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Pictures already in :), we'll be opting to the Special Effects ACA too any day now.

[The following answers will be mercilessly torn out and put in the next answers post. Eventually. By the way, the monkeys appreciate your kind votes (you two know who you are), and the lead female monkey has blown you a kiss. She's completely lost to decency.]

[Updated: answers moved to tomorrow's asnwer-post].
 
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[Draft title: 1092-1093. Ground control to Major Tom, it’s getting rainy here.]

[Cast:]
Nasokrator Mutimir. Sporting beer belly again.
Empress Eldrid. Somewhat florid and imperious, generally good looking.
Patriarch Wamba. Looking a bit too old for the job.
Prince Berbat. Gotta find a five-year-old who radiates evilry without tattoos or doctored fangs.
King Boleslaw of Poland. Prim, prunelike and definitely peevish.
King Giorgi of Georgia. A rather assertive fellow. Must be good at looking terrified.
Ermengol de Barcelona-Urgell. The lost count of Urgell, as himself.
Marshall Uncle Branislav. Same actor, he was just perfect. Remember looking sad.
Kettu Rurikovich. Think of a tubby, bearded, hairy-chested Xena.
Glande of Galindia. Just as innocently good-natured-looking as ever. Especially in this dialogue.
Sundry characters without lines. A few will be enough.
Digital assets and atrezzo. Not so many. We can do with the locations already built.


March 1092. Castle of Krakovskie, almost nearly the only resisting fortress of Poland. King Boleslaw is looking at the draft treaty on a state table. Marshall Uncle Branislav stands by his side while Ermengol de Barcelona-Urgell, the new Captain of the Knives, potters around the room.

[King Boleslaw] So no partition?

[Ermengol de Barcelona-Urgell, peering inside a suit of armor] And you get to remain an independent Duke.

[Marshall Branislav, eyeing Ermengol unfavourably] If you want to. You’d be welcome in the Empire.

[King Boleslaw, looking disappointed] Not even forced vassalization?

[Ermengol de Barcelona-Urgell, unfeelingly] Nop.

[King Boleslaw, almost pleading] No sacking of our cities, religious persecution, wholesale slaughter of the innocent, confiscatory taxing, redistribution of titles to odious foreigners…?

[Marshall Branislav, slightly surprised] Er… no.

[King Boleslaw] You will not even threaten our national identity? Squash popular songs and native languages? Miscegenate our beautiful daughters?

[Ermengol de Barcelona-Urgell, gnawing at a fingernail] Not currently on our plans, no.

[King Boleslaw, plainly disappointed] Well, really! Will we at least get regular visits by the Lady Jadviga?

[Marshall Branislav] Don’t push your luck.

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March 1092. Palace of the Nasokrator in Ephesos. Lawn by the tennis court. The Nasokrator is sipping lemonade on an easy chair and having a lively tiff with his wife, Wamba enters from the left looking worried. The Empress puts a sour face and looks another way.

[Nasokrator Mutimir] Here’s our dear Patriarch! What’s up of late, Wamba? Have you already conquered Iceland or are you still working on it?

[Patriarch Wamba] Very funny indeed, your majesty. Actually there is something I need to tell your majesty… You have told me you’d rather not be distracted by new wars.

[Nasokrator Mutimir] To put it mildly. And?

[Patriarch Wamba] Well… I have good news and bad news.

[Nasokrator Mutimir] … so? Go on!

[Patriarch Wamba] The good news is that Jerusalem has dropped in your hands without war. Or rather, we conquered it inadvertently while conquering Poland.

[Nasokrator Mutimir] Nice indeed. Well played. What’s the bad news?

[Patriarch Wamba] Pelusio and El-Arish have attacked Jerusalem. The Count asked for help, and we agreed…

[Nasokrator Mutimir, testily] Well? Man, I’m really needing a corkscrew in this conversation!

[Patriarch Wamba] … and we’re now at war with Egypt. Also… your majesty may remember the picturesque county of Ani, up in the Caucasus?

[Nasokrator Mutimir] I can’t say that I do. Is it ours?

[Patriarch Wamba] That’s the problem, your majesty. And they’ve declared war on Georgia.

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June 1092. Palace of the Nasokrator in Ephesos. Secret meeting in the secret planning room in the basement. Wamba sits at a table with the Marshall and the heads of most regiments, looking suspiciously like a tribunal. A skateboarding exhibition trundles in the background, with the occasional athlete falling close by.

