Empire of the Mediterranean: An Interactive Aragon AAR

[Michaelangelo]

To his most honourable and noble Majesty, Joan II de Trastámara, King of the Crowns of Aragon, Navarra and Naples
​

I wish to congratulate you for the decisive triumph against the heathens. I was truly excited when the local Christian Greeks welcomed my army as I liberated them from their Turkish oppressors, and I have felt great religious satisfaction when I led my army in destroying the Ottoman troops, which are clearly no match for the great Aragonese soldiers. Our nation earned an important victory and it will take years for the Turks to rebuild their armies so that it can possess major threat. I hope I was of good service to His Majesty.

A message was delivered to the officer's quarters in the army camp at Epirus, notifying that the Portuguese have asked our assistance against their Mauritanian enemies. I think His Majesty should accept such a call to arms. Although we just finished fighting another war, the alliance with Portugal is crucial for keeping the balance in the Iberian peninsula and for discouraging any possible Castillian aggression. This would also prove as an opportunity to kill more heathens and improve our position in the Western Mediterranean, now that we have secured land in the Eastern Mediterranean. I hope to serve His Majesty by taking an active role in the war.

Aside from that, as my assistants do not prove very useful I modestly ask His Majesty to update my information on several topics:

- Our diplomats' estimations of our political relationship between our nation and the Byzantines. I expect theme to be grateful for the territory we restored to them.
- Our clergy's estimate to the amount of time it will take to convert the Greeks to the true Catholic faith, and the actions we can do to make the conversion quicker. Although we are all Christians, they still follow a wrong heresy.
- The name of the new province in Aragon. The old Ottoman administration referred to it by the weird name 'Yanya', and I hope that the new administration we installed uses the proper name 'Epirus'.

Signed and Sealed
by
General d'Exèrcit Sebastián de Loarre
Baron of Castillo de Loarre
((unlanded noble, general))

​

((I vote for honouring the call to arms of Portugal
I also ask for some extra information: Our relationship with Byzantium, the modifiers in the conversion of Epirus, and the name of Epirus in-game.

I also support the recent idea about generals' promotions instead of retirenment))

((We have +56 relations with the Byzantines, we are currently at -0.1% to be able to convert, and the province was automatically renamed to Epirus. We could pass the Advancement of Religion Act, giving +1% to conversion, if we had a theologian, but none is available. All the other religious acts require higher admin tech.))

My King,
I think we should answer the call of our brothers in faith, but only if that would not put us at risk of a war with the Castillians. How much longer are we going to stay at peace with them? Are they going to support Portuguese in the war ((Castille and Portugal were allied, right?)) ? I've been keeping a close look at the border and recently there was much more troops coming by the border. I fear that they are preparing for a war against us. I also would like to apologize to You my lord for not being present at the court but I was busy preparing the defences of my county for the inevitable war with the Castillians. I also hope the nothing happened to You during the outbreak of the plague, and I hope that You are safe. I also have a small request my King. Could I become a general to lead our armies to victory? I would not want another king murdered by those damned Castillians or even worse those heathens.
Your loyal subject,
Arturo de Valencia, count of Zaragoza [Landed noble]

(( Vote: Honour Portuguese Call-to-arms: Abstain until I can get information about our truce))

We shall gladly enlist your services as a general in our army. ((I need a stat focus first. Do you want to be fire, shock, or manoeuvre focused?))

- His Majesty, Joan II de Trastámara, King of Aragon, Naples, and Navarra

((Yep, they're still allied. The truce ended back in 1452, which is when I allied Portugal. It should also be noted that there actually hasn't been any Castilian troops on our border, but the same cannot be said for the Portuguese border. I did a test and let the game run a few weeks and Castile joins the war with Portugal, so they won't be attacking us. If anything, we should join the war to beat them to Granada. ))

Ioannes - Courtier

God himself has truly blessed your reign my liege! This victory has ensured that all know of our dominance in the Mediterranean and I must congratulate all of our generals on such a resounding victory! The seizure of the historic province of Epirus fills my heart with joy, and I must surely travel to Greece to visit my family! This brings me to another question sire - I wish to be instated as the Count of Epirus. I have experience with the Greek people, I am one of them, and most importantly I am a Catholic. I will surely be able to convince my countrymen to turn their backs from the Patriarch and join under the true Pontiff.

