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This was such a short break I barely noticed your were gone. ( ;) )

Excellent to have you back though and looking forward to the conclusion of this wonderful tale.:)
Many thanks Pip. I’ve been going through screenshots and formulating the final chapters. I’m excited to get it done.
 
Welcome back! Looking forward to seeing how you bring this tale to a close!
Thanks my old friend. I’m looking forward to catching up with your masterful tome haha
 
:D:)It is indeed!
 
I said I would be back. It only took a year and a world pandemic but here you go guys. We are 1 chapter away from conclusion:

Chapter 53, Fortified City of Oxford, The Duke of Hwicce’s Residence, 5th October 982 AD

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[With whiskers like that I should be the damned Regent!]

The stormy weather without matched the mood of the two princes huddled over a map of England within the Ducal solar. Wind-lashed rain beat at the shuttered windows and the inevitable drafts caused the many torches and candles to bend their flame as if in some homage to the wildness and disease abroad in both this part of the kingdom and in the elements generally. It was but early afternoon, according to the hourglass, though you would not know it from the gloom.


‘Think you he will come brother, given the sickness that is abroad?’ Earl Sighere asked worriedly of his more powerful and assured younger sibling.


Osræd stood from his stool motioning to the servants to bring more ale. ‘Oh, he will come alright brother – too much is at stake for him not to…’


Such confidence did nothing to remove the hang-dog expression on Earl Sighere’s face, however – one worry being replaced by another on the prince’s smooth yet handsome features. ‘But the great republics bear no love to us Os – why should they help?’


Osræd took a great draught from the flagon of ale he had just been passed and pressed another upon his brother as if to compel him to soothe his natural fears with the warm embrace of alcohol. ‘Listen to me brother. Grand Mayor Ælfræd of Lancaster shares his fellow republican’s fear that to leave the kingdom’s governance to the wiles of our younger sister and a babe king is utter folly.’


The Duke returned to the table and the map. ‘And to do so whilst Eanfrith of Saxony stands as heir even more so, think you not?’


Sighere nodded sadly ‘our father has left us in a sorry pass brother, for certes.’


‘He has. God alone knows what ague so fevered his mind that he saw fit to hand the regency to Winnie. Mayhap some witchery…’


The Earl started at that and admonished his brother ‘that is our sister of whom you speak Os – have a care.’


Nothing abashed Duke Osræd of Hwicce, Earl of Oxford and Prince of the realm, stuck to his theme, it had become something of an obsession these past few turbulent weeks; ‘Nay brother I will not! How else explain this moon-mad turn of events?’ Slamming his flagon down on the table he warmed to his task: ‘I am the Lord Chancellor of England and the senior noble – you are the senior prince of the blood. Think you not you or I should be regent?’


Sighere, clad in his customary sombre hued tunic held his fur lined mantle close about him – winter – would soon be here. He could smell it in the air. ‘You mean you, Os, do you not? Our father would never have named me Regent…’ He turned away at that – a wistful look haunting his melancholic eyes. He had, after all, already been passed over for a dukedom by their self-same sire…

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[Ah you would be mournful too if you were always the bridesmaid and never the bride...ahem]


The much more gaudily attired Chancellor dismissed the older man’s musings with an airy wave of his hand and had just returned to studying the map when there was a knock without and Osræd’s Steward came in, bowed to both princes before announcing in stern and commanding tone to his master, ‘my lord duke, his excellency Ælfræd of Lancaster is without, shall I see him in?’


‘Of course, of course Athelstan. Bring him in and fetch forth a platter with some meats and cheeses. Oh, and some bread and ale of course!’


Bowing low the steward departed, swiftly returning with a tall, lithe man, comely enough with well-coiffed beard and moustache. He was greying at the temples and was clearly older than both the princes. At his side a broadsword and by his carriage and the title that he held of Commander of England, clearly it was not just for show. Upon his brow the gold coronet of the Grand Mayoralties that their grandmother had created in the teeth of baronial opposition. Despite that hostility from the noble houses, the two republics within a kingdom, Deira and Lancaster, had thrived, bringing large revenues of trade to the realm’s shores. The patrician families that controlled these rich and bountiful lands, too, had thrived and this man was third of his kin to hold the title.