[Patriarch Wamba, a bit nervous] …I swear not. I would never act against the will of the Emperor.

[Ermengol de Barcelona-Urgell] Which, of course, you know well, holy Patriarch.

[Patriarch Wamba, wary] Eh… I trust so.

[Ermengol de Barcelona-Urgell] So you knew the Emperor was working to make his uncle Konstantin Bodin first in the succession.

[Patriarch Wamba, nodding] I recommended some of the Principalities to bestow on him, yes.

[Ermengol de Barcelona-Urgell] And just as he reaches the first spot of the line, he dies. Of a cold, I understand. In the middle of the Anatolian summer.

[Patriarch Wamba] Treacherous things, those summer colds.

[Ermengol de Barcelona-Urgell, ominous] Indeed. And it was another coincidence that your long-time favourite, Georghe the Bastard, has just been rehabilitated.

[Patriarch Wamba] He earned that the hard way. No way I could have helped him.

[Ermengol de Barcelona-Urgell] So there’s no treason in the air? You’re not manipulating the succession, nor planning any swift regime change?

[Patriarch Wamba] Er… no?

[Ermengol de Barcelona-Urgell, shrugging and pushing his chair from the table] Can’t be helped! Then I guess we all have more urgent things to do. Thanks for your collaboration, holy Patriarch. Now, is anybody up for a beer in the town?

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December 1092. Palace of the Nasokrator at Ephesos. Warm cozy corner of the main hall. Late evening. The Empress is knitting and the Emperor reading the evening papers.

[Empress Eldrid, not looking up from her knitting] You know, Mutimir, I think you should find Aurelia something to do. She’s a bit too much time in her hands these days.

[Nasokrator Mutimir] It’s the war, dear. No cash, no spying. So the Spymistress gets bored.

[Empress Eldrid] Oh well, if she was getting bored I wouldn’t mind. The problem is the things she’s been doing to avoid boredom. If you see what I mean.

[Nasokrator Mutimir] Eh... yes. Rather.

[Empress Eldrid] There’s a bright side, I suppose. After Lady Jadviga, we only needed that to turn Ephesos into a tourist destination.

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February 1093. Castle of the King of Georgia at Guria. Shed of the castle iron-smith. The king is standing very dignified between two Dioclean guardsmen; Glande and Kettu arrive at the shed.

[Glande of Galindia] Hello, your majesty. I trust you’ve had a pleasant evening?

[King Giorgi] Can’t complain. Having one’s castle almost razed by unprovoked aggressors is all in a day’s work. Now, what you did to the sheep, that was less gentlemanly.

[Kettu Rurikovich, turning the coals and using the blower on them] Ha.

[Glande of Galindia] Oh, come, your majesty. You can’t expect the Empire to leave our vassals unprotected.

[King Giorgi] You mean the soldiers took precautions with the sheep? And what is that furry friend of yours doing with the coals?

[Glande of Galindia] Oh, don’t worry about that, your majesty. It’s just a Dioclean custom. You see, when we face a reluctant enemy who won’t surrender, we put him on an anvil, and then we have what we call “a hammer time”. One hand first and then carefully up the arm.

Very lound bang, as Kettu brings a heavy hammer on the anvil.

[Glande of Galindia] That usually produces a lot of blood, so we try to have some hot coals nearby to cauterize the victim, and then start again.

Another very loud bang on the anvil. The red light of the burning coals shines on Kettu, who sports a very wild grin.

[King Giorgi, looking at him and quaking knees] How… ah… quaint. Now, where did you say you left that treaty proposal?

[Glande of Galindia] Upstairs, your majesty. These kind soldiers will now take you to it. Thanks for your time.

Another very loud bang on the anvil. The king jumps a bit in the air while the soldiers drive him out. Glande turns to Kettu.

[Glande of Galindia, smiling owlishly] That was a beautiful act, Ketty. And you’re looking impressive in that light, all strong and sweaty. Like a dark valkyria.

Kettu looks at Glande. Looks at anvil. Looks at hammer. Looks at Glande. Left eye twitches.

[Kettu Rurikovich] Let's... move on, shall we.

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March 1093. Palace of the Nasokrator at Ephesos. Study room of Prince Berbat. The Nasokrator is next to the door and looking worn while the Prince looks at him, arms crossed and a cross expression.

