How long could the goodtime last?

C-I

Being a country of fairly numerous provinces Denmark looked good in the year 1492. It's first order of business was to organize its states to be more in gear with the central government. Next it took to the district level and drained its national coffer to establish provincial tax systems. At the same time, the national army was cut to half, and the navy deprived of it's luxurious funding. This was all done by the king called Hans. He was a man of above normal intelligence, loved the high life which his position provide, and had a sense of haughty presence about him that was unnatural even in his neighborhood of fellow kings. But the reason for this was he had a big kingdom to support his presence--how ever big he felt to stretch it.

Now in the month into 1492, a royal emissary from Moscowy has send word that a royal union of bond between a man and a woman is being consider between the lovely princess of Novgorod and the king of Denmark himself! Oh joy, says Hans. But why wouldn't they just call it a royal marriage? he inquires a dignified general at his side. It's much shorter and easier to understand that way. I wouldn't know why, my lord, the solemn man replies. Maybe it has got something to do with the translation from Russian. Ah, that must be it, Ejnar. says the king. You always make things seem clearer.

And so, a word is sent to Russia, and soon after a reply is bought back with the announcement of a date for marriage. This date being accepted, all there is to do for Hans is wait. He had many a sleepless night when his body was filled with nervousness and excitement. When he finally got sleep, he dreamt what his bride looked like. But he never quite seemed to see the same face of the previous night--in fact the entire person always changed. One night it would be a fairy goddess waiting for him in the meadow, and the next would be a hook-nosed hunchback waiting for him under the patio. This disturbed him very deeply, and left him with no peace. When going about the daily business of his kingdom his mind often drifted to the one thought that sweetened his heart and tortured it at the same time. I had a dream yesterday, Gregos, he suddenly says to his butler, while chewing his breakfast. Yes, sir? the butler replies. Yes, indeed, Gregos. he says, after a pause. May I inquire what about, sir? says the servant, and pours some coffee into the royal mug. Yes, you may. says the king. What about, sir? says the servant, gently eyeing his master. I dreamt of her. says the king, in revelation. Her, sir? the knowing butler asks. Her, Gregos. the king answers. Very good, sir. says the butler, motionless. I saw her, Gregos, and she was beautiful! says the king. Really, sir? the expressionless butler replies. Yes, damnit, and she was ugly! cries the king. Beautiful and ugly, sir? asks the butler, and throws him a slight glance. Isn't that what I just said? says the king. Do you know what this means, Gregos. continues the king. I'm afraid not, sir. replies the servant, after a pause. Blockhead. says the king, I'm ruined. Really, sir? replies the same blank-expression face. Yes, you dolt. says the king, what do you think will happen to me when she really is a hunchback? A hunchback, sir? inquires the servant, looking sideways at the king, and tightening his lips to suppress a laugh. Yes! By God, this man has a monkey's brains. cries the king, extending his arms up high. Then, lowering them once more on the table, he sighs: The deal is sealed, I'm ruined.

Yes... ehm, England. That's one part I forgot to mention in the story.

c-II

writer's note: I wrote this away from home and emailed it to myself and it came out like this and I have no idea how to fix it...


The following days went by miserably for Hans; till
the day of her arrival. It was a fine, clear day when
her ship sailed steadily into the port of Copenhagen.
When the ship's anchor was dropped and its landing
procedures met with, a dandy young man in flashy royal
dressings skipped off the ship's crossing board and
skipped on ahead to announce his Princess's
arrival.

"By Jove!" cried the king, when receiving the news passed
on by the dandy messenger, "the moment of truth has
finally come!" He then hurriedly ordered his clothes
to be prepared and carriages to be drawn for his trip
to the docks. "Will your Highness be going to met the
maiden, sir?" asked a gentry, who being one of many
looking on as the king flurried about in great
agitation. "Will you stop talking nonsense!" replied
the king. "Will someone find my diamond belt? Fifty
ducats to anyone who can produce my belt!"

After flittering about for a good 20 minutes, the
king stepped into his horse-drawn carriage and made for
the docks with great speed. Waiting for him there was a
group of people in bright, fashionable dresses talking
amongst themselves and drawing many on-lookers. Behind
the crowd, their ship was being unloaded of expensive
art, gold, silver, the goods, ect. The work was being
done sluggishly and even clumsily; as many of the
workers were not accustomed to handling expensive
cargo. Suddenly a ringing shrill of that of a young
woman erupted from the crowd; it was followed by a
slight figure dashing up to a middle-aged worker
holding two silver boxes. She appeared to be having a
very disagreeable conversation with the worker--but
all he did was look down at his shoes and flush red
with anger. The carriage drew up to the crowd and
Hans, with a servant holding his hand, alighted to the
ground with great showmanship.

