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notenome2

Second Lieutenant
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Aug 29, 2007
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Comments are welcome, appreciated and vital.

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Warning: It wasn't my original intention but this AAR has got some pretty dark patches (and it's going to get worse) so some discretion is advised.

Chapter I- Introduction
Part 1: Home
Part 2: Brothers
Part 3: Ants
Part 4: Bigger than the Sea

Chapter II- The Changing Tide
Part 1- Neighboors
Part 2- The March

Part 3- Madness in the Desert
Part 4- Flags in the Wind
Part 5- Hearth and Home
Part 6- Three to One
Part 7- A Flag Torn
Part 8- Epirus
Part 9- A Proud Stallion
Part 10- A Fool's World
Part 11- Facing the Sun
Part 12- No New Enemies

Chapter III- The Eagle Falls
Part 1- The Gathering Stallions
Part 2- A Storm in the East
Part 3- The Power of Love
Part 4- Six Men and a Map
Part 5- The Red Garden
Part 6- Into the Fire
Part 7- Phoenix
Part 8- A Voice in the Dark
Part 9- The Spoils of War
Part 10- All the World is Darkness
Part 11- Furusiyya

Chapter IV- The Lion, the Stallion and the Eagle.
Part 1- Lessons Learned
Part 2- The Bells of York
Part 3- Oedipus
Part 4- Maybe
Part 5- Hitchin
Part 6- The Turkish Dog
Part 7- The Abyss Stares Back
 
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Chapter I- Introduction

Part 1: Home

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January 1st, 1077

This was home. Anatolia. Doryalon, Iconum, Nicae, Nicomedia. Not our words. Not our cities. But we will make them ours. We came from the East, and now we are home. Cities built by Phoenicians, Greeks, Romans, Persians, they will become our cities. These churches will become our mosques. These people will become our people. Their daughters shall become our wives, and our sons will become their grandchildren. In time.

We came from the South, we came from the East, carving vast empires where we went. We defeated the Byzantines, and now we shall join our civilization with the Romans. And we shall build.

“I find it hard to believe, father, that they will ever regard us as our own.”
“We will make them our own”
“They speak a different language. They pray to a different god. They look different than us. They were our enemies, at Manzikret.”
“A lot has changed. We’re at peace now. They will learn, with time, they will even come to look like us.”
“I don’t see it father. I don’t.”
“Then I pray that Allah gives me a son who is not blind.”
 
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Part 2: Brothers

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January 10th, 1077

“Well?”
“They’ve answered the call, my lord.”
“All of them?”
“Nearly... Dyrrachion, Cibyrrhaeot, Epirus, Achaia, Turnovo, the Aegean Islands, Nikaea, Kaliopolis, Athens, Cyprus, as well as your other brother, Prince Konstatinos. They’ve all answered the call, my lord.”
“Good. My brother lost half an empire, I intend to make sure he loses the other half as well.”
“About that, Prince Andronikos I must-“
Basileus Andronikos. If my own Chancellor won’t refer to me by my proper title, who will?”
“I apologize, my lord. But you must… Constantinople, our city, it’s never been taken. I-”
“Then I shall be the first. The greatest virtue of Michael’s rule has been his ability to hide his many chins behind that disgusting beard of his... I have always been the strongest. My only crime was staying still, doing nothing and allowing that pig to loose our heartlands to inbred flea bitten savages and they're horses. The empire needs me, Andronikus, and you’d do well to remember this: when I march on Constantinople, it will not be as a traitor, but as a savior. And after I’ve defeated my brother, in the battlefield or by siege, I will kill him with my own hands.”
“As you say Basileus.”
 
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Dovahkiing: We'll have to see how the game goes, but the idea is for the story to not be centered around any particular character or realm. It'll make sense in a bit
 
Part 3: Ants

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January 15th, 1077

“Don’t be dramatic”
“It was a stupid idea. Stupid, stupid, stupid. If the Anatolians can form their own independent Sultanate, then why not Mesopotamia? Hashimids? The Levant? Kwarazmids? Shabankarai. A door has been opened, and now there’s no telling what might get through.”
“It’s not the same.”
“It is the same.”
“It’s not. The Rum Turks conquered Anatolia alone, without the Sultan. And don’t forget, they are Seljuks. He allowed them to be independent. Allowed.”
“Do you think the Sultan conquered all these lands by himself? And what does it matter if they are Seljuks. They are distant cousins four generations removed, Khalil. A Sultan that allows part of his realm to break free is a Sultan who risks having no realm at all.”
“Are you mad? Hashimids, Kwarazmids, they’re all ants compared to the Sultan. If any of them dare dream of rebellion, they’ll be crushed, extinguished.”
“One ant is insignificant. But together they can bring down an ox, or even an eagle. And the Sultanate has an awful lot of ants. These lands are the graveyards of empires. And the first step to digging our own tomb has been taken.”
 