[Prince Berbat, sulking] You just don’t want to tell me. I think you’re hiding something.

[Nasokrator Mutimir, tired] Berbat, it’s simply something you can’t understand now. You will get it all explained in detail when you grow a bit older.

[Prince Berbat] How older?

[Nasokrator Mutimir] Say eleven years more. Or at least nine.

[Prince Berbat] Eleven, or nine, or… gee Daddy, you’re just making excuses! You want to hide something from me for your own nefariosous ends. But I intend to find out.

[Nasokrator Mutimir, even more tired] It’s “nefarious”, Berbat…

[Prince Berbat, triumphantly] So you say!

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Another text-first update :). That's because the monkeys want to appreciate your ACA votes. I think :D. They could also be attempting to give you a headache.

Why would anyone want to invade Poland?
If not for Danzig, or having fun with sharing the cake with neighbours.

There is that :). Or maybe the Dioclean military-industrial complex (namely Wamba) is simply running amok.

That herald is adorably naïve. I'd like to meet him in person, and see what pranks I could make with him.

You should see him after ten minutes with the monkeys :D. Oh, I shouldn't laugh, I shouldn't laugh...

to which the only response is 'because (a) you can and (b) its in the way?

the herald was indeed brilliant, captured all the concerns of a small country somewhere flat and without much of an army of their own ...

Well, the Polish did actually give the Diocleans a run for their money... the army was a bit more ragged than expected.

Another good update. I respect any player who uses assasination as a diplomatic tool.

Thanks. Wamba is a deeply venerable character then :).


Chained Monkey (TM) Productions has a feeling that the current acceleration of updates can't last, but is throwing all its bananas at the effort. Please keep us on our toes (or whichever part of the lower digits the monkeys use) if you notice any slackness in the general quality.

On another news, the monkeys are divided on the future of the Wamba character. While he is too old to last much further, he's become an essential part of the story. Several different ending have already been scripted (some with afterworld considerations), but there is no consensus. Any ideas out there :)?
 
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And the temple is useless! I mean, not even a single pillar can they produce nowadays.
 
Good stuff, good updates. I really have to wonder how much influence Wamba has had on the vassals declaring war on various nations. I have to agree with the King of Georgia's quickly submitting to defeat, hammer time is very frightening, whether in anvil or dance form. The text is brilliant but I really am looking forward to when the screenshots are added, I rather want to find out what caused the conversation between Berbat and Mutimir at the end...
 
Your wish is my command :). And yes, this update was especially cryptic without the pics. So they're up now :).

Now, 'fess up. How many of you have not yet voted in the ACAs :) ? Make a monkey happy, vote today.
 
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[Draft title: 1093-1093.The truth shall make you free]

[Cast:]
Nasokrator Mutimir. Much improved.
Empress Eldrid. Watch out, the script requires her to appear in a way that may need revising her contract.
Patriarch Wamba. Looking a bit too old for the job.
Prince Berbat. A sort of toddler Clint Eastwood, only meaner.
Zoltán Nemanjóvic. The lost prince of Serbia, as himself.
Ermengol de Barcelona-Urgell. The lost count of Urgell, as himself.
Hovhannes Senek'erim Gardman-Aghbania. The lost count of Suenik, as himself.
Kettu Rurikovich. Think of a tubby, bearded, hairy-chested Xena.
Glande of Galindia. Just as innocently good-natured-looking as ever.
Duke Roger Borsa of Apulia. Fat, rotund, big man, ruddy cheeks, doing himself too well on the starchy foods.
First Aide. The same actor. Today they won't need characterisation.
Second Aide. Repeating too.
Court Bully One. Pug-nosed big boy. Needs to look more than usually bone-headed.
Court Bully Two. Jar-eared big boy. Shock of hair. Very mean face, couple of scars.
Court Bully Three. Big-headed thin boy, needs to play the weaselly role.
Sundry characters without lines. We'll need several more than usual.
Digital assets and atrezzo. We can reuse the horse column of the other day. And four shine-in-the-dark eyes.



1093. Palace of the Nasokrator at Ephesos. Secret room in the basement. The Nasokrator meets Wamba and a bunch of clerics while two pirate ships enact a tremendous cannon battle in the background.

[Nasokrator Mutimir] … so how much would it cost me?

