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I feel for you. However, I don't have the skill to survive as any of the Hindu nations in the 1399 scenario. If it had been 1453 I might have gone as Vijyanananananangr, as they're a medium power by then. I tried with Rajputana and Vijyanawhatsit, but I had difficulty getting to critical mass so that I could take on the bigger baddies like Deccan and Delhi. In essence, playing a Hindu nation would have been an unacceptable crapshoot - the narrative suffers if one of the nations gets snuffed out early on. Unlike in an SP AAR, you can't just rewind and try again. Delhi also had an appealing starting narrative with the true story of Timur sacking it in 1398.
True... if only there was an event to convert... makes stability so much easier for Indian Muslims... Still, go kill Timur.
Aww thanks!
Well, as Saithis said... not if she has anything to say about it! And of course, I'll be trying to get some too... if I survive long enough, that is.
...the bar wench winks at the Dane and asks 'Is that a longship in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?'
I'm Erik Knýtling, King of Denmark. I drew this myself.
...wait a second, wrong AAR.
Hi there, I'm Erik, King of Denmark. Unlike my pathetic excuse for an ancestor, I actually have power, wealth, and mental stability beyond the level of a drunken ox. I also have a mighty fine lack of beard, and my wife is bitchin' hot. In short, I'm everything Knud Knýtling wanted to be, but wasn't.
I'm a mighty fine example of the Danish power at its height. Not only am I King of Denmark, but I also inherited the kingdoms of Sweden and Norway. As leader of the Kalmar Union, I have the chance to keep Scandinavia united as one nation and rule the baltic once and for all.
I look to the west, across the North Sea. There the Norman King of England stands tall and proud amidst the ruins of France - the great Hundred Years war rages on and throughout the last century, most nations in Western Europe have gotten involved. Now, at last, France is starting to unite and push the English back. Down to just Calais and Aquitaine, they will be desperate to turn the tide.
I think it's clear what the Kalmar Union should be preparing itself to do.
See this? It's all gonna be ours, bitches. Just you try and stop us.
We intend to work behind England's back and create a second front - to aid the native Celts in resisting their expansionism. Together with the Irish and the Scots, perhaps we can defeat the English King once and for all, and Denmark's old lands will return to her.
In the short term, of course, we have to look to the east. The lands of the Baltic must be dominated for this to happen - I require more power and more and those funny looking people from Prussia should do the trick.
I've got some mighty fine ideas about how Denmark should handle itself in the future. With an array of naval and economic based advisors, our future development should be obvious. Denmark's fleets must grow, and our traders must rule the world. If we can accomplish those two things, well...there will be nothing we can't do.
"The Teutonic Order." Pah. Thankfully, we've got something up our sleeve for them - Sweden and Denmark both have claims on the isle of Gotland which they wrested from our control in the not too distant past. It's time to reclaim what is rightfully ours. These bible-humping sons-of-bitches are going down.
In the mean time, if you'll excuse me, I've got drinking to do and whores to make merry with - the life of a successful viking is busy, after all.
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"We might get another recruit at some point"
Saithis
Hi, I'm the recruit. I'm probably gonna be joining tonight, or so Artell (Delhi) tells me.
I'll be playing Japan, but I'm very new to the game and I haven't worked up an intro yet. I will say this however: Expect something Western and brutal, assuming my writing doesn't fail me (I've been told I'm a good writter, but I can't see much evidence of it myself :wacko
Saithis
Hi, I'm the recruit. I'm probably gonna be joining tonight, or so Artell (Delhi) tells me.
I'll be playing Japan, but I'm very new to the game and I haven't worked up an intro yet. I will say this however: Expect something Western and brutal, assuming my writing doesn't fail me (I've been told I'm a good writter, but I can't see much evidence of it myself :wacko
Well, today's game fell apart and we didn't get very far at all - we're limited by mid-week timetables and absolutely everything that could have gone wrong, did, despite a perfect rehearsal for the game. We've got some day 1 stuff but pretty much nothing else. This means we have to wait until Friday next week to get started. I'm happy that so many people have showed interest and I hope we'll be able to satisfy it - I'm sure some people here still have some posts they can make regarding their nations before we begin properly...so...
1 week!
1 week!
A Frenchman walks into the bar, dragging a dead body behind him. "He's just sleeping," he insists.
The year was 1399 and the Kingdom of France was, to put it bluntly, a mess.
For the past seventy years, the people of France had known only three possible situations: war with England, recovering from war with England, and being forced to speak English at a spearpoint.
The year 1399 promised no significant changes to this routine. England might have been briefly limited to the shores of Aquitaine, but France itself was tearing itself apart at the seams. The primary source for this division is unclear. It might have been the French aristocracy's continued affection for the waning feudal system. It might have been the lack of law and order that inevitably comes after seventy years of revolving door warfare. Or it might have been the fact that Charles VI, King of France, was stark raving mad.
For seven years, Charles' madness had been a point of contention between his uncle Philip, Duke of Burgundy, and his brother Louis, Duke of Orleans. It would be unfair to say they could agree on nothing. For example, they agreed that Charles' spontaneous killing of half a dozen of his own knights was the act of a madman. They also agreed that a madman was not the ideal ruler of France. And they agreed that, therefore, one of the King's royal relatives should step up as regent and rule all of France in his stead.
It had been found, however, that the question of which royal relative should serve as the King's regent was substantially more divisive.
Unfortunately for Louis, while the point might have been divisive, it was not as contested as he might have hoped, as Philippe had been present for Charles's defining act of madness and had been able to acquire the chief position on the new regency council through the sacred ancient ritual of "called it."
This, ultimately, was the reason that Jean-Baptiste de Chabot, proud and upstanding practitioner of the second oldest profession in the world, found himself in the halls of the manor of Louis de Valois, Duke of Orleans.
"You," de Chabot said, after long consideration, "are completely insane."
Louis was not enthused with this assessment.
"What the hell is so difficult about it? It seems like a simple enough job to me!"
"You want me to kill the King's uncle," de Chabot insisted, "Do you have any idea how expensive that would be even if I could do it?"
"Not kill," Louis replied, in the tone of voice commonly affected by those who thought they had more of a point than they actually did, "dethrone. I don't necessarily want him dead. I just want him not the Duke of Burgundy. If he's not the Duke of Burgundy, his credibility with the Queen will collapse, and he'll lose control of the regency."
"I don't think you've thought this..."
"Will you take the damn job or not? I'm offering you a big pile of money and the Duchy of Burgundy! This should not be that difficult a decision!"
de Chabot smirked. "If you insist, Your Highness."
* * *
Philippe II, Duke of Burgundy, was already not have a good morning when the messenger arrived during lunch.
"Yes, yes," he said, before the messenger had a chance to open his mouth, "what is it?"
"Well, my lord," the messenger began, very much aware of the quality of the Duke's morning thus far, "as I'm sure you are very much aware, you recently ordered that, as part of your brilliant plan to strengthen the Kingdom, you... reined in certain privileges of some of the more geographically challenged nobility of Burgundy."
"You mean the excitable fellows who forgot which side of the war they were on, yes."
"Well... er..." the messenger stuttered before taking a few steps back and blurting out, "they're revolting, sir."
* * *
And, somewhere on a hill, in eastern Burgundy, Jean-Baptise de Chabot, drunk well off on his rocker on some of the best wine he'd had in years, reared up on a very fine horse most generously provided by the Duke of Orleans, surrounded by an army of very aggrieved noblemen with axes to grind and swords to kill people with, and shouted, "WOOH!"
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Just a short update for those longing for info, we've managed to play about 12 years this evening, so expect the updates to flock in over the weekend...
A Japanese man walks into the bar - his european friends step over it.
