Kuipy, I feel for you. Let us form an unshakable League Of Those Betrayed By The RNG, and ally against those lucky bastards who have not yet felt the scourge of randomness.
God of Our Fathers, an MP Megacampaign AAR
- Thread starter Fivoin
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Can I join? Going through 8 Rulers in a Decade is starting to feel like a world record.
That does sound moderately awful, but still, you're at least a major power who has been able to Do Stuff in the past couple of sessions. Kuipy has been twiddling his thumbs since January, and I'm well on my way to being absorbed into the Greater Frisian Blob. I don't know if you're really cool enough for our club.
Great Holy War
After last week's session, when it was clear that Oddman had decided to abrogate (a much nicer word than 'betray') our initial arrangement and directly absorb England himself, my situation was somewhat dire. Oddman was kind enough to point it out himself, in a PM offering to negotiate terms of surrender:
The terms we arrived at were that I should give up England, keep Ireland and Scandinavia, take Scotland until EU4, and become Oddman's vassal. In return he promised to help me expand eastwards, presumably in the Russian steppe - which, it's true, would have given me a chance to revisit the Rolandoviches. This negotiation was, however, entirely a sham on my part, since as the man himself had pointed out, the solution was obvious: Just arrange a diplomatic miracle.
Perhaps Oddman was indulging in a bit of hyperbole in order to convince (again, a much nicer word than 'browbeat') me to accept his terms. Really now, how miraculous is it to find an ally willing to prevent a major power from eating a smaller one and becoming even more of a threat? In a sense this is the fundamental game mechanic of all multiplayer strategy games! As miraculous as an unreliable ally; as rare as turning on a weak friend to strengthen yourself directly; as unusual as an aggressive Yngling!
I therefore approached Pavski, saying in effect "Help, help, I'm being oppressed, and also you'll be next". We arranged that I, after getting rid of my wife, should marry one of his innumerable daughters and declare a Great Holy War for England. And it worked! Perfectly! Oddman was campaigning in Scotland when 30000 Saracens landed on his two 10k separate stacks; my mercenaries crushed the vassal stacks forming in England, and dragoon invaded oddman's mainland demesne, destroying still more armies there. It was glorious! It was inspiring! Specifically, it inspired me to make a vast mistake: I said, in public chat, where Murphy and all the imps of the perverse could see, "Odin protects his faithful!"
Well, really now, I don't know what I was thinking. Odin doesn't give a damn about his faithful, per se. (Actually, wrong metaphor. Odin doesn't have any damns to give; Hel's afterlife is unpleasant but it's not damnation in the Christian sense of separation from gods and grace.) What Odin cares about is warriors for Ragnarok - and armies must be led. So, obviously, as soon as Fylkir Valdemar (Second of that Name) had demonstrated his ability to form alliances, to win hearts, minds, and battles, to decisively crush his enemies by cunning and leadership and not merely raw strength - that was when Odin gathered him up to lead a company, a battalion, or a regiment on Vigrid field. And, to be fair to the Father of Battles, the defense of the whole of creation against the ice giants could reasonably be said to be of higher priority than the issue of who should rule one small island for the next hundred years or so.
The specific instrument by which the Asagrim chose Valdemar to be slain was an assassination plot; not originating, as one might expect, in oddman's court, but from that of the Rolandoviches - who still survive, far off in the Urals. The killer was Harald Storr, spymaster of Bolghar, too distant to diplomatically interact with, and my rival along with his sisters Holmfrid and Gyla. Three siblings, all hating me; could there be a common cause? It turns out I killed their father, Hysing of Somerset, who at the time was ahead of me in the election. So in some sense I had it coming; but to cut me down at the very moment of my triumph, when I was reuniting England under Dreki rule - ah, the irony! Truly, a very Crusader Kings moment. As a side note, it also turns out that Harald is the rival of each of his two sisters; you have to wonder a bit about the dynamics of that family, but by CK standards it's perhaps not that unusual. At least they're not Zoroastrians.
The killer. Note how, apart from me, he's rival to both his sisters; note also the Kinslayer trait and the dead brother. Hmm.
And speaking of interesting family dynamics, his father - whom I offed so I could save some money on my campaign fund; heck, it's not as though he didn't get a long and full life, that's why I wanted to be rid of him in the first place - is also a Kinslayer. Honestly I think I did Denmark a favour ensuring that these guys didn't get into power, not that anyone is like to thank me for it.
The Great Holy War ended with a "successful Jihad for England" (presumably because Pavski had the most warscore at that moment) and no land changing hands. We are still arguing about whether this counts against our fifty-year cooldown. I lost the Dogeship; my mercenaries departed; my new character was another of the Dreki geniuses, but this was small consolation since he was pretty shortly killed, leading the AI's regiments, in a hopeless and useless battle against the Scots, who of course took advantage of Denmark's disarray to invade. Oddman, likewise, grabbed York; nothing to be done about it since I was no longer allied to Pavski. My retinue was ground to bits before I could maneuver it away; the AI, of course, mismanaged the Scottish war, and although I lead the election, my current run of luck inclines me to believe that Grand Prince Hysing (not the one I killed) will live to see his three score and ten.
Oddman has made it clear that he is no longer inclined to grant any particular terms of surrender - to be fair, no doubt his laundry bill is unusually high this month; it all worked out for him but I bet the sight of 30000 scimitar-wielding Muslims landing in his demesne inspired some throaty Dutch cursing. So at the moment my best bet seems to be to fight to the bitter end; unfortunately the landing grounds are long gone, and this being 921 I don't think there can be many streets even in London, but I retain some fields and hills. It will take a while to conquer Denmark at its current extent one Duchy at a time; who knows what may happen? Fimconte might decide to complete the conquest of France; Oddman might have a run of Inbred Lunatic heirs; I might inherit Italy. I rarely play all-powerful empires - my skills consign me to being eternally the underdog; and everyone knows in what circumstances a rat fights best.
After last week's session, when it was clear that Oddman had decided to abrogate (a much nicer word than 'betray') our initial arrangement and directly absorb England himself, my situation was somewhat dire. Oddman was kind enough to point it out himself, in a PM offering to negotiate terms of surrender:
Oddman said:
The terms we arrived at were that I should give up England, keep Ireland and Scandinavia, take Scotland until EU4, and become Oddman's vassal. In return he promised to help me expand eastwards, presumably in the Russian steppe - which, it's true, would have given me a chance to revisit the Rolandoviches. This negotiation was, however, entirely a sham on my part, since as the man himself had pointed out, the solution was obvious: Just arrange a diplomatic miracle.
Perhaps Oddman was indulging in a bit of hyperbole in order to convince (again, a much nicer word than 'browbeat') me to accept his terms. Really now, how miraculous is it to find an ally willing to prevent a major power from eating a smaller one and becoming even more of a threat? In a sense this is the fundamental game mechanic of all multiplayer strategy games! As miraculous as an unreliable ally; as rare as turning on a weak friend to strengthen yourself directly; as unusual as an aggressive Yngling!
I therefore approached Pavski, saying in effect "Help, help, I'm being oppressed, and also you'll be next". We arranged that I, after getting rid of my wife, should marry one of his innumerable daughters and declare a Great Holy War for England. And it worked! Perfectly! Oddman was campaigning in Scotland when 30000 Saracens landed on his two 10k separate stacks; my mercenaries crushed the vassal stacks forming in England, and dragoon invaded oddman's mainland demesne, destroying still more armies there. It was glorious! It was inspiring! Specifically, it inspired me to make a vast mistake: I said, in public chat, where Murphy and all the imps of the perverse could see, "Odin protects his faithful!"
Well, really now, I don't know what I was thinking. Odin doesn't give a damn about his faithful, per se. (Actually, wrong metaphor. Odin doesn't have any damns to give; Hel's afterlife is unpleasant but it's not damnation in the Christian sense of separation from gods and grace.) What Odin cares about is warriors for Ragnarok - and armies must be led. So, obviously, as soon as Fylkir Valdemar (Second of that Name) had demonstrated his ability to form alliances, to win hearts, minds, and battles, to decisively crush his enemies by cunning and leadership and not merely raw strength - that was when Odin gathered him up to lead a company, a battalion, or a regiment on Vigrid field. And, to be fair to the Father of Battles, the defense of the whole of creation against the ice giants could reasonably be said to be of higher priority than the issue of who should rule one small island for the next hundred years or so.
The specific instrument by which the Asagrim chose Valdemar to be slain was an assassination plot; not originating, as one might expect, in oddman's court, but from that of the Rolandoviches - who still survive, far off in the Urals. The killer was Harald Storr, spymaster of Bolghar, too distant to diplomatically interact with, and my rival along with his sisters Holmfrid and Gyla. Three siblings, all hating me; could there be a common cause? It turns out I killed their father, Hysing of Somerset, who at the time was ahead of me in the election. So in some sense I had it coming; but to cut me down at the very moment of my triumph, when I was reuniting England under Dreki rule - ah, the irony! Truly, a very Crusader Kings moment. As a side note, it also turns out that Harald is the rival of each of his two sisters; you have to wonder a bit about the dynamics of that family, but by CK standards it's perhaps not that unusual. At least they're not Zoroastrians.
