Chapter 5: A disappointing peace
20 April 1444, Schloss von Hohenzollern
In most ways, Maximillian III (sometimes called Maximillian Emmanuel I) was nothing like his father, but in many more, he was. He had the same general build, although perhaps not as muscular. He had the same distaste for needless talk, and suffered fools about as well. Maximillian III was not as bright, overall, as his father, but was nearly his father's equal as an administrator.
His brother Adalbert was more oriented towards the military, and as Prinz von Aachen, that was an important role. Marshal von Retter was a superb horseman, but lacked Karl I's skill with infantry and planning ambushes. That left a place for a man of Adalbert's more direct approach to warfare. In the meantime, though, Maximillian had to fight a war against France, and that required a new General.
Joseph Clemens von Scherer was a very capable leader in his own right, although hardly fit to lead the army once commanded by Karl I. He did have a gift for moving infantry quickly, and even some knowledge of modern siege techniques, but lacked the sheer ability to inspire troops to drive hard against the enemy. The victory at Fürstenburg proved his mettle as a commander.
Coupled with the arrival of an absolutely brilliant, if somewhat awkward, young Greek by the name of Stefan Urkelopopoulos, Bayern entered into a golden age of innovation and genius.
Speaking of Stefan, Maximillian sighed, as another loud crash resounded through the palace. Stefan and Adalbert were inseparable, but Stefan's enthusiasm for science had already caused considerable damage. Half of the stables had no roof and the chickens in the village outside hadn't laid any eggs for three weeks.
This Chinese magic will lead to no good end, but at least it keeps my brother happy. He ruminated on family matters, when his Chancellor, Othon de Châteaugris, entered with a grim look on his face.
"Your Highness, our war with France is over."
Maximillian studied the Chancellor's face carefully. "And why, my lord Graf, is that a bad thing?"
Wordlessly, Othon slid the treaty across the table.
The König von Bayern registered not even the slightest hint of being perturbed. Perhaps the greatest difference between father and son was a completely lack of any passion on the part of the son. Karl would grow furious quite frequently; for Maximillian, a slight flaring of the nostrils would be the only indication of rage, and he wasn't even doing that now. "The Doge is his own man, Othon. He may decide his own foreign policy, whether or not it benefits us. What does this mean for us?"
"Very little, my liege." Othon bowed and departed.
Maximillian sat quietly, nursing a cup of wine. As he rolled the cup around in his hand, he considered what had happened to his kingdom. Bayern would have gained no territory from France, that much was obvious. Similarly, any acceptance of vassalage was sheer folly. Yet, perhaps, some ducats could have been gained, ducats that could have been used for extensive repairs and new construction throughout the realm. He frowned slightly.
Greatness will take work, that I know. Still, it is our family's destiny. He finished the cup and set it gently down.
2 June 1445, near München
The stranger hustled through the fields as quickly as he could, but his ecclesiastical garb kept tripping him up. He tore off a section of his robe to facilitate greater movement and continued to run. If he hurried, he could make the city by nightfall. It was his bad luck to collide with a guard patrol, quite literally.
"Who are you, peasant?" the leader of the patrol sneered. As the stranger spewed word after word of Czech, the guard snarled in frustration. After recognizing that the guard could not understand him, the stranger shifted to Greek; that just made things worse. The leader, now an hour past his quitting time, cuffed the stranger on the head and sent for a translator.
Wilhelm Rickauer, a native of the area, had toiled in the Chancellery for 10 years with little prospect of advancement. His father was a common soldier and his mother a gardener. That Wilhelm had won a university education was pure happenstance, mostly thanks to his impressive command of languages. Rickauer's career was forever changed when Maximillian III appointed him to the Royal Court as official interpreter, a truly prestigious post. There were already whispers that he might be chosen Vice Chancellor, if the old one passed on. Perhaps the greatest sign of his new success was that the girl he'd been after to marry him for years, a lovely young Baroness named Jenny, finally returned his affection, and they were to be married in July. That was all in the future though; for now, he was still a minor enough official that anybody could command his attention.
Wilhelm looked at the stranger with a mixture of curiosity and irritation. The stranger was clearly dressed in the garb of an Orthodox priest, yet lacked the beard common to such a position. In fact, the priest was completely clean shaven. "Who are you, stranger?"
The priest, grateful to hear his native tongue of Czech for the first time in years, excitedly proclaimed himself Otakar von Erz. As they chatted, the priest's story became much clearer. Otakar was born in 1405 to a family of Greek Orthodox worshipers in Erz. His father had ministered to the Kaiser of the Holy Roman Empire himself, when the Kaiser and Basileus of Byzantium were one and the same. Otakar took the vows himself at age 25 and moved to Bulgaria to practice his faith, which was increasingly less common in Bohemia. Then a revolution broke out.
