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Derahan

Ever doubtful
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Oct 30, 2009
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Welcome dear reader. I am presenting this first AAR of mine using the game Crusader Kings II. I’ve been interested to do an AAR using this game since it came out but I haven’t gotten around doing it as I can’t call myself a very good writer. However now the time has come for me to tell my little tale of this most magnificent game and certainly the best suited game PDS has developed for After Action Reports. I now hope that I can give you readers an AAR good enough to be worthy of this game.

Now then, on to the AAR itself, I’ve decided to play as the Latin Empire. This AAR will be a narrative one with possible updates having other formats (I reserve my right to do so here) and the AAR will start on 1 January 1238. I started the game in 1205 at the height of the Latin Empire historically. As for this AAR I won’t have it picture heavy and probably few if non in-game pictures will be featured and I plan to update this AAR on a weekly basis if not more often (although again, I reserve my right to update even biweekly or more depending on my IRL situation and other stuff). I will accept any criticism of my work and foremost my language as I am not a native speaker of English. So no more from me! Well then, let the letters tell the tale of a forgotten world…

 
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The Magyar Emperor

Prologue​


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Constantinople – Anno 12xx

The moon stood high in the sky granting its luminous light to the few citizens still walking on the streets. It was almost time for the whole city to go dark, the taverns and alike would close at soon and bring the city to sleep. But when the regular citizens sleep, those with darker intentions roam the streets of the city. At day the city of the world’s desire – Constantinople was a city filled with life and sounds but at night, even the largest city in history went silent. Not long ago, curfews had been issued and so at night only the imperial guard would be allowed to walk the streets of the city.

But at one corner of the city, on a small street lay a little tavern which was neither famous nor infamous. Above the entrance hung a small wooden sign, which could have seen better days as it was halfway of falling off from the house. The tavern, named the cheap brewer, was owned by a humble man named Leon, a Greek who was born and raised in the city who had never left it. The tavern was his home, his business and his glory. Unbeknownst to Leon his tavern would be the start of something great or if you want, horrendous, depending on your point of view.

As Leon stood in the bar cleaning some mugs whistling on a happy little song he was approached by a man dressed in a brown robe and some normal leather clothes. The man leaned against the bar and caught Leon’s attention with the scramble of his coin pouch.

“Hey you! What does a man have to do to get a mug of beer around here?” he jokingly bellowed as he sat down at a stool beside him. He put his pouch on the counter and leaned himself back on the bar. “Quickly!”

Leon glanced at the man and sighed, he was about to close down the tavern but had gotten this customer, who looked like he had seen better days, who wanted his services. “You’ll get your beer then” Leon commented on the man’s words and poured him a mug of beer.

“You better give it to me…” the man said with a grim expression. “I have not come here to play around. The curfew is on soon and I don’t want to be out here for too long.”

“If you are in a hurry then what did bring you here?” Leon asked the man as he poured a mug of beer for the man. “A man stressed at this time surely has something important to do.”

“If you only knew, but even if you did, the apostles would’ve been on to you.” The man said, glaring into Leon as if he was hinting at him.

“I see sir; I have something for you then, if you please come with me.” Firmly replied and showed for the man to follow him into the back. “They are waiting for you.”

Leon and the man walked to the back of the house, to the room where Leon stored all his barrels which were filled with beer. As he moved one of them a secret door in the floor was revealed. Leon opened the door and a small stair was revealed, dimly lit up by bleak torches. Leon nodded to the man and as the man descended he closed the hatch and walked back into his tavern, contemplating on his actions and the man he had just sent into his secret. It did not take long before the bells rang from Hagia Sofia signaling the curfew and all the customers of Leon left his tavern, and after which he locked it before going back to the hatch in the floor.

Leon opened the hatch that was the door down and descended the stairs. A small corridor was the only route ahead. He began walking to the far end of it and soon he found himself inside a small room inside which there was a table with some men sitting around it. He recognized the last man he had let in whom sat in the middle of it all and discussed with the others. As Leon stepped into the room the discussion died down and the glanced towards Leon.

“Has the curfew been announced now?” the man from earlier asked.

“It has sir, soon the guards will be out on the streets, and you will have to leave now or risk getting caught.” Leon replied and moved away from the exit.

“I see, well, thanks to you Leon and thanks for your hospitality for letting us meet in this room.” Another of the men said, he was a tall and slim man and looked like he had seen the devil in the abyss of hell, his face was completely bleak.