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Is this a hands-off AAR? If not, what realm are you playing?
 
Part 4: Bigger than the sea

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February 1st, 1077

“Why am I so small?”
“Because you’re young, child. We’re all small at your age.”
“No silly, I wasn’t talking about me. I was talking about Antioch. Father always sais he is Antioch.”
“Oh…”
“So why am I so small? Look at the Seljuks, they’re huuuuuge. Bigger than the sea.”
“It’s true- Vosgi my dear, our lands are small compared to the heathens. But that’s what makes us great. God protects us, and as long as we are true to him he will protect us.”
“If god protects us, then why do we not grow big like the he-fins.”
Chuckle “Heathens my dear. And it’s not that simple. One day when you are a lady in another land you will understand it takes more than God alone to carve empires in this or any other land.”
“But we’re safe right? God watches over us always?”
“Always.”
“But what if he forgets?”
“He never forgets.”
“But what if he does?”
“Then I’ll keep you safe. As I’ve kept your father safe.”
“And Raz, Abul, Ligos?”
“Of course. I'll keep you all safe.”
She hugged him. He cherished it.
 
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Chapter II - The Changing Tide

Part 1- Neighbors

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April 9th, 1077

"If not now, when?"
"When its time for war."
"When it's time for war? Time for war I-... Now is the time for war! Can there be a better time for war? Father I-"
"I did not say a time that favors us, I said when it's time for war. Now is the time for peace. For building our home."
"Our enemies, who we have fought for generations, for as long as anyone can remember, are at each others throats. Half of the Empire is trying to kill the other half. Andronikus is marching on Byzantium itself, to usurp his brother's throne and you would have us do nothing!
"I would have us build. Mosques, schools, villages. Roads. Civilization."
"They are our enemies!"
"They are our neighbors."

That was too much for Arslan. He raised himself quickly and stormed off. Let the old fool sit in his garden all day. The Turks were conquerors, not sheep. If his father had his way, he'd never see a battle.

"If any of my sons talked to me the way you do your father, I'd have them flayed."

Arslan had been looking down as he walked through the garden, immersed in anger. He almost ran into the Marshal of the Sultanate, Ghazi Of Danishmend. Surprised, he said the first thing that came to mind.

"What you doing here!?"
"Your father asked to see me."
"Haven't you heard? According to the Sultan now is the time of gardening and building roads."
"For the realm, yes. For me? Not so much."
"What do you mean?"
"Your father want the Sultanate to remain at peace, and so it shall be. But just because the realm isn't going to war..."
"What-what are y-?" It wasn't distrust. He wanted to join.
"Nothing that concerns you I'm afraid." The way everyone talked to him, it almost made it seem like he wasn't the sole heir to the realm.
"My father does not want new enemies, Beylerbey."
Smirk. "Don't worry boy, I won't be leaving any new enemies left for your father. Or you."
 