[20:14] <Werewolf> Bad news, hamachi won't work...
...and then there were seven...
Without any other recourse, we set upon the journey of playing our intro game, kicking some asses and taking names. Sort of. Some of us kicked ass. Some things went our way, some things didn't.
29th of August, 1411 AD
(Click for full sized map.)
(Click for full sized map.)
(Click for full sized map.)
(Click for full sized map.)
Behold our awesome, our majesty, our power. And when our players get around to writing up their posts, you should behold just what happened to get here. That's right, what you have seen is spoiler-tastic.
The full update leaderboards in light of our session are following. I've adopted a new, objective system of rating countries which I believe is much, much more accurate.
Below you can see the current ratings of each player in various areas. These are rough estimations (rounded in the case of army size and points), and current strength is considered much more important than /potential/ strength, so don't be surprised if leaderboard positions change rapidly based on what's happening. This is just to give us some fun stats for comparison. Also, vassals and personal unions are included but are less valuable as far as land area is concerned.
Army:
1. Bohemia - 1k inf, 12k cav; 64,178/64,178 - (108.5)
2. Burgundy - 16k inf, 14k cav; 20,888/20,744 - (53)
3. Denmark - 7k inf, 18k cav; 13,862/22,500 - (46.75)
4. Delhi - 7k inf, 5k cav; 15,696/17,172 - (32.5)
5. Papal States - 2k inf, 11k cav; 11,257/11,538 - (29)
6. Byzantium - 5k inf, 6k cav; 2,179/2,466 - (11.75)
7. Leinster - 1k inf, 1k cav; 1,100/2,026 - (3.5)
Navy:
1. Denmark - 7 carracks, 8 galleys, 12 cogs (15)
2. Papal States - 4 carracks, 3 galleys, 2 cogs (6.25)
3. Burgundy - 1 carrack, 6 cogs (3)
4. Leinster - 1 carrack, 2 cogs (1.25)
5. Byzantium - No Ships (0)
5. Bohemia - No Ships (0)
5. Delhi - No Ships (0)
Economy:
1. Burgundy - 47.2 ducats/month (47.25)
2. Denmark - 45.5 ducats/month (45.5)
3. Delhi - 21.4 ducats/month (21.5)
4. Papal States - 20.8 ducats/month (20.75)
5. Leinster - 14.9 ducats/month (15)
6. Bohemia - 10 ducats/month (10)
7. Byzantium - 5.6 ducats/month (5.5)
Prestige:
1. Denmark - 34 (6.75)
2. Papal States - 30 (6)
3. Delhi - 28 (5.5)
4. Burgundy - 20 (4)
5. Leinster 9 (1.75)
6. Bohemia - -15 (-3)
7. Byzantium - -76 (-15)
Land Area:
1. Denmark - 11/28* (25)
2. Delhi - 16 (16)
3. Burgundy - 4/11* (9.5)
4. Bohemia - 7 (7)
5. Byzantine Empire - 6 (6)
6. Papal States - 5 (5)
7. Leinster - 4 (4)
1. Bohemia - 1k inf, 12k cav; 64,178/64,178 - (108.5)
2. Burgundy - 16k inf, 14k cav; 20,888/20,744 - (53)
3. Denmark - 7k inf, 18k cav; 13,862/22,500 - (46.75)
4. Delhi - 7k inf, 5k cav; 15,696/17,172 - (32.5)
5. Papal States - 2k inf, 11k cav; 11,257/11,538 - (29)
6. Byzantium - 5k inf, 6k cav; 2,179/2,466 - (11.75)
7. Leinster - 1k inf, 1k cav; 1,100/2,026 - (3.5)
Navy:
1. Denmark - 7 carracks, 8 galleys, 12 cogs (15)
2. Papal States - 4 carracks, 3 galleys, 2 cogs (6.25)
3. Burgundy - 1 carrack, 6 cogs (3)
4. Leinster - 1 carrack, 2 cogs (1.25)
5. Byzantium - No Ships (0)
5. Bohemia - No Ships (0)
5. Delhi - No Ships (0)
Economy:
1. Burgundy - 47.2 ducats/month (47.25)
2. Denmark - 45.5 ducats/month (45.5)
3. Delhi - 21.4 ducats/month (21.5)
4. Papal States - 20.8 ducats/month (20.75)
5. Leinster - 14.9 ducats/month (15)
6. Bohemia - 10 ducats/month (10)
7. Byzantium - 5.6 ducats/month (5.5)
Prestige:
1. Denmark - 34 (6.75)
2. Papal States - 30 (6)
3. Delhi - 28 (5.5)
4. Burgundy - 20 (4)
5. Leinster 9 (1.75)
6. Bohemia - -15 (-3)
7. Byzantium - -76 (-15)
Land Area:
1. Denmark - 11/28* (25)
2. Delhi - 16 (16)
3. Burgundy - 4/11* (9.5)
4. Bohemia - 7 (7)
5. Byzantine Empire - 6 (6)
6. Papal States - 5 (5)
7. Leinster - 4 (4)
* - Numbers marked with an asterisk are provinces owned by player's vassals or members of a personal union.
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Burgundy: 1399-1411: Part I: Rise of the House of Chabot
The Frenchmen opens up a celebratory bottle of champagne...
The campaign had taken only six months, two of which had been spent on the longest party of de Chabot's life following the capture of the Franche-Comte. It had been a long, hard slog through the Burgundian countryside and the haphazard force of a thousand mercenaries Philippe had thrown together in his only attempt thus far to stop their advance. de Chabot got the feeling the Duke's heart wasn't really into it.
Despite the meager resistance, it was still not until July 1st, 1401, that Jean-Baptiste de Chabot marched into the halls of the Duke's palace at Dijon, and formally took the surrender of the lords of the surrounding lands.
Around the point that he was halfway through receiving formal proclamations of surrender and oaths of fealty, and no longer really paying attention, an idea formed in de Chabot's mind. Being Duke of Burgundy was fine and all, but he had never been particularly enamored of the mad French king or either of his two prospective whipping boys.
Burgundy had not always been a French duchy. de Chabot had never been one to study history, but he definitely remembered that a mere twenty years ago, there had been a Kingdom of Burgundy, even if only on paper.
"...do acknowledge you," the current nobleman kneeling before de Chabot droned, "as rightful Duke of Burgundy, and swear my eternal fealty to..."
"King."
The nobleman looked up, slightly bewildered. "M'lord?"
"King of Burgundy," de Chabot explained. He then rose to his feet and shouted at the nobility who had already sworn loyalty and were already happily making their way home so they could get back to oppressing peasants.
"You heard me! King of Burgundy! Now everyone get back into line and let's do it again."
And so it was that on August 28th, 1401, Jean-Baptiste de Chabot, Duke of Burgundy, was crowned Jean-Baptiste I, the first independent King of Burgundy in almost four hundred years.
In early January of 1402, the new King consulted with his advisors - Louis-Henri de Roye, a skilled general whose innovative tactics and strategy were the stuff of legend. Jules de Brachet, a skilled general whose innovative tactics and strategy were not the stuff of legend, but considerable none the less. And Eustache de Rochebaron, a rather bad artist the King employed because he had a spare spot in the court and there was no one better available.
"This is insane!" de Roye unhelpfully observed, "You can't honestly expect the King of France to..."
"I'm fairly certain the King of France has larger problems to worry about than a breakaway duchy," Jean-Baptiste replied, "England, for example. Or his brother."
"Even so," de Roye sputtered, "What exactly is this going to accomplish? You would have enjoyed a great deal of independence even as a Duke! Why would you..."
