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Chronological Influences IV: Legacy of Time

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Fulcrumvale: Not quite, but it's getting there.

SeanB: Ask and you shall receive. :)

ColossusCrusher: "Also, you never answered HOW he got there in CI III..."

Yeah.... about that....

You'll have to wait. :D

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The Principality of Alexandria, 1096​

October 1st, 1095

Heinrich von Franken, Holy Roman Emperor and Quadruple King of Germany, Italy, Burgundy, and Egypt sighed and rubbed his eyes as he fought to keep his eyes focused on the faded words scrawled on the worn pieces of parchment covering his desk.

Heinrich leaned back and stretched his arms, working the stiffness from his limbs, before regarding the nearly completely melted candles flickering at the edge of his desk.

Hunching forward, the German king strained to decipher the meanings of the ancient text as he transcribed it onto a new piece of paper. The copying was a long, slow, tedious process, but with the realm finally at peace, his days of campaigning with the armies seemed to be at an end for the foreseeable future.

It had been something of a surprise when just two weeks earlier, a courier had arrived from far-off Alexandria, bearing gifts from the treacherous Stukov. After Alexei's rather blunt and inexplicable decision to break away from his realm, Heinrich had been convinced the Duke would have nothing more to do with him. With his steady encroachment over the Egyptian lands still outside both their control, Heinrich felt it would only be a matter of time before he would have to defend his claim to the title King of Egypt.

But the gift of many ancient texts from the libraries of Alexandria seemed to signal a change, if only preliminary, in relations between the two realms.

Heinrich smiled as he continued to copy the book. No doubt the thought of facing the full force of Germany's armies had finally brought Stukov some sense.

The king continued to write in silence for several more minutes, only the sound of the window glass shaking from the wind outside. He paused to listen when he thought he heard his chamber door open. Looking to the side, he peered into the darkness. The door was shut firmly and Heinrich simply shrugged.

"Perhaps it's time to sleep," Heinrich muttered to himself.

"I agree," a voice rasped from behind him.

In a split second, Heinrich was out of his chair and reaching for his sword leaning against the desk. He froze in mid-reach, his hand only inches away from the hilt of the sword. He had not even heard his assailant move, but he could feel the sharp tip of a blade digging slightly into his back.

"A worthy effort," the man complimented him, sending a shiver down the king's spine. "But then again, if you could have reached it, I wouldn't have said a word."

"Guards! Guards!" Heinrich yelled, the fear in his voice bringing a soft chuckle from the depths of the man's throat.

"Your guards won't hear you. You would be surprised what coin can do to a man's loyalty."

"You'll burn in hell for this!" Heinrich retorted, the anger rising over his fear.

"The Prince of Alexandria offers you this final gift, your majesty."

With that, the man's blade snapped to life, moving too fast for the Holy Roman Emperor and Quadruple King of Germany, Italy, Burgundy, and Egypt to make a last, desperate cry for help.

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~~~~​

January 3rd, 1097

"So you see," Alexei explained, sounding greatly amused with himself. "You do not have anything to fear from me."

"But what of the rumors of King Hein..."

Alexei barked a laugh, immediately cutting off the protest.

"My dear Count, you should know better than to trust the hearsay of rumor. Besides, what possible worry could a count of Gizzeh have over the untimely death of a German king?"

Albrecht, Count of Gizzeh, hesitated for a moment longer as he stood before Alexei, considering his response. He knew the rumors of the Prince's involvement on Von Franken's death, as did most of the other nobles throughout the empire.

"I...." Albrecht stammered, steeling himself for what he was to say. "I humbly pledge my allegiance to you, your grace. The lands of Gizzeh are at the service of the Prince of Alexandria."

Alexei took a sip from his goblet of wine and smiled slyly. "I accept your allegiance, Count of Gizzeh."

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Say what you will about his methods, Stukov can get a job done.
 
This title reminds me of a game I played once... The Journeyman Project 3: Legacy of Time. Badass game--fittingly enough to lend its name to another AAR about everyone's favorite badass Russian megalomaniacal time-traveler.
 
Ah, the Principality (and soon to be Kingdom I hope!) grows stronger! Stukov has connected his southern and northern lands, and soon hopefully he will bring the western part of Egypt under his rule as well.

