--Journal 37; 08/23/20--
**August 19th, 1436**
!Empereur Hugues de Boulogne IV! [492]
The rebel armies defeated, it was now a race to receive their surrender before all of France fell to Etienne, for the Haute Cour said we could at least pride ourselves in accomplishing that feat. Waiting for that, a man from Egypt arrived, an older man named Bishoi of Maraboutid, who brought us news that my grandfather’s brother’s wife, Nura, had passed away in her age. I had never met the woman, so I didn’t think much of it when Bishoi asked for me to watch over Douce whilst he and Mother had a discussion, and, taking the one-year-old to the maid, I found her unknowingness was cute, like a puppy or a kitten. She seemed to think so too, so I spent time playing with her and helping her learn, and I was there when she started walking on her own.
However, with the arrival of my 11th birthday came dreadful news from the Black Sea, for Pope Callistus III had been captured whilst on Crusade against the Mongols of Crimea. Though the Pope was supposed to have God’s will on His side, the Haute Cour said the devil’s trickery came with the steppe folk, for the Khagan was kith and kin to Satan. With the Mongols on our eastern border with al-Jazira, we could at least take comfort that their attentions were mostly turned towards the steppes and the growing Rampalid empire expanding into Persia. For our good fortunes, we then received Hugh’s surrender, and an end to his rebellion, and so the rebellious lord was taken into our dungeons for justice to be dispensed by Haute Cour. While they said that I would be able to sit in on the meeting, a messenger then arrived from France, saying that Etienne had claimed all of Francia, and was now to descend upon Jerusalem in pursuit of his title.
But he was willing to negotiate, now adding that I would have to join him in Bremen, rather than be raised in Jerusalem with Mother, Hasti, or Douce. Admitting that they had been hoping for a great misfortune for Etienne, they said I would be treated as a royal guest, as I would still be the Roi of Jerusalem and Arabia. But, to add to that, they had the idea that, since we had obtained the suzerainty of Cyrenaica, we could also style ourselves as the King of Egypt as well, for Re Radul di Cremona’s crusader kingdom had slowly fallen apart and was basically French already. With those assurances, Mother cried as I left with uncle Alexandre, who said that my uncle would honor the pledge and spare Jerusalem from further war. Willing to live in Celle if it meant protecting Mother and the others, uncle Alexandre and I arrived in Occitania adventured northeast, passing through “Aunt” Marie’s Lorraine with a party of Etienne’s knights, who sternly warned us away from her castles. Saying that we had to follow Etienne’s orders, on condition of our surrender, we rode through towards the Rhine, crossing at Cologne, before we reached Etienne’s Schloss by the Aller, a moat draining around it and the half-timbered city around it.
Taken into the castle without fanfare, uncle Alexandre and his Templar knelt alongside me as I swore before Ogier, the Bishop of Hereford, that Etienne was the rightful heir of my father’s title of Empereur. Etienne, looking more like Father than Alexandre did, looked down at me as he said I would retain my position as the King of Jerusalem, Arabia, and Egypt. As such, he said that Jerusalem would be the base of power in Francian Outremer, and so he declared that Jalil FitzNegar of Damascus and Welf von Henneberg II of Khozistan would remain my vassals, paying tribute and arms to the Haute Cour. But he then made a demand of Alexandre, saying that the Knights Templar were no longer subject to the Roi of Jerusalem, but to the Empereur, and would serve as his elite, Christian knights, so as to dispense holy justice.
With my uncle agreeing to those terms, Etienne then sent Alexandre on a mission to Provence, for, since we had passed through it, a large number of rebellious peasants had risen up in the name of independence. Departing with Roi Heinrich of Thuringia to put down the rebellion, Etienne then gave me a room to live in and accept the tutorship of Ogier. However, I wasn’t allowed to leave my room, for he had posted guards who would stop me, and so I could talk to nobody but the bishop. But, after celebrating Christmas, he stopped coming, and I was left all alone. The guards would only tell me to be quiet, and would strike me if I didn’t shut up, and so I quickly learned to be quiet.