Jean-Baptiste sighed. "Louis, look. I'm a warrior. That's what I do. As far as I'm concerned, Burgundy is just one last, very large mercenary company. And if I claim to be rebuilding the Kingdom of Burgundy I can get away with invading Savoy."
"Whatting Savoy?" de Roye demanded hysterically.
"Invading," de Brachet explained in a rather condescending tone, "It's this thing you do where you take an army and go rummage about their countryside looking for loose peasant women and laying siege to castles."
de Roye gave him a good, long, look. de Brachet smiled innocently.
"It's still dangerous," de Roye insisted, "Savoy is part of the Empire. If we invade, isn't Bohemia honor-bound to defend them?"
"Please, Louis," Jean-Baptiste said, "do you really think I'm that generous? What do you think was in that present I sent to the King of Bohemia?"
"Er... gold?"
"Close. It was actually a small pile of gold, an offer of alliance, and a message informing His Majesty that Burgundy had joined the Holy Roman Empire."
"Well," de Roye said, "We... um... still need a cassus bellum."
"Why the hell do you think I agreed to marry the Count's sister?"
"Charm and good looks?" de Rachet offered. de Roye hit him.
"Now," Jean-Baptiste said, "I've already gone about the business of claiming the throne of Savoy, so is there any actual news you want to bring me?"
"Well, quite a few of the nobility have been asking if they could take over several of the Church's funds in exchange for money," de Rochebaron said, "I'm not sure if that's such a..."
"Money. Sold."
"Sire, there is a longterm loss of..."
"I'm sorry, were you not paying attention? They are offering to give us money. Money is good. We want money. What part of this progression escapes you?"
"I... uh... very well, sire."
Jean-Baptiste rose to conclude the meeting. He was halfway out the door when he turned around and said, "Oh, and one other thing. The state of our armies makes no goddamn sense. Seriously, there's one guy who showed up for the rebellion with just his wife holding a frying pan and called it a regiment of infantry. Do something about that, will you?"
* * *
Alas, history does not record the exact date on which the Kingdom of Burgundy declared war on the County of Savoy, likely due to some Burgundian official being lazy in his duties as an archivist. However, it does record how, on February 14th, 1402 His Majesty Jean-Baptiste I joined his army of three thousand infantry and three thousand cavalry in the field in the Franche-Comte, to prepare to cross the border into Savoy.
His original plan was to allow the Savoyards to make the first move. The river running between the Franche-Comte and Savoie was a strong strategic advantage to the defending army, and he was confident enough in the Savoyard's impulsiveness to allow them to make the first move.
This plan was about to be shattered.
At noon that day, as Jean-Baptiste emerged from his tent for a spot of fresh air, he was greeted by a messenger.
"M'lord! M'lord!" the messenger shouted, running through the camp toward him.
"Um... yes?" Jean-Baptiste offered, still not entirely certain how to go about receiving royal messages.
"I bring word from our allies, sire," the messenger said, "Switzerland, Elsass, and Wurttemburg have all refused to join the war."
"Son of a whore," Jean-Baptiste muttered, "What about our vassal Flanders?"
"We're not actually allied with them, apparently, sire."
"You're joking."
"Afraid not, sire."
"...well, surely, /some/ allies joined the war effort."
"Yes, sire! The Duke of Lorraine honored his alliance."
There was a long, awkward silence.
"...Lorraine is allied with Savoy," Jean-Baptiste explained.
"Yes, sire," the messenger said, downcast, "I was hoping to break the news gently."
"...they're marching on Dijon as we speak, aren't they?"
"Yes, sire."
Jean-Baptiste immediately turned on his heel and walked back into the tent. "Alright!" he shouted, "Pack it up! I'm turning this army around!"
To be continued...
The Frenchmen opens up a celebratory bottle of champagne...
The campaign had taken only six months, two of which had been spent on the longest party of de Chabot's life following the capture of the Franche-Comte. It had been a long, hard slog through the Burgundian countryside and the haphazard force of a thousand mercenaries Philippe had thrown together in his only attempt thus far to stop their advance. de Chabot got the feeling the Duke's heart wasn't really into it.
Despite the meager resistance, it was still not until July 1st, 1401, that Jean-Baptiste de Chabot marched into the halls of the Duke's palace at Dijon, and formally took the surrender of the lords of the surrounding lands.
Around the point that he was halfway through receiving formal proclamations of surrender and oaths of fealty, and no longer really paying attention, an idea formed in de Chabot's mind. Being Duke of Burgundy was fine and all, but he had never been particularly enamored of the mad French king or either of his two prospective whipping boys.
Burgundy had not always been a French duchy. de Chabot had never been one to study history, but he definitely remembered that a mere twenty years ago, there had been a Kingdom of Burgundy, even if only on paper.
"...do acknowledge you," the current nobleman kneeling before de Chabot droned, "as rightful Duke of Burgundy, and swear my eternal fealty to..."
"King."
The nobleman looked up, slightly bewildered. "M'lord?"
"King of Burgundy," de Chabot explained. He then rose to his feet and shouted at the nobility who had already sworn loyalty and were already happily making their way home so they could get back to oppressing peasants.
"You heard me! King of Burgundy! Now everyone get back into line and let's do it again."
* * *
And so it was that on August 28th, 1401, Jean-Baptiste de Chabot, Duke of Burgundy, was crowned Jean-Baptiste I, the first independent King of Burgundy in almost four hundred years.
In early January of 1402, the new King consulted with his advisors - Louis-Henri de Roye, a skilled general whose innovative tactics and strategy were the stuff of legend. Jules de Brachet, a skilled general whose innovative tactics and strategy were not the stuff of legend, but considerable none the less. And Eustache de Rochebaron, a rather bad artist the King employed because he had a spare spot in the court and there was no one better available.
"This is insane!" de Roye unhelpfully observed, "You can't honestly expect the King of France to..."
"I'm fairly certain the King of France has larger problems to worry about than a breakaway duchy," Jean-Baptiste replied, "England, for example. Or his brother."
"Even so," de Roye sputtered, "What exactly is this going to accomplish? You would have enjoyed a great deal of independence even as a Duke! Why would you..."
Jean-Baptiste sighed. "Louis, look. I'm a warrior. That's what I do. As far as I'm concerned, Burgundy is just one last, very large mercenary company. And if I claim to be rebuilding the Kingdom of Burgundy I can get away with invading Savoy."
"Whatting Savoy?" de Roye demanded hysterically.
"Invading," de Brachet explained in a rather condescending tone, "It's this thing you do where you take an army and go rummage about their countryside looking for loose peasant women and laying siege to castles."
de Roye gave him a good, long, look. de Brachet smiled innocently.
"It's still dangerous," de Roye insisted, "Savoy is part of the Empire. If we invade, isn't Bohemia honor-bound to defend them?"
"Please, Louis," Jean-Baptiste said, "do you really think I'm that generous? What do you think was in that present I sent to the King of Bohemia?"
"Er... gold?"
"Close. It was actually a small pile of gold, an offer of alliance, and a message informing His Majesty that Burgundy had joined the Holy Roman Empire."
"Well," de Roye said, "We... um... still need a cassus bellum."
"Why the hell do you think I agreed to marry the Count's sister?"
"Charm and good looks?" de Rachet offered. de Roye hit him.
"Now," Jean-Baptiste said, "I've already gone about the business of claiming the throne of Savoy, so is there any actual news you want to bring me?"
"Well, quite a few of the nobility have been asking if they could take over several of the Church's funds in exchange for money," de Rochebaron said, "I'm not sure if that's such a..."
"Money. Sold."
"Sire, there is a longterm loss of..."
"I'm sorry, were you not paying attention? They are offering to give us money. Money is good. We want money. What part of this progression escapes you?"