[Patriarch Wamba] A fair bit, your majesty. St Mihailo is already beatified, but making him a proper, official saint of the Church as you say you want… there are a few requirements. And some of them can be quite expensive.

[Nasokrator Mutimir, drumming his fingers on the table] Like which?

[Patriarch Wamba] Well, there’s the proof of miracles. We need irrefutable evidence that somebody prayed to St Mihailo for help and he actually answered. Faking that will cost a lot of money, unless we can get him to perform a miracle in front of us.

[Nasokrator Mutimir] Like, if I asked the old son of a bug to save us a sack of gold and pretty please cure my illness of years so I can ride again and lead the armies of Dioclea, and suddenly I could just stand like this… ? Oops.

[Patriarch Wamba, goggling] Wow!

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1093. Palace of the Nasokrator at Ephesos. Imperial bedroom. The Emperor is tucked in with a book, the Empress appears with her nightly makeup and climbs into bed.

[Empress Eldrid, pursing her lips and putting cucumber slices on her eyes] Remember what I told you the other day about Spymaster Aurelia’s games and Ephesos becoming a sex-tourism destination?

[Nasokrator Mutimir] Yes?

[Empress Eldrid] It has begun.

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1093. Palace of the Nasokrator at Ephesos. Court school. Four boys stay in one of the classrooms after the lesson, one of them writing on a parchment, the other three evidently up to something.

[Court Bully One, moving close to the sitting student] So you think you’re cool just because your dad is the Emperor, eh?

[Prince Berbat, scribbling on unimpressed] I don’t want any trouble.

[Court Bully Two] Oh, hear that crybaby? The little girl don’t want any trouble!

[Court Bully One] Yeah, that’s why she’s not the heir of anything! Too delicate to fight for it!

[Court Bully Three] Hey, I’ve locked the door! Let’s teach him a coupla lessons!

[Prince Berbat, slipping his hand into a set of brass knuckles and grabbing the iron-tipped writing feather] Go ahead. Make my day.

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1093. On the way to Polotsk. A large force of cavalry and the Hard Boiled Eggs cross the steppes, as usual. A bit behind the head of the column, the Emperor departs with two famous soldiers.

[Nasokrator Mutimir, bubbling with optimism] So this is practically your homeland, isn’t it, Sir Kettu?

[Kettu Rurikovich, moodily] More or less, your majesty. We mercenaries try to forget those things…

[Nasokrator Mutimir] Of course. And you, Sir Glande, probably don’t remember either?

[Glande of Galindia, looking a bit nervous] Oh, I wouldn’t say that much, your majesty. My home is a bit further, though. And… may I ask you something?

[Nasokrator Mutimir, laughing] If you would like to know why I’m leading this army, you’re not the only one! I think every courtier has asked it…

[Glande of Galindia] Er… well…

[Nasokrator Mutimir] You see, I was getting a bit stressed cooped up in Ephesos. And listening to all those stories of the famous Hard Boiled Eggs, and the roving Sir Glande and Sir Kettu…

[Glande of Galindia] Yes, that’s what I…

[Nasokrator Mutimir] Oh, you’re famous indeed! The way you’ve been decimating cavalry regiments with that famous hammer of yours! Your fearless charges! The time you struck that gong at the temple of Crom and it crumbled on top of the enemy priestess! Amazing!

[Glande of Galindia] Oh, that was… but I mean, Sir Kettu is…

[Nasokrator Mutimir, clapping him on the back] Don’t worry! We all know about Sir Kettu’s daring and bravery, too! The time he entered that enemy city one night and had killed every single guard in the walls by next morning! And the time he entered in through one door and the whole garrison scampered through the other in a panic! You two are the best fighting men in the Dioclean army!

[Glande of Galindia] But sir, we aren’t! That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you! Sir Kettu is really…

[Nasokrator Mutimir, laughing, spurring his horse and leaving for the van of the column] Such modesty too! See you later, Sir Glande, Sir Kettu. I look forward to the battle!

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1093. Expeditionary army camp in front of Arborea. Very dark night. The two Aides meet in secret to discuss urgent matters.

[Second Aide] Fred?

[First Aide] Yes, Nobby?

[Second Aide] Are you there, Fred?

[First Aide] Yes, Nobby. What’s the matter?

[Second Aide] Do you think they have forgotten us, Fred?

[First Aide] What do you mean, Nobby?