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Part 2- The March

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August 15th, 1077

"So he's fled." Bowmen from the Aegean Islands were marching by, singing songs Andronikus didn't know and wasn't the least bit interesting in learning.
"No."
"An army marches on a city, and the ruler leaves the city. That is fleeing Konstantinos. It's the definition of fleeing."
"I don't think Michael would just run away and leave his Empire behind brother."
"Michael's a coward. He's probably half way to Italy by now, going to hide beneath the Pope's skirt."
"He wouldn't-"
"If I may interrupt Basileus, Prince." Euphrosyne, was a career warrior. The Doux of Nicaea had spent his life fighting the savages in Anatolia, which is why Andronikus had made him Marshal of Byzantium. He also wasn't much for manners. "Michael has left a strong garrison guarding the city. He's moving Northwest, either to attack Turnovo or to plunder your lands in Hellas."
"Let the coward burn all the Greek peasants he likes. It's his lands that will be mine when this war's done." Andronikos looked at the road. His levies were marching now, tough infantrymen from the Greek valleys. They were marching on Byzantium right as Byzantium was marching on their homes. No matter.
"We outnumber Michael three to one. You can hardly call him a coward for avoiding a battle he can't hope to win."
"My brother is no military genius. You give him too much credit."
"We underestimated the Turks and it cost us an empire, Basileus."
"Only for the moment. Look- cataphracts." Neither the riders nor the mounts were wearing armor, but it still made an impression. The heavy cavalry of the Byzantine Empire, the greatest the world had ever seen. Slowly they marched up the road. Eighteen thousand men, the army that would liberate the Empire from its own incompetence. As Andronikus watched them all pass, he dreamed of where he would take them. Sinope, Antioch, Damascus, Jerusalem, Cairo, Rome. It was all within his reach.
 
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Part 3- Madness in the Desert

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April 8th, 1078

"I don't care, I don't care if it's a Bey, a Beylerbey, an Imam, a Caliph, a Prince. I don't care if its one of my own sons. The next camel brained whore son that rebels I'm going to rip his guts out and feed them to the crows. I'm going to rip his eyes out and give them to his wife. I'm going to cut him a thousand times, drain his blood, ferment it and drink the sweetest wine known to men. I am going feed his heart to pigs. I am going to make necklaces of his teeth and give it to my daughters. I am going to drag his body behind my horse to every corner of this Sultanate. I am going to... I am going to... I am going to kill the bastard."

Malik's courtiers didn't really know what to say, because their really isn't much you can say in these situations. So they did nothing, stood still and stared. They didn't know what was going on inside the tent, and they didn't know what was going on outside, either. It was as if the sun had finally driven the realm mad.

It had started small enough, a disgruntled bey here and there. But within months the Sultanate was aflame in conflict. Regions where declaring independence wholesale, with no end in sight. No one knew how many Sultans there were anymore, there was no way to count. Yes, the Sultan's armies would end the farce, eventually, but no sooner was rebellion crushed here that rebellion rose there. More treason meant Malik needed his vassals armies, which made them disgruntled, which lead to more 'Sultans'. There was no end in sight. And worse of all, no one knew why this had started in the first place.

His head ached. He had been living in tents moving from one battle to the next for a year now. As an old warrior, Malik was accustomed to the harshness of soldiering, but those were times of conquest, of marching forwards. As best he could count, this was the third time this year he had passed by this well. The first time it had been against the Uqualids, then back across to deal with the Kwarazmids and now back again because of the 'Sultan of Mesopotamia'. He'd be the Sultan in Shackles soon enough. Maybe the well was the problem.

"Pardon my Sultan, a rider." The room tensed, they knew what was about to come. They had seen it before.

"My Sultan... the Hashimids, they... they have revolted and pro-"

He never finished the sentence, and probably won't be finishing any others for a long time. Malik hurled his cup landing it square across his jaw, breaking it. As the man fell to the floor, blood oozing from his mouth, a wide eyed Malik bellowed ferocioulsy.

"Call every levy, every bey, every mayor, every horse, every man who can walk and those who can't, call every ally, every Seljuk, call everyone, we will burn them, we will burn them all or I will die trying." He looked down at the agonizing messenger . "And shut that man up before I do ..." he paused "I have a head ache."
 
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Part 4- Flags in the wind

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January 9th, 1079

Vosgi hated being short. She was standing atop a chair (which she had pushed near the window by herself) and still she could barely see. There was father, and there was her older brother Abulgharib (but everyone called him Abul) and there was Ligos, who too young to be a real knight but was old enough to squire for her brother.

They were all leaving, the blue cross of Antioch on a black backdrop swirling in the wind above their spears. It was very pretty. But she liked the three red dots on yellow of Edessa better, because yellow was her favorite color. There were other flags too, but they weren’t as pretty. Vosgi decided that on her next birthday she was going to have them do it again for her, armor and all. She especially liked how the sun reflected off the scales of the horses, like a mirror. When the horses started galloping they kicked up so much dust she could barely see a thing. They’d have to fix that for her birthday. The only one she could really see now was Bagrat, who had stopped and looked back.