Left on my own for 1438, I started trying to learn on my own, but, besides the few books that had already been in the room, there was very little that I could do. Listening to the guards outside, I tried to sneak past them when they were busy or distracted, but I was caught everything time, beaten, and thrown back into my room. Attempting to make a rope out of my bedsheets to escape to the moat below, they soon took away my nice bed, and slowly the other things that I could use to entertain myself.
Passing a birthday in my lonesome, I cried for Mother, for Etienne, or even the Bishop, cries that went unanswered, for nobody across the moat could hear me. While I had been excited to see snow when I had been in France with Papa, the winter of 1439 only brought a chill into my room, and I attempted to freeze myself, before Etienne’s servants made me eat even if I wasn’t hungry. Though it was really cold here in Germany, I tried to brave it but it took too long and the servants quickly wrapped me in a blanket, saying that my sister Mahsa had died of pneumonia. Stunned by the first piece of news from my home since I had left, I was suddenly given a new room, one without a window, but a warm fireplace, a nice bed, and good food. Thankful for it all, I slept soundly for a week, in spite of my circumstances, before Etienne’s knights took me outside for once. The winter having passed, we were in the warming weeks of April, and so I was happy—until they forced me to the ground and began to beat me.
Finding my hands tied behind my back, I could do nothing as they kicked and punched me: the last thing I saw as my vision faded was a man carrying an axe.
!Empereur Etienne de Boulogne II! [1037]
With that matter taken care of, the Haute Cour assured me that they would remain loyal to me, for I needed as many men as I could. Besides Heinrich of Thuringia and Amedee of Brittany, Marie and her ilk bore me no kindness, even though, without a child of my own, the Vicereine was technically my heir. But, we had both agreed that France needed a better leader than a child of Hugues, and, having already been deposed, it now fell unto me to continue my father’s legacy and unite the Empire. However, the issue of heirs was of worry, for Cerie, though I cared for her deeply, was 18 years my senior and past birthing age, which is why I was thankful that my cousins in France and Sweden were more than willing to contribute their princes, if need be. Having no need or care for children had made removing Hugues easy enough, and, though many objected to his execution, the lords of France needed to be reminded that an Empereur was about strength.
This was ensured with the rebels in the Rhone Valley, for Duke Bonaventure Mancini of Baden’s 26 thousand killed 5 thousand of the rebels, whilst Alexandre and his Templar took 2 thousand of the peasantry. Unlike the massacre that had followed Hugues’ death at Stavoren, Alexandre took the survivors into the servitude of the order, putting them to work in his fields whilst they would pay their eternal debt to God for their trespasses. However, Rainaut d’Embrun, the landowner who had been responsible for their independent thought, was reserved for me, who had the Occitan drawn and quartered from the walls of Vienne, having been given a long rope to catch his fall—except it hadn’t. With his legs broken through, the rope was adjusted to its proper length and he was given a second time over, strangling him successfully this time.
With that matter taken care of and my soldiers dispersed back to their hamlets, I received the most curious of requests from the newly-of-age Walter Menteith, for the King of England sought the hand of my brother’s widow. As I had no need for Mahaut, for her bastard daughter was not going to bring al-Jazira into our kingdom, I agreed to the request, interested to see how the fate of Britain would turn out. For, as of right now, the Menteith line was on the precipice, and Walter was just one heirless fate away from uniting England under the de Boulogne.
However, there was one point of contention I had against Alderic, and that was his marriage to Marthe de Jerusalem, that bastard daughter of the Greek actress whom, although she had no blood claims to France, still claimed to walk around the British court saying that her husband would give her our father’s Empire. However, it turned out that it would not be Alderich to press her claim, but my neighbor, for Robert de Lyon, Duke of Angria, made a demand of me by the end of summer: saying that my claim was forfeit with Hugues’ blood, and with Alexandre’s loyalty to the templar, Marthe held the strongest claim to France, one that would peacefully unite Britain and the continent in union over all powers of Europe. However, lacking the support of Marie, his alliance was a patchwork of noblemen with Guntram Hupoldinger of Laustiz, Paul de Vassy of Alexandria, and, most disappointingly, Bonaventura of Baden, for the Mancini’s victories in the Rhone had been well earned.