Besides Alexandria proper, how many provinces have converted? And is Alexandria still Catholic Christian or is it Orthodox now?
 
Fulcrumvale: You might want to blame SeanB for giving Stukov the inspiration.

Morpheus506: Glad this can be compared to a "badass game." Can't say I've played it, or even heard of it before, though.

SeanB: At the moment, Alexandria and Buhairya are both Orthodox (I refused to convert any province while still part of Germany, so as to avoid having to reconvert my subjects from Catholicism) along with the two Nubian provinces at the very bottom that start Orthodox.

--------------------------------------

March 14th, 1100

Ignatios Stukov emerged from the Alexandria Castle interior into the bright afternoon light. A cool spring breeze blew through the open courtyard as he walked across. On the other end, two burly Egyptians stood guard at the entrance into the castle gardens. Without a word or hesitation, they stepped aside, bowing their heads in respect as the Prince's son passed without a glance at either of them.

At age 17, Ignatios was clearly his parents' son. A battle had seemingly raged between his mother and father over which features he inherited from which. His lighter brown hair that hung low over his forehead he had received from his mother, along with the less sharply accentuated nose. But his eyes were like his father's: alive and penetrating.

The castle gardens were a speck of lush green in a comparatively desolate and dusty land. As he had grown older and the demands of running the state had lessened, Alexei had devoted a great deal of his free time in these gardens when he did not barricade himself in his private study, alternating between wandering aimlessly or sitting silently in deep thought. Lessons under his father often found Ignatios spending hours in the gardens, so these visits were hardly out of the ordinary.

But something about today's visit was different. Ignatios had been formally summoned to meet his father. Usually, Alexei was open and informal around Ignatios, though distant and academic, which meant this would be an important meeting.

Ignatios moved deeper into the garden. Before long, he found his father sitting at a bench, silently reading from a book. His lips moved as he read in a faint whisper. As Ignatios drew closer, Alexei suddenly realized he was not alone. He looked up from the book, blinking several times to refocus his eyes after having concentrated so long on reading the print.

At 64 years old, Alexei Stukov was showing his age. His once black hair was now completely white, though he had managed to retain most of it, while his face was creased with countless wrinkles bearing testament to the number of years he had lived.

harrisaurelius.jpg

Alexei Stukov in his old age.​

"Ah, Ignatios," Alexei said, patting the bench invitingly. "I was just reading over my book."

"You wrote a book?" he asked quizzically as he took a seat next to his father.

"Indeed," Alexei nodded, sliding the book over to Ignatios's lap. "It is not quite done, but I have enough leisure time these days that it won't be long to go. Most of the important things are complete anyway."

Ignatios scanned the pages, frowning in confusion as he tried to read the words. "I recognize some of the language...." he drifted off as he read further. "It looks as if you have combined several languages into one: Latin, Greek, and even some German, I think." He turned through the pages, his gaze lingering for a moment on a strange diagram speckled with incomprehensible comments written around the edges of the page by Alexei.

Alexei chuckled. "I doubt you will be able to read it. In fact, I suspect there is not a single person in the world who will be able to understand its meaning."

"But why spend the time writing a book no one can read?" Ignatios asked, eyeing his father warily.

"I have reasons," Alexei replied enigmatically. "These are not simply ravings of a senile old man, though I suspect my reasons will sound quite mad if I were to tell you. Suffice to say, they are not matters for you."

Alexei paused for a moment before changing the subject. "Come walk with me," he exclaimed cheerily as he rose to his feet. "We have important matters to discuss, as you no doubt already imagined."

Without a word, Ignatios stood and followed Alexei, frowning at his father's final words regarding the book. Together, they walked in silence along the garden pathways, Ignatios holding the book close, unsure on whether to have left it or brought it along.

Finally, Ignatios's concern proved too much and he broke the silence. "Have I done something to anger you, father?" he blurted quickly, trying not to stammer.

"Anger me? No, Ignatios, you worry too much," Alexei responded, shaking his head. The two of them stopped. "You can raise easy knowing you have not dissapointed me, Ignatios. You are a worthy son, and will be a worthy Prince once I am gone."