He had been the last to say goodbye. “Remember, I told you I have to keep them safe.” That didn’t make any sense to her. God would keep them safe, he had told her so. He should stay here at Antioch because she couldn’t spend all day talking with her sister. “Once we’ve dealt with the Turks we’ll be back, and we’ll talk all day if you want to. Until then a marshal must ride with his lord.”

She wanted them to stay. She wanted them all to stay, but especially Bagrat. He was the only one that talked to her like a person. No one ever listened to her. Maybe if she prayed really really hard God would listen to her.

She looked around. Vosgi and Raz had the whole castle to themselves now. Everyone was gone. It felt… lonely.
 
Part 5- Hearth and home

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May 5th, 1079

"Please father, let me go.”
“I do not approve of Beylerbey Ghazi’s war. He does so without my blessing, but I cannot stop it. Our laws allow him to fight his own wars, but he does so without my levies.”
“I don’t care about levies father. I want to join him. Me. Don’t send your soldiers, just let me go. I cannot stay forever in Dorylaion.”
“You do not have my permission, and you won’t. But you are right, you cannot stay at Dorylaion.”

Pause. Arslan did not understand what he meant. Where was father sending him? Was there finally going to be a war? Against the Byzantines? The Armenians?

“I am granting you the Bey of Sozopolis. You will go there, you will show them Islam, you will learn their language, their ways. You will in turn teach them our language and our ways. You will take a Greek wife. You will turn it into a home for our people.”

Anger swelled in Arlsan. It pulsed in his veins, it bulged in his eyes, he could feel it emanating thoughout his whole body.

“Sozopolis is part of the Beylerbey of Thracesia, ruled by the Greek Doge Eustatios. You would turn the Crown Prince a vassal of an infidel?”
“You will learn their ways from him.”
Arslan ignored him. “Marry a Greek whore? A horse does not mate with sheep, father-“
“This arguing tires me. I must save my strength for the Hajj. You will do as you’re told.”
“You’re leaving?”
“It is my duty as a Muslim. Now go and prepare for your journey as I prepare for mine. I wish to be alone in the sun.”

Arslan left, fuming, confused. He knew his father didn’t love him, he just wished he could understand why.
 
Part 6- Three to One

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July 5th, 1079

Two years. Two goddamn years. Filth. Fury. Disease. Death. Two years. Andronikos feared he was going insane. Every day it was the same. There was this pattern... The ones who were dying last night were dead by dawn. And with each dawn more of the living went out, and came back dying by the night. And with each day there was less food, and more death. His brother had ripped apart much of Greece, setting his own empire ablaze. It drove him mad. Victory should have been his by now.

The city mocked him. How many times had he rode into Constantinople? His whole life those gates were open to him. Free to go where he pleased. And now, now when he was the savior of the empire, now they were closed. Two years. He didn't know what conditions were like in the city. He hoped they were bad. He hoped they were starving. He hoped they were all dead and the walls were manned by ghosts, damned for eternity for turning their backs on the savior of the Empire. Two cursed years.

They had become a haggard bunch. Not a man in his host could be considered fat anymore. They had grown gaunt, pale, sickly. The countryside had been ransacked many times over by now. All the game had been hunted, all the field plundered. They ate their own horses a long time ago. Two years. Not a single wall had been breached.

This farce had to end. He had the largest Army in the Empire and he was not going to watch it fade away. If the city won't surrender, he would bring it on his knees. The Basileus would not be denied his city.

That night, as the dying died, the starving starved and the living prayed, with all his lords gathered with him at his table, he gave the command.

"I'm tired of waiting, watching my army melt away. My gluttonous and incompetent hog of a brother burns our lands and what do we do? We sit here and waste away. I mean to take this city, and I mean to do so now."
"Basileus, it was never going to be easy. You knew that when we started. The city has never fallen-" It was Euphrosyne, there was hesitation in his voice. But he couldn't tell if it was fear or just weariness. No matter.
"Yes I know, I know, I know!" He pounded the table. "All cities fall. Rome fell. Athens fell. Sparta fell. And now Byzantium will fall and from its ashes it shall rise again, stronger than ever. If we have to tear down the walls with our bare hands, then so be it. I will have my city!"
"If we assault" the hesitation was gone, replaced by anger "we might, might, take the city. But you will loose your army. And the city is no good without an army to defend it."
"My brother left with his army and the city has held us so far. Tomorrow the assault begins, your Basileus commands it."