But I would not bow to such traitors, nor “the Burden” de Jerusalem, and so I told the “Lyonheart” of Angria that her claims would die with the blood of his countrymen. There was one small issue in this, however, and that was that Bremen was relatively isolated between Angria, Baden, and Lausitz. Sending word for the Haute Cour to eliminate Paul’s army before joining me in Europe, I empty Celle and we set ourselves west, for Marie’s inaction in selecting a side meant that her lands would at least be free of enemy soldiers. Besides, the rebels had a castle on the Seine, La Roche-Guyon, which I’m sure she’d be happy to receive in return for remaining loyal.
However, I first had to reach her, and that meant bypassing Robert’s garrisons in Oldenburg. Having gathered my 2.4 thousand men within a day of dispatching the Lyonheart’s messenger, I decided that the best way to break through would be an unexpected charge against Robert, for his troops were probably still mustering. Taking the route to Cloppenburg, my plan was quite the success, for his 2.1 thousand were unorganized and easy for the taking, unable to coordinate between each other. Punching through them, things were going well until there came a focused cavalry charge of Angrian knights—and Robert’s blue fleur-de-lis were shining along them. Aiming my sword for the man, I was so assured that my hate would win that Robert’s shield deflected my blow, giving him the means to strike my head with his blade. The side of it, mind you, for though he may contest my claim, I was still Christus domini, crowned by Callistus.
But the strike did darken my vision, and, waking up some time later, my cavaliers guided me onward, telling me the success of the mission: in spite of my trauma, we had pushed through, losing only 90 men, whilst several hundred of Angrians had been trampled. Glad for the news, my head couldn’t stop shaking, however, and so, with Cloppenburg in the distance, I retched, not out of fear or some childish inexperience with blood, but for the unease of my humors. Carrying on, despite Cerie’s ask for patience, we finally stopped to breathe at Osnabruck, where my wife sought a doctor to tend to my concussion. Though I was initially dismissive of the Jew, I could not deny that Zelekman’s drought, though it made me purge as much as the headaches, eased my burdens, and I no longer felt weary taking to the saddle.
Taking the man to join us in Vexin, we arrived at La Roche-Guyon to find 6.5 thousand “loyalist” soldiers already there, and, while they denied having come from Marie’s service, they shared news from the Levant, saying that Welf von Henneberg had won a great battle in Egypt, for, facing against Paul de Vassy with an equal force of 10.5 thousand men, the Duke of Alexandria had lost the day at the cost of half of his force, whilst the Duke of Khozistan only a quarter. With supplies arriving up the Seine in support of our army, we wintered in siege as I nursed my bruised head, cursing the Lyonheart for every cold evening that my head ached. 1440 came with more good news from the Levant, though it meant little to us in Vexin, dispatching more Alexandrians and other rebels, for the de Vassy was allegedly bringing various mercenaries through his port. However, they did bring unfortunate news that border skirmishes had broken out against the Ethiopians along the south of Arabia. Though they may still be our fellow Christians, the Monophysites had yet to make communion with Rome, and so they were as untrustworthy as the Greeks—which was why their invasion of the Hejaz came with no surprise.
But, I saw no need to protect Mecca when my throne was in peril, for, after our victory over him, Robert and his minions had remained in Lorraine and Germany whilst Marie led an expedition to Spain on the behalf of her son. It was almost funny that she was protecting me from her son’s inheritance, but my cousin had no love for the Greek, admitting to me that, even though Marthe was a kind and genteel lady, for a nothus, she would rather the empire collapse than see her upon my throne. Thanking her for her words and encouragement and her supplies, we held the siege through to 1441, with two simultaneous breakthroughs, for La Roche-Guyon surrendered the day before we were joined by 9 thousand Levantines.