The rest of the men rose up from their chairs and put their mugs together in a toast. “For the true faith and the true emperor! Death to the Franks!” They exclaimed before they drank up all their drinks and left the little room. As they had all left Leon began to collect the mugs that they had left behind and as he lifted one of them he saw one of them had carved a symbol into the wooden table; it was the Orthodox cross with two swords crossed in front of it. Leon stood there for a while before he continued with collecting the mugs of his guests…
 
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The Magyar Emperor

Chapter I: Death is Only the Beginning​


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Constantinople – January 7th Anno 1238

The breeze was just as cold as ever. In a room in the royal palace a man laid in a bed, a bed coated with purple and gold just as the man was dressed in long purple robes with golden stripes. The man was emperor Baudouin the first of his name and he was lying there in his bed waiting for his death. For three decades and four years this man both expanded and defended the new catholic empire in the east and as such was view as one of the great warriors of the true faith. But even the most pious and brave of all men must someday perish and be granted access to the realm of god and none were more deserving of it than emperor Baudouin.

Apart from all the servants of that tended to the emperor there was a man sitting on a stool just beside him. The man, dressed in the same purple and golden robes as the emperor, looked on the dying Baudouin with a grim face. His golden blonde hair was a proof of his lineage as a man of the west and the very visible scar from cheek to cheek across his nose was more than enough to show he had been tested in battle. The man slowly took the hand of the emperor and clinched it as he took it and placed it in his lap. A small stream of tears fell from his left eye.

“Father... This is now how I wanted you to depart from this world. It is not worthy of an emperor.” he spoke quietly and he lowered his head almost like he bowed before the half dead man.

“Baudouin...” The emperor managed to force from his mouth. “My so...” His strength had gone; he could not finish the sentence. The emperor looked at the blonde, scarred man before he closed his eyes and took on the expression of a sleeping man.

“Father, wake up.” Baudouin said as he shook the sleeping emperor trying to get some response from him. “This is not the time.”

“I... I'm sorry my son.” The emperor answered. “Do not fear, I will soon join the saints and even god himself in paradise. The earthly realm offers me no more satisfaction.”

“But father... I don't want you to die like some old weakling in bed.” Baudouin whispered and wiped the small stream of tears away from his face.

“I am more than pleased to end my days in a bed in my home.” The emperor replied. “I never wished to end my days with bloodbaths amongst brothers. Remember this son, all men even our enemies, we are all brothers in the end and I just wished I could have made the world a better place... But I was born at the wrong age for that.”

“But father, you have! You brought justice to this corner of the world; do not take lightly on yourself.” Baudouin desperately tried to comfort his dying father.

“Oh how I wish that so would've been the case... I only brought more bloodshed to these lands in the name of our lord. All I now hope is that he will receive me in heaven and I can be at peace for the rest of my days.” the emperor explained.

“Of course you will faster.” Baudouin said and he placed the hand of his father upon the bed once more.

“I'm glad that you think so.” The emperor replied and placed both his hands with his remaining strength on his chest. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “Finally I can be at peace...”

At that moment, in the year of our lord 1238, Emperor Baudouin I Van Vlaanderen of the Latin Empire died. The room stood completely still, the servants bowing their heads in silence as a last respect to their former liege. Baudouin who had been sitting at the side of the old dying man rose up from his stool and look with anxiety on his dead father. He then turned around and walked away from the corpse and exited the room only to find that the personal guard of the emperor had gathered outside, some 40 heavily armored men stood before Baudouin.

“The emperor is dead.” He uttered with a short stern voice. Baudouin lowered his head and wondered what would happen now that his father had passed away. There was no certain answer to find in the world of men, only god knew what lay ahead of the realm.

The rasping of swords being drawn from their scabbards caught his attention and as he looked up he saw that the 40 men of his father’s bodyguard had drawn their swords and held them upwards with the point of the blade pointing towards the heavens. “The emperor is dead! Long live the emperor!” They exclaimed in unison towards Baudouin. And that was it, Baudouin Van Vlaanderen, son of Emperor Baudouin I, had been proclaimed emperor of the Latin empire at the age of 29 just moments after his father had perished in his bed.

Baudouin took a deep breath and spoke with a dark, authoritarian voice “Assemble the lords of the realm; I am to be crowned emperor.” One of the men in the hallway immediately left, the personal clerk of the emperor, his destination was for sure. He would be telling the council of the events that had transpired in the royal palace that gloomy afternoon and soon the entire realm would know if it.
 
Nice to see you over here in CKII land Derahan! :) I like this so far a narrative Latin Empire AAR, definitely like the scene you have set and wonder what is in store for Baudouin II
 
Nice to see you over here in CKII land Derahan! :) I like this so far a narrative Latin Empire AAR, definitely like the scene you have set and wonder what is in store for Baudouin II

Thanks tnick! It is really nice to hear that you like it.

And thank god you commented, It was getting lonely. :)
 
Thanks tnick! It is really nice to hear that you like it.

And thank god you commented, It was getting lonely. :)

Haha I meant to comment last night, when I first saw it but was too sleepy to really put together a coherent thought.

That and I always enjoy seeing a new narrative AAR pop up :) makes me feel a lot less lonely lol.
 