"I... uh... very well, sire."
Jean-Baptiste rose to conclude the meeting. He was halfway out the door when he turned around and said, "Oh, and one other thing. The state of our armies makes no goddamn sense. Seriously, there's one guy who showed up for the rebellion with just his wife holding a frying pan and called it a regiment of infantry. Do something about that, will you?"
* * *
Alas, history does not record the exact date on which the Kingdom of Burgundy declared war on the County of Savoy, likely due to some Burgundian official being lazy in his duties as an archivist. However, it does record how, on February 14th, 1402 His Majesty Jean-Baptiste I joined his army of three thousand infantry and three thousand cavalry in the field in the Franche-Comte, to prepare to cross the border into Savoy.
His original plan was to allow the Savoyards to make the first move. The river running between the Franche-Comte and Savoie was a strong strategic advantage to the defending army, and he was confident enough in the Savoyard's impulsiveness to allow them to make the first move.
This plan was about to be shattered.
At noon that day, as Jean-Baptiste emerged from his tent for a spot of fresh air, he was greeted by a messenger.
"M'lord! M'lord!" the messenger shouted, running through the camp toward him.
"Um... yes?" Jean-Baptiste offered, still not entirely certain how to go about receiving royal messages.
"I bring word from our allies, sire," the messenger said, "Switzerland, Elsass, and Wurttemburg have all refused to join the war."
"Son of a whore," Jean-Baptiste muttered, "What about our vassal Flanders?"
"We're not actually allied with them, apparently, sire."
"You're joking."
"Afraid not, sire."
"...well, surely, /some/ allies joined the war effort."
"Yes, sire! The Duke of Lorraine honored his alliance."
There was a long, awkward silence.
"...Lorraine is allied with Savoy," Jean-Baptiste explained.
"Yes, sire," the messenger said, downcast, "I was hoping to break the news gently."
"...they're marching on Dijon as we speak, aren't they?"
"Yes, sire."
Jean-Baptiste immediately turned on his heel and walked back into the tent. "Alright!" he shouted, "Pack it up! I'm turning this army around!"
To be continued...
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Burgundy: 1399-1411: Part II: The Pope is a Dick
...and gets hit over the head by the Pope.
Jean-Baptiste hurried his men back to Dijon, all the while sending out proclamations calling for mercenary regiments to join the fight. With both Savoy and Lorraine turned against her, Burgundy was badly outnumbered and they were going to need as many troops as they could get.
Jean-Baptiste met the armies of Charles, Duke of Lorraine, outside Dijon. Though hampered by the unfavorable terrain, Jean-Baptiste's superior numbers of cavalry and tactical brilliance enabled him to defeat Charles and drive him back into Lothringen.
It was the first of what would be many Battles of Bourgogne, as the war raged back and forth across eastern Burgundy. It was also the day that he walked into the Royal Palace in Dijon to find an all-too familiar face waiting for him.
There, as he entered the throne room, with what looked to be a teenage boy at her side, was Marie Villeneuve.
"Jean-Baptiste de Chabot!" she shouted, storming across the throne room with a furious look on her face. Jean-Baptiste immediately decided he would rather be anywhere than here and was about to turn to leave when Villeneuve literally threw herself at him.
"You're not getting away this time!" she shouted, pinning him to the floor. The two guards who accompanied him leveled their spears, but Jean-Baptiste threw up a hand.
"No, no, guys, it's cool, I've got this."
"'You've got this?'" Villeneuve asked, "You've got a lot of nerve is what you've got! You know poor Louis-Henri spent his whole life not knowing his father, and now here I hear you've set yourself up as..."
"Father?" somebody shouted. Jean-Baptiste was mildly surprised to see that it was the kid.
Villeneuve looked over her shoulder. "Quiet, honey, mommy's working."
Jean-Baptiste rolled his eyes. "Tough words for an Avignon..." he was dimly aware that there were children present, "...woman of... extremely negotiable virtue."
"Mom, could you please explain what the hell is going on here?"
Marie looked over her shoulder, "Mommy and Daddy are..."
"Mom, stop assaulting the King of Burgundy."
The kid pulled Villeneuve off of Jean-Baptiste, and the king gave the boy - alright, let's be honest, his son - a good look. He was sensible, at least. And honestly, he felt kind of sorry for him.
"Alright, Marie," he said, "you win."
"Now see here you..." Villeneuve was already on top of Jean-Baptiste before her brain processed what her ears had heard, "What did you just say?"
"I said you can stay."
The arrival of Marie and Louis-Henri would normally have been cause for alarm in Dijon. Jean-Baptiste's public announcement that he was acknowledge Louis-Henri as his legitimate son and heir would normally have been cause for a furious uproar and perhaps a riot in Dijon. Dijon had bigger problems to worry about.
The spring of 1402 saw the Burgundian countryside ravaged as Jean-Baptiste's forces and bands of hired mercenaries struggled to fight a war on two fronts. Finally, as the summer began, Jean-Baptiste felt the line in the Franche-Comte was strong enough for him to lead his army north into Lothringen.
It was around this time that the Bohemian forces began to arrive in Lorraine. Bohemia had declared for Burgundy, and their forces were pouring over the northern borders into Metz and Barrois. However, not all the news was good. The Savoyards had poured over the border into Rhone and were fought through the mercenary forces there.
Fortunately, the mercenaries were able to rally with additional support from Bourgogne and drove the Savoyards back across the river.
As 1402 began its slow march to its close, it seemed like the war was finally going Burgundy's way.
* * *
The siege of Lothringen was not progressing well. Jean-Baptiste spent most of his time in the camps, looking at disappointingly unbreached walls. The highlights of his day were the few hours each day he was able to spend with his son.
Louis-Henri de Chabot, Prince of Burgundy, still hadn't quite grown used to the life of a prince of the realm. The royal finery looked awkward on him. Jean-Baptiste had instead invited him to come spar with him. The sword and shield, unfortunately, looked even more awkward on him.
At noon on October 2nd, 1402, Jean-Baptiste was in all too familiar position, standing over his son with his sword at his throat. "You can't keep yielding like that," he shouted, "you have to stand firm or you'll let your opponent control the field!"
He reached down to help Louis-Henri to his feet. "Look, I'm just not..." the prince sighed, "...I'm just not good at this kind of thing. Aunt Charlotte made me help her with the coin sometimes, but that was it."
Jean-Baptiste rolled his eyes. "Now you listen to me. No son of mine is going to grow up not knowing how to fight. If you want to..."
"Sire!"
Jean-Baptiste whirled on his heel as a messenger burst into the room. He vaguely recalled seeing the messenger once before some six months ago.
"Yes, yes, Henri, what it is?"
"Sire, my..." the messenger paused for a moment, then shook his head. This was urgent! "Sire," he continued, "I bring most urgent news! The Pope has declared war on us!"
"...the Pope?" Louis-Henri asked, stepping out from behind his father.
"Yes, Your Highness."
"You mean the Pope. The old Spanish guy in Avignon with the funny-looking hat?"
"No, Your Highness, the other Pope."
"The..."
"The old Italian guy in Rome with the funny-looking hat," Jean-Baptiste offered.
"But what would the Pope want with..."
"Something about Nice," Jean-Baptiste explained, "I wasn't really paying any attention. It's not like he can do much when he's fighting off the Kingdom of Naples with a stick."
"Your wisdom is nearly palpable sire," the messenger said. "Although there is one other thing, Your Majesty."
"Oh, Henri? Care to share?"
"Of course, Your Majesty."
"...the Pope is a dick."
The next six months went very poorly for Burgundy.