With Welf and Torsten Stenkilling sharing stories of their victories over the rebels, we gathered supply trains for our 21 thousand and made our way east, for the Lyonheart had some 17 thousand who had just captured the castle of Minden. As we marched back towards Bremen, my agents kept a close watch on Robert, and quickly brought me news that the Duke of Angria, having placed many of his men in Miden, had turned south. Unsure of his aim, for he already had the musters of Baden, Lausitz, and Thurgau, we tried to find the right course of intersection, but it appeared that the rebels were just quicker than us. It was a shame, for we could have settled it with a decisive battle—which was when I received a messenger from Franconia. Fearing the devastation that the rebel force would inflict upon her people, Countess Richara of Wurzburg had denied Robert access to her lands, raising 4.5 thousand men in its defense. Though none could say that “the Unfaithful'' von Arstein actually cared for her people, for there was a rumor that she had drank the blood of a virgin peasant girl in an attempt to retain her age, I was thankful, nonetheless for the distraction.
Stalling Robert de Lyon along the Lauer with crossbows and pikes, the rebels eventually made their crossing, eliminating the Countess’ army, but not without suffering equal losses to that of the enemy, so much that we caught them south of Wurzburg, over the Main at a village called Uffenheim. In such a rush to catch them, it was unfortunate that our army was tired, but the Lyonheart gave us no rest, attacking with a wave of his own cavalry, for his troops, too, were tired from the long march from Minden. Taking command of the right, as Duke Skirgaila Hupoldinger of Hesse organized the center and Welf von Henneberg gathered the left, out to face Robert, repelling his attacks. While I was unable to score a bout with him, the Lyonheart retreated, only to herald the arrival of his infantry, though Skirgaila and Welf then advanced against them, leading the bloody melee in a rather cool September day.
With our knights suffering from the initial battles, the day was decided by the footmen, for our men-at-arms were superior in number and ability to that of the rebels, advancing over the fields and along the farmhouses to meet the enemy. For, only gathering beneath Robert, the rebels were uncoordinated, so their left overextended, pressing far into Welf’s men and, while gaining the advantage, the maneuver had opened their flanks. Confusion and chaos followed when Skirgaila sent a unit of reserve infantry into their exposed sides, and the rebel left fell apart, and, as this echoed across the lines, I sent our refreshed cavalry around to catch and drive the route. With a week of pursuits, our numbers tallied back in, for, though the battle had cost us 6 thousand men, it was a third of our forces, while Robert’s 7 thousand was half of his.
It was with this that Robert sent a rather spirited messager into our camp, demanding my surrender in spite of his recent defeat, claiming that Paul de Vassy had seized the Levant. Decrying this as a lie to stir up my generals, it was only clear that the war would not end easily. With that, I decided to split my army, partitioning them between Welf and Bartholomaios Bagrationi of Eilat to hunt down Robert, whilst Skirgaila and I went to reclaim Minden. But the castle's walls were tall and its stockpiles full, so it would be like La Roche-Guyon again. Passing the year in siege whilst Welf and Bartholmaios took to Baden, they only met scattering forces of the enemy, a few hundred every couple of weeks, but nothing substantial.
With Robert’s forces depleting, I only wished to hear of the Lyonheart’s capture, but even that eluded me. The only major action in 1442 came from the rather hearty defense of Reutlingen, where 3.3 thousand of his rebels stood against Bartholomaios’ 7.1 thousand. Taking 1 thousand of my men, the rebels were halved, and so they fled in all directions, Robert remaining ever elusive despite the many sightings of his blue fleur-de-lis. Minden still held out against our siege, but the time had allowed us to also reoccupy Celle, resupplying through the Elbe whilst our southern forces used the Rhine. In the meanwhile, Marie was still occupied with her son’s war in Iberia, for both the Bakrid and Plasenci had sought to deprive Alderic of the county of Zamora.