Sighere was not quite sure of etiquette, Grand Mayors holding the same rank as Dukes, but princes of the blood outranking all. In his hesitation he was rescued by his brother who strode forward and embraced the newcomer


‘You are well met here, Ælfræd of Lancaster! Well met indeed, though I wish it were in times of better tidings.’


Somewhat taken aback by the informality the newcomer bowed stiffly to both princes – he was sure of his station even if the brothers he had come to see were not. ‘I bid you good day my lord princes, with warm welcome and offers of amity and alliance from both Deira and Lancaster.’


At such Sighere pricked up, the worry frowns at once fleeing his brow. ‘What’s that you say sir – brother? Deira will join our cause?’


Ælfræd turned a rather haughty gaze on the older Godhelming as if assessing the query as without merit. ‘Of course, Deira will join us sir – her interests in a stable realm where our mercantile ventures can thrive are no different from my own.’


Osræd marched over triumphantly offering his guest a tankard of ale, ‘and Deira is the third most powerful power in England, behind only Mercia and the lands ruled by that whelp, Ælfwærd of Kent!’


‘Think you that Ælfwærd can be turned brother?’ Sighere enquired with trepidation and so he might for the eighteen-year-old Duke, progeny of the legendary Æthelræda, scourge of the Scots, was proud master of not one but three duchies; Kent, Northumbria and Galloway in Saxon held Scotland. This made him second only to the realm’s Master of Whispers, Duke Osræd of Mercia.


Can be or has been turned my Lord Prince?’ The Grand Mayor responded after taking a pull on his tankard and popping a sweetmeat into his mouth – the ride south had worked up quite the appetite. Moreover he was warming to his role as interlocuter for all the many disaffected magnates in the unquiet realm.


Osræd was watching the Mayor much like a cat might observe something that may or may not become its prey.


‘What mean you by that sir?’ Sighere asked, ever the slowest to catch on.


Before the increasingly impatient Ælfræd could respond the younger Godhelming let out a triumphal shout before beckoning a servant over with more ale. ‘What our friend here is implying is that young Duke Ælfwærd is in our camp.’ He turned back to the Mayor, ‘how though? And why?’


Haughtily offering his tankard for refilling, the Mayor filled the brothers in on the latest misstep by their sister: how the second most powerful baron in the realm had demanded a seat on the council and been firmly and decisively rebuffed. It seemed that ‘wiser’ heads had prevailed in declaring this untried youth too callow for such signal authority.


‘The utter fools’ Osræd whispered eyes agleam.


‘The decision was also taken because your sister is unwilling, as yet, to throw either of you off that same council to make room for such as the young duke…’ Ælfræd let the import of that morsel of familial loyalty hang in the air as heavy as the clouds speeding by without.


The Grand Mayor observed the rebel princes that he and his were throwing their lot in and with calculating mind spoke aloud what the other two had been considering – not for nothing had he often been dubbed ‘the seer’ for his ability to speak aloud what others were thinking before they even articulated their unformed thoughts. ‘You are wondering what the relative strengths of our combined levies might be against any royal faction?’


The brothers were all anticipation.


‘Mayhap you should instead be wondering how I come by all this cognisance my lords…’ the Mayor said glibly, his tongue loosening with each new draught of ale.


‘I am sure you will tell us sir,’ this from Sighere.


‘Who is the font of all when it comes to court – talk?’


Blank faces.


Exasperated the Mayor tried again. ‘With whom does the crown entrust secrets, talk, the very currency of newsmongering?’


At last Osræd caught on, his eyes opening wide, ‘mean you not Mercia?’