I'd also like to suggest the conquest of Athens once more, assuming they have no strong diplomatic ties (no big allies). We are no in good position to dispose of them and it would further solidify our position in the Aegean and give us a strategic port there. I'd also like to strength our relationship with the Byzantine Empire whom we have aided by returning their core provinces.

I also vote in favor of supporting Portugal, YES.

((The generals thing is good with me, do whatever is easiest/best for you))

The idea of attacking Athens had seemed distant before, but now that we share a border it is a possibility. We have a truce until 1458, but it is a feasible plan. As for your request to be made count of Epirus, we had believed your ties were with Athens. If we do indeed go to war with them, would you not prefer to be given the title to your home?

- His Majesty, Joan II de Trastámara, King of Aragon, Naples, and Navarra

((Basically if you want to be count of Athens, you can't be count of Epirus. Just making sure before I give you the title for Epirus. ))

 

[05060403]

((The Castillians on borders was more of a char flavour. As for the stat focus I would like to focus on shock.))

 

[Michaelangelo]

((I've changed the rules on how leaders are now handled. This should help prevent generals from retiring every few years. Here's what I've included:

If the in-game leader dies in battle, there is a 75% chance that the character has died and a 25% chance they were severely wounded. If the in-game leader dies outside of battle in hostile territory, there is a 20% chance they died and an 80% chance they were wounded or incapacitated. If the in-game leader dies during peace or in friendly territory, it's implied that they've taken a leave or retired or something along that line. After the turn the in-game leader died in is over, that player is given the option to retire or resume command, unless their character died of course. If they resume command, the leader is promoted and given an extra pip to represent knowledge gained from their experiences.

))

 

[VenetianRyan]

Bernardino floated through the gardens of Valencia. After years confined to land, his time at sea with the Aragonese navy was a breath of fresh (and rather salty) air. Dreams of glory, action and heroism however were few and far between. After a monumental battle alongside their Venetian and Neapolitan brothers, Bernardino was part of an auxiliary fleet stationed along the coast of Corfu. For almost three years, he rocked to the ocean's mighty tremors - restless, tired and homesick. His thoughts often fell to those of his family on the island of Cerigo - his father, mother and brothers. He hoped they were safe, so close to Ottoman lands. Once a fortnight, Bernardino would take a small boat into the bay of Taranto in order to collect supplies for the fleet. Docking at dusk, crew would work throughout the night stocking the boat whilst he would visit his lover - the only good thing about his stalemate of a war. It was not long after the Aragonese army's invasion of Corfu that the war ended - and on word that he would return to Aragon, Bernardino asked his lover - Nicola - to return with him and for her hand in marriage.

Back in Aragon, he had heard the rumours of the Palace that another war was indeed on the horizon. Whilst he was unsure whether or not he would take sail again - with his new wife unaccustomed to Iberian life and his trading company only just recovering from his time away - he knew that such a war was of great importance to the Realm, and was on his way to tell the King his mind...


Your Majesty, Great King of Aragon, Naples and Navarra,

Firstly may I congratulate you on your inspiring command of our country, to lead us to victory against the sworn enemy of all Christian people. You have demonstrated unrivalled leadership and I commend such a success.

Whilst ideally such a peace with the Ottomans would require a chance to recover and celebrate, it appears that we have been called to arms by our renewed friends to the West in Portugal. I believe that this is a chance for the Iberian Christians to unite under one banner and banish the heathens back to their lands across the sea - under our lead, of course. We must accept such a call, and march South to claim the lands of Granada as our own.

I suggest that we once again demonstrate the might of our navy under the command of our great Grand Admiral Abruzzi, by blockading the sea around Gibraltar to prevent Moroccan troops from invading. A simultaneous march South to conquer the Granadan lands is necessary, but I think we should refrain from marching into Morocco.