Our attention was finally spiked in 1443, with the arrival of Paul de Vassy’s Egyptians, aiming to pincer Welf von Henneberg’s siege of Stahleck. Breaking from the siege of Minden, for the rebel reinforcements had raised Robert’s forces to some 7.5 thousand, Welf had prepared for such a surge at Worms, having destroyed the bridges over the Rhein to prevent himself from being surrounded. And so, despite being outnumbered by half a thousand men, Welf emerged the victor, taking a third of the enemy whilst not even losing a thousand of his own troops. Satisfied with him and Bartholomais progress in the Rhineland, Skirgaila and I returned to Minden, only to find that they had managed to resupply a healthy portion of their granary during those crucial days. With Countess Richara taking vengeance upon the rebels that entered Franconia, the war was still grinding on, but, with de Vassy’s failure, I thought it was clear that the tides had turned in our favor.
However, that summer, there was a major shift in France that changed the balance of the powers. It started with the excommunication of Alderic and its invasion by the Brentons, for Amedee Karling had finally taken his rest at the ripe old age of 76, passing the Kingdom of Brittany to his 57-year-old daughter, Almodis. However, her muster was halted not a week later, for Marie, vicereine of France, finally took her last breath. Well, it was less of a last breath and more of a last shit, for I heard she had been taken by dysentery, allegedly from one of the bottles of wine she had won in Spain. But, with Alderic rejoining the church, I now found myself faced with a rival in the west, for Alderic now took the majority of France, Occitania, and Lorraine, united with Iberia through Navarra. I still had some vassals, but it was a scattering of titles: Almodis retained Brittany, Duke Artemio von Steyhr of Comte held Evreux along the Seine, whilst La Marche, Artois, and Bruges were all isolated. It was an even more disgusting patchwork of holdings than my German Kingdom or Valentino’s Thuringia, for Heinrich had passed his kingdom to his heir as well.
With that also came a change in my heir, turning instead to Marie’s husband, Pernaudet of Aquitaine, whose titles now fell through to his step son. But, to my thanks, Alderic didn’t interfere with my war, though he didn’t spare me any attention as Empereur: having taken over Paris, Rheims, Cologne, and Flanders, we had lost the heart of France. We were struggling to hold ourselves together, and I even heard that Mongolian pirates had somehow started plundering Bruges of its wealth, but, with over 5 thousand men to their warfleet, I accepted the devastation of those lands, for it was either Bruges or the rebels who saught my throne.
1444 came with news from the Levant, and, while I didn’t care too much for the loss of Mecca, seeing an end of Abyssinian hostilities to be more in our favor, the reports of multiple successful rebel sieges in Palestine did anger me, for Acre had been taken. Meanwhile, Duke Welf was incited by news that the Mongolian Satraps of Persia had invaded Khozistan, aiming to seize his lands along the Zagros Mountains. Saying that his castles were well garrisoned, supplied, and fortified, I swore to the Duke that I would not let the Persians steal his fortresses : but, first, I just needed to end this rebellion, which was going very slowly. While Alderic was able to end his war against the Iberians, we were still slowly eradicating Robert’s forces and retaking our castles. I had finally reclaimed Minden and advanced on Oldenburg when I received a messenger from Thuringia, whose words incited a headache far worse than the blow that Roger had given me.
For, in it, Valentino Witte II said that the light of Francia had fallen, and Thuringia was not going to fall with it: having assembled some 20 thousand men, he demanded that I recognize his independence, as well as that of Duke Wolfram de Lauria of Ascalon. With Zelekman giving me droughts and recommending I take time to think carefully, I gave my answer to the King of the East and that cur in Ascalon from my bed—granting them the freedoms they requested, ending their contracts. Many were shocked from my announcement, and I was as well, but the pain in my head had only reminded me that our war had entered its fifth year, and, while we were slowly making progress in Germany, the Levant still had to be fought over. I was tired of this war, tired of endless sieges, tired of meaningless skirmishes with no means of victory, and tired of paying exuberant costs for British supplies.