‘That is precisely who I mean sirs. It would seem that the Spymaster of the Realm is as disaffected with the current state of affairs and stands poised to lend his not inconsiderable weight, not to mention his spears, to our efforts…’


This was weighty news indeed and swung the scales. Osræd’s quicksilver wits had already calculated that with the two Grand Mayors and Duke Ælfwærd they would probably just overmatch their enemy. However, with the Duke of Mercia’s levies then their faction would have a considerable advantage and would very possibly be able to force their sister’s hand without bloodshed. She and her advisors may be foolish, but they were not hellbent on their own destruction.


‘This is marvellous news brother,’ Sighere exclaimed, for once a wide grin adorning his features. He even beckoned for more ale himself. ‘You will be Regent for our young nephew yet!’


At that Ælfræd swung round on the elder Godhelming, wondering just how this dynasty had so prospered with such dullards as signature members, ‘who said anything about the Regency my lords? This faction has been formed with one demand and one demand only: the full instatement of Duke Osræd of Hwicce as King of England and Bretwalda of the Britannic realms!’


Sighere turned to look at his sibling for this was not what had been planned, surely? But the look of glee and triumph on his brother’s face told him all he needed to know. Osræd planned to tear not just the realm but their ancient family asunder in pursuit of his overweening ambition…

9HfSLu.png

[Oh brother...how could you?]
 
That is truly uncanny: I was only thinking of you and your story yesterday, in a bit of a reminiscing mood with @coz1’s own epic Wessex tale now drawing to a close. Fantastic! Will read and reply in more depth a bit later. Just wanted to say welcome back! :)

PS: “Oh, brother!” indeed. :eek: Dastardly deeds. But inevitable, really. Will it be civil war or bloodless coup?
 
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Ah! @Asantahene 's astonishing return! Glad to have you back to bring this work to it's conclusion!

So a plot is afoot. Not much of support so far... but things can change quickly in a regency.
 
Shit, now I'm going to have to finish Albion if all the other CKII works from the time are being completed!

Ah, the old faction's system with is tendency to utterly tear realms apart repeatedly and forever...
 
It returns and the true awfulness of the King's plan is laid bare. If you are going to bypass your sons and pick a female regent then at least get the other powers in the Kingdom behind the plan.

Though in fairness it seems Princess Regent Wulfwynn has all the tact and political skill of her infamous grandmother Queen Wulfryth (i.e. she's an arrogant and condescending fool who needlessly makes enemies) so maybe a conflict was coming regardless. Perhaps two if Grand Mayor Ælfræd starts getting ambitions beyond just being a Kingmaker and power behind the throne?
 
Once again, glad to have you back :) The new chapter is certainly well worth the wait.

Hope the recent unpleasantness hasn't affected you and yours too badly.

Hey Specialist-nice to hear from you and really good to be back I have to say. Gave me quite a buzz posting that (long awaited chapter) last weekend. Glad you liked it! There is a real twist coming...re the recent unpleasantness-my husband and I are doing ok-he is a key worker though so cant work from home-I have switched almost all my therapy and coaching clients to video so we are getting there. Thanks. Hope you and yours are ok too.

That is truly uncanny: I was only thinking of you and your story yesterday, in a bit of a reminiscing mood with @coz1’s own epic Wessex tale now drawing to a close. Fantastic! Will read and reply in more depth a bit later. Just wanted to say welcome back! :)

PS: “Oh, brother!” indeed. :eek: Dastardly deeds. But inevitable, really. Will it be civil war or bloodless coup?
Hello my friend-nice to hear from you as well! There you go I must have been psychic hehe. I have a lot of catch up reading to do including your playthrough-can't believe it's still going haha!

Ah! @Asantahene 's astonishing return! Glad to have you back to bring this work to it's conclusion!

So a plot is afoot. Not much of support so far... but things can change quickly in a regency.

Thanks Jabber! It's great to be back-am already on your magisterial tale-a long way back though-will get there. Re the plot actually there is more support than the screenshot shows-I just didnt capture one that had half the most powerful lords in the realm backing it. What will Regent Wulfwynn do I hear you ask? Watch this space my friend ;)

Shit, now I'm going to have to finish Albion if all the other CKII works from the time are being completed!