He looked about the gathering of people anxiously. On
the way here, he had hoped to spot a beautiful witch
or a monstrous damsel, or some being of the mixed
properties, and he wanted to get it over with quickly.
Then his eyes picked up on a clever-looking young
girl, and his heart almost leapt out of his throat.
But alas, she was but a servant girl as he eyed her
clothing. Looking about the crowd, he saw a
gigantically bellied woman with fat jewels allover and
a big hairdo. In a moment, his senses were dulled and
he felt numb allover. But luckily, the woman was
introduced to him as Mrs. Kiersted; and her husband, a
small bearded man, was the new emissary here to
relieve the old one. Heaving a sigh of relief,
Hans continued his survey once more. Suddenly, a tall
thin man, with excellent features, and an
offensively-looking curl at the corner of his mouth,
bounce-stepped up to him and made a deep bow. Hans saw
something very strange in this peculiar man: he was
well dressed and carried in his breast-pocket some
kind of small flower. At this moment, a young woman
came up behind him and looked over his shoulder at
Hans. At first, he noticed her green, crystal-shiny
eyes. Then he saw that she had been the woman who
scolded the dockworker. Her face was clear-cut, with
high cheekbones, and a thinness that somehow looked
withered and dry. She was not exactly pretty, but her
eyes possessed him. He looked at her. And she at him.
And he felt his heart almost stop as he looked
straight at her piercing gaze.

"Your Highness, this is Princess Nastasya--Count
Mussorgsky's daughter." said the young man, smiling,
as he sidestepped to reveal the figure behind his
back.

"Char--charmed, madam." stammered Hans, confused and
feeling his face red hot. He ventured to make a bow,
but his arms hung loosely at his sides and did not
listen as he leaned forward.

Princess Nastasya looked at him up and down, and
displayed a sign of slight contempt at what she saw.
She then bowed a little, too, at receiving his
greeting. But to him, her eyes wore a feeling of
isolation and distraction that followed from that day
forth.

To be fair, Hans was not a boring-looking man. In
fact, some had called him "unique". But being a king
of 40, he was spared of any laborious tasks and
enjoyed a pompous life that did not help in shaping a
lean physical body--his drooping chin and flabby
cheeks did not speak well to the opposite sex in the
form of attraction. And he felt the sting
now--stronger than ever.

The bags now sitting high in mountains on several
mule carts, the order was given to commence journey to
the palace. Princess Nastasya took her seat in a
brown carriage trailing behind the pack; with her were
her two maids and the gentleman with the curly lip,
all chattering merrily. Hans rode in the same gold
carriage he had come with and, just as before,
alone. But the trip did not give ease to his mind as
he had hoped it would; instead, it was now brooding on
a new thought--one much more embittering and
disconcerting than the one it had replaced.

a second note: I know the above has got little to do with the game, but I will try my best to mix it with the game like most fellow aar writers have done.

c-3

The days--and even month--immediately following King
Hans's marriage went by fairly sluggishly. It was what
people would call an "uneventful" period. Nothing
happened.
It was boring. The drowsy days crawled and
snailed ever so slowly and mind-numbingly before upon
the discovery and application of the "speed-up"
button. Two seconds turned into 10 days game time--but
even then it was too dull for it to feel fast.

One year after the next passed, but all was still. Why
shouldn't Denmark start now and pick a fight with a
neighbor, someone asks? Well, my friend, because the
closest neighbor, Holstein--also a vassal, and on whom
Denmark had a core shield--had an army of 30,000. It
was not that our army couldn't be as big, but it would
have eaten down to our last ducat in peacetime that it
could only be an alternative tactic. But hold! She is
a vassal of ours, so if we keep it up, maybe someday
she will willingly merge into our kingdom. Alas, the
route was cut short by our years of neglect of our
relationship with her, and whom followed up with an
response of war--together with her friends (all the
little kingdoms within her vicinity).

War! We're in war! It was strange because we've never
had a war, and don't know how to fight it. The first
battle we lost 10,000 horsemen. They were mowed down
by the bulk of that 30,000 while guarding the plain
province next to Copenhagen. Our enemy lost minimum
and promptly began to siege the province. What were we
to do? There was no more standing army save for 8000
footies and 1000 horsies posted in Norway. But they
would have doubtlessly suffered the same fate as the
previous dead if our ships were to ferry them into
combat. So
our initiative turned to Copenhagen to quickly produce
lots of men and later join in with the Norway reserves
for a decisive battle to drive the enemy out. Horsemen
costed almost double the infantry's price but if we
wanted to win they were what we needed; so we ordered
a lot and our 300 ducats treasury went straight to
the bottom. But it seemed that nothing was going our
way, for, when the horsies were halfway through
training, a sudden message came which offered us peace
for 23 ducats! Being a coward, we promptly accepted
it: they had their 23d and we got our province
back--the war was over.

c-4

I plan to continue using this format as it's just easier for me to use my email to transfer what I write from between computers as the day goes.
*****




A month went by and our state of affairs was once
again back to normal. This year's end saw another
surplus of a good hundred ducats, which translated
into a start on the colonization of our northern
provinces, and Iceland. The mission was grueling and
the weather anything but friendly. But there were hard
men who took the assignment without a blink of an eye,
or a snort of a nose, or a frown of the forehead. They
were tough men. The monstrously big
men--crimson-necked, curly haired and bearded--looked
like they were transported here from the Viking
period, or they may have skipped a level in the
Evolutionary Chain. They took the assignment without a
moment's hesitation.