Ignatios hid his reaction to his father's words well, keeping his expression neutral and tone even. "I will have a difficult legacy to live up to," he said simply. Alexei opened his mouth to speak but stopped, hesitating with his mouth open before looking down and starting to walk once more.

Silence prevailed between them for several long minutes. Finally, Alexei spoke again. "You know it will not be much longer before I am...." he paused, searching for the best word, "...dead."

"But father..." Ignatios began to say.

"No, no, no," Alexei interrupted, shaking his head. "You and I both know the truth. I am dying, Ignatios. And then the duty of ruling this land will fall upon you. I have tried to raise you the best I could, and everything I have done, all the wars, all the treachery, has been for you, Ignatios."

"I..." Ignatios stammered. "I honestly do not think I am ready for that responsibility."

"Neither was I!" Alexei laughed. "And very few ever are. I admit, I have placed a great burden on you, but you are my son, my heir. You will be Prince of Alexandria before long, and to prepare you for that role, I am hereby granting you the title of Count of Aswan and Asyut."

Ignatios stared at his father in surprise. "You mean..."

Alexei nodded solemnly. "You will have your own lands, your own court, and your own army. Messangers have already been sent south to spread the news. You will depart for your new land immediately"

Ignatios was speechless at the sudden announcement. Quickly, he recomposed himself and bowed his head in deference to his new liege. Alexei smiled warmly and beckoned him to cease the formalities.

Suddenly, his expression became serious again. "Ignatios, this may be the last time we speak. There are things that, as my only surviving son, you must know and must swear to uphold."

"Anything, father."

"Good," Alexei nodded approvingly, then pointed to the book in Ignatios's hands. "Take that book with you; hold it dear. Although you will not be able to understand its contents, it must be preserved. There will come a time when someone will understand the book's message. It may not even be in your lifetime, so you must pass it down to your children, and to your children's children, until that time."

"I swear I will keep it safe, father," Ignatios promised solemnly, his grip tightening around the book protectively as he felt the magnitude of the duty in Alexei's words.

"Family is the second importance," Alexei continued, reaching out to grip Ignatios's arm firmly, both to emphasize his point and to steady himself. "I have not been the best father, but never forget the importance of the family name. Ambition must be made secondary to the well-being of the family name. 'Stukov' must live on; personal glory always fades faster than a dynasty."

Ignatios simply nodded, unable to find the words to express himself at that moment. Alexei smiled, and suddenly the veil dropped, revealing beneath the facade of a distant, enigmatic authority figure an old man, proud of his child. Alexei squeezed his arm and pulled away, the moment of vulnerability sealed off once more. Ignatios was stunned, a tight knot forming in his gut.

As if reading his mind, Alexei nodded, almost sagely. "Everything else," Alexei said in a hushed tone, "I leave for you to choose. Rule you as you will, make yourself a place in history, and know that it will have made me proud."

Alexei and Ignatios met each other's gaze, staring into the reflection of their own fire burning behind their eyes.

After a moment, Ignatios finally spoke. "Goodbye, father," was all he said. Holding his father's book close, he turned and walked away, leaving Alexei to stare after him, alone and in silence.
 
WHAT! Stukov can't die. Can he?
 
Lord Strange said:
WHAT! Stukov can't die. Can he?
Click to expand...
Given that this AAR will last hundreds of years, I'd say he can die.
 
Never!
Stukov must construct additional pylons! He also has to build more suply depots and spawn more overlords! :D
 
Apparently even Stukov can't cheat death forever. Or can he? ;)

The big question is what did he put in that book? Is it something relatively harmless like an account of his life (shocking though that would be) or is it something more. Like, perhaps, schematics or formulae one might need to construct a time machine? Doubtful but with Stukov you never know.
 
Very fascinating. Though I always figured Stukov would raise his son knowing about their true origins and history. Interesting that he kept it quiet. But perhaps Ignatios will be able to decipher the strange language (It's Russian, isn't it? ;)) since he'll have his whole life to study it. Since he at least recognizes its root languages, it might not be that hard.

In any case, Stukov's passing is indeed a time of great mourning. Hopefully his son will be able to carry on his legacy through the ages, and eventually build a global Empire worthy of the name Stukov. ;)
 
Russian would make sense, though the Cyrillic alphabet is a composition of Greek and Hebrew, not German and Latin. But who knows, I'm sure we'll find out in due course.
 