Ah, the old faction's system with is tendency to utterly tear realms apart repeatedly and forever...
Yes indeed the good old game eh? Gotta love it! Now I hear you got the dreaded CV-19. Hope you are well on your way to recovery TBC and yes you will indeed have to finish Albion now-I am getting back into 'The Little Dux'.

Nice to see @Asantahene back!

Of course the first tale is about a budding plot. It will be interesting to see if the plotters can gain support.
Hello my friend! You call it right and the plot's afoot so let's see where it leads the Godhelmings eh?

It returns and the true awfulness of the King's plan is laid bare. If you are going to bypass your sons and pick a female regent then at least get the other powers in the Kingdom behind the plan.

Though in fairness it seems Princess Regent Wulfwynn has all the tact and political skill of her infamous grandmother Queen Wulfryth (i.e. she's an arrogant and condescending fool who needlessly makes enemies) so maybe a conflict was coming regardless. Perhaps two if Grand Mayor Ælfræd starts getting ambitions beyond just being a Kingmaker and power behind the throne?

Hahaha Hey El Pip-lovely to gather your acerbic commentary again :). Yes the old king did not choose wisely did he? And as things stand it doesnt look like Wulfwynn has the political dexterity to outmanoeuvre the not inconsiderable forces ranged against her...or does she?


Guys, words cannot express how great it is to be back writing and reading again-so great to see you all still here commenting and writing-you really are the best. I knew that I could make a prodigal son type return and be welcomed back warmly. It really gives me a wonderful feeling and in these most difficult of times I am exhorting my clients to get back to doing those things they might not have had time for but make them feel really good-this is one of mine. Thank you thank you thank you and please stay safe and well all of you.

I am going to be getting stuck into the next chapter (the last full one less an epilogue which I will finish off with) this weekend and possibly next so expect the update probably late next weekend or early the week after.
 
Yes indeed the good old game eh? Gotta love it! Now I hear you got the dreaded CV-19. Hope you are well on your way to recovery TBC and yes you will indeed have to finish Albion now-I am getting back into 'The Little Dux'.

Eh, Albion is probably dead now but do have a spiritual successor running at the moment that deals with the more intense and insane aspects of CKII.

Good to see you back as always.
 
Chapter 54, Lambeth Palace, Surrey, 1st September 985 AD


‘I would strongly advise it madam’ the old duke said, low-voiced, as they traversed the verdant palace gardens, scullions and courtiers alike pausing to bow low to the two most powerful people in England, for good or ill. The duke dressed simply in brown cotton tunic, embroidered with gold leaf, Braes with light mantle and broadsword hanging by his side. His female interlocuter was dressed more regally, in deep blue damask shift with a headdress and gold circlet alluding to her high rank and station.


vfcJX3.png

Yikes! With a diplo score like that you'll make your grandmother look like Mother Theresa! :eek:


‘A strong advisement is mayhap something I should take most seriously from the Lord Advisor,’ princess regent Wulfwynn opined, the beginnings of a bitter smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as they perambulated – she always loved this time of year that combined the promise of summer with spectacular foliage displays and temperatures that were warm but not unpleasant. She stopped to admire some particularly bright verdure as they proceeded downhill, their guard following at a discrete distance behind. ‘For the last time I failed to heed such admonishments I almost ended up in very warm water indeed. Is that not so my lord of East Anglia?’


Duke Eadwine chuffed grumpily whilst purveying this young woman who he had sworn to advise and protect – a sacred vow made upon his dying friend, the king’s, deathbed. It had taken many months and a herculean effort of will to rise from the despond that enveloped him in the time following that grim evening in 982 – but made it he had, using the strength of his promise as a crutch.


