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Ein Fest für Emelrich
A Feast for Emelrich

The Prince's Conquests
Castle Weinsberg

July 27, 973 AD

The days were long in the middle of the summer, and most of the day's celebrations had taken place under the glorious sunlight of a comfortably warm July day. In the morning, children had dashed all about the castle playing with one another, filling the courtyard with their laughter and the occasional tears of a few who fell down a little too hard in the midst of their play. In the late afternoon, the throng of gathered guests had left the castle proper and gone out into a great fairground set up in the neighboring fields for a series of contests of skill and strength, accompanied by revelry and plenty of drinks.

Rupert had called the event to bring the noble families of the empire together for two weeks of feasts and tournaments to celebrate the military victories of his eldest son and heir, Emelrich.

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Rupert's coronation as Holy Roman Emperor had come as a surprise to many, and there had been those among the imperial nobility who had questioned the legitimacy of the Electors' choice, and the youth of his family's noble tenure was high among them. Equally prominent was the dissent of many of the greater nobles against Rupert's decision to accept Pope Clement's demands for coronation -- specifically, that he would only crown Rupert as a proper Holy Roman Emperor after he agreed to restore to the Papacy the original borders of the Papal States as established in the reign of Charlemagne. Many perceived the concession as weakness, and Rupert had been eager to act quickly to dispel that myth.

In doing so, he also hoped that he could begin to cement his son's position for the future and begin to present him as a credible heir. When Bohemia and Arles broke off from their tributary payments following Otto's death, Rupert had charged Emelrich with leading the army that would bring them back under imperial suzerainty. The process had taken several years of marching across the empire, but as they sat there today celebrating his return home, Arles and Bohemia had both resumed their tribute payments, along with the smaller pagan realms of the Croatians and Danes. Four of the empire's neighbors had been defeated, and the imperial treasury was filling up thanks to their allegiance, involuntary as it may have been.

Watching over the competitions playing out before him, Rupert sat on a wooden throne draped in expensive rugs and furs to soften it. To either side of him stretched his family, finally gathered together once again for the occasion. Klara sat at his left hand, looking tired and a touch bored. She was just a few years into her fifth decade, and length of life had seen the Kaiserin become rather jaded and easily annoyed. She sat and fanned herself as a pair of warriors armed with heavy two-handed swords clashed with one another, but it was clear her mind was elsewhere.


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Beyond her sat Helene, the eldest of the Kaiser's daughters despite her young age of 21. She had a good, sturdy build and strong eyes, and she watched the contest intently as she sat alongside her husband -- Wenzel von Babenberg, King of Bavaria. While the majority of the highest ranking imperial vassals held the rank of Duke, a few -- Bavaria included -- had been acknowledged as proper kingdoms in their own right beneath the Kaiser's authority. Bavaria had been the first, but soon after the kingdoms of Frisia in the north, Lotharingia in the west, and Croatia in the south had followed. Rupert quite liked Wenzel -- he was well-spoken, charismatic, always finely dressed, and had the honor of receiving his king's crown by the hand of Pope Clement II, the same Holy Father who had named Rupert emperor.

Beyond Helene and Wenzel sat perhaps the most cherished of all of Rupert's children -- 18 year-old Wilhelmina. Wilhelmina had been conceived shortly after cancer had taken the life of young Leopold, as Rupert and Klara had found comfort in one another's embrace. Rupert had been elated when Klara learned she was expecting, and from the moment Wilhelmina was born, he doted on her with great affection, as if he had sought to love her enough to account for Leopold's loss, as well. She had stayed close to home, studying with the religious sisters in Weinsberg, and had excelled in her studies. She had sharp and shrewd mind, a heart full of holy zeal and the sort of perfect manners that had made her excellent at entertaining guests to the castle. It had pained Rupert horribly to send her away from home, but he had ensured that she would have only the best -- he secured her betrothal to the young Louis Karling, Prince of West Francia and the eldest full brother of the current West Frankish king, Leon. He was four years Wilhelmina's junior, and so the two had not yet been wed; but she had traveled often into the neighboring realm to prepare for her future life as a princess there.


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Far from the Kaiser, sitting at the far end of the right and left sides respectively, were his two youngest. 11 year-old Hildegard was too consumed with fussing with her dolls to pay much attention to the tournament, but such was her way. She was an enormously affectionate little girl, but she tended to keep to herself and disliked playing outside with her friends, preferring the quiet isolation of the castle. Erich, just one year away from his maturity, looked particularly shy as he slumped down in his seat, glancing nervously to his older brother frequently. His betrothed, a young relative of the Chatenois house that ruled the kingdom of Lotharingia, was in attendance, though Erich showed no great urge to see her.