The new ruling party of Bulgaria was quickly absorbed into the Byzantine Empire. Normally, that would be a good thing for a loyal Orthodox priest, but the Byzantines had never truly forgiven their western neighbor for deposing their leader as Kaiser. All men of the Holy Roman Empire were banned from Bulgaria and Otakar returned home. Everything seemed okay, but then, with no independent Bulgaria, a new Kaiser was chosen: Vaclav I of Bohemia.
Vaclav was an incredibly religious man, and hated all forms of heresy. The Greek Orthodox priests in Bohemia fled as quickly as they could, and that brought Otakar to Bayern.
Wilhelm absorbed this story with great interest. When Otakar was finished, the priest looked expectantly at Wilhelm. Wilhelm sighed. "What do you think I can do for you, Otakar?"
"Can you introduce me to the King?"
"Probably, but he is every bit as Catholic as the Kaiser. What do you hope to gain?"
Otakar drew himself up to his full height, and at 6'4", that was impressive indeed. "A job. Any job. I need not minister any longer, but I do need to make a livelihood."
Wilhelm whistled in appreciation of the massive individual in front of him. "You would make a fine soldier, Otakar."
Otakar hesitated for a moment. His vows, which he was not prepared to forsake, precluded him from joining any army. Yet he also knew that Bayern was at war with Tirol again, which meant the services of a strong soldier would be in great demand.
Wilhelm sensed his guest's hesitancy, and nodded once. "I understand, Otakar. For now, you can stay here; my fiancee and I have an extra room. We'll go see the local Graf in the morning; Joseph Gabrieles de Bragança is both the Marshal and a very kind man, and I think he might help you."
31 January 1448, Nürnberg
Maximillian looked around the throne room.
Too much black. Why do people weep so for my brother, who I myself hardly knew?
The exact details of Adalbert's death were still a mystery, and would probably remain so. Some of the more radical rumors had a former Askanien being indirectly involved, but surely that was false, just as the rumors of a connection between the death of Adalbert and General Scherer a few months before were just as ridiculous. Some peasants blamed the appearance of a comet in 1446 for the deaths, which was the most absurd reason of all.
The most visibly distraught was Brünnhilde Neferet -- no, von Hohenzollern again -- his new bride. They'd been courting since 1447, as Brünnhilde was an ambitious woman: being Grafin von Kempten wasn't enough for her. Maximillian neither particularly desired nor detested her, as he felt very little for any human being. If it was good for the kingdom, it was good for him, and a Königin was important to ensure the dynasty's continuation. In fact, although they were keeping things quiet, Brünnhilde was already pregnant. Brünnhilde was a useful ruler too, arguing very successfully in favor of a National Bank for Bayern.
The loans required to fight the war against France were all but paid off, mostly thanks to her hard work. She also argued for a fresh campaign against Tirol in 10 years time, this time for the city of Worms.
The creation of the County of Pfalz added another voice at
Reichsrat, but a loyal one, as Adalbert's beloved friend Stefan was given the title, again at Brünnhilde's urging.
As Maximillian sat watching the crowd grieve for his brother, all the König could think about was how much more damage Stefan could do to royal property with the new income.
17 November 1449, Nürnberg
Of all the jobs that could have been envisioned for Otakar von Erz, late of Bohemia, the most unlikely was the one he actually received: tutor to the Prinz von Aachen, Theodor.
Even more curiously, it was the Archbishop of Nürnberg, Thomas of Zweifalten, who'd recommended him. Otakar had indeed served, briefly, in the war against Tirol, but with no particular distinction or talent. In fact, his service consisted entirely of piking himself in the foot during a parade exercise. The Catholic Church of Bayern ran the hospital in which he'd stayed, and after trying to convert a few souls in his broken German, the Archbishop himself had appeared, ready to banish the interloper. Instead, they shared plenty of arguments (in Greek, thankfully for Otakar) on the nature of God and found themselves much closer to agreement than outright hatred. Over many a cup of wine, both pined for the loss of one universal church. When young Theodor was born, Thomas immediately insisted the job be given to the brilliant Otakar, with Wilhelm Rickauer instructing the Prinz in languages. Since Czech was unlikely to be of much use to the young heir, the instruction from Otakar would be in Greek, while Wilhelm would teach the rest. It was an unusual system, but the infant Theodor seemed not to mind, and loved both of his uncles.
Otakar also felt a partial moment of redemption when the new Kaiser, Jiri I, rescinded the order that expelled all Greek Orthodox from Bohemia. Yet he felt even happier when the same Kaiser officially recognized Bayern's title to Schwyz and Schwaben.
The truth was, he no longer thought much about Bohemia. His home, and the home of his descendants (if he had any), would be forever Bayern.
Since we're at fifty years in, the next update (scheduled for Tuesday) will be purely gameplay and give a quick overview of the world. I'll play next week sometime and have new narrative updates for you no later than next weekend.