The killer. Note how, apart from me, he's rival to both his sisters; note also the Kinslayer trait and the dead brother. Hmm.
And speaking of interesting family dynamics, his father - whom I offed so I could save some money on my campaign fund; heck, it's not as though he didn't get a long and full life, that's why I wanted to be rid of him in the first place - is also a Kinslayer. Honestly I think I did Denmark a favour ensuring that these guys didn't get into power, not that anyone is like to thank me for it.
The Great Holy War ended with a "successful Jihad for England" (presumably because Pavski had the most warscore at that moment) and no land changing hands. We are still arguing about whether this counts against our fifty-year cooldown. I lost the Dogeship; my mercenaries departed; my new character was another of the Dreki geniuses, but this was small consolation since he was pretty shortly killed, leading the AI's regiments, in a hopeless and useless battle against the Scots, who of course took advantage of Denmark's disarray to invade. Oddman, likewise, grabbed York; nothing to be done about it since I was no longer allied to Pavski. My retinue was ground to bits before I could maneuver it away; the AI, of course, mismanaged the Scottish war, and although I lead the election, my current run of luck inclines me to believe that Grand Prince Hysing (not the one I killed) will live to see his three score and ten.
Oddman has made it clear that he is no longer inclined to grant any particular terms of surrender - to be fair, no doubt his laundry bill is unusually high this month; it all worked out for him but I bet the sight of 30000 scimitar-wielding Muslims landing in his demesne inspired some throaty Dutch cursing. So at the moment my best bet seems to be to fight to the bitter end; unfortunately the landing grounds are long gone, and this being 921 I don't think there can be many streets even in London, but I retain some fields and hills. It will take a while to conquer Denmark at its current extent one Duchy at a time; who knows what may happen? Fimconte might decide to complete the conquest of France; Oddman might have a run of Inbred Lunatic heirs; I might inherit Italy. I rarely play all-powerful empires - my skills consign me to being eternally the underdog; and everyone knows in what circumstances a rat fights best.
That was indeed one of the most quintessentially CKII scenarios imaginable. If nothing else, it made me smile, and you should know your suffering brings me joy.:laugh:
On a side note, I have always been somewhat unsure whether assassination constituted a straw death or a death in battle. I would lean towards the viewpoint that as there is no field of battle, or val, then there can be no valkyries to bring the dead to Valhalla, and thus Fylkir must be with Hel. On the other hand, that would be a terrible waste.
On a side note, I have always been somewhat unsure whether assassination constituted a straw death or a death in battle. I would lean towards the viewpoint that as there is no field of battle, or val, then there can be no valkyries to bring the dead to Valhalla, and thus Fylkir must be with Hel. On the other hand, that would be a terrible waste.
I'm glad someone had fun with it. 
I feel convinced that Odin will make an exception for such a successful warrior; any idiot can have his head chopped off on a battlefield, and many do, but not everyone can organise armies from the other end of the map to cause brownouts in the pants of his enemies.
I feel convinced that Odin will make an exception for such a successful warrior; any idiot can have his head chopped off on a battlefield, and many do, but not everyone can organise armies from the other end of the map to cause brownouts in the pants of his enemies.
Emergency Powers Activated
The situation has developed not necessarily entirely to my advantage. Because the PvP is depressing, I will first relate the only amusing thing that happened during the session, namely the way I took over the kingdom of Svithjod. It turned out that I had enough bits and pieces of Sweden to do a Usurp of the kingdom title; however, you can't usurp while the target is at war. The war in question was a revolt, which the Swedish AI had effectively won; the rebels were reduced to a 20-man stack hiding out across the border in Lappland. Now, if I were leading a revolt that was down to its last twenty men, against a kingdom that could get together a thousand easily, I think I might have traveled east and south and seen whether the Sultan of somewhere warm was hiring blond mercenaries; but the AI was just sitting there slowly attriting away. It's true that banditry "in aid of the cause", and calling it guerrilla resistance, is an old and honoured occupation, but it's not as though they could even have been finding much to steal in Lappland. However, the Swedish AI, displaying a nearly human level of metagaming - don't let anyone tell you the Singularity is not near - refused to send its stack north to finish the deal. After all, what did it care if twenty former rebels slowly starved to death? That war was the only thing keeping it independent. So I offered it help - a classic offer you cannot refuse; in fact, while the player gets a choice in these things, I'd be unsurprised to learn that the AI has been coded to always accept offers of help in war. In any case, I sent my retinue north into Lappland, it duly crushed the rebels, the war ended, and I usurped Svithjod. You're welcome, Swedish AI! Oh, and would you like to be my vassal? It turns out he would. (If he hadn't, of course, I would have DOWed for the de jure CB.) So Scandinavia, at least, is now united under my rule.
England, unfortunately, is rather closer to being united under the rule of Voldemort - excuse me, Oddman. ("Unity is strength! Division is weakness!") Following his obvious best strategy, as soon as the truce ran out he (and separately Fimconte) attacked me, holy wars for duchies. Pavski sent an army; but his navy was too small to transport the amount of troops we needed to challenge Oddman's 45k. (Logistical constraints, in Crusader Kings! Who would have thought it?) We lost the decisive battle, and the war ended with my capital being ignominiously moved inland; in this exigency, I have assumed emergency powers and Denmark is no longer a republic. I am sad about this, because republics are fun to play, but it must be admitted that the "emergency powers" thing is not entirely a euphemism; I've spent quite a bit of time in this game waiting to become Doge. (Not to mention those two elections that didn't stay bought.) A reasonable certainty that I'll still be in charge if - to take a completely unlikely scenario - some two-bit AI with a coded grudge should manage to give me poisoned wine is worth quite a bit of money. I will attempt to restore the republic as and when convenient, but right now we need a single strong hand at the helm, and every man to his oar!
I still retain a few English provinces and most of Ireland, but at this point it's clear that my most important assets are Scandinavia, the Muslim alliance, and the unquenchable optimism of the man who knows the gods are on his side. Oh, and my Yngling vassals. It's true that unleashing these weapons of historical destruction is a move of desperation, and in truth I'm not yet quite desperate enough to go there. But it's good to have something in reserve; and I have not yet begun to fight.
The situation has developed not necessarily entirely to my advantage. Because the PvP is depressing, I will first relate the only amusing thing that happened during the session, namely the way I took over the kingdom of Svithjod. It turned out that I had enough bits and pieces of Sweden to do a Usurp of the kingdom title; however, you can't usurp while the target is at war. The war in question was a revolt, which the Swedish AI had effectively won; the rebels were reduced to a 20-man stack hiding out across the border in Lappland. Now, if I were leading a revolt that was down to its last twenty men, against a kingdom that could get together a thousand easily, I think I might have traveled east and south and seen whether the Sultan of somewhere warm was hiring blond mercenaries; but the AI was just sitting there slowly attriting away. It's true that banditry "in aid of the cause", and calling it guerrilla resistance, is an old and honoured occupation, but it's not as though they could even have been finding much to steal in Lappland. However, the Swedish AI, displaying a nearly human level of metagaming - don't let anyone tell you the Singularity is not near - refused to send its stack north to finish the deal. After all, what did it care if twenty former rebels slowly starved to death? That war was the only thing keeping it independent. So I offered it help - a classic offer you cannot refuse; in fact, while the player gets a choice in these things, I'd be unsurprised to learn that the AI has been coded to always accept offers of help in war. In any case, I sent my retinue north into Lappland, it duly crushed the rebels, the war ended, and I usurped Svithjod. You're welcome, Swedish AI! Oh, and would you like to be my vassal? It turns out he would. (If he hadn't, of course, I would have DOWed for the de jure CB.) So Scandinavia, at least, is now united under my rule.
England, unfortunately, is rather closer to being united under the rule of Voldemort - excuse me, Oddman. ("Unity is strength! Division is weakness!") Following his obvious best strategy, as soon as the truce ran out he (and separately Fimconte) attacked me, holy wars for duchies. Pavski sent an army; but his navy was too small to transport the amount of troops we needed to challenge Oddman's 45k. (Logistical constraints, in Crusader Kings! Who would have thought it?) We lost the decisive battle, and the war ended with my capital being ignominiously moved inland; in this exigency, I have assumed emergency powers and Denmark is no longer a republic. I am sad about this, because republics are fun to play, but it must be admitted that the "emergency powers" thing is not entirely a euphemism; I've spent quite a bit of time in this game waiting to become Doge. (Not to mention those two elections that didn't stay bought.) A reasonable certainty that I'll still be in charge if - to take a completely unlikely scenario - some two-bit AI with a coded grudge should manage to give me poisoned wine is worth quite a bit of money. I will attempt to restore the republic as and when convenient, but right now we need a single strong hand at the helm, and every man to his oar!