Haha I meant to comment last night, when I first saw it but was too sleepy to really put together a coherent thought.

That and I always enjoy seeing a new narrative AAR pop up :) makes me feel a lot less lonely lol.

Yepp, feels like there is fewer narratives these days.
 
The Magyar Emperor

Chapter II: Maybe Not so Holy After All.​


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Rome – January 24th Anno 1238

A long procession of old men dressed in white robes was underway in front of the pope. This day the people of Rome were granted an official church sermon conducted by the pope himself. However, as it was with the papacy, everything would take even longer than the usual sermon in a regular church. At one end of the plaza sat the pope dressed in his pompous clothes. He sat at the usual throne of the pope which was made out of pure gold, a note to everyone that the papacy was just another power-hungry institution and the pope usually was not a devote man of the faith. This particular pope – Innocentius IV had gained the papal throne by support from the Holy Roman Emperor, to whom he even took orders from… for now.

On each side of the pope stood several men, all of them were dressed in white robes with red stripes as to signify their position as papal envoys but still separate them from the cardinals (who wore a wholly red dress. Just before the sermon the pope had been meeting with his envoys who had returned from the number of realms that confessed to the catholic path of Christianity. The mission that the envoys carried with them was to control the piousness of the Christian rulers as well as granting them the papal blessing if they saw fit, in the name of the pope that is.

“Your holiness, I must say that I thank you for this occasion. It is truly a sight to see an official sermon conducted by the holy office.” The man to the right of Innocentius remarked.

“Ah so wonderful that you would think so Henri, I hope that the peasants think the same as you do.” Innocentius replied.

“Of course they do your holiness.” Henri assured the pope. “But I have matters of importance to discuss with you.”

“I thought we had already done so at the meeting earlier?” Innocentius asked as he turned to look at Henri.

Henri returned the move and gazed the pope in the eyes. “The emperor Baudouin in Constantinople is dead; his son is set to rise to the throne of their little empire. I just wanted to ask if you would grant them their blessing so that I can give it to them upon my return.”

“Well that shouldn’t be much of a problem, why did you wait till now to tell me?” the pope wondered.

“Your holiness, it is complicated, but alas, the emperor of the Byzantine Empire has somehow landed into the hands of a child.” Henri said.

“And how does this matter?” Innocentius said.

“Well you see, the emperor of the Byzantines is now an 11 year old Hungarian Catholic boy called Imre. So now there is no actual reason for us to support the Latin Empire anymore, the righteous heir to the Roman Empire has once again become Catholic and the schism has thus almost been ended.” Henri whispered as to not let the others hear.

“Oh my, indeed that is complicated. Ah well, Baudouin was he called right?” the pope asked.

“Yes your holiness.” Henri answered.

“Very well then, as their claim has been nullified by recent events, we should see how this plays out, however, if they want my blessing they will have to work for it. We will see how this ends but upon your return Henri make sure that they know whom they must bend their knees to.” Innocentius said.

“Yes your holiness.” Henri replied and he fell in line with the other envoys once again. The process neared its end and soon pope Innocentius IV stood up and had begun addressing the masses of Rome in Latin, speaking the words of the one true god. Henri had other things to contemplate however, as a Frank he could not abandon his kin in Constantinople for the upstart nomadic Magyar in Anatolia who know were titled the emperor of the Byzantine Empire. The pope wanted the Latin Empire to bend the knee to his will; a stance Henri was sure came from his association with the emperor of the HRE and his loathing of the Franks… well, except for Henri...

******

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Constantinople – February 5th Anno 1238

The ceremony had been magnificent. With almost all the resources that could be mustered for such an event, emperor Baudouin II had been crowned emperor of the Latin Empire just moments earlier. The lords of that had owned allegiance to his father had now sworn their oaths of loyalty to the new ruler of Constantinople. At the same time, the heir to the empire, Baudouin son of Baudouin, had been announced and in a small diversion, been appointed as heir to the emperor and as such was now officially the crown prince of the empire.

The ceremony had gone well but afterwards Baudouin had not been happy. After a short feast in his honor, Baudouin had retired to his office where he had welcomed Henri, the papal envoy just returned from Rome. Henri had carried vicious news to the new emperor had he had succumbed to anger as he had heard the demands of the papacy.

“I will not be pushed down by some stupid Italian in Rome!” Baudouin bellowed as he clinched is fists and leaned forward from his working chair.

“I know your highness.” Henri replied for the fifty-eleventh time. He was at this point tired of the rage the emperor had burst out in, it was understandable but it had now gone way beyond the acceptable, according to Henri though.

“Curse that bought man; he was placed on that throne just to advance the interests of the Germans. We Franks are being pressured by the pope to line up and soon we all will be executed and be vassals of the German emperor…” Baudouin said with a low voice as he leaned back on his chair and exhaled.