"Then the Basileus is a fool." Euphrosyne got up and left. The room was silent, the only noise the screams of the dying outside.

"Tomorrow we assault."
 
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Part 7- A flag torn

September 20th, 1079

The castle was abuzz and no one told her anything. They just ran from one side to the other, and back again. A messenger had come in the morning. He delivered a rolled up piece of paper and then the running began.

Only Mleh, her father's steward, talked to her. He was walking all in-a-hurry when he saw her starring from the doorway. He stopped, looked at her and said "I'm sorry child." Then he started running again. She wanted to tell him not to be sorry, she talked to God and God would protect her. But he was gone

She didn't have much to do, so she starred at the window and imagined all the banners and the horses and riders and the armor that looked like a mirror. She starred and starred until she saw something. She had grown over this past year so she could see fine from the window (from atop the chair). At the first she wasn't sure if she was imagining it but then she saw the dust and knew it was another rider.

The rider must have been in a hurry because he rode straight through the castle gates. He was all dusty and dirty and gross and really should take a bath. Then she heard shouting from below and then the people really began running. She was very annoyed that no one would tell her anything and decided maybe she should talk to God again and that's when she turned around and saw Bagrat. That was the happiest moment in her whole life. She ran to hug him, even though he was nasty and dirty but something about him made her stop.

She could see that Bagrat had blood on him. She knew it was blood because sometimes she would fall and scrape her knee and it would bleed and that really hurt and the blood would come out but Bagrat was a knight and he was strong so he didn't seem to mind so much. He just looked at her.

"Vos... we need to go." His voice was sad, she worried if maybe God had forgotten to protect him and maybe something bad had happened. She certainty hoped not. "It's not safe here anymore Vos, we need to go."
"But what about father and Abul-"
"They're dead. They're all dead. Your father and your brothers. You and your sister are all that's left now. We have to get away from here, Vos, you're in danger." She wanted to cry but nothing happened. When mother had died she had felt very sad but now nothing happened. She just felt, wierd.
"What about Raz, is she coming too?"
"They have her Vos, I was too late."
"The he-fins?"
"No. Your fathers courtiers."
"But won't they keep her safe?"
"They want to be her regent. To rule in her stead. And when the heathens come, they'll trade her away, for safe passage or as a show of loyalty."
"But why would they do that? Aren't they my father's men?"
"They were your father's men. Now they're crows fighting over bones in a graveyard. I failed your father, I failed your brothers, I failed your sister. I won't fail you. We have to go, Vos, I'll explain the rest on the way."

Vosgi started rummaging through her room, thinking what was important to take with her. There were dolls and dresses, and books she couldn't read but liked to look at. Bagrat watched out the window, restlessly. After she had taken only what was really important they started out the door.

"We'll have to ride hard, all through the night."
"Where are we going Bags?" She never called him Bags before and that seemed silly now, she called everyone by a short version of their name. Everyone she liked anyways. "to Edessa?"
"No child. We need to go West. To Armenia, then maybe get a boat to Cyprus. The Byzantines have no love for us, but with all the chaos going on over there, we might be able to slip through unnoticed. Then we go West, a very long ways." They started down the stairwell.
"Are we going to Rome? Father told me there were people like us in Rome, but they were confused about God." Father was gone.
"Maybe, but we'll have to see what choices we have, until then we move fast."

They reached the courtyard where some of father's men were waiting. That made her happy, they would help keep her safe. She saw Mleh with them. He was the only one who had spoken to her before Bags arrived so I guess that made him nice. But Bagrat stopped and stared at him, his hand resting on the handle of his sword.

"And where are you taking the Duchess of Edessa Bagrat?"
"Is it Duchess now, Mleh? You think calling her that will change anything?"
"Abducting our liege is a grievous crime Bagrat. Duke Vahram is recently deceased and already you display your treasonous nature."
"If treason is what keeps her alive and far from you, then I am proud of my guilt."
"Don't make this harder then it has to be. Think of the girl Bagrat. You want to do this in front of her?"
"You know I can't let you have her Mleh. If you want her then come face me."
"I don't have to. That's the advantage of being steward: I can pay men to do that for me." Father's men drew their swords, but Bagrat just turned to her and knelt down.
"Run back inside and hide Vos. I'll come get you latter."
"But will you be alright?"
"God will keep me safe."