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Finally, closest at his right, sat his first son and heir, Emelrich, who was at once Rupert's great pride as well as his terrible shame. Rupert loved Emelrich dearly; he was his first son, and for many years after Leopold's death he was his only son, until young Erich came along many years later. That day's tournament, as well as the feast that would soon follow, was to honor Emelrich for his victories over the past several years in re-establishing former imperial tributaries as well as acquiring a few new ones, but the event was pure hollow showmanship. Emelrich had been in charge of the great army that had marched through Bohemia, Arles, Bihac Croatia, and Denmark, but those battles had been won by the officers under his command. Much to his father's dismay, Emelrich was more concerned with conquest in the bedroom than on the battlefield. The 29 year-old ruler of Worms and heir to Weinsberg had six children, but only four of them were from his lawful wife, Beatrix Chatenois. The other two were the scandalous progeny of a long-running extramarital affair with a Dutch courtier from the northern kingdom of Frisia, who had given Emelrich two sons -- as well as the shameful mark of the so-called "Lover's Pox." Beatrix was well aware of his unfaithfulness and its fruits, and resented him for it. She sat at his side at the tournament only for the sake of appearances; she would find a way to distance herself from him immediately once the feasting began.

Rupert had done his best to instill proper German Catholic virtues upon his son, but as the young man neared his thirtieth birthday, the Kaiser worried that he might never truly come around. It was well known that many within the empire did not respect him, and very few of the Electors had anything positive to say about him. With Emelrich as the clear heir of the von Zahren family estates, he would be the only suitable candidate from the family to consider to follow in Rupert's footsteps. But given his lack of martial skill, his arbitrary judgement, and his many romantic dalliances, it was unlikely that Emelrich could ever be considered a future emperor. It grieved Rupert to say it, but he feared that the family would fall into obscurity following his inevitable death. Emelrich, as much as he loved him, could never be what he was. He wasn't capable of it, and the other lords and Electors wouldn't allow him the chance.

As he sat in his throne watching over a skillful duel between two nimble swordsmen from Milan, Rupert simply quietly resolved that he would accomplish all that he could in whatever years of his life remained so that, even if his son could not inherit an empire, he could, at the very least, inherit a legacy.
 
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Sadly a common pattern , successors who dont go toe to toe with their glorious parents
 
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At least he seems to be able to recognise his son's situation, rather than deny it, and switch his plans accordingly. That is a rare trait.
 
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Emelrich sounds bad...

Isn't assassination/disinheriting him an option?
 
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Emelrich sounds bad...

Isn't assassination/disinheriting him an option?

Having him assassinated doesn't really feel in line with Rupert's character.. Disinheriting is an option, but if I recall, it brings a lot of prestige issues.
 
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Das letzte Gebrüll des Bären
The Last Roar of the Bear

Rupert's Final Conquest
Fatimid Sultanate, North Africa

July 13, 985 AD

Rupert absolutely detested Africa. The constant, punishing heat of the sun that made him sweat endlessly under his armor. The sand that always found a way inside his boots. The punishing thirst that ravaged him every day he spent away from his encampments. The air was hot, the land was miserable, and the followers of Mohammed were savages whose company he couldn't wait to escape. Why had he ever accepted King Landolf of Arles' invitation to join him in this God-forsaken arid hell?

Because the Kaiser had very little else to live for.


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As he looked down from the sandy hill seated on his warhorse, Rupert's heart ached; even so many years later, all of the loss still pained him. It was nearly a decade ago, the day that Rupert had left Weinsberg after a shouting argument with his eldest son. At the time, King Landolf had come under attack by an Italian adventuring warlord and his mercenaries, and had requested the Emperor's aid. Rupert had intended to send Emelrich, who asked to be left at home, as he hadn't been feeling well.

At the time, Rupert had refused to believe him and chalked it up to cowardice. The last time he had been sent to war, after all, he had hidden in his camp with his scandalous sexual affairs while his officers saw to the affairs of battle. Rupert scolded his son harshly, humiliating him in front of his youngest brother, Erich. Angrily ordering his eldest to "stay home and grovel around with his peasant women," Rupert had marched to Arles with Erich under his wing. Together, the two crushed the invading Italians in a decisive fashion, and returned home to their heroic welcome.