Perhaps they're equations, not letters...
 
Lord Strange: Well, he's already died at least once before. Plus, his altered-timeline self was gunned down in CI I.

ColossusCrusher: I wonder if the Starcraft references will keep popping up after Stukov's gone.

And yes, those could be equations, though Ignatios does say he combined several "languages" into one (presumably) cohesive narrative.

VILenin: One of the things I like to do when I write is not really establish any one specific outline for what I'm writing. So, while I have established Stukov wrote a book, I have yet to really, conclusively decide exactly what's written in it.

SeanB: The problem with raising his son knowing his "heritage" is that it makes him look like a raving lunatic. He doesn't exactly have any proof to substantiate his claim, and even if he did, would it help?

----------------------------------------

May 30th, 1100

It was midnight in Alexandria Castle. The moon hung high in the sky, adding to the light of the flickering and fading fires of the many torches. The castle was asleep, save for a few dutiful sentries patrolling the battlements and dark corridors.

Alexei sat on his throne, alone in the expansive audience chamber, eyes closed as he enjoyed the silence. His quiet contemplation was only occasionally interrupted by the distant footfalls of patrolling soldiers, and he enjoyed listening as the sounds faded with each passing step.

He looked at it was a humble gesture of loyalty. Each time the throne room fell into complete silence, Alexei could feel his mind slip into an abyss of thoughts. The sound pulled him back out and into the world.

Alexei smiled. He was sure of it now; he was finally dying. He had been suspicious for a week, but only tonight had those suspicions been confirmed. He could feel it deep down inside himself. It was like a creeping numbness, something indescribably peculiar in his experience.

I wonder if my life will flash before my eyes, he mused thoughtfully.

For all the risks, often reckless, foolhardy, and even suicidal, he had taken over the years, he had never stopped fearing death. Above all, it had been that one, ceaselessly haunting specter that loomed over his every action.

But that had not deterred him from living the fullest life he could. It had been a nagging drive that propelled him to join the secret American experimental project rather than accept a stable, comfortable, if rather bland life as a professor or scientist. Some would have called it fate, that nagging feeling. It had been, while gazing upon the awesome, unfathomable majesty of the swirling azure vortex that marked the first stable temporal rift in space and time, that nag that had blossomed into ambition, the unquenchable drive to command and conquer everything, to reshape the world in his image.

And now here he was. Alone, in the dark, lost to all he had known and loved, a man in the wrong place, and the wrong time, dying, out of time.

Suddenly, Alexei realized that he was not alone in the throne room. Someone else was nearby, watching him.

"How long have you been there?" he asked into the dark.

"Not very long," Adelaide replied, stepping almost silently out from a darkened part of the throne room and up to him. "Does it bother you."

"Not at all," he shook his head, watching her approach. "Though I'm afraid I have no seat to offer you."

"This will do," Adelaide said as she knelt down beside her husband's throne. Though he could not see it, Alexei could sense the smile on her lips. He reached out and took hold of her hand, their fingers entwining together.

"I hear Ignatios is doing well in his new lands," Alexei commented.

Adelaide nodded. "I just received his first letter today. By the sound of it, we may be grandparents before long."

Alexei chuckled slightly, a knowing smile on his face. "I really do hope he and his new wife go well together....what was her name again?"

"Viola, dear, the King of Croatia's daughter, Adelaide reminded him. ”You should know. After all, you chose her for him."

"Ah yes, of course," responded airily. "A pity the Roman Emperor's daughter refused. We could have used her lands in Cappadocia... good base for an attempt at the throne."

"Aren't you a little too old to be getting ambitious?" Adelaide teased.

Alexei sighed and squeezed Adelaide's hand, reaching out to cup her cheek. "I'm sorry you're stuck with an old man like me. You really could have done so much better..."

Adelaide leaned in and kissed her husband. "No, no I couldn't have."

Alexei laughed for a moment, quickly turning into a short fit of coughing. "I love you, Adelaide. I want you to know that."

"I know, my dear," Adelaide replied softly. "Even when you don't say it, I know."