I still retain a few English provinces and most of Ireland, but at this point it's clear that my most important assets are Scandinavia, the Muslim alliance, and the unquenchable optimism of the man who knows the gods are on his side. Oh, and my Yngling vassals. It's true that unleashing these weapons of historical destruction is a move of desperation, and in truth I'm not yet quite desperate enough to go there. But it's good to have something in reserve; and I have not yet begun to fight.
Groaningen Under the Yoke
Life has been uneventful in the far north, these two sessions; that's why I wrote no AAR last week - it seemed a bit boring to report "to my surprise, I survived the session". In fact, I not only survived but did so without territorial cessions. I conjecture that oddman doesn't think it worth bothering with Ireland for a while; I am protected in my possession of Scandinavia by his treaty with Khan, and while I still have a couple of provinces on the British mainland, they're perhaps not worth burning a Holy War CB on. Thus, little of interest happened to me in the 934-946 session; I strategically moved vassals around in accordance with a Cunning Plan that shall be revealed later, but that's all.
In the 946-960 session, however, all hell broke loose - though I wasn't its target. Oddman (ably subbed by Vaniver) and Fimconte declared, respectively, Crusade and Jihad for the northern and southern parts of Italy. In spite of various interventions they rapidly overran the peninsula and annexed it. That results in this map of Europe:
In other words, two allied powers now rule (ok, yes, modulo the revolt in Italy, but it'll soon be crushed) from Gibraltar to the Elbe, from the Highlands to Malta. This is a bit of a problem. As balances of power go, it doesn't. (Balance, that is. It certainly powers.) Naturally, the great nations of Europe and the Middle East have immediately formed an alliance to contain this common enemy, exchanging dynastically connected girls like party favours to create an overpowering coalition that can roll back the ill-gotten gains - hah. I jest, and the jest is bitter. The great nations of Europe are cowering in fear of the aggressors. The phrase "new Christian overlords" has not, admittedly, made an appearance yet, but it can be only a question of time.
I did my best to help the Italians: I sent my raiders south in their dragon-headed ships, to loot and burn in Pomerania, and distract the Moslem armies. I meant to do good, and I did quite well. But this business of raiding people who have actual armies is nerve-wracking - my mouse hand twitched for the embarkation order at every random movement of Fimconte's vassals. The powers of Africa and the Levant need to get their act together; the people of the North can bite ankles (and such bites have been known to fester), but we're going to need someone who can meet the Christian armies in the open field, and break their faith and make them run. Where are the brave Moslem armies of old? Where are the conquerors of Ethiopia and Rome?
Earlier in the game I had a lot of characters die young, mostly at very inconvenient times; although my current one is not that great, he is at least sticking around for a while. I'll be sad to see him go; after my geniuses all died before reaching two score, having an average man reach his three-and-ten got me rather attached to him.
Life has been uneventful in the far north, these two sessions; that's why I wrote no AAR last week - it seemed a bit boring to report "to my surprise, I survived the session". In fact, I not only survived but did so without territorial cessions. I conjecture that oddman doesn't think it worth bothering with Ireland for a while; I am protected in my possession of Scandinavia by his treaty with Khan, and while I still have a couple of provinces on the British mainland, they're perhaps not worth burning a Holy War CB on. Thus, little of interest happened to me in the 934-946 session; I strategically moved vassals around in accordance with a Cunning Plan that shall be revealed later, but that's all.
In the 946-960 session, however, all hell broke loose - though I wasn't its target. Oddman (ably subbed by Vaniver) and Fimconte declared, respectively, Crusade and Jihad for the northern and southern parts of Italy. In spite of various interventions they rapidly overran the peninsula and annexed it. That results in this map of Europe:
In other words, two allied powers now rule (ok, yes, modulo the revolt in Italy, but it'll soon be crushed) from Gibraltar to the Elbe, from the Highlands to Malta. This is a bit of a problem. As balances of power go, it doesn't. (Balance, that is. It certainly powers.) Naturally, the great nations of Europe and the Middle East have immediately formed an alliance to contain this common enemy, exchanging dynastically connected girls like party favours to create an overpowering coalition that can roll back the ill-gotten gains - hah. I jest, and the jest is bitter. The great nations of Europe are cowering in fear of the aggressors. The phrase "new Christian overlords" has not, admittedly, made an appearance yet, but it can be only a question of time.
I did my best to help the Italians: I sent my raiders south in their dragon-headed ships, to loot and burn in Pomerania, and distract the Moslem armies. I meant to do good, and I did quite well. But this business of raiding people who have actual armies is nerve-wracking - my mouse hand twitched for the embarkation order at every random movement of Fimconte's vassals. The powers of Africa and the Levant need to get their act together; the people of the North can bite ankles (and such bites have been known to fester), but we're going to need someone who can meet the Christian armies in the open field, and break their faith and make them run. Where are the brave Moslem armies of old? Where are the conquerors of Ethiopia and Rome?
Earlier in the game I had a lot of characters die young, mostly at very inconvenient times; although my current one is not that great, he is at least sticking around for a while. I'll be sad to see him go; after my geniuses all died before reaching two score, having an average man reach his three-and-ten got me rather attached to him.
Restoring the Republic
The geopolitical situation continues to deteriorate; my Agnatic Seniority succession law enabled Oddman and Fimconte to keep snapping up duchies without breaking truce, since I had a new character every five years or so. Thus I have lost Jutland, another bit of Ireland, my last remaining county in England, and Skåne. The last, however, may backfire; Khan had signed a treaty with oddman guaranteeing Scandinavia beyond the Sound as being in my sphere of interest. Skåne was seized by Fimconte, who had not signed any such treaty; but while the letter of the law is thus upheld, Khan may wish to enforce the spirit. In addition to these gradual losses, Yahmik (playing Finland) has apparently decided that I will inevitably lose this struggle - and I have to admit that I can understand this point of view - and briefly seized Uppland, after Fimconte had destroyed my retinue and levies, as the initial stroke of a campaign to get his share of the loot. However, with African support I was able to reconquer the duchy, getting Åland as a bonus - my first territorial gain for some time.
Turning from external to internal affairs, my Cunning Plan to restore the republic has met with qualified success. I created a republic with its capital in Bergen by giving the city there to a Dreki kinsman; I then made him a Duke, and slowly fed all my vassals into the republic. The plan, obviously, was to make the feudal structure of my empire into a broad-based pyramid with a very thin spire spire on top; the Emperor of Denmark and his two-county demesne would have as his sole direct vassal the Republic of Hordaland (later this became the Grand Republic of Ireland, when I'd transferred enough vassals for the AI to create the King title), and all of Scandinavia and Ireland would be vassals of the republic. Then I'd switch to playing the Dreki patricians, and voila - Republic restored!
The problem with this excellent plan was speed: I could not transfer my Duke-level vassals (even, for some reason, after the republic became the Grand Republic of Ireland); so I had to break up the power of the various jarls - which, naturally, they did not like. The Republic, of course, loved me to bits for transferring every Count in the realm to their rule, so there was no danger of a country-wide rebellion; still, I had some sharpish wars to reduce the powerful Dukes of Sjaelland and Skåne to a level where I could move them across, and Oddman of course took advantage of this to snip off pieces of the rebels as he could. Then, at some point my Dreki Doge died and his heir, naturally, lost the election; upon consideration this should not have stopped me, but in the heat of the session I was momentarily reluctant to transfer power to someone not of my dynasty. (Also, I was preoccupied with the wars against various rebels and against Suomi for Uppland.) I therefore did not transfer the Fylkirate, and delayed the breaking of the final couple of jarls. Then the Republic of Ireland sued for independence, and since I would clearly have lost the ensuing civil war - by then the Republic was about 70% of my land area, and my few remaining vassals hated me - I let them go. I will switch to the Dreki patrician, and hope that the next election comes fairly quickly; but the transfer of power was not as clean as I had intended.
Even if it had been, it is not clear that I could have done anything with it; the perfidious Frisians still rule from the Bay of Biscay to, now, the tip of Jutland, and there is no sign of an international coalition against them. Becoming a king-level republic, at least, opens up the tactical option of swearing fealty to a powerful player, and gaining some protection that way; but if nothing else, the Dreki will die with their principles intact, as a republic and not a dictatorship. It is true that we have not done well at resisting the Christmen and the Mohammedans; successively, Holy War has failed, alliance has failed, treaty has failed, and dictatorship has failed. If we go down, then, let us do so with our backs straight.
The geopolitical situation continues to deteriorate; my Agnatic Seniority succession law enabled Oddman and Fimconte to keep snapping up duchies without breaking truce, since I had a new character every five years or so. Thus I have lost Jutland, another bit of Ireland, my last remaining county in England, and Skåne. The last, however, may backfire; Khan had signed a treaty with oddman guaranteeing Scandinavia beyond the Sound as being in my sphere of interest. Skåne was seized by Fimconte, who had not signed any such treaty; but while the letter of the law is thus upheld, Khan may wish to enforce the spirit. In addition to these gradual losses, Yahmik (playing Finland) has apparently decided that I will inevitably lose this struggle - and I have to admit that I can understand this point of view - and briefly seized Uppland, after Fimconte had destroyed my retinue and levies, as the initial stroke of a campaign to get his share of the loot. However, with African support I was able to reconquer the duchy, getting Åland as a bonus - my first territorial gain for some time.