But when Rupert returned to the castle, he was greeted not by a throng of celebrating courtiers, but by his teary-eyed wife dressed in black. While Rupert and Erich were away fighting in Provence, Emelrich had succumbed to dysentery and lost his life just days before the army returned.

The Kaiser had been inconsolable for months, secluded away with his wife in the castle. Even now, a decade later, he felt a sting in his heart every time he recalled that his last words to his eldest son had been a scathing insult. He only prayed that Emelrich might forgive him one day, if they met in paradise. But in time, he recovered from his grief, in no small part thanks to the enduring affection and support of his beloved, Klara. Soon, Rupert had returned to the throne and had continued to lead the empire with the same presence and power for which he had become renowned. Klara was always close at his side, and under their guidance the Germans thrived.

But Klara, too, had now left him. She had passed on peacefully in her sixty-fifth year, and the anniversary of her death was just a few months away. Rupert intended to be done with this war and be back in Germany in time to visit her grave.


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Of course, the goals of this war were far nobler than that. Landolf, full of zeal as he was, had taken it upon himself to challenge Shaiban, the Shia Caliph and the ruler of the Fatimid Sultanate based in Al Djazair. Landolf intended to drive the Fatimids out of the region, hoping instead to install Az'ar Ikjan, a Berber convert, as the first Catholic Sultan in north Africa. Rupert had lost his two eldest sons to illness, sent his youngest away to rule a small county in north Germany conquered from the pagans, buried his wife, and married away all of his daughters. At 72 years of age, he was in the twilight of his life, and he hoped that planting the seeds of the true faith in Muslim Africa might be the final piece of his life's legacy.

Even in his advanced age, Rupert was still a physically impressive man. His body refused to slouch under the same heavy armor he'd worn when he was a much younger and stronger man, and he gripped his axe -- custom-forged for the Kaiser by a master German blacksmith -- with enough vigor to crush a man's throat. Down the hill, their cloths and turbans blowing in the sandy desert wind, the last and largest remaining army of the Caliph stood to confront him with spears raised and scimitars held ready. The Kaiser of the Holy Roman Empire looked down at them and, raising his axe overhead, took a deep breath. At once, he turned all of the pain and loss he had suffered through his twilight years and channeled them into a bellowing, unforgettable roar that echoed across the battlefield.

At his command, the men of Germany charged. Heavy European steeds crashed against lightly-armed skirmishers, and as the foot soldiers clashed, the nimble warriors of the desert danced around the heavy, resolute footmen of Europe. Rupert, defying his age, kicked his horse's side and rode him down along with them, axe held low at his side. This was not like his younger days; the Kaiser could no longer safely wade into the middle of a melee, chopping down men all around him. Instead, the seasoned warrior rode with his bodyguard around the edges of the battle, taking opportune strikes at the edges. As he passed one of the Caliph's lieutenants, fending off his enemies while holding his banner planted firmly in the sand, Rupert leaned to the side of his saddle and swung with all of the strength left in his body. As the imperial soldiers cheered in approval, Rupert's' ornate axe cut viciously through the Mohamedan's neck and sent his head flying some five yards away from the body, which crumpled lifelessly to the ground draped in Shaiban's fallen banner.

The battle carried on for hours, and even after Rupert's horse was struck by several arrows, the Kaiser and his elite guard never flinched. Islamic defenders fell all around them, and when night finally fell to chase away the heat of the desert, it was the banner of the empire and a tall wooden crucifix that stood tall at the top of the hill. Bodies littered the desert around Rupert, whose body was heavy with sweat and sore with exhaustion. The septuagenarian Kaiser took a seat on the sand, falling to the ground more than sitting. His breath was heavy, but his heart felt light. At least, for that day, he had escaped the guilt and pain that followed him so relentlessly through his final years. Once more, the von Zahren name would be heralded as a hero of the realm and of the faith.

The first boat headed back to Europe the next evening was reserved for the Kaiser. With his two most trusted guards at either side, Rupert boarded the vessel and returned to his sleeping quarters on board. Az'ar would soon be crowned as the Sultan of Africa, but Rupert had no intention of waiting around for that coronation. Klara was waiting for him at home, buried within the walls of the castle's chapel with Emelrich and Leopold at her side. Rupert removed his armor and laid back on the heavy rugs prepared for him. The war was over, and finally, he could allow himself the kind of peaceful sleep he had been so cruelly deprived of in the desert. He quietly whispered his evening prayers, and fell into a deep sleep.