Alexei moved his fingers sightlessly along Adelaide's cheek, stroking it gently. "You've made living here bearable, Adelaide. I only hope that when I am gone.... you can bear it too."

"I'll still have Ignatios to care for, love," Adelaide said reassuringly.

"Look after him," Alexei said, his voice becoming strained. "He'll need his mother, someone as devious and deceptive as you are."

Adelaide giggled and kissed Alexei again. "A flatterer 'til the end."

Alexei's gaze suddenly became distant as he looked past his wife, an enigmatic smile crossing his expression. "You remind me of someone I used to know." Adelaide nodded, understanding in her own way as her expression grew sadder and gentler.

Adelaide slowly guided Alexei's hand from her cheek and rested it in his lap. He continued to cling to her hand. For a moment, the two of them were silent, Adelaide looking down at her husband's hand while he stared off, his eyes moving quickly as his mind worked.

"I always wondered what my last words would be," Alexei finally said. "I never thought that after all I've been through, they would be so.....ordinary....."

Slowly, Alexei's grip on his wife's hand slackened. His eyelids fell shut and his head sank down until his chin rested on his chest. At last, Alexei's hand slipped out of Adelaide's, falling limply to hang off the side of the throne.

Fighting back tears, Adelaide shut her eyes tightly and wept silently.

Alexei Stukov was dead.

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NOOOO!!!!
I told you he needed more supply depots!
As long as there is a Stukov, they may come, if there is an Alexei Stukov, they are guaranteed.
 
A sad but nevertheless excellent update. The founder of the Stukov dynasty is dead, but he has left a capable heir to follow in his footsteps, and a mother to guide him down the right path.

But you know what? I have a feeling we'll see Alexei Stukov again. He is a time traveler, and I think that book holds instructions for a future descendant to seek his young self out in the 20th century and give him time travel technology. I can't imagine Stukov letting his ambitions end this easily. ;)
 
Even to the end, his days in the USSR overshadow his days here.
 
I wonder if Stukov might end up being his own ancestor/descendant. :eek: How would THAT be for a causality loop? :D

Ambiguous details, like the contents of the book, work well story wise but they are frustrating for us poor readers. I can't wait to see how you bring things all together (when you finally figure out how, that is). :)
 
That would answer his mental instability.
In Futurama, Fry went back in time and became his grandfather...which let him fight off the evil brains...
 
ColossusCrusher: :confused:

SeanB: Holding onto that book from the 12th to the 20th centuries is certainly a tall order. Do you think Stukov's heirs will be that capable for that long?

Fulcrumvale: Indeed. In many respects, his failures seem to be what have defined who he became.

VILenin: Interesting idea.... ;)

------------------------------------------

July 1st, 1100

Ignatios Stukov entered the conference room with a lively step, drawing the immediate silence and attention of the gathered nobles from throughout the duchy. Since its capture by the crusaders, his father's ducal conference hall had been restored and redecorated to fit the religious and cultural background of a Greek noble.

Ignatios sat at his father's former chair without hesitation or the slightest sign of grief. He had only just begun to settle into his life as a Count of Asyut and Aswan and accommodate himself to marriage when he had received word of his father's death. Alexei's words to his son just before his departure still rang clearly in his mind and hung heavily on his heart and mind.

He had grieved for his father's death on the road back to Alexandria and at the funeral, but both the demands of the duchy and his father's legacy demanded that Ignatios move on. Sentimentality and reminiscence were best kept private, away from the affairs of state and the watchful eyes of vassals.

Ignatios turned to his right and nodded respectfully to his mother, Adelaide, who sat in the chair closest to him. She too bore no external signs of a grieving widow beyond her attire.

Ignatios imperiously scanned the table, mentally assigning names and ranks to faces, his mind working to recall details on every individual. A twinge of suspicion ran through his thoughts. Each of these men almost assuredly desired to have the roles reversed.

Unlike his father before him, Ignatios had quickly begun to assemble around himself a wide array of titles. With the help of the duchy's rather bulging coffers, Ignatios had bestowed upon himself the titles of Prince of Cairo and Aswan, titles that had formerly never existed. Although he was loathe to admit it, Ignatios was not quite up to the task of ruling so large an expanse of territory single-handedly; He had generously granted members of his court land titles. Alexei had only had two vassals, the Count of Al Alamayn and that of Gizzeh; Ignatios now had six.