Turning from external to internal affairs, my Cunning Plan to restore the republic has met with qualified success. I created a republic with its capital in Bergen by giving the city there to a Dreki kinsman; I then made him a Duke, and slowly fed all my vassals into the republic. The plan, obviously, was to make the feudal structure of my empire into a broad-based pyramid with a very thin spire spire on top; the Emperor of Denmark and his two-county demesne would have as his sole direct vassal the Republic of Hordaland (later this became the Grand Republic of Ireland, when I'd transferred enough vassals for the AI to create the King title), and all of Scandinavia and Ireland would be vassals of the republic. Then I'd switch to playing the Dreki patricians, and voila - Republic restored!
The problem with this excellent plan was speed: I could not transfer my Duke-level vassals (even, for some reason, after the republic became the Grand Republic of Ireland); so I had to break up the power of the various jarls - which, naturally, they did not like. The Republic, of course, loved me to bits for transferring every Count in the realm to their rule, so there was no danger of a country-wide rebellion; still, I had some sharpish wars to reduce the powerful Dukes of Sjaelland and Skåne to a level where I could move them across, and Oddman of course took advantage of this to snip off pieces of the rebels as he could. Then, at some point my Dreki Doge died and his heir, naturally, lost the election; upon consideration this should not have stopped me, but in the heat of the session I was momentarily reluctant to transfer power to someone not of my dynasty. (Also, I was preoccupied with the wars against various rebels and against Suomi for Uppland.) I therefore did not transfer the Fylkirate, and delayed the breaking of the final couple of jarls. Then the Republic of Ireland sued for independence, and since I would clearly have lost the ensuing civil war - by then the Republic was about 70% of my land area, and my few remaining vassals hated me - I let them go. I will switch to the Dreki patrician, and hope that the next election comes fairly quickly; but the transfer of power was not as clean as I had intended.
Even if it had been, it is not clear that I could have done anything with it; the perfidious Frisians still rule from the Bay of Biscay to, now, the tip of Jutland, and there is no sign of an international coalition against them. Becoming a king-level republic, at least, opens up the tactical option of swearing fealty to a powerful player, and gaining some protection that way; but if nothing else, the Dreki will die with their principles intact, as a republic and not a dictatorship. It is true that we have not done well at resisting the Christmen and the Mohammedans; successively, Holy War has failed, alliance has failed, treaty has failed, and dictatorship has failed. If we go down, then, let us do so with our backs straight.
Peace and Profit
I noted last week that, in the resistance against the Christian faith, I have tried several different strategies: Successively, Holy War has failed, alliance has failed, treaty has failed, and dictatorship has failed. Consequently I restored the old Republic - but not purely for roleplaying reasons. Crucially, the Grand Republic of Ireland is a kingdom, not an empire; it can, therefore, swear fealty to the Emperor of Frisia. After two generations of failure at war, I am turning to a new strategy: To bow the stiff necks of the North, and make peace. This does have the disadvantage (or is it?) of aligning me with the current proto-hegemon, which is not good for anyone's popularity; but as the counter-hegemonic alliance has signally failed to protect the independence of small powers, my remaining option was to make the best terms I could.
Knut Dreki, the Doge Who Did Not So Much Kneel As Bend Over.
The counter-hegemons did have a damn good try this session, with a Jihad for Aragon that, surely, made the average colour of pants in Iberia move somewhat in the direction of brown. Although I did not follow the fighting closely, it seemed to me that it was going somewhat against my new Iberian friends (that is, they are the allies of my overlord). However, Fimconte, with his usual nose for sharp gameplay, was able to defuse the situation by converting to the Ibadi heresy of his attackers, invalidating the jihad CB and ending the war without any land changing hands. I opine that this act will surely rebound against him in the end; apart from the human badboy it cannot have done his credit with Allah any good.
Jihad for Aragon!
The result of these varied shenanigans and accommodations is some scary-looking blobs:
Immense empires of the West.
The eventual and inevitable betrayal - Fimconte can clearly be trusted roughly as far as you can see him, and on the Internet you can't see him - will be epic in scope, and lead to a shattering war. Unless, of course, it is resolved by invalidating the CB.
Internally, a quiet session for me; I'm effectively rebuilding my republic from scratch, including (sigh) House Dreki. In fact, it wasn't until I got the Dogeship again and could use my accumulated tech points to bump up Bergen's trade tech that any of the Irish patrician families could actually build any trade posts! I got a nice sequence of four creating a trade zone in the Kattegat and the Sound, and now just need some upgraded cities for them to improve. Lacking CBs, I wasn't able to do much to reabsorb Old Denmark, though I'm currently pressing my brother's claim on the Fylkirate, which will return the important tactical option of Great Holy War to my control as soon as that brother inherits.
The oak breaks, the willow bends. "Cities and Thrones and Powers / stand in Time's eye / almost as long as flowers / which daily die"; but profit is eternal, and so is the good name of peacemakers. Let us make peace, then, and profit.
I noted last week that, in the resistance against the Christian faith, I have tried several different strategies: Successively, Holy War has failed, alliance has failed, treaty has failed, and dictatorship has failed. Consequently I restored the old Republic - but not purely for roleplaying reasons. Crucially, the Grand Republic of Ireland is a kingdom, not an empire; it can, therefore, swear fealty to the Emperor of Frisia. After two generations of failure at war, I am turning to a new strategy: To bow the stiff necks of the North, and make peace. This does have the disadvantage (or is it?) of aligning me with the current proto-hegemon, which is not good for anyone's popularity; but as the counter-hegemonic alliance has signally failed to protect the independence of small powers, my remaining option was to make the best terms I could.
Knut Dreki, the Doge Who Did Not So Much Kneel As Bend Over.
The counter-hegemons did have a damn good try this session, with a Jihad for Aragon that, surely, made the average colour of pants in Iberia move somewhat in the direction of brown. Although I did not follow the fighting closely, it seemed to me that it was going somewhat against my new Iberian friends (that is, they are the allies of my overlord). However, Fimconte, with his usual nose for sharp gameplay, was able to defuse the situation by converting to the Ibadi heresy of his attackers, invalidating the jihad CB and ending the war without any land changing hands. I opine that this act will surely rebound against him in the end; apart from the human badboy it cannot have done his credit with Allah any good.
Jihad for Aragon!
The result of these varied shenanigans and accommodations is some scary-looking blobs:
Immense empires of the West.
The eventual and inevitable betrayal - Fimconte can clearly be trusted roughly as far as you can see him, and on the Internet you can't see him - will be epic in scope, and lead to a shattering war. Unless, of course, it is resolved by invalidating the CB.
Internally, a quiet session for me; I'm effectively rebuilding my republic from scratch, including (sigh) House Dreki. In fact, it wasn't until I got the Dogeship again and could use my accumulated tech points to bump up Bergen's trade tech that any of the Irish patrician families could actually build any trade posts! I got a nice sequence of four creating a trade zone in the Kattegat and the Sound, and now just need some upgraded cities for them to improve. Lacking CBs, I wasn't able to do much to reabsorb Old Denmark, though I'm currently pressing my brother's claim on the Fylkirate, which will return the important tactical option of Great Holy War to my control as soon as that brother inherits.
The oak breaks, the willow bends. "Cities and Thrones and Powers / stand in Time's eye / almost as long as flowers / which daily die"; but profit is eternal, and so is the good name of peacemakers. Let us make peace, then, and profit.
Colourful Characters
No great events in this session, except that I recovered the Fylkirate by pressing my brother's claim and then getting him elected Doge, so I thought I'd have a look at some characters instead.
He destroyed Rome in order to save it. He gave the Dreki the honour of bestowing the kiss of friendship on both his cheeks, and distracted them so they didn't read the fine print. He has survived three wives, but nothing was ever proved to the judges he appointed, and besides, they knew the job was dangerous when they took it. He is The Most Interesting Emperor North of Paris. He doesn't always drink wine, but when he does, he ensures that his courtiers have a glass too.
The most powerful vassal of the Emperor Pippin is sometimes referred to as "The Taxes", as in the two immemorial scourges of mankind, death and taxes. The Emperor, a formidable warrior in his youth and the scion of a dynasty that has been known to hang the heraldry of exterminated bloodlines on their bedroom walls and gloat over them to ensure potency, is thus cast in the role of "The Death". But most people are quick to recall, when making this half-in-jest identification, that death, at least, doesn't come every year.
Yes, he does have a red beard, and he does execute anyone who calls him Barbarossa. Or mentions the inevitable betrayal of his alliance with Frisia. Or looks at him funny. But although his rule is perhaps a touch harsh, you can't say he's unfair or arbitrary; it's easy to avoid being executed if you just follow the rules he has laid out, and are a subject of a completely different kingdom on the other side of Europe. India would be even better.