The boat would take over a week to reach the shores of Germany, but Rupert went home that very night. When his guards came to wake him the next morning, they found the Kaiser in the sleep of death, returned to the Lord.

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A final battle for a great man...

The Emperor dies with regrets...
 
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That is the sort of death that will get him lauded in eternal memory to be sure.
 
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Im Schatten des Bären
In the Shadow of the Bear

Life After Empire
Castle Landshut, Regensberg, Bavaria

January 1, 987 AD

As yet another round of wine-filled goblets were passed around the table, several of the late Kaiser Rupert's children spoke of their memories of the day he was buried in Weinsberg. The stories had been told for over an hour, and it seemed their end was nowhere in sight.

Everyone in the von Zahren family remembered the day of Emperor Rupert's grand funeral. The Pope had come to offer the Mass, and the cathedral had been packed to its capacity. The Emperor's many feudal vassals, both direct and indirect, had hurried to the capital in Weinsberg to ensure that they would be seen fulfilling their obligation. Many more local notables from within the Duchy and the wealthiest and most influential from across the realm attended the event, all mourning as their Kaiser was laid to rest. When the prayers had been completed and Rupert had been laid to rest, the feasting in his memory began.

Everyone remembered that day, but Rupert II remembered the day after his grandfather's funeral, instead. The silence, the stillness, and the emptiness.

Just as quickly as they had swarmed to the capital to pay their respects, the throngs of nobles and their entourages left the city in even greater numbers than they'd arrived. It was not just the visitors of the funeral that departed -- but many more, who had attended the Imperial Court for years, left along with them now that Weinsberg was no longer the center of the empire. Kaiser Rupert was dead, and a new Emperor had been chosen to succeed him: Wenzel von Babenberg, the King of Bavaria.

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The late Kaiser Rupert had always been fond of Wenzel, and held him as one of his favorite vassals. He was married to Helene, the eldest daughter of the von Zahren patriarch, which naturally afforded him some stature within the family affairs. He had been a close ally during his lifetime, and he had earned the respect of his princely peers. He was a pious Catholic, kind-hearted and fair, and even though he'd put on some unsightly weight in the past year, he was always so perfectly groomed that he seemed to glow. The Electors had rallied around him following Rupert's death, and Wenzel was chosen to succeed him as the new Kaiser. Pope Celestine III crowned him Emperor, and Regensberg in Bavaria became the new heart of the empire.

Duke Rupert II had inherited many things from his late grandfather. With Prince Emelrich having died many years before, Rupert inherited the family lands in Weinsberg and Worms directly from Rupert I. He inherited the ornate axe and sturdy chainmail that had been forged for the late Kaiser, taken by Rupert II as symbols of authority over the dynasty. He inherited the von Zahren name, which carried the honor of its founders' accomplishments. But he had not inherited the imperial crown to succeed his grandfather as Emperor, and he had inherited only half of the realm that Rupert I had once ruled. The Prince-Bishoprics of Mainz and Frankfurt continued to report directly to the Kaiser, becoming vassals of Wenzel and leaving the sphere of influence of house von Zahren. Rupert, possessing only two counties, had moved the seat of his governance to Worms, the larger and more prosperous of the two, and had re-styled himself the Duke of Worms -- seeing as he no longer held any land touching the Rhine.


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Rupert visited the capital in Regensberg often, and he had gone there to celebrate the new year with the imperial family. Kaiserin Helene was fiercely devoted to her family, and she always insisted on bringing her von Zahren kin to the castle as often as possible. Rupert had become a familiar sight around the castle, and not just because his aunt insisted on it -- he was also soon to become an even closer part of the imperial family. Hoping to keep her family close to the center of imperial politics, Helene had begged with Wenzel to allow her beloved nephew -- the family patriarch, in spite of his young age -- to be tied to the von Babenbergs through marriage. Wenzel and Helen had only one daughter: Klara, who was just five years old at the time. Kaiser Wenzel had hoped to promise her to a great foreign power -- Prince Thibault, the heir of West Francia, was yet unspoken for -- but Helene had convinced him to promise Klara to Rupert once she came of age.