‘Mayhap you speak true my lady, but, as you know well, you left me little choice…’


Eyes a-glitter with some dangerous re-lit spark Wulfwynn snapped back: ‘to force my hand, my lord, with threats of force, strikes me not as the action of a friend!’


xEr4wZ.png

Traitorous dog!!! :mad::mad::mad:


This again, the old duke thought, sighing. Oh, for the company of his young friend, Harold of King’s Lynn, safely ensconced on his own estates and far from the cloying intrigues of the regency court. Or, indeed, his homely second wife, Hextilda – always a comfort but who he had insisted stay at home as her advancing years meant she did not travel so well – even if only the thirty-five leagues from Norwich to Lambeth.


‘you should look to your own weary bones greybeard!’ She had teased as he took his leave of her that last time – memories of warmer, simpler times for certes…he had now been stuck in Lambeth for well over six months – had arrived in April, as the trees were blooming, to disquieting reports from Bishop Byrthnoth, the royal Chaplain, that the Regent intended to reinforce her powers at the expense of the council’s. As things stood an uneasy truce existed between the princess, on the one side and her two brothers, one Chancellor and the other Steward, ranged against her. By an accord, agreed on the king’s death, that all weighty decisions would be put to the vote and with the Duke and the Bishop generally acting as a counterweight to the princes, an unsteady peace had held in place in the years following Osweald’s passing and this despite the best efforts of the royal siblings to upset the applecart at every turn. If it was not agitating for the election of one of their creatures to the council as Spymaster after the odious Osræd of Mercia was murdered in Ulster – a battle which he and the princess had lost in April, the Grand Mayor of Lancaster being duly appointed to that post, it was the turning of the Lord Marshall, Earl Sighere of Gwent to the prince’s faction which now gave the brothers the controlling votes on the Council…


That was the mess that he had returned to that spring. ‘Your actions were unlawful madam – and rash. Would have made a mockery of your father’s dying wishes.’ He sighed.


It seemed that Wulfwynn had neither forgiven nor forgotten for she immediately shot back ‘my father! You talk of my father, my lord duke! What good my father’s wishes when they were to be utterly suborned by my brothers and their acolytes! No sir, you have done me very ill indeed. Regent? I am more like an empty vessel!’


Eadwine’s patience was nigh on at its end and now anger wreathed his craggy features, ‘think you to channel the spirit of your grandmother madam for she had her struggles ere she was sainted!’ He snapped. ‘Think on! Power benefits you not if you have no control and your reckless plan to divest the Council of both would have left you with neither!’


At their raised voices, passers-by gave them a wide berth for all at court knew that there had been almost a fatal ruction that spring which culminated with the ultimatum delivered by Eadwine. With all the council and most of the magnates of the land behind him to enshrine in law the right of the council to check the Regent’s power – all matters would henceforth be voted on and the Princess’s vote would carry no more weight than any others. It was a humiliating climbdown for Wulfwynn and most unexpected as hitherto she had seen Eadwine as a bulwark and a friend – someone she had shared her father’s dying hours with, after all. What she could not know was that long had it been whispered that her powers of diplomacy were lacking, she seemed to possess many of her father and grandmother’s flaws without the balancing virtues.


She was hurrying ahead now, face flushed with anger and shame, the duke lengthening his stride to keep pace. She at last paused by a pond, her hazel eyes scanning the placid waters therein and some swans that serenely sailed upon them.


‘I had thought you to be my ally, sir,’ she said quietly.


The old duke, now at her side again, looked on her with no little warmth now. ‘I am that, still, my lady. My vote and those of the bishop and the lord marshal will still go with you – that I can vouchsafe for.’ He paused to see if his kinder words were hitting home. It seemed they were, so he continued; ‘you are not without guile madam – your plan to buy your brother’s favour with money from our overstocked treasury. Yours to bring Sighere of Gwent in from out of their compass. Do not throw all that away I beg you.’


182mCv.png

Ahh what a fine body of scurvy scum and backstabbers I have assembled around me...


‘And my whoreson brothers? You will help me stand against them?’