I was considering how to address terms to Roger when we received a bargaining chip in 1445 in the form of his wife, Agathe de Lorraine, and his two sons, Andre, and Hugues. With the implicit threat that they would receive the same treatment that I had given my niece, Roger’s surrender reached us in February, offering to abandon his cause, empty the castles he had captured, and willingly enter my custody in exchange for the freedom of his family. After 5 and a half years, for it had just entered its 6th month, I accepted peace at Baden, returning Agathe, Andre, and Hugues before sending Skirgaila to take the Duke of Angria to his cell, swearing before Bishop Gintautas of Frankfurt that no harm would come to my honorable prisoner.
As much as I wanted to take a cheap shot at the Lyonheart, I hadn’t the energy, for, despite Zelekman’s advice that I should rest, there was always more to be done. Cut off from the Mediterranean, we now faced the dilemma of returning to the Levant through Anatolia, or by way of the Atlantic, neither of which would be easy for us. As I pondered the best approach, we marched for Bruges, as I sought to finally dispel the Mongolian rebels who had been living there, laying siege to the castles whilst sacking the villages and townships of Flanders. Having arrived years ago, the lands had been devastated, and only Torhout had remained unmolested, but that was relative, for the survivors and refugees had all clamoured within its walls for protection.
Crossing through British Lorraine and Flanders, we learned that the Mongols had been reduced to 4 thousand over the years, from failed assaults and spirited defenses of the burghs, our 7 thousand was still challenged by their fully-mounted army, as feigned retreats coupled with horse archers took 700 of our men. With our cavalry suffering the majority of the casualties, it was the combined effort of our infantry and our skirmishers who won the field, killing 1.3 thousand, reclaiming many Flemish horses. Capturing one of their commanders, a pagan by the name of Bolkhadar, I had the man crushed under the feet of the horses he had stolen, trampled beneath a hundred hooves. I remembered stories from Father in my youth about the wealth of Flanders, of how the de Boulogne had prospered and Bruges had as well, the economic basin of Hugues’ conquests, single handedly funding his reclamation of France. But now, it was a wasteland, its fields fallow, its dykes flooded, and its cities crumbling. Laying the blame on Robert, for his rebellion had prevented me from taking revenge upon the marauders, and I ached with anger as much as I did with regret.
Riding through the streets of Bruges, the cobblestone streets were now open, growing crimson poppies where lively people had once thronged, and I was struck by a terrible melancholy, for I had visited the city before, en route for Bremen after Father's burial. I used an apartment that had been maintained by the de Boulogne before they had become the dukes of Flanders: that building now laid in rubble, burned down to the foundations. The Basilica of the Holy Blood still stood, and, while its relics had been plundered, it was by the grace of God that an abbot had managed to survive in the cellar with the Precious Blood. Sluys had been ravaged, as well, and the gardens of Eustache had been torched and the elaborate waterworks had been destroyed, crumbling earth into the Zwin, damming the rivers and cutting Bruges from the sea. The damage was nigh-irreversible, and I doubted if Bruges would ever become what it once was: pinning a poppy to my breast, I vowed that I would never let such a thing happen again to my people.
Pursuing the Mongols inlands, they offered no further resistance, besting their tactic as we aimed to entrap, rather than charge, them every time. However, chasing them into Vermandois, I was found by a British messenger, who said that his lord, Frederic de Beauffremont, was mustering an army to pursue his claim on the county of Gelre, and had come to issue his demands. Split between taking my vengeance for Bruges and defending my vassals, I found myself turning west, letting Bilge escape with his loot whilst we thrashed the still-gathering Picards, running them down at Amiens, Clermont, Beaumont, and Monthlery with minimal losses on our side.