The Count of Gizzeh, having broke from theh Kingdom of Germany following Heinrich's murder, had quietly acquiesced to ducal pressure and converted to Orthodoxy. Shihab Stypes, son of Saint Manuel, Alexei's Count of Al Alamayn, appeared to have 'gone native,' leaving many to mutter that Aikaterine Komnenus, a member of a distant branch of the Imperial family, had been unfaithful. The rumours seemed to keep him firmly in check.

The Countess of Quattara, Maria, sulked at the far corner of the table, looking none too pleased at having been granted a nearly worthless wasteland as reward for her years of service in Alexei's court. Under the weather-worn and wrinkled brow, her eyes bored holes into Teimuraz Pahlavuni, son of the union of the late Dragna and Theodorosanti, whose jutting chin, high, receding hairline, and mixture of Greek and Armenian gave him a peculiarly Georgian complexion. Only four years Ignatios's senior, he had gratefully accepted the title of Count of Asyut.

The most powerful of the assembled counts was next: a German crusader who, like Gizzeh, had declared his independence from the now-deposed von Franken dynasty, Hermann von Hohenfels, Count of Quena and Aqaba. The prematurely graying German had sworn allegiance to Alexandria within days of Alexei's death, apparently finding fealty to a king-slayer too unpalatable.

Ignatios's eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly when his gaze fell upon the last of the group, Isaakios Omar, Count of Sarqihya, a Greek noble who had fled during the wars of civil strife within the faltering Byzantine Empire. Though the most beholden to the Stukov family's generosity of any, he always seemed to cast a resentful look, full of spite.

Every noble present had sworn their unswerving fealty and service to Ignatios. None had even made the slightest attempt to question the succession, or challenge the son of Alexei Stukov's right to rule.

All this ran through Ignatios's mind within just a few moments of silence. Quickly, he composed himself, clearing his throat audibly.

"Gathered lords and ladies," he began, instantly pleased that he had not stammered or sounded too high-pitched. "I have brought you all here today for a matter of the greatest importance."

Ignatios furrowed his brow slightly in disappointment that no one spoke up as he paused momentarily. All six counts watched him carefully. Out of the corner of his eye, Ignatios saw that Adelaide was, in turn, watching them.

Regardless, Ignatios continued: "I know certain among you harbored certain ill-will toward my father, or complaints in the manner in which he ruled, but I assure you I am not simply a copy of my father." A general muttering of ascent rippled through the table. Ignatios noted that Maria simply scowled even more.

"But," Ignatios qualified, raising his hand and gesturing upward. "I am also similar in other ways. My father held ambitions for greater things than independence and Alexandria itself," he said. This time, the nobles began to exchange skeptical glances. Alexei had been known as something of a miserly old man.

"The lands of Egypt still remain divided," Ignatios said, his voice rising louder. "The eastern banks of the Nile are still ruled by those who swear loyalty to lords back in Germany and France. A mere child of twelve claims to be king of Egypt, yet sits on a throne in Nassau. Yet it is I who control the great Alexandria, it is us who rule the greater part of Egypt."

"You propose war against out crusading brothers, then?" Albrecht, Count of Gizzeh replied.

Ignatios snorted. "Crusader brothers?" he sneered contemptuously at the term. "Lord Alamayn's father fought for God, Lord Quena fought for God, my father fought for God. We have brought Christianity to the people of Egypt. Have the vassals of that boy-king done the same? Have they built churches to God? When did their armies last meet the heathens in battle?"

The counts grumbled their growing approval at Ignatios's polemic. Albrecht, cowed, silently conceded.

"It will not be today, nor perhaps not even tomorrow," Ignatios said knowingly, looking from each count to the next. "But sometime in the future, it will be my time to take the crown of Egypt that rightfully belongs to me and my family. And when that time comes, I will call upon you for your support. And with it, we can take this land as our own kingdom!"

The gathered nobles cheered their heartfelt support, raising their clenched and gauntleted fists in the air. Ignatios nodded passively at the support, and out of the corner of his eye, could see Adelaide nodding her own, silent, approval.
 
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