Sighing Eadwine responded, calmly: ‘mayhap my lady it need not always be war between you. You are all siblings after all. You are one family-you, your brothers, your nephew in Saxony and your king above all.’


Her shoulders, tense and hunched hitherto now finally slumped as if in some sort of surrender. ‘Mayhap you have the right of it, sir,’ she said finally, ‘sometimes it is hard to remember my nephew in Saxony is the second son of my beloved eldest brother – may God assoil him…’ Her eyes were fixed upon the lake, some faraway memories of her eldest sibling, who all had loved so much, assailing her.


‘Eorcenberht would have made a wonderful king, my lady,’ he said as if reading her thoughts.


Tears starting to her eyes she cuffed them away and turned back to the palace, saying ‘aye he would have done and so would his eldest, but both have been taken away from us untimely – mayhap it is God’s will.’


‘Mayhap madam, but to my earlier point – about King Eanfrith of Saxony…’


‘Methinks we are back to that with which we started. You would have me reach out, as Regent, to my nephew in Saxony, even though many say he covets the throne of England – turns jaundiced eye upon his own nephew, our king.’


They were now returning towards the palace, mindful of the gathering dusk. Braziers and torches were even now beginning to be lit by the evening watch.


‘He is the heir, whether we like it or not madam. If aught should happen to the boy, then the laws of the land dictate that Eanfrith is our next king. You must reach out to the man.’


‘The boy, as you put it sir, remains hale and hearty, though still unsightly to look at. I am hoping that people will get used to his – ah – deformities…’ the princess mused, thinking of a recent happenstance that had much intrigued her. She had been on the balcony outside her quarters leaning down to survey life below her, wondering whether things were good for her and how her fortunes had turned in only a few years, when she had been aware of something behind and had spun round to see the young king – a boy of only five summers – with misshapen head, nonetheless observing her intently through his startling blue eyes. He was on one of his wheeled toys looking as though he was about to aim it towards her when her sudden attention spun him around and he was gone, the shouts of his nurse and tutor ringing after him. A strange occurrence for certes!


HS6OLV.png

Now you weren't about to doing what I think you were...were you??? o_O


The duke did not need to know, she decided. ‘Very well my lord-I will make the arrangements to have a letter sent to my nephew, welcoming him to the amity of the Regency Council – it is not as if he was not raised here after all, even if in faraway Cornwall for most of his years. He is not the stranger most seem to think he is.’ She paused before continuing, ‘though you and I both do well know that should anything happen to the king’s grace many of the realm’s magnates will once more be agitating to put my brother Osræd on the throne…’


Eadwine did not want to contemplate the divisions that might follow such so he adroitly changed the subject: ‘I hear tell the king was excited to be going on his first hunt my lady-that was well done indeed.’ For all had heard how excited the lad had been about this excursion proposed by Wulfwynn. The boy had chafed at all the bounds upon him recently, ever more aware of his kingly status, it seemed.


Of a sudden there was a commotion up ahead of them, voices raised first in alarm then in shock and fear. The hubbub rolled down towards them and at its head came running a young servant. He was white as a sheet and hardly remembered the correct protocols as first he addressed himself to the duke then, realising his error, turned to the Regent.


‘Speak sirrah! What news?’ Wulfwynn asked, voice barely trembling with some sought for fear.


‘My lady regent – dread news without! The guard, the king’s guard have returned…they. There is-‘


The duke stepped forward and grabbed the boy by the shoulder, spinning him round, ‘calm yourself lad! Out with it. What has happened to our king?’


The messenger was now on his knees, shaking and crying but he managed to stammer out something intelligible: ‘my lord the huntsman that was procured to – to show the young king the ways of the wild. He -he…’


But the youth could not continue, quite overcome. Eadwine, quick witted hailed one of the palace stewards: ‘Ecbert! What news sir! What has happened?’


The steward, one of the palaces many, was ashen faced himself-he must know what had befallen their liege.