[Second Aide] Well, we’ve been stationed here for months now and the Emperor hasn’t declared war…

[First Aide] He’s probably busy with that Egypt thing, Nobby. He’s a busy man, can’t be everywhere.

[Second Aide] But half my men have deserted, Fred. They’re all waiters or bouncers at the beach discos, Fred.

[First Aide] Can’t help you there, Nobby. Mine have joined the tourists.

[Second Aide] Maybe we should send a message to Ephesos for instructions? Fred? Are you there, Fred?

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1093. Palace of the Nasokrator at Ephesos. The Nasokrator’s bathroom. Mutimir is wrapped in a towel and shaving in front of the mirror when Wamba knocks and walks in.

[Patriarch Wamba] Your majesty, there’s news from the Middle East.

[Nasokrator Mutimir, lathering the cream] Wamba, this is the Middle East…

[Patriarch Wamba] Er, well, yes, but I mean… the thing is, you know the Knives have been pottering around near the Holy Land, and they got into a fight with the remnants of the Seljuk Sultanate more or less for the fun of it…

[Nasokrator Mutimir, shaving under the nose] Yes?

[Patriarch Wamba] Well, the Sultan tried to wriggle out of it by giving his title to a relative who used to be a vassal of yours, out by Hormuz.

[Nasokrator Mutimir, doing the chin] Pesky little brat, what?

[Patriarch Wamba] Ehm. Yes, your majesty. Actually, he’s a pesky little Orthodox brat. He’s King of the Seljuk Turks.

[Nasokrator Mutimir, lifting an eyebrow while retouching the side whiskers] Not Sultan?

[Patriarch Wamba] If you conquer him and take the title, you will have exterminated Seljuk resistance forever, your majesty.

[Nasokrator Mutimir, rubbing his face] And I’ll get to rub it in old Alp Arslan’s face, too. Get me my hose!

[Patriarch Wamba] You mean horse?

[Nasokrator Mutimir] That too, later.

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1093. Walls of Arborea. Very dark night. The two Aides meet in secret to discuss urgent matters.

[Second Aide] Fred?

[First Aide] Yes, Nobby?

[Second Aide] Are you there, Fred?

[First Aide] Yes, Nobby. What’s the matter?

[Second Aide] I think we’re in a pickle, Fred.

[First Aide] What do you mean, Nobby?

[Second Aide] I think we should not have declared war on our own, Fred. The Emperor’s not going to like it…

[First Aide] Don’t see what he can complain about. We conquered Arborea, convinced the Duchess to become a vassal, paid the broken tables, all very nice and proper.

[Second Aide] Yes, but Fred... what about the Swedes, Fred?

[First Aide] Wonderful people, the Swedes, Nobby. Make sure your waiters charge them double.

[Second Aide] Maybe we should warn the Emperor that the Vikings are coming? Fred? Are you there, Fred?

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1093. Castle of the Duke of Apulia at Apulia. Private study of the Duke. The officers of the Knives sit around the room while the Duke stands in the middle, fairly trembling with rage.

[Ermengol de Barcelona-Urgell] … if you tell me what’s bothering you, maybe we can try to help?

[Duke Roger Borsa of Apulia, bristling] A Norman will never surrender to a Saxon! Never!

[Zoltán Nemanjóvic] But Ermengol, I thought you were a Catalan?

[Hovhannes Senek'erim Gardman-Aghbania] That must be it, because the Apulian Counts are surrendering in droves…

[Duke Roger Borsa of Apulia] What! My Counts wouldn’t…

[Ermengol de Barcelona-Urgell] I think he’s talking about Wamba.

[Zoltán Nemanjóvic] Wamba? But what’s he got to do with this?

[Duke Roger Borsa of Apulia] I mean…

[Hovhannes Senek'erim Gardman-Aghbania, shrugging] Search me.

[Duke Roger Borsa of Apulia] Hey!

[Ermengol de Barcelona-Urgell] Look, this is getting boring. Shall we go downtown for a beer and return when he’s made up his mind? It’s not as if he could go anywhere…

[Hovhannes Senek'erim Gardman-Aghbania] Sounds good to me. Zoltán?

[Zoltán Nemanjóvic] Me too, Johnny. I’ll just go for some coin and join you at the lobby.

The three exit through the door and leave it open. Sounds of steps climbing down stairs, voices and laughs. Then nothing.