Wintering in Artois, we broke from camp amidst the first warming days of 1446, striking Frederic’s forces at Criel, halving his 3.6 thousand at the cost of 250 men. It was in the wake of this battle that I received news that Alexandre had passed, my brother having fought cancer just like Father for the past few years, keeping him from his duties as Grandmaster of the Templar. However, this had also come with the revelation that the Poor Fellow-Soldiers of Christ had broken their ties to me without saying a word, having joined with Valentino under the rule of Grandmaster Fath Plasenci, despite how they were still headquartered in Jerusalem. Saving that fight for another day, the news also made me realize I was the last of my father’s children, for Eustache had died two years earlier after being humiliated by the Grand Princess of Turov and Hasti had died of the pox.
While Marthe still claimed my father’s titles, the subject of Britain brought on news that the excommunicated Emperor Alderic had come into conflict with Pope Callistus, raising an antipope in Cologne to challenge the authority of Holy Mother church. Not in the place to do anything about Gregorius X, I took to finishing the Picards at Breda, killing off the remaining half of their forces before Frederic was ready to surrender, offering his entire treasury for the return of his men to Picardie. Taking that, I immediately put the rather-small acquisition of cash into the hiring of a fleet, as my armed forces had not been harangued whilst I had been in Languedoil, and I knew that a journey along the Atlantic would prove easier on the men than enduring Greeks treacheries. With ships from Bremen, we hired Hanseatic busses from bases in both the North Sea and the Baltic, along with a host of cogs to protect and supply our men for the length of the voyage.
However, before we departed from the Elbe, I received a delegation from Paris, though it was not from Alderic, but the refugees of the Concierge. Having no need of French legalism and its courts, the Emperor of Britannia had liquidated the Cite Palais of its officials, replacing them with his own judges whilst he sought to make his own system of government. Having destroyed Father’s efforts, I was incited against the man, but the clerks spoke to me as to the reason for their exodus to Bremen, for Germany still held to the French system. Saying that they'd try to rebuild and integrate what had been lost into my fractured Empire, I gave them the approval, as well as granting them permission to travel into Languedoil to recruit their fellow jurists, as well as to recover and purchase any records they could find.
For every day of rough seas and terrible weather, I reminded myself of the alternative, and so, sticking to the coast and the ports, our armada slowly made the trip to Brittany, restocking before continuing to the Bay of Biscay, and then out to the Portuguese Coast, the Atlantic proper. It was a good summer, the mariners said, for we managed to reach the Straights of Gibraltar without losing a ship, though we had been delayed for more than a week whilst we waited for the lingering and the lost to arrive. Swapping our Hanseatic cogs for Italian galleys, we moved along the coast of Africa, and, pausing for rest in Holy Roman Tunisia, we received word that Kaiser Gavriil von Babenberg had answered Callistus’ call for retribution against Alderic, and so, crossing through my Germany, the Grand Prince of Novgorod readied the Empire to remove antipope Gregory.
Praying that my lands would survive the crossing of the Imperial troops after the devastation of Robert’s Rebellion, I was then praying for myself, for as we passed Tripoli, I started feeling ill, and not in the way of seasickness, for I had made the journey so far with only minor headaches. I then slept an entire day away, waking only to feel aches all over, especially in my joints, something that Zelekman was a consequence of being on a boat for too long, and so we rested in Benghazi for a week, recuperating and eating fresh food, provided by Duke Pasquale of Cyrenaica. Having also given time for our ships to gather, we arrived in Jerusalem amidst the autumnal storms, and we prayed for our salvation to remain on terra firma. Though knowing that victory in Persia meant we’d need to take another voyage back across, we took the time to winter and prepare for the campaign in the east, for Welf was not pleased to learn that the Perisan Noyans, Khashayar Merzuban and Meraan Alaid, had managed to take Fao castle and its cities, and currently had some 10 thousand men at their united disposal. Meraan was the greater of the two, and I was told that the Alaid still held a grudge against us, for we had pressed and won Welf’s father’s claim to the Zagros in the midst of their invasion, expelling them and Richenza von Sus.