Accept Call To Arms: YES

 

[GameHunter5303]

Bernardino floated through the gardens of Valencia. After years confined to land, his time at sea with the Aragonese navy was a breath of fresh (and rather salty) air. Dreams of glory, action and heroism however were few and far between. After a monumental battle alongside their Venetian and Neapolitan brothers, Bernardino was part of an auxiliary fleet stationed along the coast of Corfu. For almost three years, he rocked to the ocean's mighty tremors - restless, tired and homesick. His thoughts often fell to those of his family on the island of Cerigo - his father, mother and brothers. He hoped they were safe, so close to Ottoman lands. Once a fortnight, Bernardino would take a small boat into the bay of Taranto in order to collect supplies for the fleet. Docking at dusk, crew would work throughout the night stocking the boat whilst he would visit his lover - the only good thing about his stalemate of a war. It was not long after the Aragonese army's invasion of Corfu that the war ended - and on word that he would return to Aragon, Bernardino asked his lover - Nicola - to return with him and for her hand in marriage.

Back in Aragon, he had heard the rumours of the Palace that another war was indeed on the horizon. Whilst he was unsure whether or not he would take sail again - with his new wife unaccustomed to Iberian life and his trading company only just recovering from his time away - he knew that such a war was of great importance to the Realm, and was on his way to tell the King his mind...


Your Majesty, Great King of Aragon, Naples and Navarra,

Firstly may I congratulate you on your inspiring command of our country, to lead us to victory against the sworn enemy of all Christian people. You have demonstrated unrivalled leadership and I commend such a success.

Whilst ideally such a peace with the Ottomans would require a chance to recover and celebrate, it appears that we have been called to arms by our renewed friends to the West in Portugal. I believe that this is a chance for the Iberian Christians to unite under one banner and banish the heathens back to their lands across the sea - under our lead, of course. We must accept such a call, and march South to claim the lands of Granada as our own.

I suggest that we once again demonstrate the might of our navy under the command of our great Grand Admiral Abruzzi, by blockading the sea around Gibraltar to prevent Moroccan troops from invading. A simultaneous march South to conquer the Granadan lands is necessary, but I think we should refrain from marching into Morocco.


Accept Call To Arms: YES

Thank You my friend, sitting around Corfu may not have been the glamorous of stories in the war. However, it was a very important one, as it stopped a large Ottoman army in the island. May we work together soon in the war against the Moroccans. If you decide to go back and fight, that is.

~Leonardo de Abruzzi, Grand Admiral of the Realm

 

[Egil4950]

My grace,

I want to congratulate you on your success in the Ottoman wars, all of the heathen world trembles. When roaming around the streets of Provence, where I am currently located, I hear nothing but about your great victory.

Also, words have reached me that we have got a call to war from Portugal against the heathen Moors. I say we should honor the call just not to be stamped traitors, just as Portugal did. It would also be a great opportunity for us to get access to the Atlantic, who knows what is out there!

Accept call to arms: YES

Erik Inge [courtier]

 

[Attalus]

​

Thanks to God we won against the heathens! Your victory will be remembered for centuries to come and you should be remembered as the King who eventually vanquished the Scourge of the Orient!

Alas God puts us to test once again by making the Portugueses declare a crusade against the African heathens. But you must have no rest in this Holy Mission Your Highness. Let us go to war once again!


-Jofré de Borja, count of Urgell

(Also that post made me think of your AAR Michaelangelo

Spoiler

Our goal maybe in the future ? )

 

[cpm4001]

((Busy day, haven't got time to do a proper bit of RP for voting. However, I SUPPORT honoring the Portuguese call-to-arms.))