[Duke Roger Borsa of Apulia, whining] But… but what about me?

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The producer wants to apologize for the massive update. Won't happen again (the monkeys devoutly hope). It was due to the unexpected recovery of a cache of selected images. Or so he says.

Because we haven't seen those images yet. Nobody has.

Why are you even in Ephesos?
The harbour became useless during the late antiquity.

Yes, but the hill-side palace has a splendid view. And communications are perfect. Think of the Empress and other commuters.

And the temple is useless! I mean, not even a single pillar can they produce nowadays.

There is that, yes... Someday the Nasokrator should get around to building a church or two to show that the times have improved.

Good stuff, good updates. I really have to wonder how much influence Wamba has had on the vassals declaring war on various nations. I have to agree with the King of Georgia's quickly submitting to defeat, hammer time is very frightening, whether in anvil or dance form. The text is brilliant but I really am looking forward to when the screenshots are added, I rather want to find out what caused the conversation between Berbat and Mutimir at the end...

Poor Wamba, everybody suspects him (a safe habit, on the other hand).

The Diocleans' negotiation techniques try to vary, but they do enjoy scaring the second party. Mostly to save months of sieges and war. Poland was conquered with just one province occupied...

And I do hope the conversation with our dear Berbat makes sense now :). It certainly was confusing without the pictures.


One practical question. Would you prefer to avoid these two-step updates even if it risks having less of them?
 
Nicely done. You know things are going well when Fred Colon feels brave enough to begin wars on his own and even seems to be winning them comfortably! Just as well Berbat is proving so receptive to Wamba's teachings, I get the feeling he may soon gain the crown now that Mutimir is back in the field.
 
Nobby is forever alone...
 
Pictures ready :). Takes the monkeys an hour and a half to do that... it must be the lack of opposable thumbs.

Next updates are going to be complicated. The Dioclean Empire is clashing more and more with Central and Western Europe, Wamba is getting really old, Mutimir going exhuberant, Glande wants to go to the next level, Caesar is stirring trouble... and Ermengol has found out that Mutimir has a claim on Aragon from his mother (a legitimate one!). So things can get interesting. Or not :D.
 
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Great updates - I'm very much enjoying the er...chemistry between Kettu and Glande. Akwardly amusing.

Also, you've done a grand job against the Seljuks - it's very satisfying when you hammer the final nail into their coffin, isn't it? When I declared war against them for the last time in my Suenik AAR I couldn't help but feel a wee bit like Emperor Palpatine in Revenge of the Sith giving Order 66...

Regarding Wamba and his continued participation, you have several devices open to you.

1) Make him a ghost.
2) Have characters make references to him along the lines of "Wasn't this a bit like the time when Wamba did <insert random mental thing that Wamba did>?" or "What would Wamba have done in a situation like this?"
3) Have him canonised and let him bestow divine visions upon people.
4) Have "Wamba" be the name that all future Patriarchs have to assume. That way you can have all future Wambas (there's a scary thought!) have different personalities but essentially have the same role.
5) Get rid of Wamba and replace him with a WAMPA.
 
[Draft title: 1094-1095. The seeds of a new world. Well, sort of.]

[Cast:]
Nasokrator Mutimir. Looking almost healthy. Even the nose is less striking.
Empress Eldrid. Going a bit matronly but still very looky.
Patriarch Wamba. Starting to resemble sir Ian McKellen.
Prince Berbat. Tough as nails, with a scar on his forehead.
Brother Grant. Giant jaw, drooping eyelid, ability to change from bellow to frosty whisper.
Emissary. The same we used last time will do.
Zoltán Nemanjóvic. The lost prince of Serbia, as himself.
Ermengol de Barcelona-Urgell. The lost count of Urgell, as himself.
Sundry characters without lines. We'll need quite a few.
Digital assets and atrezzo. Outdoors and buildings sites, mainly, but also some gore for the mutilations.

September 1093. Palace of the Nasokrator in Ephesos. Mutimir has just arrived back from the North and is taking off his gauntlets and leaving the keys of the horse on the hall table while telling Wamba the news.

[Patriarch Wamba, surprised] One province? In the Baltic?

[Nasokrator Mutimir] They actually insisted. I kept trying to peace out, but Erik just wouldn't stop sending armies and more armies. It was pitiful after a while. Grannies and infants, all singing hymns to battle and wielding sticks. One wanted to adopt them instead of massacring them.