That marriage was still over a decade away, and Rupert would be past his thirtieth birthday by the time it came, but it was a price that he was willing to pay for the benefit of being tied to the Kaiser by marrying his only daughter. Many ambitious German nobles would have no qualms with challenging a small-time Duke whose family's nobility was less than a century old; far fewer would be willing to try and assert their claims against the son-in-law of the Holy Roman Emperor. Marrying Klara meant that he would spend much of his younger years alone, but it promised something incredibly valuable: protection.

Rupert passed that evening simply and pleasantly. He listened to his kinsmen -- like his uncle Erich, Duke of Pomerania, and his aunt Wilhelmina, the Queen of France following her husband's rebellion -- recount the fond memories of their family's founder. Rupert had known little of his grandfather's life, being born so late into it, but the stories brought him a mix of comfort and pain. He knew his grandfather had been a great man, far greater than his coward of a father. He was proud to inherit the family name from Rupert I's hands, but the praise heaped up on his grandfather always stung him sharply. He had but a fraction of the power and wealth his grandfather had claimed, and his standing was far lower.

For now, at least.

Rupert was an ambitious man in his own right, and he was quite determined that, even if they could not control the imperial throne, the von Zahrens would hold on to their place as a leading family in Germany and beyond. When he returned to Worms, he would have messengers waiting regarding his attempts to marry his sister into the royal house of the King of Arles, and his scouts would be waiting to report any weaknesses in his neighbors to him.

Rupert's time to rise would soon come.
 
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Rupert II is ambitious! Excellent!

Nice to see this back!
 
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Rupert II is ambitious! Excellent!

Nice to see this back!

Good to be back! Work fatigue and a new WoW expansion sidetracked me for a bit, but I'm happy to be pushing this forward again.
 
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Der Almosengeber und der Tutorin
The Almoner and the Tutor

Rupert's Wife and Wenzel's Strife
Castle Kaiserslautern, Worms

October 14, 998 AD

The crisp chill of autumn had come to Germany, and a strong gust of wind outside sent a breeze rushing through the outer chambers of Castle Kaiserslautern. Many a servant and handmaiden pulled their cloaks a little tighter as they hurried about their duties, eager to finish their day's work and retreat into the warmth of their quarters. Soon, darkness would fall and it would be time for a hot dinner to send the castle residents back to the warmth of their beds with full stomachs.

But there was no such chill in the air deep within the heart of the castle in Duke Rupert II's throne room. The lavishly-appointed heart of the castle was lined with burning braziers to cast heat around the room, and the floors were lined with rugs and furs. In the warmth and security of the castle's innermost dwelling, Rupert sat at his throne addressing a messenger from the Kaiser, Rupert's father-in-law Wenzel von Babenberg. The emissary was busy heaping praise onto Rupert, celebrating the success of his reign on behalf of the Emperor.

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The duchy had thrived in the years since Rupert II inherited the throne from his grandfather, the former Kaiser. The cities of Hagenau in Worms and Uffenheim in Weinsberg had continued to expand, bringing much-welcomed tax revenue into the castle coffers. Thanks to the abundance of coin and his military wit, Rupert had waged an almost effortless campaign against Prince-Archbishop Radbot of Mainz, defeating him in order to bring Mainz under Rupert's banner. The realm had expanded, the treasury was full, and the Duke was in a strong position, gaining the respect of his neighbors as his realm grew. To any outsider, like the Kaiser's envoy, it would seem that the Duke of Worms was riding high. But anyone on the inside knew better.

There was a toxic tension in the air, and it hung thick over the throne room.

On the surface, everything looked grand. Rupert sat on his throne, dressed finely with his grandfather's ceremonial axe at his side, commanding a realm that was on the rise. Beside him sat his wife Klara, his younger cousin and the only daughter of the current Kaiser, whose presence in Worms and marriage to Rupert elevated the duchy in stature. To the side of the chamber, his High Almoner worked with the clergy to distribute aid to the needy from the Duke's treasury while the Court Tutor enthusiastically instructed the children of the castle's courtiers.

But a simple look deeper began to reveal the truth of the cancerous environment that held Kaiserslauten in its grip.

Klara sat slouched in her throne, seemingly oblivious to her husband's conversation with her father's representative. She stared off into the corner of the throne room, her eyes fixated on anything she could find to distract her, while her face settled into a subtle but noticeable frown. She cast her eyes everywhere across the throne room, seeming desperate for anything she could find to hold her attention. She looked everywhere except one place -- to the chamber's left side. And that was a place Duke Rupert II cast his gaze often, taking a keen interest in the work of the two lowborn women laboring there.