 

[Michaelangelo]

(Also that post made me think of your AAR Michaelangelo

Spoiler

Our goal maybe in the future ? )

((The image isn't showing for me and now I'm curious what it is. And what made you think of my AAR? ))

 

[Attalus]

((The image isn't showing for me and now I'm curious what it is. And what made you think of my AAR? ))

(I'll redo it once I'm home )

 

[Attalus]

((The image isn't showing for me and now I'm curious what it is. And what made you think of my AAR? ))

Spoiler

 

[EmperorBasilius]

Spoiler

((I wanted to reply that I couldn't see the image, but the image appeared in the 'post reply' box once I clicked the reply button. It is showing only there, and not in your message itself.
weird. Aragon-Italy is cool though ))

 

[Michaelangelo]

Spoiler

((That's weird that the image only appears in the reply box. Also the existence of Spain in that picture disturbs me. Our glorious Aragon will not allow such a thing in the years to come. ))

 

[Attalus]

((That's weird that the image only appears in the reply box. Also the existence of Spain in that picture disturbs me. Our glorious Aragon will not allow such a thing in the years to come. ))

{{ Damn the Paradox attachements
And yeah Spain will surely not exist but seeing that empire on the DVG thread rang a bell }}

 

[Michaelangelo]

After much thought, we have decided to honour the call-to-arms. Let us fight the heathens of the west as we did those of the east. Soon they will come to fear the might of Aragon. We trust our capable soldiers of ensuring us success while we direct the war effort from Valencia.

- His Majesty, Joan II de Trastámara, King of Aragon, Naples, and Navarra

 

[Michaelangelo]

Ferran limped his way through the desolate battlefield in Corfu. Thousands of bodies lay strewn across the cold earth, stinking of rotten flesh with flies swarming the bloated corpses. A few moans sounded throughout the battlefield, the sounds of those who would soon be bloated corpses as well. This was the ugly side of war, the side no one wanted to see. Venetians and Ottomans lay side by side in death when they would have never done so in life. Death did not discriminate. He was just glad to be spared its grasp. His wounds were minor compared to those who lay amongst the dead waiting to join them.

At least Ferran could enjoy one thing in this place of death. The number of heathen corpses far outnumbered the Christians. God was clearly on the side of the faithful. The loss of so many Christians was the necessary sacrifice to bring down the unbelievers.

"You've been out here for an hour. Those who linger on the battlefield are bound to catch a disease." Ferran Perez de Cabrera stood nearby, watching the bastard closely.

"It's hard to appreciate how fortunate we are to survive such an ordeal unless we see the cost firsthand. The heathens lost the battle, as victims of the wrath of God, but we paid a hefty price for it."

Ferran Perez de Cabrera nodded and handed the bastard a letter. "Word from home. Aragon has ended its war with the Ottomans and is to join the Portuguese against the heathens of North Africa."

Ferran read over the letter, which detailed exactly what his companion had said. He was a bit miffed that Aragon had signed a separate peace with the Ottomans, although the peace terms were favourable for the Christians of this world. Now that there was a war against Morocco, Ferran reconsidered his direction. The Venetian war against the Ottomans was bound to end soon. He had served as a Condottieri for years now, and while the experience was rewarding and had taught him much, he yearned to return home. Perhaps one more campaign, this time fighting for Aragon instead of as a Condottieri, would do.

* * * * *

Alfons paced around the dungeon cell that the Castilian assassin had been kept in. The servants had done their best to clean out the blood he'd left there after his interrogation, but the floor still had a dull reddish tint. Alfons quite liked it. Perhaps it would make future prisoners more willing to talk seeing a sign of how past prisoners had been treated. It couldn't hurt.

Even the thought of torture, which he had perfected under the guidance of the reluctant chirurgeon, did not improve his mood. The Castilian assassin had unnerved him. While Alfons had been able to make him squeal about his employer, someone from the Castilian court no less, he had not been able to find a motive. The assassin did not know why his employer had wanted Lino Adrià María de Agramunt dead, and Alfons had poked a few dents in his flesh with a hot poker to make sure he wasn't withholding anything either. The assassin had not known. So why did Castile want de Agramunt dead? The obvious answer was the man's reputation as a skilled general, one who had a personal vendetta against Castile after the loss of Alfons V. Then again, the obvious answer could just be a cover for the truth. There had to be more going on.

So many possibilities filtered through Alfons's mind. Could de Agramunt have been in league with the Castilians at some point and betrayed them, so the assassination was an attempt to tie up loose ends? Or perhaps de Agramunt knew something the Castilians didn't want leaked. If he did, why wasn't he sharing it? Could the Castilians simply want to eliminate a prominent Aragonese figure to sow discord in the kingdom? If so, would they try to target someone else next? What if they targeted the Prince himself! Alfons quickly snapped his head back and forth, looking in every direction as though an assassin was ready to strike him down at this very moment. All there was around him was bloodstains and shadows. Of course, that might not always be the case. He'd have to start sleeping with one eye wide open. Anyone could be waiting around the corner to eliminate the Aragonese prince once and for all.