[Patriarch Wamba, worried] But you won?

[Nasokrator Mutimir] ... in the end we occupied almost all the Swedish royal realm. Of course we won! But it wasn't enough! I had to stake claims to everything in sight and offer to renounce them to get him to agree to peace. And then, he actually insisted in my taking that province. "Oh please, I can't accept no for an answer", says he. "Will make you a nice summer retreat some day".

[Patriarch Wamba, looking thoughtful] ... shows some consideration of your time, yes. Makes up for losing a huge amount of face, too.

[Nasokrator Mutimir, finally getting angry] Yes. But don't worry, Wamba. We ended that unscheduled war at last. We have got that new province. And you know what? It has a pretty monastery in the middle, the ideal place for a retired Patriarch. Do you get my drift?

[Patriarch Wamba] Absolutely, your majesty. Impressive and glorious victory that should teach those Westerners where they get off. Right?

[Nasokrator Mutimir] Better. Now go get me a warm bath, Patriarch.

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December 1093. Palace of the Nasokrator, Ephesos. Boudoir of the Empress Eldrid. All pink and fluffy and so sweet it hurts the teeth to look at it. The Empress is throwing a tantrum on the bed and the Emperor is pacing up and down.

[Empress Eldrid, bitterly] So I'm Empress of the East and I can't have a New Year Party, is that it? You'd rather spend the money gallivanting around among those Nordic blondes, right? Or those Bosnian brunettes, or whoever it's next? Well, I'm fed up with that!

[Nasokrator Mutimir, reasonably] But Eldrid, dear, we've only just come out of the red again...

[Empress Eldrid, hotly] Don't you dare "dear" me now, Mutimir! When was the last time you came home at a reasonable hour? When have we last had a couple of days for ourselves? You don't remember, right? Well neither do I!

[Nasokrator Mutimir, pleading] I've been an invalid for years! I was sick with pneumonia! Where did you want to go on holidays, the Paul Atreides War Veterans Hospital?

[Empress Eldrid, imperious] Well it would have been a change! And besides it's been a while now since you stopped "being an invalid" as you say"! And if I asked you for a skiing holiday now, I'm sure you would say...

[Nasokrator Mutimir] ... in the Alps or in the Caucasus?

[Empress Eldrid, shocked in mid-rant] What?

[Nasokrator Mutimir] You see, there's some very nice places just East of Venice, I hear... Look, Eldie, you're right, I've been up to the neck in work and I'd almost forgotten I had a wife. You want a skiing holiday? I'm up for it. And we'll take the whole Court up there so they remember what having fun is.

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April 94. Palace of the Nasokrator, Ephesos. Bowling alley. Wamba and some trusted courtiers are throwing some balls and debating what to do with the latest court scandal.

[Patriarch Wamba, after bowling five] ... well we'll have to do something before their majesties return from the holidays. And it may be a while yet. The Imperial couple are having so much fun touring the place.

[Ermengol de Barcelona-Urgell, grabbing a ball and walking to the spot] Well, if you ask me, I wouldn't be too hard on her. She's done us all a couple of favours.

[Patriarch Wamba, looking up from the tally paper] How so?

[Ermengol de Barcelona-Urgell, tiptoeing and launching] Well, she's put Ephesos once more in the news. Now we can boast public nudity, lax sexual morals, and a steamy scandal in government. We're gone beyond Oriental into a whole new realm of depravity. Every thrill for the fun-seeker. If that doesn't pull in tourists, what will?

[Patriarch Wamba, biting his lower lip] Put that way, it sounds...

[Ermengol de Barcelona-Urgell, urging his ball intently] And for the stone-worshipping crowd, we always have Byzantium. Hooray! Got 'em all! Improve that, Wamba old boy. I mean, holy Patriarch.

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October 1094. Building site near Ephesos city. The Emperor, in sporting robes and a hard hat, is touring the site with the new Court architect when an emissary pops up and tries to get a word with him.

[Zoltán Nemanjóvic] ... and this design is repeated all through the realm, your majesty. Dignified clean lines, underground multipurpose cellars, a stone gallows, and an office for the county sheriff.

[Nasokrator Mutimir] Looks practical, yes. What's that group doing on the gallows side?