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Ilsa was Rupert's High Almoner, charged with using the money from the royal treasury to support charitable works within the realm. She was a sharp, attentive woman in her twenties, always neatly composed and sharply dressed, portraying a level of refinement and elegance that defied her low social status. She was almost regal in her demeanor, with a commanding presence that often surprised her noble peers. Adelheid was a young maiden of only sixteen years, with a mind that far surpassed learned men three times her age. She was beautiful, but in a much simpler, plainer way than Ilsa, and her intellect made her a natural choice to be the designated tutor of the court's youth.

No one ever dared to speak of it, but it was obvious to anyone who spent even a few weeks in Worms that these two young women were far more than their titles suggested. For two attractive, young lowborn women to remain so late into the evening, to work so closely with the Duke, and to receive such generous treatment from the crown, made it easy to understand that Rupert had a passionate affection for both of them. Rupert, whether through naivete or arrogance, believed that his secret was safe, but his ruse was paper-thin; nearly everyone close to him knew of the relationship he shared with both young women.


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The Duke's affairs with both women had begun a little more than a year ago, when he discovered that Klara had been having her own extramarital affair with Prince-Archbishop Radbot of Mainz -- the very man against whom Rupert had waged war. The fact that the war allowed Rupert to take possession of Mainz, a realm that had been ruled by his grandfather, had been truthfully just a bonus; the true aim of that war had been to punish Radbot for daring to bed his wife. After all -- as she was the daughter of the Kaiser, there was little Rupert could do to retaliate against her, overtly at least. So instead, he had focused his rage on Radbot and an aggressive campaign to crush his armies.

Once the war was over, Rupert had channeled that same rage and jealousy into his relations with these two young courtiers while denying his wife any hint of marital passion or affection. Instead, he had thrown himself into spoiling his two mistresses, alienating his wife while fulfilling their every desire. There was only disdain left in Rupert's heart for his wife; and likewise for his father-in-law, the Kaiser, who had married her to him.


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And that was why, as the envoy stood at the foot of the throne pleading with Rupert to send aid to Kaiser Wenzel, he received nothing in return except a blank, unflinching smile that communicated the most shallow façade of politeness, barely able to hide the utter indifference and contempt seething behind it. Up in the north, Wenzel's new capital in Julich was surrounded on all sides by rebels seeking to depose him from the throne. Dietrich, King of Lotharingia and head of the powerful Chatenois family of Lorraine, had responded to Wenzel's demands to relinquish more land in his family's homeland by taking up arms against the Emperor. Several notable lords, including the Dukes of Milan, Koln, Brabant, Saxony, Pomerania, and Nordgau lent their support to his cause, and Wenzel quickly lost ground against the rebels. When King Louis V of West Francia took advantage of the Kaiser's weakness and launched his own war to to place his relative Almodis on the throne in place of Wenzel, the future of the von Babenberg rule looked dim.

"I'm terribly sorry," Rupert answered with a stiff, cordial tone, "But I have already sent my required levies to the Kaiser, and since the rebels share a long border with our Duchy, we need all of our remaining soldiers to ensure that we protect ourselves should the fighting spill over into Worms. I wish the Kaiser the greatest of luck and will pray fervently for his victory, but I'm afraid I have no men left to spare for the war effort."

The disappointment in the envoy's face was clear; the poor young man would have to return to the Kaiser and deliver the news that no reinforcements would come from Worms to help the beleaguered emperor. He politely excused himself and was seen out by the royal guard, leaving Rupert grinning smugly in his wake. A frustrated sigh escaped his wife, who stood from her throne and walked wordlessly out into the hallway to retire to her chambers. Rupert would offer no help to the man whose daughter had crushed his joy; he would sit back, protect his land, and watch the imperial reign of Wenzel von Babenberg burn to the ground.

"Ilsa," he called, turning his eyes to the side of the chamber, "I think it's late enough for now. Would you give me a report of the day's affairs?"

The Duke stood from his throne and gestured to his High Almoner; the young woman dismissed herself and walked to her Duke's side, her eyes meeting his with a wry smile as she walked out of the throne room at his side.
 
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Revenge is sweet, even if indirect, I guess.
 
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While I do not agree with that form of revenge or withholding aid from your rightful liege I respect it.
 
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That is one dysfunctional marriage.
 
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