She isn't conventionally beautiful, although her blue eyes are striking, but Aliken has that feminine allure, that je ne sais quoi, that undefinable charisma of some women that makes men unable to keep their hands off. She has been the concubine, and the power beneath the throne, of three successive Dreki Lawspeakers. Obviously, a woman in such a position attracts whispers even more easily than she attracts men. She is variously said to be the agent of the Emperor, for keeping the Dreki under control; of the Caliph, to subvert the Dreki for the inevitable day of betrayal; of the Pope, to convert the heathen; of the Zoroastrian witch-sisterhood with an agenda that varies with the speaker; or any of the eleven possible combinations of double- and triple-agentry. She is rumoured to be a man-eating and man-hating Valkyrie, her strength-sucking bed arts the cause of the early deaths and senility of the two previous Doges, and the premature greying of Ingemar. ("But," the whisperers invariably continue, "what a way to go!") She is the Emperor's illegitimate daughter, exiled from his court after one too many escapades with the serving maids; or she was thrown for a bone to the throne of the Norse wolves to keep them busy; or she escaped from the sack of Rome and has worked her way to a position of power for revenge against the Caliph. But Aliken keeps her own counsel.
No great events in this session, except that I recovered the Fylkirate by pressing my brother's claim and then getting him elected Doge, so I thought I'd have a look at some characters instead.
Emperor of the West
He destroyed Rome in order to save it. He gave the Dreki the honour of bestowing the kiss of friendship on both his cheeks, and distracted them so they didn't read the fine print. He has survived three wives, but nothing was ever proved to the judges he appointed, and besides, they knew the job was dangerous when they took it. He is The Most Interesting Emperor North of Paris. He doesn't always drink wine, but when he does, he ensures that his courtiers have a glass too.
Merchant Prince
The most powerful vassal of the Emperor Pippin is sometimes referred to as "The Taxes", as in the two immemorial scourges of mankind, death and taxes. The Emperor, a formidable warrior in his youth and the scion of a dynasty that has been known to hang the heraldry of exterminated bloodlines on their bedroom walls and gloat over them to ensure potency, is thus cast in the role of "The Death". But most people are quick to recall, when making this half-in-jest identification, that death, at least, doesn't come every year.
Pirate Caliph
Yes, he does have a red beard, and he does execute anyone who calls him Barbarossa. Or mentions the inevitable betrayal of his alliance with Frisia. Or looks at him funny. But although his rule is perhaps a touch harsh, you can't say he's unfair or arbitrary; it's easy to avoid being executed if you just follow the rules he has laid out, and are a subject of a completely different kingdom on the other side of Europe. India would be even better.
Concubine
She isn't conventionally beautiful, although her blue eyes are striking, but Aliken has that feminine allure, that je ne sais quoi, that undefinable charisma of some women that makes men unable to keep their hands off. She has been the concubine, and the power beneath the throne, of three successive Dreki Lawspeakers. Obviously, a woman in such a position attracts whispers even more easily than she attracts men. She is variously said to be the agent of the Emperor, for keeping the Dreki under control; of the Caliph, to subvert the Dreki for the inevitable day of betrayal; of the Pope, to convert the heathen; of the Zoroastrian witch-sisterhood with an agenda that varies with the speaker; or any of the eleven possible combinations of double- and triple-agentry. She is rumoured to be a man-eating and man-hating Valkyrie, her strength-sucking bed arts the cause of the early deaths and senility of the two previous Doges, and the premature greying of Ingemar. ("But," the whisperers invariably continue, "what a way to go!") She is the Emperor's illegitimate daughter, exiled from his court after one too many escapades with the serving maids; or she was thrown for a bone to the throne of the Norse wolves to keep them busy; or she escaped from the sack of Rome and has worked her way to a position of power for revenge against the Caliph. But Aliken keeps her own counsel.
The Heathen Menace
The Christian millennium has come and gone without incident, as is only to be expected; it is, after all, a false religion. However, the Kaiserfriede which holds from the Bay of Biscay to Lofoten, and which I most loyally and wholeheartedly support, proves that it is possible to live in peace with the followers of the White Christ. Even the Serkmen, whose betrayal is of course as inevitable as the sunrise, have kept their treaty with the Emperor for two generations now - as indeed they had better; the things that are in short supply in Serkland include manners, trustworthiness, and soap, but not enemies.
On the other side of the Baltic, however, other gods hold sway: There, the dark spirits of the Suomenusko grip the hearts of men, and daily demand the sacrifice of a child, a puppy, and a thousand mosquitoes. The mosquitoes, of course, form a competing set of dark spirits which daily demand a river of blood, although in fairness it must be said that they do not grip the hearts of men and are thus rather an improvement on the Suomenusko pantheon. Worse, however, than the daily killing of children on stone altars - after all the cute little tykes are heathens themselves, and nits make lice - is that these accursed heathens indulge in commercial competition! Indeed they have several trading posts on the Baltic coast of the Emperor's German lands; for his own wise reasons, the Emperor has not yet had them put to fire and the sword, even though these foreign infidels are literally taking the bread from the mouths of Norse children by selling their inferior amber and furs at sweatshop prices. Clearly there can be no peace with this kind of evil.
Trade zones in the Baltic. Note the four (!) Virumaa trade posts on the German shore, right in the middle of what should be a Dreki zone stretching from the Kattegat to Öland. Note also the two different "Virumaa" families; they do that to confuse predators.
They know it, too, the dark-hearted fishmongers; every day they work for our downfall. Just consider: When mad King Styrbjørn, he that was crowned Emperor of Denmark and ruled a few valleys in Sweden, died, his successor naturally wished to unite the Norse peoples by rejoining his lands to the Republic. The prestige and pride of the Dreki blood, however, forbade this to be done without at least a little blood shed; what is the worth of a throne that was not paid for with men's lives? So there was a symbolic war, a clashing of shields to mark the reunification; and while the Swedish fighting-men were away, the Suomites sent their armies into the Gastrikland valleys, and stole by subterfuge what they could not have taken in open battle. This is not the act of a friendly power. This is the act of a people who know perfectly well that there can be only one hegemon in the Baltic, and intend it to be them. Well, they can't be blamed for that; but they can be destroyed, their armies scattered, their fleets sunk, their homes and crops burnt, their women taken as slaves and their children subjugated. And that is precisely what will happen, as soon as the Emperor comes to his senses and realises that there can be no peace or compromise with the Heathen Menace.
Borders after the unlawful aggression of the Suomi. Come on, now! That's clearly my sphere of interest, in fact it's my back yard!
The Christian millennium has come and gone without incident, as is only to be expected; it is, after all, a false religion. However, the Kaiserfriede which holds from the Bay of Biscay to Lofoten, and which I most loyally and wholeheartedly support, proves that it is possible to live in peace with the followers of the White Christ. Even the Serkmen, whose betrayal is of course as inevitable as the sunrise, have kept their treaty with the Emperor for two generations now - as indeed they had better; the things that are in short supply in Serkland include manners, trustworthiness, and soap, but not enemies.
On the other side of the Baltic, however, other gods hold sway: There, the dark spirits of the Suomenusko grip the hearts of men, and daily demand the sacrifice of a child, a puppy, and a thousand mosquitoes. The mosquitoes, of course, form a competing set of dark spirits which daily demand a river of blood, although in fairness it must be said that they do not grip the hearts of men and are thus rather an improvement on the Suomenusko pantheon. Worse, however, than the daily killing of children on stone altars - after all the cute little tykes are heathens themselves, and nits make lice - is that these accursed heathens indulge in commercial competition! Indeed they have several trading posts on the Baltic coast of the Emperor's German lands; for his own wise reasons, the Emperor has not yet had them put to fire and the sword, even though these foreign infidels are literally taking the bread from the mouths of Norse children by selling their inferior amber and furs at sweatshop prices. Clearly there can be no peace with this kind of evil.
Trade zones in the Baltic. Note the four (!) Virumaa trade posts on the German shore, right in the middle of what should be a Dreki zone stretching from the Kattegat to Öland. Note also the two different "Virumaa" families; they do that to confuse predators.
They know it, too, the dark-hearted fishmongers; every day they work for our downfall. Just consider: When mad King Styrbjørn, he that was crowned Emperor of Denmark and ruled a few valleys in Sweden, died, his successor naturally wished to unite the Norse peoples by rejoining his lands to the Republic. The prestige and pride of the Dreki blood, however, forbade this to be done without at least a little blood shed; what is the worth of a throne that was not paid for with men's lives? So there was a symbolic war, a clashing of shields to mark the reunification; and while the Swedish fighting-men were away, the Suomites sent their armies into the Gastrikland valleys, and stole by subterfuge what they could not have taken in open battle. This is not the act of a friendly power. This is the act of a people who know perfectly well that there can be only one hegemon in the Baltic, and intend it to be them. Well, they can't be blamed for that; but they can be destroyed, their armies scattered, their fleets sunk, their homes and crops burnt, their women taken as slaves and their children subjugated. And that is precisely what will happen, as soon as the Emperor comes to his senses and realises that there can be no peace or compromise with the Heathen Menace.
Borders after the unlawful aggression of the Suomi. Come on, now! That's clearly my sphere of interest, in fact it's my back yard!
