Homelands
Chapter Thirty Seven: Cursed Lands
Part 2
Prelude:
Phillip of Austria, installed as Duke of that region by King Vishly, was impaled for attempting to start a revolt in the south-western corner of the Empire. Gunvald's followers were once again on the run or in hiding. The brutality of the Forth Impaling gave insight into the condition of the King and his followers. Unlike the precise, fear inducing attacks of the past, Vishly's more recent work was sloppy, random and lacked the sense of precision of previous incarnations. It might have instilled more fear in the populace, but they felt a certain weakening in the King's grip on reality and his grip on the throne. His allies ceased to exist, victims of paranoia or a sudden strike of common sense. Those who were not killed, quickly left the court, attempting to take up diplomatic positions abroad. Meanwhile, Butovit was proving himself to be much of the same. He lashed out against his maids, his guards, his own court. A violent and wicked boy, he had no friends, only a few who were too frightened not to pretend to enjoy his company. Word eventually leaked that he had three bastard children, all the result of his sexual assault on his maids. Vishly simply brushed the charges (as well as the maids and their children) off the table and into a trash bin. Terror gripped much of Prussia as they began to fear for the worse, that Gunvald was not going to be the savior they needed.
December 18th, 1337
On a cold December night a small caravan passed through the foothills surrounding Vienna. The chill night was silent and a light snow blew amongst the wheels and feet of the caravan, which slowly made its way around tight and twisting roads. The people that stood around the wagons wore block hoods over their armor, and the occupants wore the hoods over their finery. The stench of death lingered over the lead car. In the second car sat a regal figure, his face bundled against the cold, beside him sat a small boy, perhaps ten, and a young woman, her skin a shade darker than his. Not a single word was spoken, everyone remained silent and in a state of mourning. Every now and then the wind would pick up, or a wagon cover would flap, or a person would cough and break the silence. Even the children understood the gravity of the situation and were still.
The caravan passed a few wolves as they rested by the side of the road. Their pack was well fed and only watched as the people passed by, the male howled, tipping his head back and sitting on all fours. Eventually the caravan left the side of the foothills and entered a forest, further encasing the darkness around the occupants. Amongst the trees the people were sheltered from the wind and snow, but now around them began to emerge the bodies of the recently impaled and dumped. The caravan stopped and the soldiers began to pick up the frozen bodies, and piling them in the trailing cars. The caravan continued, slowly, so that the soldiers could keep grabbing bodies. After the forest was cleared, the group picked up speed again, headed out of Austria and into Hungary.
By dawn they were in Hungary, and by night fall they were entering Pest. There a mausoleum had been constructed, originally for the Fraternal dead of the civil war, now opened for the dead of Vishly's Fourth Impaling. Gunvald stepped out of the second wagon and helped his guards remove the casket of Phillip of Austria.
"May I see the deceased?" asked the head priest at the mausoleum, "I wish to give him his last rites and bless the body."
"There is little left to be blessed, father, and for the sake of the children I ask that our friend Phillip remain in the box, so that we can regard him as he looked in life... not in death," Gunvald said. But he did stop so that the priest could bless the casket and its contents.
"I guess martyrs have little need for the blessing of mere mortals."
"I guess not," Gunvald replied, picket the box up again and continuing into the depths of the mausoleum. Beside him walked Doyvát and Viba, both wearing black for mourning. Behind them the dead were loaded into caskets, blessed and carried down into the depths with a silent efficiency. Many of Gunvald's allies gathered in Pest. They too commemorated the death of Phillip, but also began to shift to more serious talk of rebellion and war.
"How much longer must we wait, Gunvald? Shall we wait for Butovit to sit on the throne, or maybe his son?" asked the Prince of Moldavia. The Bessarabian Princes all nodded, the Hungarians voiced their agreement.
"My father's strength falters. If we struck tomorrow, he'd be weaker than he is today. But if we strike next week, he'd be seven times weaker then he will be tomorrow."
"What are you saying?"
"We strike soon, but we need time to organize. That is our biggest weakness, and the biggest weakness of the Fraternal Rebellion... weakness. We need to train professional soldiers. We need to plan attacks and strategies. We need to cement control over important cities and principalities. The war starts now, but it starts domestically... we must cement our own authority in our lands."
"And when shall we cross swords with your father?"
"Five years," Gunvald said. It was the first time he had ever given a timeline, and people looked unhappy,
"Two years," the lead Prince said, "we cannot keep pushing this off."
"Fine," Gunvald said, "we are to begin in the spring of 1340. Is that soon enough? Two and a half years?"
"That will work," the Prince said. "What do you suggest we do until then?"
"Train your armies. We cannot rely on levies. We cannot rely on small groups of armored knights. The key is professional soldiers."
"You ask us to forget our roots?"
"I ask you to try to last longer than last time. The time of levies and knights is past us, the time for professional soldiers is here, it is now. If we do not update ourselves, we will lose. We will lose just as you lost last time... and I fear there will not be a third try. We must topple my father this time, or we have failed."
"And if we fail to topple him?"
"We will take what we can get... even if it is just Hungary or the Carpathians... we must not lose everything. Prussia grows weak, she is too big, too fat, too hungry... she will collapse soon enough," Gunvald said, his eyes never wavering, showing the strength in his beliefs that his voice could not.
"We've heard your plans to divide the Empire... how far will you go?"
"All the way. I would cleave even Poland from Prussia."
"And afterwards? What are we to do afterwards?"
"Afterwards you are no longer my vassals. You will do nothing but what common sense dictates to you. Though we should all try to remain allies so that we can resist the Caliph and the Romans if need be."
"You fear the Romans would invade the southern states?"
"I do, but to be honest... the point would be making it so it isn't my problem."
Gunvald's first plan for Prussia after his father's toppling.