 

[GameHunter5303]

((I have no idea how to add photos on a mobile, I found a coat of arms but can't put it on , anyone know how to do it on an iPhone, please tell me how. ))

And Aragon is once again in a war, this time with the Portugese. One more day, one more battle it seems. I just really hope this war is over quickly, as I am not growing weary of the wars, but I know a few nobles who are, and a lot of farmers who are having no time to farm their crops. But I take out my Sabre and admire it. It will have much more use in the months to come.

~Leonardo de Abruzzi, Grand Admiral of the Realm

 

[Revan529]

((Everyone else had these narrative posts, so I decided to join in ))

​

Don Ferran went up the small dirt path, his Andalusian trotting slowly, evenly. The autumnal change had come to the small villa’s orchards and vineyards, and the dry, wrinkled leaves rustled against a cool breeze ushered from the Alpine north. He was not long from Greece, he knew; only a week ago had the Bastard of Naples’ company been contracted by the Venetians, only days before had he separated from the party briefly. He stirred from his thoughts as he approached the villa, still encased by a host of gnarled vines.

As he passed by an old gazebo, its splintered wood reams as coasted with vines as the villa itself, his mind turned to the maiden whom he planned to visit one final time. She was… fifteen? No, sixteen, with flaxen hair and green eyes. Her name rolled off his tongue. Beautiful… … beautiful… he’d remember it soon enough. He dismounted his Andalusian, and approached the door of faded russet, perhaps once a burnt umber in hue. Possibly just a very poorly done maroon. No matter, as he reached the door, it opened and a rotund man, beady eyed and glistening with sweat opened the door; he smelt horribly (though it explained the pungent scent that constantly surrounded the grounds; he’d attributed it to dead livestock). His corpulence shuddered with every sharp, rasping breath he took, and his pale, shimmering cheeks quivered with a queer magnificence to them, like a sea creature on land for the first time, or perhaps a bowl of pudding… or something. Perhaps thinking of food wouldn’t be wise at this time, as he took another breath of a rank air (had these people forgotten that windows could be opened?).

His muddy boats scuffed and shuffed along the floor of old stone, dusty; behind him a torrent of grey air followed, as though he were some grand parade leader. They advanced, in silence, utter silence, down a hall, dark and dim and adorned with torn and tattered paintings, most of which further populated by colonies of dust. As the two travelled onwards, deeper into the recesses of the villa, Don Ferran, nearly purple, at last breathed in yet again; he held back a retch. How could it be getting even worse?

At last, the fat man opened a door, and light came streaming in. More importantly, fresh(er) air did as well, and Don Ferran ran out there to bask in this oxygenated heaven. And there she was, beautiful… her. She ran to him, and flung her arms around him tightly. There went the whole breathing thing again. When at last her dragon-like grip at last loosened, and Don Ferran once again caught his breath (the air still stank, but not as much), he sat down on a log, and beckoned her to join him. It split in twain as she obliged, the rotting bugger. Once they both recovered, he began.

“My dearest… love, it pains me to tell you this” she winced “but I must take my leave,” her eyes welled up with tears “for I must go to fight” one those… eye bogies, those green things that hang in the corner of your eyes, you know those things, kinda grotty, dunno how they get made, it’s… actually kind of intere- anyway, one of those slid down her pale cheeks (which were becoming rosier) “in the War.” And as though the Sun had kissed the tallest peaks of the snow-capped Alps, so her tears came. Her voice, shrill as shattering ice, left a throbbing ring in his ears, and her talon-like nails dug into his neck as he clutched him. She held him like that for a while. It was rather awkward, with all the crying, a bit of spit was dripping from her mouth, the wailing too, it was… at last she stopped, dried her eyes and washed her face – so it wasn’t a tan – and stood up suddenly. She had a bit of a head-rush and stumbled a bit. Then, with a soft cracking voice, she said daintily “FATHER GET YOUR SWORD!”