The siege of Lothringen continued to be unsuccessful. The mercenaries were putting a major drain on the treasury. The Franche-Comte was assaulted and besieged again, with the royal army still tied up in Lothringen with no way to drive back the invaders. The siege of the Franche-Comte proved itself to be annoyingly easier than the siege of Lothringen. And worst of all, Jean-Baptiste was forced to accept gold from a Knytling.
In June, however, Jean-Baptiste devised a plan. The Bohemian army had finally arrived in real force, and that meant he had an opportunity to break the Franche-Comte without abandoning Lothringen.
With the Imperial forces holding the siege of Lothringen, Jean-Baptiste was able to cross the river in force, and assault Count Amedeo VIII's forces.
It was a bitter struggle against a numerically superior foe, and the terrain was against him, but Jean-Baptiste successfully drove back the Savoyards, just as Lothringen's defenses finally began to crack.
It was obvious, in retrospect, that this was only a temporary victory. After all, if there was one thing this war had proved, it was that God hated Burgundy. And he was obviously getting tired of incompetent middlemen.
Marc and Philippe were not experienced soldiers. They were Burgundian peasants, drafted into the army by their lord and given halberds. Despite the considerable dangers of serving in the Burgundian Army, they had been well-rewarded with plunder following the invasion of Lothringen, and Jean-Baptiste seemed competent enough, so they had no real complaints.
One morning in early September, the two were on watch duty on the banks of the Rhone, waiting for any Savoyards who might decide to cross the river. The higher ebbs and flows of the war were lost on both of them, but they did grasp the basic principle that they were at war with Savoy, on the other side of the river, and they should be prevented from coming to Burgundy, on this side of the river. It was their opinion, however, that the Savoyards actually crossing the river was so unlikely that their being there was rather a waste, and they felt little need to do much beside sit on the bank and dangle their feet in the river.
"What's that?" Marc asked, pointing at something on the horizon. Philippe rose to his feet and peered at it.
"Looks like a banner," he said.
"Well, is it a Savoyard banner?" Marc asked, not bothering to stand.
"I don't think so. Savoyard banners look like ours, only turned sideways, and the colors reversed, and none of the knobby bits."
"So nothing like ours, then."
Philippe kicked him. "Anyway, that looks more like a funny hat on a stick over a pair of crossed keys."
"Eh," Marc shrugged, "I'm sure it's nothing."
A few days later, Jean-Baptiste stared out from the walls of Besancon at the approaching army.
"...the Pope is such a dick."
The Fourth Battle of the Franche-Comte started out reasonably well.
The Pope had brought very few men with him - and His Holiness had indeed come in person, which was very likely contributing to his continued inability to fight, His Holiness being in the vicinity of fifty years old and not much of a military genius to begin with.
Perhaps it is ironic that the event that led the battle astray was not a conscripted peasant poorly informed on the nature of the Papal banner and current state of international relations, nor the terrain, nor the slight Papal edge in numbers, but a message relayed to Jean-Baptiste by a suspiciously familiar-looking messenger.
* * *
Jean-Baptiste was no longer really paying attention to the battle. With the rest of the forces recalled from Lothringen into the Franche-Comte and the Pope on his last legs, he had taken the opportunity to celebrate Lothringen's capture by getting absolutely hammered with some of his men. At some point earlier in the party he had noticed that Louis-Henri didn't seem eager to take part, and had considered asking the kid what was getting to him, but then the Count of Nevers had brought out the really good stuff and he had sort of lost track after that.
It was well into the night when he heard some soldier say, "Hey, Phil, what's that?"
"Looks like a banner," his conscript said.
"Well, is it a Savoyard banner?"
"I... um... actually, I think so."
* * *
The County of Savoy's reinforcements turned the tide in the battle. Even with his superior tactical skills and the advantage of the terrain, Jean-Baptiste was unable to make up for the difference in men. By winter, the Pope and Count had laid siege to Besancon.
Jean-Baptiste's initial plan was to rally his forces and yet more mercenaries - Burgundy had already gone bankrupt and been forced to take out a loan - and bring them north through Lothringen, then swing around south to try and break the siege. Fortunately, for the first time in the long war, fortune smiled upon Burgundy. The Pope grew impatient with the siege of the Franche-Comte and headed west for Bourgogne.
He did not stay long.
The next few months went smoothly for Burgundy and her Bohemian allies, as they drove the Savoyards out of the Franche-Comte one last time and chased the Pope up and down the Burgundian countryside. At last, Jean-Baptiste cornered His Holiness at Dijon, with barely a thousand of his loyal men remaining.
There, in exchange for the Pope's freedom, Jean-Baptiste demanded that the Papal State withdraw from the war, and that his excommunication be lifted. The Pope grudgingly agreed. Swords make a surprisingly persuasive argument.
With the Pope defeated and Lorraine about to fall, Jean-Baptiste at last turned his attention on the nation that had gotten him into this whole mess in the first place - not Burgundy, the other one. Savoy.
To be continued...
...and gets hit over the head by the Pope.
Jean-Baptiste hurried his men back to Dijon, all the while sending out proclamations calling for mercenary regiments to join the fight. With both Savoy and Lorraine turned against her, Burgundy was badly outnumbered and they were going to need as many troops as they could get.
Jean-Baptiste met the armies of Charles, Duke of Lorraine, outside Dijon. Though hampered by the unfavorable terrain, Jean-Baptiste's superior numbers of cavalry and tactical brilliance enabled him to defeat Charles and drive him back into Lothringen.
It was the first of what would be many Battles of Bourgogne, as the war raged back and forth across eastern Burgundy. It was also the day that he walked into the Royal Palace in Dijon to find an all-too familiar face waiting for him.
There, as he entered the throne room, with what looked to be a teenage boy at her side, was Marie Villeneuve.
"Jean-Baptiste de Chabot!" she shouted, storming across the throne room with a furious look on her face. Jean-Baptiste immediately decided he would rather be anywhere than here and was about to turn to leave when Villeneuve literally threw herself at him.
"You're not getting away this time!" she shouted, pinning him to the floor. The two guards who accompanied him leveled their spears, but Jean-Baptiste threw up a hand.
"No, no, guys, it's cool, I've got this."
"'You've got this?'" Villeneuve asked, "You've got a lot of nerve is what you've got! You know poor Louis-Henri spent his whole life not knowing his father, and now here I hear you've set yourself up as..."
"Father?" somebody shouted. Jean-Baptiste was mildly surprised to see that it was the kid.
Villeneuve looked over her shoulder. "Quiet, honey, mommy's working."
Jean-Baptiste rolled his eyes. "Tough words for an Avignon..." he was dimly aware that there were children present, "...woman of... extremely negotiable virtue."
"Mom, could you please explain what the hell is going on here?"
Marie looked over her shoulder, "Mommy and Daddy are..."
"Mom, stop assaulting the King of Burgundy."
The kid pulled Villeneuve off of Jean-Baptiste, and the king gave the boy - alright, let's be honest, his son - a good look. He was sensible, at least. And honestly, he felt kind of sorry for him.
"Alright, Marie," he said, "you win."
"Now see here you..." Villeneuve was already on top of Jean-Baptiste before her brain processed what her ears had heard, "What did you just say?"
"I said you can stay."
* * *
The arrival of Marie and Louis-Henri would normally have been cause for alarm in Dijon. Jean-Baptiste's public announcement that he was acknowledge Louis-Henri as his legitimate son and heir would normally have been cause for a furious uproar and perhaps a riot in Dijon. Dijon had bigger problems to worry about.
The spring of 1402 saw the Burgundian countryside ravaged as Jean-Baptiste's forces and bands of hired mercenaries struggled to fight a war on two fronts. Finally, as the summer began, Jean-Baptiste felt the line in the Franche-Comte was strong enough for him to lead his army north into Lothringen.