IX – The Persian Ambassador
Viraja, 998 modulo one mahayuga
For one as Husain, bred and trained in the dangerous subtleties of the Hamadan court, the conquered Indians were dogs and little more, with brutish appetites and brutish earnestness. They stared, they barked, they wallowed in filth. They would have licked their groins had their backs been more supple. And they weren't stiff for lack of bowing before their conquerors. Still, dogs came in different breeds. The little thakurs he started meeting east of the Deccan plateau were a different breed from the servile low-level officials that served the Caliph west of it : all young, competent, avoiding the subject of their fathers' station. New men. Murad the Proud, as he was called outside his kingdom, was building his realm anew. Well, that was half the point of propping him up anyway.
He finally met him in the palace at Viraja, after weeks of hard travel. The king sat on a massive bronze throne that seemed made of stacked lumps with holes. Skulls, he realized as he walked closer, bronze skulls grinning without joy, screaming without sound. Atop them the monarch slouched and stared him down. At fifty Murad was a grey and white man, fat and flabby, with ill-advised sideburns. Yet there was no mistaking the look of the men beside and behind him. Terror. And there was no mistaking the kingdom he had inherited from the one he ruled on a map.
Husain bowed a little, as an ambassador from the Caliph to a much lesser sovereign. Murad did not react.
"Your Majesty. I come representing his Holiness Caliph Anushirvan, may Allah bless his exalted soul. I understand you want to settle definitely the issue of our borders."
"You are welcome here, Husain ibn Ali." He looked at a spot at his feet, as if startled by a crawling insect, and burst into shrill, howling laughter for no discernible reason. The courtesans cringed, all but one in a cowl. The the laugh stopped as it had started. King Murad stared at the ambassador anew.
That dog, Husain thought, was quite mad.
"Well, let us start with the treaty, the dog said. Why are we wasting time?"
The negotiations went on for days. Most of the time, Murad was astute and determined, which made the negotiations difficult, for Husain had strict instructions not to come back without an advantageous treaty, and those instructions were not even needed. Sometimes the king had violent or incomprehensible outbursts, which made the negotiations impossible for a while. Murad was the first Chandravansha sultan born and raised away for Delhi, in the suffocating heat of Kataka, and he had no personal attachment for the old domain of his forebears. But he had no desire to abandon it without compensation. Husain underlined that the Orissa land his grandfather had been granted, in the wake of the conquest, were the compensation for it, although at that time maharaja Kumarapala had been left in control of Delhi.
"But those Kulasekhara curs have stolen most of it !" Murad would rage, and Husain had to change the subject again, for the Caliph had no desire to get involved in the wars between Indian muslims. At other times Murad was courteous and affable, and asking if his host minded the presence of Hindus around them.
"Unbeliever subjects have their uses," Husain answered politely.
"that is one thing I know really well to do, Murad went on. Using people! But unbelievers ? Surely Hindus believe in something, false though it might be."
"I suppose. They believe in false gods."
"What if all the gods are the same one, though? I have read much on Allah, and heard much about him on my hajj, and I am quite certain he is the same moon goddess of which we Chandravansha are descended."
Husain had to change the subject in a hurry again.
On the second days King Murad offered him, for the Caliph, a splendid tapestry showing himself at the battle of Kodalakha, where the Jain maharaja had rushed to kneel at his feet and surrender to stop the slaughter of his army. An ambiguous gesture at best, and while Husain wondered what to make of it, the king asked : "are you sad because you received no present of your own, ambassador? I shall give you one?" So he woke him up himself, that night, with a cowled, scarred man at his side, to offer him a splendid knife with an carved ivory handle. Nothing in his manner suggested his gesture should be interpreted with anything else than gratitude.
But finally they agreed, and the border was fixed. There was no longer any pending business between caliphate and sultanate, and Husain was glad for it.
--*0*--
So I became one of the Muslims and rode the tiger as a sort-of client state in northeastern India. Interesting situations but I can't write much because I've got my brain all scrambled up.
Well OK.
Uh-oh
--*0*--
On the next Gods of our Father :
Fivoin exalts in his subjugation of India.
He then decides to focus on technological progress.
Viraja, 998 modulo one mahayuga
For one as Husain, bred and trained in the dangerous subtleties of the Hamadan court, the conquered Indians were dogs and little more, with brutish appetites and brutish earnestness. They stared, they barked, they wallowed in filth. They would have licked their groins had their backs been more supple. And they weren't stiff for lack of bowing before their conquerors. Still, dogs came in different breeds. The little thakurs he started meeting east of the Deccan plateau were a different breed from the servile low-level officials that served the Caliph west of it : all young, competent, avoiding the subject of their fathers' station. New men. Murad the Proud, as he was called outside his kingdom, was building his realm anew. Well, that was half the point of propping him up anyway.
He finally met him in the palace at Viraja, after weeks of hard travel. The king sat on a massive bronze throne that seemed made of stacked lumps with holes. Skulls, he realized as he walked closer, bronze skulls grinning without joy, screaming without sound. Atop them the monarch slouched and stared him down. At fifty Murad was a grey and white man, fat and flabby, with ill-advised sideburns. Yet there was no mistaking the look of the men beside and behind him. Terror. And there was no mistaking the kingdom he had inherited from the one he ruled on a map.
Husain bowed a little, as an ambassador from the Caliph to a much lesser sovereign. Murad did not react.
"Your Majesty. I come representing his Holiness Caliph Anushirvan, may Allah bless his exalted soul. I understand you want to settle definitely the issue of our borders."
"You are welcome here, Husain ibn Ali." He looked at a spot at his feet, as if startled by a crawling insect, and burst into shrill, howling laughter for no discernible reason. The courtesans cringed, all but one in a cowl. The the laugh stopped as it had started. King Murad stared at the ambassador anew.
That dog, Husain thought, was quite mad.
"Well, let us start with the treaty, the dog said. Why are we wasting time?"
The negotiations went on for days. Most of the time, Murad was astute and determined, which made the negotiations difficult, for Husain had strict instructions not to come back without an advantageous treaty, and those instructions were not even needed. Sometimes the king had violent or incomprehensible outbursts, which made the negotiations impossible for a while. Murad was the first Chandravansha sultan born and raised away for Delhi, in the suffocating heat of Kataka, and he had no personal attachment for the old domain of his forebears. But he had no desire to abandon it without compensation. Husain underlined that the Orissa land his grandfather had been granted, in the wake of the conquest, were the compensation for it, although at that time maharaja Kumarapala had been left in control of Delhi.
"But those Kulasekhara curs have stolen most of it !" Murad would rage, and Husain had to change the subject again, for the Caliph had no desire to get involved in the wars between Indian muslims. At other times Murad was courteous and affable, and asking if his host minded the presence of Hindus around them.
"Unbeliever subjects have their uses," Husain answered politely.
"that is one thing I know really well to do, Murad went on. Using people! But unbelievers ? Surely Hindus believe in something, false though it might be."
"I suppose. They believe in false gods."
"What if all the gods are the same one, though? I have read much on Allah, and heard much about him on my hajj, and I am quite certain he is the same moon goddess of which we Chandravansha are descended."
Husain had to change the subject in a hurry again.
On the second days King Murad offered him, for the Caliph, a splendid tapestry showing himself at the battle of Kodalakha, where the Jain maharaja had rushed to kneel at his feet and surrender to stop the slaughter of his army. An ambiguous gesture at best, and while Husain wondered what to make of it, the king asked : "are you sad because you received no present of your own, ambassador? I shall give you one?" So he woke him up himself, that night, with a cowled, scarred man at his side, to offer him a splendid knife with an carved ivory handle. Nothing in his manner suggested his gesture should be interpreted with anything else than gratitude.
But finally they agreed, and the border was fixed. There was no longer any pending business between caliphate and sultanate, and Husain was glad for it.
--*0*--
So I became one of the Muslims and rode the tiger as a sort-of client state in northeastern India. Interesting situations but I can't write much because I've got my brain all scrambled up.
Well OK.
Uh-oh
--*0*--
On the next Gods of our Father :
Fivoin exalts in his subjugation of India.
He then decides to focus on technological progress.
Kuipy said:
In English custom, the gift of a knife severs a friendship, and the recipient of such a gift should always give a penny in return - thus making it not a gift but a purchase. Were you thinking of that when you wrote this?
Fires of Faith
Who knows what moves the hearts of men? The fires of faith have seemed dim, this past generation. Asatru have lived in peace with Christian; Moslems have waged only the inner jihad, and have not sought to extend the House of Submission; Christians have not attempted the recovery of the Holy Land; even the vile Suomenusko have, a few disavowed adventurers excepted, fought mainly against the mosquitoes and against their own children. A weak and decayed generation, far from the mighty deeds of their ancestors! But there is an ebb and a flow to history, and in the seventh year of Godfried, the inrushing tide of war at last reached its high-water mark: The Emperor in his wisdom, may the White Christ protect the righteous warrior, proclaimed the Crusade for Anatolia, to recover the mountain peninsula for Christendie and to prepare the way for a campaign for the Holy Land.