‘Sir, madam! Grievous news has reached us from the king’s hunting party. The huntsman was a snake planted in our very bosom…like some Brutus…’


The duke grasped the man by the shoulders ‘enough sirrah! Speak!’


‘That poor boy sir, the huntsman was in the pay of someone…has murdered our king…it was a deed most foully done.’


QMdxB4.png
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He was only a little boy Paradox you bastards!!! :eek:


At that advisor and regent both visibly blanched – the king assassinated -the murder of a child and their kingdom’s fortunes and those of their Godhelming rulers once more plunged into the deepest uncertainty…


8v4aq4.png


And that, my friends, draws the Godhelming saga to a close at a point that was a natural end for the game (though I have played slightly ahead). I may or may not add an epilogue if I can think of something suitable to append it with. It's been quite the ride-just glad to have been able to conclude it.

FIN
 
A sudden and shocking end -- both for the King and the tale -- but in some ways a fitting one. The Godhelmings have always danced close to the fire, and kin-strife and ill fortune have always dogged at their heels even despite their apparent successes. "Uneasy lies the head," etc.

Definitely glad I could be along for the ride from start to finish :)

And with that...

Asantahene, for composing a particularly well-crafted AAR and seeing it through to completion, it is my honor and privilege to present you with a Red Special Cookie ●.

At your discretion, should you wish to display this in your signature or Inkwell, you may copy and paste the string below into the text:

Code:
[B][COLOR=#ff0000]Red Special Cookie [url=https://forum.paradoxplaza.com/forum/index.php?threads/the-wolves-of-westseaxna-a-tale-of-wessex.969152/page-34#post-26472437]●[/url][/COLOR][/B]
 
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What she could not know was that long had it been whispered that her powers of diplomacy were lacking, she seemed to possess many of her father and grandmother’s flaws without the balancing virtues.

Mainly her grandmother's crown and army. Not sure about the guile though...

And here we thought the faction was their biggest problem. Welp! Too busy fighting internally to not see the external threat.

Or perhaps it was internal? Wulfwynn proposed the hunt. Who is to say she did not have a role in the boy's murder, being a council malcontent with -39 relationship score.

But a fine conclusion to an epic saga, and well worth the wait. Congrats on finishing this, and thanks for all the efforts you put in writing it! Been a pleasure to read.
 
All I can say is Blimey. It shouldn't be an unexpected twist ending, this is CK2 after all where child murder is a core gameplay mechanic, yet it still came as a shock. So congratulation on a dramatic and well crafted final chapter. :)

If you were looking to do an epilogue then I'd suggest something on who carried out the foul dead, or at least who ends up getting the blame in the narrative (they may not be the same person ;) ) and a brief summary on where Wulfwynn and her Brothers end up.

Or you could just leave it as a dramatic mystery for the reader to think about for themselves, I gather that is quite the literary fashion in some circles.
 
‘That poor boy sir, the huntsman was in the pay of someone…has murdered our king…it was a deed most foully done.’
Serpents abound. Gadzooks! :eek:

He was only a little boy Paradox you bastards!!! :eek:
I hope you decide to start another AAR in due course, as I will certainly miss (apart from everything else) your always-amusing illustration comments! :D

And that, my friends, draws the Godhelming saga to a close at a point that was a natural end for the game (though I have played slightly ahead). I may or may not add an epilogue if I can think of something suitable to append it with. It's been quite the ride-just glad to have been able to conclude it.
Congratulations for doing so! Yours was one of the AARs that convinced me to start playing CK2 and doing my own AAR on it a few years back now. I have thoroughly enjoyed this blood-soaked tale, its many dastardly and brutal deeds, and its wry humour. As is said, if you survive living among wolves, you become one. ;)

Asantahene, for composing a particularly well-crafted AAR and seeing it through to completion, it is my honor and privilege to present you with a Red Special Cookie ●.
Bravo! :)
 
What a sad end to the young ruler. :eek: And so the tale ends. Thanks for writing! :)