It was around this time that the Bohemian forces began to arrive in Lorraine. Bohemia had declared for Burgundy, and their forces were pouring over the northern borders into Metz and Barrois. However, not all the news was good. The Savoyards had poured over the border into Rhone and were fought through the mercenary forces there.
Fortunately, the mercenaries were able to rally with additional support from Bourgogne and drove the Savoyards back across the river.
As 1402 began its slow march to its close, it seemed like the war was finally going Burgundy's way.
* * *
The siege of Lothringen was not progressing well. Jean-Baptiste spent most of his time in the camps, looking at disappointingly unbreached walls. The highlights of his day were the few hours each day he was able to spend with his son.
Louis-Henri de Chabot, Prince of Burgundy, still hadn't quite grown used to the life of a prince of the realm. The royal finery looked awkward on him. Jean-Baptiste had instead invited him to come spar with him. The sword and shield, unfortunately, looked even more awkward on him.
At noon on October 2nd, 1402, Jean-Baptiste was in all too familiar position, standing over his son with his sword at his throat. "You can't keep yielding like that," he shouted, "you have to stand firm or you'll let your opponent control the field!"
He reached down to help Louis-Henri to his feet. "Look, I'm just not..." the prince sighed, "...I'm just not good at this kind of thing. Aunt Charlotte made me help her with the coin sometimes, but that was it."
Jean-Baptiste rolled his eyes. "Now you listen to me. No son of mine is going to grow up not knowing how to fight. If you want to..."
"Sire!"
Jean-Baptiste whirled on his heel as a messenger burst into the room. He vaguely recalled seeing the messenger once before some six months ago.
"Yes, yes, Henri, what it is?"
"Sire, my..." the messenger paused for a moment, then shook his head. This was urgent! "Sire," he continued, "I bring most urgent news! The Pope has declared war on us!"
"...the Pope?" Louis-Henri asked, stepping out from behind his father.
"Yes, Your Highness."
"You mean the Pope. The old Spanish guy in Avignon with the funny-looking hat?"
"No, Your Highness, the other Pope."
"The..."
"The old Italian guy in Rome with the funny-looking hat," Jean-Baptiste offered.
"But what would the Pope want with..."
"Something about Nice," Jean-Baptiste explained, "I wasn't really paying any attention. It's not like he can do much when he's fighting off the Kingdom of Naples with a stick."
"Your wisdom is nearly palpable sire," the messenger said. "Although there is one other thing, Your Majesty."
"Oh, Henri? Care to share?"
"Of course, Your Majesty."
"...the Pope is a dick."
* * *
The next six months went very poorly for Burgundy.
The siege of Lothringen continued to be unsuccessful. The mercenaries were putting a major drain on the treasury. The Franche-Comte was assaulted and besieged again, with the royal army still tied up in Lothringen with no way to drive back the invaders. The siege of the Franche-Comte proved itself to be annoyingly easier than the siege of Lothringen. And worst of all, Jean-Baptiste was forced to accept gold from a Knytling.
In June, however, Jean-Baptiste devised a plan. The Bohemian army had finally arrived in real force, and that meant he had an opportunity to break the Franche-Comte without abandoning Lothringen.
With the Imperial forces holding the siege of Lothringen, Jean-Baptiste was able to cross the river in force, and assault Count Amedeo VIII's forces.
It was a bitter struggle against a numerically superior foe, and the terrain was against him, but Jean-Baptiste successfully drove back the Savoyards, just as Lothringen's defenses finally began to crack.
It was obvious, in retrospect, that this was only a temporary victory. After all, if there was one thing this war had proved, it was that God hated Burgundy. And he was obviously getting tired of incompetent middlemen.
* * *
Marc and Philippe were not experienced soldiers. They were Burgundian peasants, drafted into the army by their lord and given halberds. Despite the considerable dangers of serving in the Burgundian Army, they had been well-rewarded with plunder following the invasion of Lothringen, and Jean-Baptiste seemed competent enough, so they had no real complaints.
One morning in early September, the two were on watch duty on the banks of the Rhone, waiting for any Savoyards who might decide to cross the river. The higher ebbs and flows of the war were lost on both of them, but they did grasp the basic principle that they were at war with Savoy, on the other side of the river, and they should be prevented from coming to Burgundy, on this side of the river. It was their opinion, however, that the Savoyards actually crossing the river was so unlikely that their being there was rather a waste, and they felt little need to do much beside sit on the bank and dangle their feet in the river.
"What's that?" Marc asked, pointing at something on the horizon. Philippe rose to his feet and peered at it.
"Looks like a banner," he said.
"Well, is it a Savoyard banner?" Marc asked, not bothering to stand.
"I don't think so. Savoyard banners look like ours, only turned sideways, and the colors reversed, and none of the knobby bits."
"So nothing like ours, then."
Philippe kicked him. "Anyway, that looks more like a funny hat on a stick over a pair of crossed keys."
"Eh," Marc shrugged, "I'm sure it's nothing."
* * *
A few days later, Jean-Baptiste stared out from the walls of Besancon at the approaching army.
"...the Pope is such a dick."
* * *
The Fourth Battle of the Franche-Comte started out reasonably well.
The Pope had brought very few men with him - and His Holiness had indeed come in person, which was very likely contributing to his continued inability to fight, His Holiness being in the vicinity of fifty years old and not much of a military genius to begin with.
Perhaps it is ironic that the event that led the battle astray was not a conscripted peasant poorly informed on the nature of the Papal banner and current state of international relations, nor the terrain, nor the slight Papal edge in numbers, but a message relayed to Jean-Baptiste by a suspiciously familiar-looking messenger.
* * *
Jean-Baptiste was no longer really paying attention to the battle. With the rest of the forces recalled from Lothringen into the Franche-Comte and the Pope on his last legs, he had taken the opportunity to celebrate Lothringen's capture by getting absolutely hammered with some of his men. At some point earlier in the party he had noticed that Louis-Henri didn't seem eager to take part, and had considered asking the kid what was getting to him, but then the Count of Nevers had brought out the really good stuff and he had sort of lost track after that.
It was well into the night when he heard some soldier say, "Hey, Phil, what's that?"
"Looks like a banner," his conscript said.
"Well, is it a Savoyard banner?"
"I... um... actually, I think so."
* * *
The County of Savoy's reinforcements turned the tide in the battle. Even with his superior tactical skills and the advantage of the terrain, Jean-Baptiste was unable to make up for the difference in men. By winter, the Pope and Count had laid siege to Besancon.
Jean-Baptiste's initial plan was to rally his forces and yet more mercenaries - Burgundy had already gone bankrupt and been forced to take out a loan - and bring them north through Lothringen, then swing around south to try and break the siege. Fortunately, for the first time in the long war, fortune smiled upon Burgundy. The Pope grew impatient with the siege of the Franche-Comte and headed west for Bourgogne.
He did not stay long.
The next few months went smoothly for Burgundy and her Bohemian allies, as they drove the Savoyards out of the Franche-Comte one last time and chased the Pope up and down the Burgundian countryside. At last, Jean-Baptiste cornered His Holiness at Dijon, with barely a thousand of his loyal men remaining.
There, in exchange for the Pope's freedom, Jean-Baptiste demanded that the Papal State withdraw from the war, and that his excommunication be lifted. The Pope grudgingly agreed. Swords make a surprisingly persuasive argument.
With the Pope defeated and Lorraine about to fall, Jean-Baptiste at last turned his attention on the nation that had gotten him into this whole mess in the first place - not Burgundy, the other one. Savoy.
To be continued...
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Aww... The Pope will come to teach Burgundy a lesson soon enough.