The warriors of the Crescent, however, were not slow in answering. The moribund sultanate of Syria (currently unplayed), it is true, did not mobilise with all the decisiveness that might have been looked for. However, the rival Caliphates of Persia and Egypt both responded with declarations of Jihad, for Frisia and France; war objectives which, if attained, would cripple the Empire and reduce it to the level of a second-rank power. (For a moment, seeing 'Caliph' and 'Jihad for France' together, I thought the long-awaited inevitable betrayal by Fimconte had finally arrived; but I had the wrong Caliph. Iberia remained scrupulously neutral, although no doubt carefully scrutinising both sides for a carelessly exposed kidney.) These Jihads brought out the old warrior spirit of the desert nomads; at one point I had over 80 "Emir X joined the Jihad for France" notifications in my message queue. That wasn't, however, an advantage for the Muslims. The various Emirs insisted on sending all their troops in stacks of 1k and 2k, so that for a while Central Europe was covered in the banners of Islam, but the Emperor had the advantage of numbers in the decisive clash of the main forces.
The Muslim powers began their campaign with African troops invading Ireland; the Persians, having no navy to speak of, marched towards Europe through Anatolia and the Balkans, incidentally reinforcing the Syrian defenders along the way. The Crusaders, faced both with equal forces defending the difficult terrain of Anatolia, and with a direct threat to their homeland, consequently retreated somewhat rapidly. Thus Istanbul was saved for Islam; and for some time there was a real question of whether Christendom could hold Western Europe against the savage Saracen. The loss of so strategic a location as Ireland, obviously, would have demoralised the nobles of Germany, notoriously more concerned with land and privileges than with religion; and if any significant fraction of them had taken the turban to save their estates, resistance might have collapsed entirely and the Crescent flown from the Danube to the Channel. (Or, in other words, the CK warscore model is kind of gameable; occupying Ireland, indeed.)
However, with the main Crusading forces' return to the Netherlands, the invasion of Ireland became untenable. The Emperor's superior sealift capacity, due largely to the Norwegian merchant fleet, gave him such mobility that he was able to force his enemies to battle on unfavourable terms; and in a decisive clash in which Cross outnumbered Crescent 40 thousand to 30, destroyed their main fighting force. Had the two dozen little warbands of the various Emirs managed to be within supporting distance of their Caliphs, this might have gone quite differently; as it was, the warriors of Islam were left with quite a few troops in the field, but scattered all over Germany in futile sieges, with nothing able to stand against the hammer of the Emperor's relieving column.
All this had, nonetheless, taken time; and more time was lost in mopping up the Emirs and their fanatical ghazi warriors, apparently stimulated by the defeat of Islam into ever-more-suicidal efforts to reverse the tide. The net result of all the bloodshed, therefore, was the status quo antebellum: The Jihads for France and Frisia failed, but so also did the Crusade for Anatolia. After five years of war the Syrians were able to say, with some justice, that if the White Christ had intended to deliver their homelands to His faithful, he'd had His chance. Recognising the point of diminishing returns, the Pope therefore called off the Crusade. This is, of course, the kind of thing that will happen when you insist on using false gods in your Holy Wars.
And what was Norway's contribution to this clash of titans? Well, apart from the war-winning sealift capacity of our merchant fleet, someone had to keep an eye on the savage Suomenusko! The last thing the Emperor needed, at a time when he was straining every sinew in defense of the heart of his realm, was a second front opened by an ankle-biting opportunist. I'm glad to say that I accomplished this vital mission with great success; so scary were the fierce Norse faces I made in the general direction of Finland, that the Suomenusko Holy War for Uppland did not occur until after the Emperor's great victory against the Muslims. This turned out to be a strategic miscalculation, since the defeat of the main Muslim forces left the Emperor's veteran army free to sail north on the aforementioned merchant fleet, and crush the Suomenusko utterly. Having thus put my heathen enemies off-balance, I followed with a strategic masterstroke, declaring Great Holy War for Suomi - the heart of darkness! Unable to face us in battle, Yahmik has instead turned to assassins, presumably hoping to end the war by making me lose an election. This was, indeed, a pretty good move on his part; I lost two Doges before I realised that making an Yngling named 'Ormr' my spymaster was probably not a good idea, even if he did have Intrigue 25. I mean, the guy's name is literally 'Snake'; great indicator of trustworthiness, there. Fortunately my latest Doge was quicker on the uptake than me, saw through Ormr's agent, and arrested him. Execution will follow pretty shortly; also, a kinsman is spymaster now. This conflict is not yet settled, but I think I may say without fear of contradiction that it is going my way. The Baltic shall be united under the Dreki! Who in turn are under the Emperor, making some kind of threesome, but it's ok - Godfried's nickname of "the Kind" derives from his habit of giving a reacharound.
Well, I don't know what I was thinking.
Then again, it's also possible I've made myself a teensy bit unpopular.
Who knows what moves the hearts of men? The fires of faith have seemed dim, this past generation. Asatru have lived in peace with Christian; Moslems have waged only the inner jihad, and have not sought to extend the House of Submission; Christians have not attempted the recovery of the Holy Land; even the vile Suomenusko have, a few disavowed adventurers excepted, fought mainly against the mosquitoes and against their own children. A weak and decayed generation, far from the mighty deeds of their ancestors! But there is an ebb and a flow to history, and in the seventh year of Godfried, the inrushing tide of war at last reached its high-water mark: The Emperor in his wisdom, may the White Christ protect the righteous warrior, proclaimed the Crusade for Anatolia, to recover the mountain peninsula for Christendie and to prepare the way for a campaign for the Holy Land.
The warriors of the Crescent, however, were not slow in answering. The moribund sultanate of Syria (currently unplayed), it is true, did not mobilise with all the decisiveness that might have been looked for. However, the rival Caliphates of Persia and Egypt both responded with declarations of Jihad, for Frisia and France; war objectives which, if attained, would cripple the Empire and reduce it to the level of a second-rank power. (For a moment, seeing 'Caliph' and 'Jihad for France' together, I thought the long-awaited inevitable betrayal by Fimconte had finally arrived; but I had the wrong Caliph. Iberia remained scrupulously neutral, although no doubt carefully scrutinising both sides for a carelessly exposed kidney.) These Jihads brought out the old warrior spirit of the desert nomads; at one point I had over 80 "Emir X joined the Jihad for France" notifications in my message queue. That wasn't, however, an advantage for the Muslims. The various Emirs insisted on sending all their troops in stacks of 1k and 2k, so that for a while Central Europe was covered in the banners of Islam, but the Emperor had the advantage of numbers in the decisive clash of the main forces.
The Muslim powers began their campaign with African troops invading Ireland; the Persians, having no navy to speak of, marched towards Europe through Anatolia and the Balkans, incidentally reinforcing the Syrian defenders along the way. The Crusaders, faced both with equal forces defending the difficult terrain of Anatolia, and with a direct threat to their homeland, consequently retreated somewhat rapidly. Thus Istanbul was saved for Islam; and for some time there was a real question of whether Christendom could hold Western Europe against the savage Saracen. The loss of so strategic a location as Ireland, obviously, would have demoralised the nobles of Germany, notoriously more concerned with land and privileges than with religion; and if any significant fraction of them had taken the turban to save their estates, resistance might have collapsed entirely and the Crescent flown from the Danube to the Channel. (Or, in other words, the CK warscore model is kind of gameable; occupying Ireland, indeed.)
However, with the main Crusading forces' return to the Netherlands, the invasion of Ireland became untenable. The Emperor's superior sealift capacity, due largely to the Norwegian merchant fleet, gave him such mobility that he was able to force his enemies to battle on unfavourable terms; and in a decisive clash in which Cross outnumbered Crescent 40 thousand to 30, destroyed their main fighting force. Had the two dozen little warbands of the various Emirs managed to be within supporting distance of their Caliphs, this might have gone quite differently; as it was, the warriors of Islam were left with quite a few troops in the field, but scattered all over Germany in futile sieges, with nothing able to stand against the hammer of the Emperor's relieving column.
All this had, nonetheless, taken time; and more time was lost in mopping up the Emirs and their fanatical ghazi warriors, apparently stimulated by the defeat of Islam into ever-more-suicidal efforts to reverse the tide. The net result of all the bloodshed, therefore, was the status quo antebellum: The Jihads for France and Frisia failed, but so also did the Crusade for Anatolia. After five years of war the Syrians were able to say, with some justice, that if the White Christ had intended to deliver their homelands to His faithful, he'd had His chance. Recognising the point of diminishing returns, the Pope therefore called off the Crusade. This is, of course, the kind of thing that will happen when you insist on using false gods in your Holy Wars.