They stood there for a few seconds, the sound still echoing off the walls, when from the opposite side from which he had entered an old man, with crook neck and drooped cheeks, blustered towards them, his pomegranate face growing redder with every bounding, uneven step, a sword raised high above his head. “YOU RAPSCALLION! YOU PERFIDIOUS BEAST!” that was no way to refer to… his daughter, so Don Ferran stood, and unsheathed his own blade. Then his lady love rose and ran to her father. She whispered into his ear, then, as her eyes welled up again, she sped off.

The old man, dressed in raggedy noble clothes, his face still red and his cheeks still drooping advanced more slowly now, more surely. His eyes were grey-green, like his daughter’s eye bogies, though twice as unsettling; one angled hard to the left, as though the old man was constantly eying some invisible assassin. Or a butterfly. The other stared right at him. Only a foot away from Don Ferran, the old man smiled, his yellowed teeth gleaming in the orange sunlight. Then he spoke “my boy, it seems young Renata is quite smitten with you.” He laughed, or cackled, and sat down on a remnant of the log. He gestured at Don Ferran, and then to his lap; Ferran glanced sideways, then sat down. The old man looked at the blade in his left hand. “My boy, this blade has been in my family for… five or so years now. Stole it off a Moor my son did. Rest his soul… my son’s, I mean… not… not the Moor. Filthy heathen. I want you to take this, and go fight the War. Avenge my son, and win my heart – my daughter’s heart – with your valour and tenacity.” Don Ferran nodded, rose from the man’s lap, took the blade, and ventured forth.

 

[zenphoenix]

Carlos had only returned to Messina for maybe an hour when the bells started to ring again.
"What is it now?" he asked a servant.
"We are fighting the Moors now," replied the servant.
Carlos stopped unpacking his things. He grabbed his sword and armor, packed his things, and left his villa.

Things had changed a bit since he returned from smiting the Turks. He had taken a short vacation in Constantinople, the City of the World's Desire (cursed be the Turk if he took the city and cursed be those who let him do so). While there, he bought a new horse, the finest one he could afford, as he was not the richest noble. They said that the horse was descended from those rode by the Abbasid and Umayyad caliphs centuries ago, and its lineage could be traced back to around the birth of the prophet Muhammad. It was fast, strong, young, impulsive, and handsome, just like himself. It would serve him well in battle against the Moors, ironically its ancestors' masters.
He also got married there, to a lovely and lively young woman named Zoe Doukas, who was too rich to be a peasant but too poor to be a noble and claimed descent from a Greek emperor whose family reigned before the Fourth Crusade debacle. They complemented each other almost too perfectly, and Carlos's (unmarried) brother complained he still couldn't find such a wife. He couldn't spend quality time with either of them, because he was now going to war against the Moors.

He went to the local church and prayed to the Lord Almighty for guidance.
"Hear my, dear Father above," he said, "I have smote the Turks, and I want to smite the Moors. I shall lead the servants of the Cross into battle against the infidels and complete the Reconquista that we have always dreamed about. Guide me, please. Deus vult."

 

[Dadarian]

Don Tomas H. X. Etxeto, c. 1692​

Name: Duque Tomas Hortun Ximon Etxeto de Navarra
Date of Birth: 20 July 1428 - 12 May 1492
Class: Noble (minor landholder)
Religion: Catholic

Coat of Arms of the Etxeto
​

Bio: Born to the impoverished but proud House of Etxeto, Tomas grew to become a walking stereotype for the Etxeto Family. Proud, Haughty, and Noble to a point, he was forced to watch his father dither away what little lands they held until they were absorbed by the crown to pay of his father's extensive debts. Hungry for land and honour, Tomas became head of the House when his father passed away in late 1455, leaving the relatively young 27 year old in charge of a young and poor house. Something that Tomas seek to change quickly. He has 2 brothers and 1 sister, Pascual Juan Ruy Etxeto, Llorente Bernal Arias Etxeto, and Ysabel Angel Etxeto.