Go Palpati- I mean, Pope!
The Pope will come to teach Burgundy a lesson soon enough. Go Palpati- I mean, Pope!
Burgundy: 1399-1411: Part III: The Dawn of a New Age
Having disarmed the Pope in a half-nelson twist, the Frenchman returns to his drink.
Before the invasion of Savoy began in earnest, Jean-Baptiste took the opportunity to go to occupied Lorraine, where he accepted the surrender of Duke Charles. As a result of the Burgundian siege of Lothringen and the Bohemian siege of Barrois, Metz, and, according to certain sources, also Lothringen, the lands of Lorraine had officially been incorporated into the Kingdom of Burgundy, with the Dukes to rule as the King's vassal.
Over the course of the next two years, Jean-Baptiste steadily made his way through Savoy, capturing first Savoie and then Piedmont. There was a lot of violence but not a lot of strategy or humor, as Savoy was basically a straight line, and also apparently at war with Aragon.
In late August of 1406, Jean-Baptiste rode south from Piedmont, with the aim of joining the ongoing fight at Nice and laying siege, as pictured above because it was the only good picture of Savoy I had. Stopping in a small town on the border between Piedmont and Nice, the King took the opportunity to head to the local tavern and get drunk. Unfortunately, the local tavern happened to be full of Nicean nationalists, and Jean-Baptiste I learned very shortly there was a price to pay for everything.
Louis-Henri I de Chabot, King of Burgundy, still wasn't entirely certain he was cut out for the job.
He'd barely been eighteen when his father died at Nice, but he felt he'd managed... competently. He was still surprised the nobility were relatively loyal, given the regularity with which his parentage was insulted in certain corners of the kingdom.
And, whatever failings he might have had as a father, Jean-Baptiste de Chabot had left him with a genuine kingdom. The battle of Nice, with one sad exception, had been a victory for Burgundy, and following it the County of Savoy had been incorporated into the Kingdom, with the city of Nice and the surrounding lands under the direct royal rule. Count Amedeo IX had been all too happy to accept, probably because it technically involved him getting promoted and also because it got the Aragonese to leave.
And here he was worrying about whether he would mess it all up.
"Your Majesty?" General de Roye asked, standing in the entrance to the room.
The king sighed. "Of course, general. Everybody come right in."
General Roye entered, followed by General de Brachet. Both smiled as they sat down.
"So," Louis-Henri asked, "how's your crusade going?"
"I'm sorry to say that the Count of Flanders has finally recalled his men," de Roye said, "Something about the Karamans, whoever they are. They didn't really accomplish much beside distract the Turks anyway."
"It doesn't particularly matter, honestly," de Brachet said, "the Knytlings and the Bohemians showed up to bail them out."
"Getting bailed out by Knytlings?" Louis-Henri asked incredulously.
"May wonders never cease," de Brachet said.
"Be that as it may, Your Majesty," de Roye continued, "there are a few... issues, requiring your attention."
"Of course, general. Do go on."
"First, Your Majesty, there is the matter of your recent decree repealing the right of merchet. Some of the peasants are starting to get..."
"...uppity," de Brachet finished.
"I don't see much of a problem with that," Louis-Henri said, "we can take a little instability."
"Well, er, sire, the thing is," de Roye protested, "a few thousand peasants in Nice have gotten it into their head they ought to be independent."
Louis-Henri sighed. "And this is a problem how? Send some noble who can keep from shooting his mouth off down to negotiate and bother me when you have some real news."
"But sire..."
"Oh, for crying out loud! Some Lombards not getting horrifically and violently oppressed is not the end of the nation! Now let me get some rest."
"Of course, sire," de Brachet said, rising immediately to his feet. It took de Roye a few seconds to realize he was now alone.
"Yes," he said suddenly, "of course, sire."
The two left, leaving Louis-Henri alone to look out the balcony onto the city of Dijon. The Kingdom of Burgundy had expanded so much in just over a decade since its creation. His father had died so that... well, let's be honest. His father had died because he had no self-restraint. But he was sure that, at the end, the man had genuinely cared about his son.
Louis-Henri had never been much of a warrior. But he was quite certain he knew exactly how to carry out his father's legacy.
Having disarmed the Pope in a half-nelson twist, the Frenchman returns to his drink.
Before the invasion of Savoy began in earnest, Jean-Baptiste took the opportunity to go to occupied Lorraine, where he accepted the surrender of Duke Charles. As a result of the Burgundian siege of Lothringen and the Bohemian siege of Barrois, Metz, and, according to certain sources, also Lothringen, the lands of Lorraine had officially been incorporated into the Kingdom of Burgundy, with the Dukes to rule as the King's vassal.
Over the course of the next two years, Jean-Baptiste steadily made his way through Savoy, capturing first Savoie and then Piedmont. There was a lot of violence but not a lot of strategy or humor, as Savoy was basically a straight line, and also apparently at war with Aragon.
In late August of 1406, Jean-Baptiste rode south from Piedmont, with the aim of joining the ongoing fight at Nice and laying siege, as pictured above because it was the only good picture of Savoy I had. Stopping in a small town on the border between Piedmont and Nice, the King took the opportunity to head to the local tavern and get drunk. Unfortunately, the local tavern happened to be full of Nicean nationalists, and Jean-Baptiste I learned very shortly there was a price to pay for everything.
* * *
Louis-Henri I de Chabot, King of Burgundy, still wasn't entirely certain he was cut out for the job.
He'd barely been eighteen when his father died at Nice, but he felt he'd managed... competently. He was still surprised the nobility were relatively loyal, given the regularity with which his parentage was insulted in certain corners of the kingdom.
And, whatever failings he might have had as a father, Jean-Baptiste de Chabot had left him with a genuine kingdom. The battle of Nice, with one sad exception, had been a victory for Burgundy, and following it the County of Savoy had been incorporated into the Kingdom, with the city of Nice and the surrounding lands under the direct royal rule. Count Amedeo IX had been all too happy to accept, probably because it technically involved him getting promoted and also because it got the Aragonese to leave.
And here he was worrying about whether he would mess it all up.
"Your Majesty?" General de Roye asked, standing in the entrance to the room.
The king sighed. "Of course, general. Everybody come right in."
General Roye entered, followed by General de Brachet. Both smiled as they sat down.
"So," Louis-Henri asked, "how's your crusade going?"
"I'm sorry to say that the Count of Flanders has finally recalled his men," de Roye said, "Something about the Karamans, whoever they are. They didn't really accomplish much beside distract the Turks anyway."
"It doesn't particularly matter, honestly," de Brachet said, "the Knytlings and the Bohemians showed up to bail them out."
"Getting bailed out by Knytlings?" Louis-Henri asked incredulously.
"May wonders never cease," de Brachet said.
"Be that as it may, Your Majesty," de Roye continued, "there are a few... issues, requiring your attention."
"Of course, general. Do go on."
"First, Your Majesty, there is the matter of your recent decree repealing the right of merchet. Some of the peasants are starting to get..."
"...uppity," de Brachet finished.
"I don't see much of a problem with that," Louis-Henri said, "we can take a little instability."
"Well, er, sire, the thing is," de Roye protested, "a few thousand peasants in Nice have gotten it into their head they ought to be independent."
Louis-Henri sighed. "And this is a problem how? Send some noble who can keep from shooting his mouth off down to negotiate and bother me when you have some real news."
"But sire..."
"Oh, for crying out loud! Some Lombards not getting horrifically and violently oppressed is not the end of the nation! Now let me get some rest."
"Of course, sire," de Brachet said, rising immediately to his feet. It took de Roye a few seconds to realize he was now alone.
"Yes," he said suddenly, "of course, sire."