"Argh matey, wot ye think ye er looking art?" said
a tall fella in a baritone voice, with body the size
of a tree trunk, and swelling veins bulging on the
side his neck.

This man's companions--each sporting dark-brown furs
and foot-long beards, looked like rabbits out of the
same nest--all stood idly around him. Their faces were
rough and unclean: strong facial muscles bulging in
lumps pushed their eyes small and narrow. They scanned
about the room. They were in a normal clerk's waiting
room. And from side to side and top to bottom the room
was never fuller. For every one of their bulky frames
stood in place of two average-sized men. If they
wanted to, the men could have actually reached up and
touched the ceiling. They looked helpless in the
tight, narrow quarters. One leaned his left hand on
the clerk's counter to balance his body; another
shuffled his feet and kept looking at his neighbors
from left to right; another kept his eyes to the
ceiling to not feel cramped and claustrophobic;
another looked exhausted and sleepy from lack of open
air; another looked like he's already asleep from
boredom.

Still, their presence was menacing. And a
smart clerk knew to not get on their bad side.

"Uh, did ye hear me speak to ye?" repeated the same
gigantic fella, with veins as swollen as ever.

"Ah, yes, of course." the clerk said quickly, in a
yielding tone. "I meant nothing by my look, sir. But I
humbly apologize."

"Uh, ye hev sumethin fer us?" said the giant, after a
pause, cocking an eye at the small clerk.

"Oh, yes. Here it is, sir." the clerked looked down
and, just remembering his task, pushed to him a stash
of papers, which he had prepared.

"Er..." the giant eyed the papers suspiciously, and
looked up again at the clerk, and said--while his
companions were crowding curiously around him to see,
"me thinks ye herv made a mistake"

"Oh, no, sir. There's no mistake." the clerk said
cheerfully; then he ostensibly took a scan of the
giants--whose frames blocked his seeing anything
else--and said, in a careful tone: "you are the
mountain climbers we asked for?"

"We er," snorted another giant; then quickly lifting a
sturdy forefinger, checked his own words by saying,
"we er not clumers, brt kings! We'r moutain kings!"
His eyes flashed as he spoke, and his teeth looked
green from age and mold.

"Ah, yes, of course, sir." the clerk said in a
soothing, even voice--not betraying a hint of
sarcasm--regardless of his inner feelings. "Now then,"
he went on, "the instructions are that we must have
you packed and ready to go sometime next week--the
supplies are already set."

"Er..." the first giant said, with a confused look
about him, and scratching his thick head of greasy
black hair, "wher er we to go?"

"Why, to the northern peaks, where else?" the
good-humored clerk replied.

"The peeks!" said many coarse voices, echoing each
other--some even looked as if swooning at the
mentioning of it.

"Yes, the peaks." said the clerk, with a smile. The
clerk was really a nice person; and he was beginning
to feel himself in group with these savages, as he
looked blinkingly from one of their faces to the
other, trying to anticipate their thoughts.

"Brt..." said the first giant, twiddling his big
thumbs, "wher will we sleep?"

"Sleep, sir?" the clerk failed to connect the dots--he
frowned.

"Err, matey, sleep!" the giant looked tired from
unable to make the small man before him understand
him. But he also really did look exhausted and
wearied, as so did his companions (a couple of whom
had dozed-off over a small table and on the floor).

"Ohhh--sleep! Yes, of course, well..." the good clerk
said as he caught sight of a little mountain of rags,
furs, patched-blankets, sacks, sticks, and blades, all
heaped together at the left corner of the room.
"Well, you must have just arrived." the clerk said to
the giant who mostly addressed him.

But the giant made no reply. He only stared into the space in
front and tried his best to keep his drooping eye-lids
from shutting.

"But, wait a minute," the clerk said as he suddenly
reached a thought. Now he came around from behind his
counter and stood close before the sleepy giant. "Do
come with me." he said, while looking up, and suddenly
realizing how big and different the giant looked from
the new position. The giant said nothing still. He
looked as if out of touch with all that's going-on around him.

The clerk looked around the room and saw a giant in the back
who was the only one not in the same stupor and called
to him.

"Hey, matey, could you give me a hand?" the clerk
said. And taking hold of each arm, they led the
giants, one after the next, out through the door and
onto the street. Being awakened from their sleep, some
of men gave a terrible start as if attacked, and jumped
up in self-defense. But on seeing nothing the matter,
they soon fell back to sleep--but not before they had
been gotten onto the street.

Soon, four mule-drawn carts were rattling over uneven
stones of the streets, carrying their cargo of human
beings--a dozen giant men to be exact--to a small inn
near the central government building of Copenhagen.
Upon arrival at their destination, the carts stopped
and six men--one giant, one office clerk, and four
mule-drivers--carried, lifted, dragged, pushed, and
pulled all twelve men into the modest inn. Then, each
of the mule-drivers came out, guided their mule to a
new direction, and rattled off. A little later, the
clerk came out. Looking satisfied and content, and with a
bounce in his step, went back to work.