She ran. She heard screams and the sounds men of fighting. She went to her room and hid in the best hiding spot she could think of.

Bags never came back.

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Part 8- Epirus

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September 30th, 1979

"Have you ever heard of Pyrrhus?"
"No. Should I have?"
"Have you ever heard the term Pyrrhic victory?"
"Yes."
"Pyrhhus was a Greek King of Epirus. He fought and won several battles against the Romans, but at such great cost that he ultimately lost the war."
"Learn something new every day."
"Now we know what Pyrhhus felt like."
"We still outnumber Michael."
"We've lost fourteen thousand men. It's been over a month and bodies are still left unburried."
"But we were the first to take Byzantium."
"Which would be great if we weren't Byzantine."

There was something about the Hagia Sofia that made men prone to philosophical conversation, or at least it certaintly seemed that way to Konstantinos. And it was hardly surprising to him that Nikephros knew the story of Pyrrhus in detail. He was the Doux of Epirus, after all.

"I don't think Andronikos's quite grasped it yet." He didn't think he had quite grasped it yet. Closing his eyes, he tried to breathe in the vast structure. He'd been here dozens of times before. But never like this. It seemed small, after the vast price they payed. Perhpas if they had been conquerors.
"We have four thousand men. With additional levies that number goes to, what? Maybe five thousand, maybe six at best. That's a far cry from the three-to-one advantage we once had on Michael's army."
"It's not the number of men I'm worried about. It's the quality." A two year siege of our own capital and then to be hurled against the walls. And all the while our homes burned."
"Have you seen Euphrosyne lately?" There was always that.
"No one's seen Euphrosyne lately." He had led the assault, he had seen a lot of men die. He wasn't the same. None of them were. This had cost them, cost them too much.
"Your brother has decided to march on Thrace. We leave within a week."
"Thrace is loyal to Michael, and lightly defended". When he found out they were leaving, he felt glad. He wanted to get away, far far away from this city.
"We best be going." Michael would forgive them. But could I ever forgive myself?

As they walked out of the basilica, Konstantinos stopped and looked back once more at the Hagia Sofia, white banners bearing the red double headed eagle flying from its wall. Such a small prize.
 
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Part 9- A Proud Stallion

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November 6th 1082

Sozopolis. Even the name sounded idiotic to Arslan. Leaden and misshapen like the rest of the Greeks' bastard tongue, like a man stumbling down a flight of stairs. Soz-OH-poh-lees. Every vowel clunked in a different direction.

Over the years he learned that there were only three things in Sozopolis: rocks, Greeks and bad news. And today was a day filled with bad news. His father's bitch of a Greek wife was pregnant. He'd soon have a Greek brother. A Greek Seljuk. He knew it was going to be a boy, because the worse always came to pass. It was unthinkable. They had conquered this land from the Byzantines. And now the land was slowly conquering them.

He had a Greek wife as well. He had to. He hated her and she hated him just as much. It was an honest relationship.

His other wives gave him only daughters. He needed a son. He needed a son to prevent their being a Greek Sultan. He closed his eyes as the anger started passing though him. They were becoming sheep people, the stallion lying with sheep. He hoped it was not too late.

Father had left for the Hajj, leaving the mayor of Sinope as regent. Every slight bit at him. He understood, he understood he was not loved, but what he could not understand is why this had to be constantly pointed out to him. A multitude of slights, lest he ever forget.

As Arslan looked out the window something snapped inside of him. His father would not approve. But his father was far, far away. The obedient son could obey no longer. The men around him were Turks. His personal retainer, his household guard. The Turks were restless, he'd call them out to him. They would rally to his cause. A Turkish bey could not serve under a Greek beylerbey. The Crown prince would be a vassal to the sheep Doge no longer. By the time his father came back, it would have happened already. The Greeks were enemies. Arslan would never forget.

He closed his eyes again, but not in anger. It was to dream, something he had scarcely allowed himself to do these last few years. Men would know him as Arslan the Conuqueror. And his conquest would begin today, with the enemy within.
 
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Part 10- A Fool's World

November 30th, 1083

There were crows circling overhead. In all likelihood, there must be crows circling over the entire Empire. From Anatolia to Constantia to the Aegean to Epirus, Byzantium has become a banquet for crows. The thought made Andronikos look down, away from the sky.