The two left, leaving Louis-Henri alone to look out the balcony onto the city of Dijon. The Kingdom of Burgundy had expanded so much in just over a decade since its creation. His father had died so that... well, let's be honest. His father had died because he had no self-restraint. But he was sure that, at the end, the man had genuinely cared about his son.
Louis-Henri had never been much of a warrior. But he was quite certain he knew exactly how to carry out his father's legacy.
@EUR007: hehe well actually not this war. I'm busy fighting Milanese armies and such. And oh Nice is not much of a problem (read: I need more lands first for bigger armies).
well actually not this war. I'm busy fighting Milanese armies and such. And oh Nice is not much of a problem (read: I need more lands first for bigger armies).
"Seriously, I'm not even European..."
***
Sultanate of Delhi
October 1399
Nusrat Shah sat in his chambers and read through the reports for the morning. Things were quiet in the kingdom. The city was being quickly rebuilt to its former glory after Timur Lenk's visit, which was puttings its own drain on the economy. But rebuilding the heart of the Sultanate was first priority.
The second priority lay menacingly in the northwest.
Yet politically it would not be easy. Why would he, the Sultan of Delhi, pursue petty vengeance against fellow Muslims, when the entire subcontinent remained Hindu? The Sultans of Gujarat and Sind to the west, and Deccan to the south, might not be pleased. On the other hand, they might prefer the largest Sultanate in India to waste its efforts on the Timurid giant while they'd have free reign.
The Hindu were being tolerated, but every now and then a group of them managed to whip themselves into enough fervor to rise in armed rebellion. To that end, Nusrat had raised several regiments of troops, which he decided to lead himself. That ought to quell the murmurs of ineptitude, he thought.
After leafing through the reports, Nusrat went out to inspect the troops and see if they were getting equipped properly by the quartermasters. That's when the messenger arrived.
"Your Excellence, news from the east!" the messenger said between breaths.
"Yes, spit it out."
"The King of Bihar has perished! In a hunting accident, they say."
Nusrat's mind started working. He had maintained an agreement with the new King of Bihar, that as long as he allowed Delhi merchants passage to the markets in Bihar, Delhi would not push their claims to the lands.
As long as he controlled the trade, there was little else to want in Bihar.
"So who has risen to replace him, good man?" Nusrat asked.
"There is no news of that yet."
The Sultan turned to one of his new advisers - he hadn't had the opportunity to hire any before. "General Saikander. You're a Bihari. What's your take on this?"
Saikander coughed. "Most likely the local nobles will begin tearing each other's heads off for the throne. The royal family has a few distant branches which are equally matched in strength."
"Maybe they need some friendly intervention from their neighbours. To restore order."
Saikander nodded. "Maybe, maybe, Your Excellence."
They retired to the Sultan's Palace and began drawing up the plans. Two days later, another messenger arrived, not from Bihar, but Lucknow, a province on the Bihari border.
"Am I really that obvious?" Nusrat sighed.
Papal States 14 October 1399
The Papal States in 1399 only exist out of 2 provinces. Roma and Romagna. All what was once the papal lands has been given away in wars of succession and favours. In 1378 Avignon decided to not recognize our Roman pope and so we lost a lot of prestige due the Western Schism. It was clearly dividing Europe in two parts.
This can not continue any longer. We have to restore our former power, and create a new powerful nation all ruled by the pope, the one with the keys of heaven and earth and only being under the command of God.
In the Papal Palace:
Unknown Artist, who will probably not make any other appearance: Your Holiness. The paining is finished.
Pope: Let me see it! Oh yes it is truly a masterpiece. You will be payed for this. In the afterlife of course! Guards take him with you and off with his head. This should remain his best masterpiece ever!
The guards storm in and take the Unknown artist with them. He screams and yells a bit but nobody really bothers to listen to the artist.
Pope: Oh what a good day. You servant! Any news from the outside world?
Random Servant: Not much my holiness. This is merely an introduction. About introduction why don't we have that picture with portraits and such?
Pope: We are different. We don't need any lame bar jokes to rule the world.
Random Servant: Sorry your Holiness for asking.
Pope: It doesn't matter. I'm sure more people had that question. Did we warn those Milanese barbarians yet? We did not. Warn them immediately!
Pope: Well that is done. Now I have to get some trustworthy advisors in my court. And I need to raise an army. A GIANT army! Milan will have an army of 12,000 men. We must have something close to that. Marcellus Zustiniani will fit for making that possible.
Marcellus: Your wish is my command. We will raise an army, mighty enough to defeat the Milanese armies. *mumbles* Or something close to that. And of course we will make our armies of great quality. Let us move towards more and more quality!
Pope: I need more money too. Our treasury doesn't look healthy does it?
Pope: We should sent out more merchants. Have we any specialists?
Cosimo Verona: Well I think I can make it more effective. Just leave it to me your Holiness, just leave it to me.
Pope: So let me think. I have my advisors now. Anything else....
Pope: Yes I will. Well are we set now for everything? I wouldn't know what to say more to entertain people.
Advisors: Yes your Holiness. We are training armies, we asked access through some Italian states and Milan is warned. Our invitations for alliances are out as well.
Pope: Good well that is it for now. You are all dismissed.
Random Servant: Where am I supposed to go?
Pope: I don't know.
Random Servant: You don't know or don't care?
Pope: Pick one.
The Papal States in 1399 only exist out of 2 provinces. Roma and Romagna. All what was once the papal lands has been given away in wars of succession and favours. In 1378 Avignon decided to not recognize our Roman pope and so we lost a lot of prestige due the Western Schism. It was clearly dividing Europe in two parts.
This can not continue any longer. We have to restore our former power, and create a new powerful nation all ruled by the pope, the one with the keys of heaven and earth and only being under the command of God.
In the Papal Palace:
Unknown Artist, who will probably not make any other appearance: Your Holiness. The paining is finished.
Pope: Let me see it! Oh yes it is truly a masterpiece. You will be payed for this. In the afterlife of course! Guards take him with you and off with his head. This should remain his best masterpiece ever!
The guards storm in and take the Unknown artist with them. He screams and yells a bit but nobody really bothers to listen to the artist.
Pope: Oh what a good day. You servant! Any news from the outside world?
Random Servant: Not much my holiness. This is merely an introduction. About introduction why don't we have that picture with portraits and such?
Pope: We are different. We don't need any lame bar jokes to rule the world.
Random Servant: Sorry your Holiness for asking.
Pope: It doesn't matter. I'm sure more people had that question. Did we warn those Milanese barbarians yet? We did not. Warn them immediately!
Pope: Well that is done. Now I have to get some trustworthy advisors in my court. And I need to raise an army. A GIANT army! Milan will have an army of 12,000 men. We must have something close to that. Marcellus Zustiniani will fit for making that possible.
Marcellus: Your wish is my command. We will raise an army, mighty enough to defeat the Milanese armies. *mumbles* Or something close to that. And of course we will make our armies of great quality. Let us move towards more and more quality!
Pope: I need more money too. Our treasury doesn't look healthy does it?
Pope: We should sent out more merchants. Have we any specialists?
Cosimo Verona: Well I think I can make it more effective. Just leave it to me your Holiness, just leave it to me.
Pope: So let me think. I have my advisors now. Anything else....
Pope: Yes I will. Well are we set now for everything? I wouldn't know what to say more to entertain people.
Advisors: Yes your Holiness. We are training armies, we asked access through some Italian states and Milan is warned. Our invitations for alliances are out as well.
Pope: Good well that is it for now. You are all dismissed.
Random Servant: Where am I supposed to go?
Pope: I don't know.
Random Servant: You don't know or don't care?
Pope: Pick one.