[Zoltán Nemanjóvic] Oh, just a test run of the new and improved machinery. There's been a lot of police action since we put up the first of those towers and the jails are getting crowded... so I asked the Patriarch for some and he sent me enough for a few trials. It's working well up to now, that is the last batch of thieves. And... what is it, young man?

[Emisary, wringing his hands in anxiety] Sir, your majesty, sir, it's horrible!

[Nasokrator Mutimir] Oh, come on. Execution by dismemberment is nothing new!

[Zoltán Nemanjóvic, piqued] And it's a well-known crowd-pleaser, too.

[Emissary] Eh, no, sir, I mean... the news I bring is horrible! Disastrous! Apocalyptic!

[Nasokrator Mutimir] Out with them then, boy.

[Emissary, breathless] Jerusalem has broken away, your majesty! The Bishop has been killed and an adventurer has taken the title of King of the Holy Land!

[Nasokrator Mutimir, serious] Has he taken any other lands? Is he a muslim?

[Emissary, confused] Er, no, he's only got that land-locked province, but...

[Nasokrator Mutimir, dismissive] Then there's no risk of another crusade, is there? Someone else gets to pay the upkeep of the place and we all get a bit of rest. As far as I can see, it's good news indeed!

[Emissary, too shocked for words] But your majesty...!

[Zoltán Nemanjóvic, pushing ahead] That will be all, boy. Now, your majesty, this part is a real treat. Sir Kettu designed a new machine for fiscal crime, and we're about to test it with a french bunch of smugglers. It's pretty impressive. The boys call it "the circumcissor".

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November 1094. Central cloister of the Monastery of the Holy Knuckle Sandwich. The sun falls like a stream of burning stones on a row of new acolytes, while a monk in a marine haircut stomps in front of them with an attitude.

[Brother Grant] You say you want knowledge? Well, knowledge costs! And right here is where you start paying... with sweat! Now, boys, you have a broom each. You will learn to use it! I want this floor to be clean enough to eat upon... because it is where you will be eating and sleeping until you graduate from novice grade! Understood?

[All the boys together] Brother, yes, brother!

[Brother Grant, stopping in front of one of the young boys] Ah, yes. Berbat Vojislavljevic. Our new - celebrity.

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February 1095. On the road. Dusty. Half the Court follow the Emperor on a trip to a state funeral. The Nasokrator rides at the head of the caravan, Wamba's litter rides just beside the Empress', and both chat.

[Empress Eldrid] Well whatever you say I find it a bit distressing. Not a single friend left?

[Wamba, soothing] Look on the bright side, your majesty. He has no enemies either.

[Empress Eldrid] Yes, that's almost more surprising. Does he never step on anybody's toes or what?

[Wamba, unconfortable] ... er... well...

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A week off is too much holiday even for the monkeys... we spent a lot on illegal substances to make them workaholics, and we succeeded.


even without photographic evidence, seems like the realm will be in safe hands when Berbat ascends to the throne ... whether anyone else will be is of course debateable

Yes, Berbat is coming along nicely. But he's really not the heir apparent, right now.

Why Apulia?
Poor Normans, where will they go now?

Wamba had a fixation with a Dioclean Adriatic... which is hard to do, considering that half of it is currently Holy Roman Empire.

Nicely done. You know things are going well when Fred Colon feels brave enough to begin wars on his own and even seems to be winning them comfortably! Just as well Berbat is proving so receptive to Wamba's teachings, I get the feeling he may soon gain the crown now that Mutimir is back in the field.

Re good old Fred... yes, he won the war, but the Duchess was a vassal of the second strongest power in central Europe... and the Swedes are already coming for him.

Nobby is forever alone...

But Fred keeps coming back. Look on the bright side :).

Great updates - I'm very much enjoying the er...chemistry between Kettu and Glande. Akwardly amusing.

Also, you've done a grand job against the Seljuks - it's very satisfying when you hammer the final nail into their coffin, isn't it? When I declared war against them for the last time in my Suenik AAR I couldn't help but feel a wee bit like Emperor Palpatine in Revenge of the Sith giving Order 66...

Regarding Wamba and his continued participation, you have several devices open to you (...).

Yes, it was almost as nice as having Mutimir become the Emperor :). Conquering the Seljuks is always nice, but taking the title from Alp Arslan was positively sweet. I had never done either (getting an Emperor or having a character become King of the Turks). If I can find a way to get a Mutisomethingorother to inherit Germany, that'd be truly Wambaish.