First he looked at the horizon: the sun was setting. It was setting on Byzantium. It was setting on Andronikos. He wondered if he would ever see the sun rise again.

Then he looked at countryside: the planes of Thrace. They were strewn with the dead and dying, screams and blood and filth and mud. What had they died for? Andronikos no longer knew. No... that was a lie. They died for him. They died for a fool.

Then he looked at himself: kneeling, on the ground, caked in dirt and blood and spit and ash. He looked at his hands, he looked at the shackles that bound them. Basileus Andronikos. What a sorry sight he must be.

He heard a commotion behind him, he knew what it meant: brother, come to pay him a visit. He looked back- Jesus, he swore he could see the fat jiggle even beneath the armor. Andronikos spared a moment to mourn the fate of what poor smith must have crafted it. He should have charged twice the usual fee.

"Brother!" That... cheerfulness. He had tried to prepare himself, but it grated just the safe. This would be tort"So good to see you. It's been, how long? Six, seven years?" Michael began to dismount from his horse, and Andronikos could swear he saw relief in the beasts eyes. Eventually the Basileos managed to wobble off, a sad, ungainly sight.

Michael walked, well... rolled really, until he faced his brother. Even that little bit of exertion was enough to make him break a sweat.

"Too long, too long by half brother." Michael looked down at him, smiling. Cherish it you bastard. "So tell me brother, how are you? I hear you've been on quite an adventure!" Andronikos looked away, and that's when he saw him. Euphrosyne. Atop his horse, starring at him.

Euphrosyne. He cursed the name silently. When Andronikos moved to attack Michael, his marshal was nowhere in sight. That made the numbers between the two sides fairly even. He had still been sure of victory, then. His brother was the fool and he the conqueror. When the Doux at last arrived with his thousand men, it had made him smile, victory would be his. And indeed Euphrosyne had been the kingmaker that day.

The golden eagle joined the battle, and was chaos. All battles were chaos, war was chaos manifest, it took sometime for Andronikos to realize what had just happened. Euphrosyne had not come to seal his victory. Euphrosyne had come to crown his brother. The battle became a rout, and Andronikos now wore irons, betrayed by his own marshal.

Michael noticed Andronikos's gaze and intervened. "You'll have to forgive him brother. This war has been very hard on him. You see, Euphrosyne is that rarest kind of man, a general that actually cares about his troops. And I regret to say that you slaughtered those troops on the walls of Constantinople." He looked up at the rider with what appeared to be pity in his eyes. "I fear he will never recover."
"Traitor." He couldn't help himself
"And what does that make you brother? Hm?" Michael moved to stroke his hair, Andronikos jerked himself away. "You set this Empire aflame from end to end, is that not treason? To sack Constantinople itself?"
"I was trying to save it from a fool." The sound of his own voice surprised him: thick, battered.

Michael plunked down beside him.

"Let me tell you a story, brother: Two men are camped in the plains of Africa. In the distance, they see a lion. The lion begins to advance. One man gets up, the other man begins to put on his boots. The first man looks down 'why are you putting on your boots? You'll never outrun the lion' the second man responds 'I don't have to outrun the lion, I just have to outrun you.'" Andronikos hated Michael's stories almost as much as he hated his brother. Just be done with it.
"You're point?"
"It's a Fool's world Andronikos. I fully admit it, I'm no great conqueror, I will inspire no great songs or tales of valor. But I don't need to be clever, nor do I need to be a genius. I just need to be less of a fool than my enemies. And you, dear brother, are a great enemy to have." He could see from the gleam in his brother's eyes that he was enjoying this, every minute of it.
"The whole Empire despises you."
"Let them. Oh I love the names they give me: The Pig-Emperor. The Royal Round. Michael the Careless. Let them call me the most inept Basileos in history. So long as I remain Basileos."
Andronikos sighed. He was weary. Six years of war were coming down on his shoulders, all at once. He looked down- his soiled feet. "Just kill me."
"Kill you?!" Michael recoilled, paused "Kill my own brother? Why, I'm offended you'd think me capable of such a thing." Another pause "There's no reason to kill you brother, you have proven yourself to be quite... harmless. I might even set you free, after a while." Again, a pause "I want you around for a long time, Andronikos."

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