“I can only say that I share your views emperor, but what you need to do now is to get rid of this so called Magyar on the Byzantine throne.” Henri explained.

“But what can I do about? If I send assassins then they certainly know it is me doing it…” Henri replied. “All we can do is to continue taking his territory before he is old enough to be using his father back in Hungary to attack us on two fronts.”

“Maybe so, but there is other ways that can be pursued.” Henri said. “You can go after the mohammedans, if you become renowned for your zeal and devoutness then not even the pope can move against such a pious man. For he cannot declare holy wars ineligible anymore, not with Jerusalem under siege by the Ayyubids.”

“So you say that I must go after the ones that even those marching beneath the true cross couldn’t defeat?” Baudouin startled asked.

“Indeed your highness.” Henri replied. “That or wage war directly against this new emperor on the throne in Anatolia.”

“Curse this pope and damned be all of the Magyars!” Baudouin exclaimed. “We shall prepare the empire for war and glory shall be ours.”

“That is most excellent your highness.” Henri said and felt delighted. He had successfully managed to get the emperor into the mindset to wage war on the infidel Muslims that currently occupied the holy land. Maybe now the young boy sitting on the throne of Byzantium would be shown as a weakling… Or he could contact the other side and stage the fall of the boy emperor…
 
The Magyar Emperor

Chapter III: The Greek Lord​


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Somewhere in Anatolia – March 11th Anno 1238

Kyros reined his horse in and as he waited for his company to catch up he took a look at this surroundings and gave a small sigh. He had been in the saddle for well over two months now, something he was forced to do as the regent of the emperor Imre. His task was to inspect the realm and assure the loyalty of the lords of the remnants of the empire towards Imre. The boy emperor was sitting on fragile ground, he was a Hungarian and a catholic, something unheard of in the history of the empire and as such Kyros feared the empire would not survive his reign.

Kyros was thrown out of his contemplation as his aide rode up to his right. “Sir, it is not good if you ride so far ahead of your escort. These lands have been lawless for a long time and bandits would surely capture you given the chance.” Kyros’ aide said.

“I know Ioseph, and it will probably fall even lower… Long gone are the days of Justinian and the power of our empire.” Kyros replied as he turned to look at Ioseph. “What luck we must have been granted by god to have our lives liven at this moment in history.”

“God works in mysterious ways sir, all we can do is to live as honorable as we can.” Ioseph said.

“Honor is a luxury I cannot afford at most times. Just like Constantine the great, he knew that the work of emperors is dirty so he had himself baptized on his deathbed to completely rid himself of his sins.” Kyros lowered his head and yawned. “Now I am playing the role of emperor until Imre is old enough and my hands are most certainly going to get dirty.”

“If you ever need a pair of hands to do it sir, all you have to do is say the words, I am yours to command.” Ioseph assured Kyros. “I am your vassal and as such I will do as my liege commands.”

“That’s good Ioseph, that’s good. I will come to have use of you it seems. At least someone is going to get their hands, perhaps not dirty, but bloody.” Kyros looked behind him and saw that his escort had now reached him and Ioseph. “Alright we should be moving now, let’s go Ioseph.”

“Yes sir.” Ioseph replied.

Kyros took a firm grasp of the reins of his horse and as he made it move forward he signed for his escort to follow him. He had been gone for too long and it was now time for him to return to the side of his emperor and try to keep this empire of the boy together. Sometimes Kyros wondered why he did it, was it loyalty? He was a Greek and above all an Orthodox whom was now ruled by a catholic, something unimaginable a hundred years ago when the Komnenos ruled the empire.

God forbid how this boy came to be emperor, Kyros still couldn’t make his mind around it. It was not common for young boys to become emperors as hereditary succession had only been the custom of the empire, surely this boy would have been prevented from getting the crown? Kyros did not like it at all. After the death of the former emperor Theodore I Laskaris and his son John the empire had crumbled losing a lot of territory to the upstarts in Constantinople.

“Something has to be done.” Kyros unintentionally said aloud.

“About what sir?” Ioseph asked.

“Nothing Ioseph, don’t worry about it.” Kyros replied. It would take all his power and dedication to prevent the empire from falling, perhaps if he could influence the boy enough he could be turned into a proper Greek orthodox emperor but that would be a long shot considering his powerful relatives back in Hungary. Kyros grunted as him and his escort continued forward and back towards the seat of the imperial power.
 
I always wander if Franks ever had a chance to build a stable realm, or they were doomed from the start?
But with Hungarian Catholic on the throne in Nikea the history took a weird turn indeed.
 
I always wander if Franks ever had a chance to build a stable realm, or they were doomed from the start?
But with Hungarian Catholic on the throne in Nikea the history took a weird turn indeed.

Well it is certainly uncertain. ;)

We will see what happens with Nikea, they are after all surrounded by enemies.