted the award on your Saltborn. You can also check out the WritAAR award thread here.

I'm eager to continue reading your AAR!
I already thanked you in the WoW thread, but thanks again! I really appreciate this sort of recognition!

This looks fun :)
Oh, it is!

Good update, especially with the detail involved!
Thank you!
 
I have to say that your situation is quite grim. You have to somehow consolidate what remains of the Eastern Roman Empire, withstand the attacks from the Greeks and the Crescent. The only bright spot is that you can call Holy Orders to battle and Nicea must control Constantinople to be able to field Varangian Guard, if I remember correctly. I will look with interest how long will you last.
 
The map, the itinerary if you will, of John's travels to Constantinople was very good - a lot of information in a very clear, easy-to-read format.

John sounds like a sympathetic character (even if he did despoil the Byzantine Empire... I digress, must control urge to vent...). Very thoughtful, modest in his personal desires. I wonder how much those dreams of the Sack, and their attendant thoughts, still hold sway over him. I mean, if he still suffers from a lack of faith, then why would he continue to hold the City? it's a recipe for more bloodshed, mostly between Christians, at least until all the contenders have been swept off the board (and then merry Holy War on the Infidel will ensue).

John has not even properly arrived and he's already at war. Not the greatest start to his 'regency'.
 
An AAR that features the greatest ever Frenchman. You've got your work cut out. An 80 year old emperor needs an heir as well as a victory over the Nikean Empire who have made a habit of beating the Latins.
 
Yay!
(Also, you can click Thread Tools up in the right corner and subscribe without posting. But then, the writer won't know you did.)

Oh yeah... Well I read it now anyway. And it was good
 
Chapter 3: The Element of Surprise​

Outside Nicomedia, September 4th, 1228


Zvxgp.jpg
A view of Nicomedia today. It is not known exactly where the Latin army was camped.

"That treacherous snake!" roared Onfroy de Cula, throwing his wooden cup over Maurice's head, spattering his face with wine and eliciting outraged protests, "He will hang for this!"

Several voices rose up in agreement throughout the tent. Phillip de Toucy banged his cup on the table while his father crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, scowling. Maurice wiped the wine off his face and grabbed his own cup, but Emperor John snapped his fingers and he suppressed the impulse to return de Cula's favour, instead handing the letter to the Emperor.

"Marshal, you will control your outbursts," he spoke as he perused the document. De Cula gave a grunt that might be considered apologetic, and avoided eye-contact with Lord Maurice.

The courier had arrived shortly before noon. A messenger pigeon had arrived in Constantinople, from Despot Theodore, and it had been delivered to the army with the utmost haste. John frowned at the message, but no matter how hard he tried, he could not change the words. He passed it around the table.

"This is good news," he said when the letter had been passed around a few times. "Though Epirus may refuse to join our side, he has also refused to join our enemies. We can bring our entire strength to bear against the Greeks."

"That does not count for much when our entire strength is less than half of Nicaea's," growled de Cula.

"Marshal, how many men did we lose yesterday?" John asked.

"One hundred and forty-two."

"How many did the Greeks lose?"

Onfroy de Cula pressed his lips together. "Six hundred and thirteen slain, five hundred and seven taken prisoner and one hundred and eighty-nine unaccounted for, going by their quartermaster's records.

Y7mRM.jpg
The Empire had not been idle while John was returning from Acre. Onfroy de Cula began marshalling troops and seizing ships as soon he set foot in Constantinople, and Maurice de Galata had secured the services of fifteen-hundred Pecheneg mercenaries. At the moment that Nicaea's declaration of war reached Emperor John, he was ready to cross the Bosporus with four thousand men and caught a Greek regiment outside Nicomedia completely by surprise, wiping it out.

"Well!" John exclaimed, looking around the table and grinning, "with those rates, we should have no problem winning this war!"

There were several half-hearted chuckles around the table, but Onfroy de Cula scowled at the Emperor, unamused, and he was not the only one.

"Now Maurice, you had another letter?" John asked when the moment of levity had passed.

"Indeed. From the Holy See," he handed it to the Emperor, who broke the seal and read the message with and increasingly foul expression, then handed it around the table silently.

"Africa?" exclaimed Bishop Simon in confusion when the letter reached him. "Whatever is there in Africa?"

k7P6B.jpg

In 1228, Pope Anicetus II called the Sixth Crusade, aimed to curb the power of the growing Almohad Sultanate of Africa and Mauretania. By directing his flock towards Africa, rather than contested Iberia, he hoped to catch the Moors in a weak spot.

"Last time, he tried to get to the Holy Land by conquering Egypt first. I suppose he now wants to get to Egypt by conquering Africa first," scoffed John. Simon gave him a reprimanding glance but did not protest.

"What does this mean for us?" asked Narjot de Toucy.

"It means we can not expect any aid from the western kingdoms, as they will be too preoccupied with this venture," explained de Cula, "What's more, if King Andrew of Hungary is providing an especially large committment, as the letter implies, the Kings of Bulgaria and Serbia are free to join our enemies without drawing the Hungarians in."

"This changes nothing,“ John snapped, „King Radoslav of Serbia will follow his father-in-law Theodore and King Ivan of Bulgaria will not risk himself in war before he has a son to inherit him.“

“Changes nothing?” scoffed Narjot, “If this changes nothing then we are doomed. We need something to change if we are to win this war.”

“No,” spoke John and rose to his feet, fixing Count Narjot with a stare. “We press on. One more victory like the one yesterday, and we could win a field battle on favorable terrain. And we will be able to choose the field. Nicaea wants to wrap this up as soon as possible. We wear them down and lure them in, just as we have been planning.”

There was a commotion outside, then two men entered through the tent flap.

“Captain de Deuteron, what is the meaning of this?” demanded John, recognizing the hunchback warrior, who had a firm grip on the arm of the other, younger, man. The boy was panting and covered in sweat and had dried blood on his forehead. At the captain’s urging, the young boy spoke, gasping for breath.

“’Got here ‘s soon ‘s I could, m’lord. Spotted their army to the south, passing through Prusa, three weeks out. M’lord.”

“How many, boy?” demanded John, over the surprised clamor of his war council.

The young scout met the Emperor’s eyes. “All of them, m’lord. Fifteen thousand, at least.”
He52T.jpg

The Greeks have responded quicker than anticipated...
 
So shit is about to get ugly