And what was Norway's contribution to this clash of titans? Well, apart from the war-winning sealift capacity of our merchant fleet, someone had to keep an eye on the savage Suomenusko! The last thing the Emperor needed, at a time when he was straining every sinew in defense of the heart of his realm, was a second front opened by an ankle-biting opportunist. I'm glad to say that I accomplished this vital mission with great success; so scary were the fierce Norse faces I made in the general direction of Finland, that the Suomenusko Holy War for Uppland did not occur until after the Emperor's great victory against the Muslims. This turned out to be a strategic miscalculation, since the defeat of the main Muslim forces left the Emperor's veteran army free to sail north on the aforementioned merchant fleet, and crush the Suomenusko utterly. Having thus put my heathen enemies off-balance, I followed with a strategic masterstroke, declaring Great Holy War for Suomi - the heart of darkness! Unable to face us in battle, Yahmik has instead turned to assassins, presumably hoping to end the war by making me lose an election. This was, indeed, a pretty good move on his part; I lost two Doges before I realised that making an Yngling named 'Ormr' my spymaster was probably not a good idea, even if he did have Intrigue 25. I mean, the guy's name is literally 'Snake'; great indicator of trustworthiness, there. Fortunately my latest Doge was quicker on the uptake than me, saw through Ormr's agent, and arrested him. Execution will follow pretty shortly; also, a kinsman is spymaster now. This conflict is not yet settled, but I think I may say without fear of contradiction that it is going my way. The Baltic shall be united under the Dreki! Who in turn are under the Emperor, making some kind of threesome, but it's ok - Godfried's nickname of "the Kind" derives from his habit of giving a reacharound.
Well, I don't know what I was thinking.
Then again, it's also possible I've made myself a teensy bit unpopular.
Not really, I was thinking of the mixed message sent by waking up someone in the middle of the night with a knife in hand. I mean, yes! SO MANY LAYERS OF MEANING.
Anyways...
X – The Indian Ambassador
Gaya, 1015 modulo one mahayuga
King Murad the Proud looked sad and tired, on a wood chair he did his best to pretend was a throne. As so often of late, his best was not quite enough. When Uttama was done speaking, the Mad Tiger of the North could not even look him in the eye. Instead he rocked feebly, gazing at his knees, not so Proud anymore.
"So the merchant-king asks of me to give up all four of my richest fortresses?"
" 'Ask' is not the right word."
Sometimes something had to be said even though everyone knew it. Fourty thousands soldiers from Cholamandalam were scouring Murad's land, and Murad had a few scattered hundred, maybe two thousand total. Barely enough to hold on to power after the war, especially with his personal power base gone.
"And what guarantee do I have, that you will not wage war on me again?"
"None."
Uttama was briefly afraid to say the next thing, to push the Muslim too far.
"My liege Cuntara wants you informed that as soon as our truce will expire, he will wage war on you again. His brother's death demands unlimited vengeance."
At last Murad looked up with fierce and desperate eyes, like a wounded animal's, cornered by the dogs.
"Then he truly has not taken the right lesson from his brother's demise. I accept your terms, spoken and unspoken. Now begone."
Uttama knew better that to overstay his welcome. Even though the day was advanced, he left with his escort and camped by a ford a few miles south of Gaya. When he woke up his men were dead, and he tied up naked in a cave somewhere.
He knew the man who led his captor, a slender, greyed ruffian people called Dinesh the Hyena, with a gaping scar across his face and one arm in a sling. He was of the Faith too, but when Uttama asked why he, a Hindu, served a Muslim master, the man answered harshly :
"Does your own master, Cuntara, not do the same?"
Then the beatings began. They hurt him relentlessly, taking turns, and as he was allowed neither food nor sleep he found it hard to estimate the time
"Cuntara expects me to come back."
"Indeed he does," Dinesh said. The hurt resumed.
They took precautions not to leave traces beyond the lightest of bruises. They hit him with soft, wide paddles, strained and twisted every limb, shoved and poured pain down every hole of his. Which meant they would set him free, but...
"Why do you do this?" They did not even ask questions. Dinesh raised a hand and the beating stopped. The grey-haired man knelt near him, his cobra's eyes enticing like two pits.
"Cuntara expects you to come back. You will deliver raj Murad's response... And you will kill him."
"Kill... You ask me to kill my liege?"
" 'Ask' ", Dinesh said, "is not the right word."
They resumed striking him.
--*0*--
So Kulasekhara, the South Indian player and a Republic, is steadily invading my lands with ten times my numbers. It was bad enough when he just nabbed my coastal cities one by one with the republic casus belli (and I could console myself with inland gains against the Jains), but this session he became Hindu (although under a muhammedan liege) and started to holy war for full duchies, targeting my demesne while he was at it.
This, of course, turned a worrying problem into an existential threat. An asymmetric conflict begun, where I plotted to assassinate his Hindu dudes as soon as they popped up, which of course in short term compounded the problem by allowing him more declarations of war and more land grabs.
Finally a muslim ended on the throne, earning me at least a respite.
Things looking bleak.
--*0*--
On the next Gods of our Father :
Inspired by Kuipy's example, Oddman tries to poison the muslim dudes of Fimconte.
King of Men gets annexed again and comes back as a new seafaring power.
The End! Fimconte, Fivoin, and I presented the rest of the world with an offer they could not refuse (accept our three-way tie for first place and accept second place or be destroyed).
The last save was made in 1024; there have been no significant land changes afterward.
What does the world look like?
Countries (I made KoM independent for his picture):
Følsgaard in Tamilakam,
KhanXLT in Egypt,
Fivoin in Persia,
RageaiR in Khazaria,
Fimconte in Iberia,
Kuipy in Bengal,
KoM in Scandinavia,
yours truly in Flanders,
Formerly YamiYagari in Carpathia,
Formerly Pavski in Syria.
Yahmik got essentially wiped out from Suomi this session.
Religions:
Islam is pretty dominant, but major players have different sects. Fimconte is Kharijite, Khan is Sunni, Fiv is Shiite, and Syria and RageaiR are Ibadi. I am Catholic, Carpathia is Tengri, and KoM is Germanic (both reformed).
Note how much of a mess the ERE is. Yay for crappily-run player empires! (Also note that there is no ERE any more.)
Cultures:
Dutch is clearly doing well for itself.
The last save was made in 1024; there have been no significant land changes afterward.
What does the world look like?
Countries (I made KoM independent for his picture):
Følsgaard in Tamilakam,
KhanXLT in Egypt,
Fivoin in Persia,
RageaiR in Khazaria,
Fimconte in Iberia,
Kuipy in Bengal,
KoM in Scandinavia,
yours truly in Flanders,
Formerly YamiYagari in Carpathia,
Formerly Pavski in Syria.
Yahmik got essentially wiped out from Suomi this session.
Religions:
Islam is pretty dominant, but major players have different sects. Fimconte is Kharijite, Khan is Sunni, Fiv is Shiite, and Syria and RageaiR are Ibadi. I am Catholic, Carpathia is Tengri, and KoM is Germanic (both reformed).
Note how much of a mess the ERE is. Yay for crappily-run player empires! (Also note that there is no ERE any more.)
Cultures:
Dutch is clearly doing well for itself
.
I'm sure if we'd played on, I would've managed to indoctrinate all my vassals into proper Welshmen!
Cymru am byth!
Cymru am byth!
Its what i get for playing the Inheritance game instead of brutally murdering and conquering all of my neighbors
Next time, conquest mass extinction and more conquest.
X – The Beginning of the End of Eternity
Uraiyur, 1024 modulo one mahayuga
King Sarabha was kneeling in front of the Merchant-Emperor, finishing his oath of fealty, like leftovers on a plate pledging their service to the mouth, in hope the mouth has more than one use for them.
The War was won. Chandravasha vanquished. Dinesh shook his head. Yet another mahuyaga wasted!
The Tamilakam tradelord had wanted a large audience for his master's humiliation. Beyond the rajas and courtiers there were a score of so of strange foreign men, sallow legates from China, short khmer nobles, pallid legates from the Western courts of Esfahan and Cairo. One man was outright white, with weird golden hair and beard. He whispered in bad Arabic to the lama near him, low enough that their neighbours could not hear. But Dinesh could !
"...Hentzau."
Hentzau...
It was the first time in literal eternities he heard that name so early.
Yet another mahayuga wasted.
--*0*--
Well I finally had to pledge to Tamilakam. And then the game ended. It can be argued I was not exactly the winner.
Uraiyur, 1024 modulo one mahayuga
King Sarabha was kneeling in front of the Merchant-Emperor, finishing his oath of fealty, like leftovers on a plate pledging their service to the mouth, in hope the mouth has more than one use for them.
The War was won. Chandravasha vanquished. Dinesh shook his head. Yet another mahuyaga wasted!
The Tamilakam tradelord had wanted a large audience for his master's humiliation. Beyond the rajas and courtiers there were a score of so of strange foreign men, sallow legates from China, short khmer nobles, pallid legates from the Western courts of Esfahan and Cairo. One man was outright white, with weird golden hair and beard. He whispered in bad Arabic to the lama near him, low enough that their neighbours could not hear. But Dinesh could !
"...Hentzau."
Hentzau...
It was the first time in literal eternities he heard that name so early.
Yet another mahayuga wasted.
--*0*--
Well I finally had to pledge to Tamilakam. And then the game ended. It can be argued I was not exactly the winner.