As such, the Persians had moved onto sieging the castle of Majar al-Kabir, giving us time to gather the remainder of my forces and march on Kuwait. One thing in particular about this muster is that I was finally supported by all of the Outremer: no longer was I purely relying on the Haute Cour (with the absence of Ascalon), but I had vassals outside of my immediate council who were loyal to my rule and willing to follow my directives. All I needed was the same of Germany, and Francia would finally be united and centralized again, and the reassembly of the concierge in Bremen would soon make that happen. With that giving me hope for my Empire, we arrived on the Perisan gulf in the spring of 1447, and, with 16 thousand soldiers, I split my attentions between reclaiming Fao whilst sending the other half to the neighboring Shushtar castle, aiming to cut the supply routes to the Perisan armies at Sus.
Though Welf wanted only to attack and drive the enemy from his lands, I encouraged patience, for every Persian who died from hunger or camp fever was one less man who could kill one of our soldiers. It was a great departure from my attitude during the early years of Robert’s Rebellion, but that’s what a long, half-decade of war can do to a man’s thinking. As such, we spent the year in siege, not moving whilst our scouts performed continuous reconnaissance on the enemy, watching their numbers trickle away, both through death and desertion. Reclaiming Fao by the end of the year, our patience had worn out too long for Torsten Stenkiling, for the great Bellower of Galilee had lived a long 64 years, the last half-decade spent in service to Jerusalem.With his daughter, Cecilia succeeding his duchy, she also sent news of her father’s beatification by Archbishop Bernard of Jerusalem, acting on the authority of Pope Callistus.
Speaking of the Pope, 1448 finally saw the end to the Pope in Cologne, as, facing internal threats from his newly acquired kingdoms and external threats from the Kaiser, Alderic had stopped his invasion of the Papal States, surrendering to Callistus’ judgment to receive absolvement for his sins. However, it was only temporary, for, not even a month later, Duke Louis de Albemarle of Berry and Bishop Josselin of Chino had the Emperor of Britain excommunicated again, saying that Alderic’s acts of penance had only been in name, and not action.
On the subject of action, our numbers had grown with additional troops from Cecilia, and, with the Persians having lost a quarter of their original force, it was now time to strike. The battle of Javanroud was a complete route, for the demoralized and hungry Persians did not even stand a chance: they collapsed almost instantaneously, killing half of their number whilst losing only a tenth of what they had lost. As they scattered north to Kermanshah, I then received archbishop Bernard, who, acting on orders of Pope Callistus, had come to offer me absolution, for, in showing my devotion in the protecting of Jerusalem from harm, He had agreed that my execution of Hugues IV could be paid for. Contributing funds towards the Papal treasury and saying my Ave Maria’s, Bernard said that he would send word back to my bishops in Germany, as well, so that all would hear of my devotion to Holy Mother Church.
Though winter was a relative term in a land so hot, we halted our campaign against the Persians until the spring of 1449 before engaging the Noyans at Kangavar, outnumbering them 8 thousand to 4.5, killing more than a third of the enemy, whilst sending the rest of them fleeing eastwards. Reclaiming Majar Al-kabir and the remaining cities around Khozistan, we received a Persian delegation in May, suing for peace. As I hadn’t the desire to march as far as Hormuz, I took the terms, which, while they didn’t give many concessions, it did negotiate an exchange of hostages to secure a decade-long peace along the border. With that matter finally taken care of, it was now time for our return trip to Bremen, though, able to get a head start in the tail end of the spring, I was in a much better state to make the journey, as we came with a positive mood—for Francia was no longer at war.
But with my Empire united and my vassals following my command, paying their taxes and contributing towards my crown, the future still held much in store. Sailing back for Bremen, we arrived just in time for the coronation of Eustache Karling, for Almodis had only lasted 6 years before her age took her, no fault to Amedee’s long reign. Affording a ceremony with Callistus III, who praised the 33-year-old’s pledge of celibacy, Eustache was crowned the king of Brittany, and then as my loyal vassal, for the Empereur still conferred the rights upon Bretagne. But one important thing about Eustache was that his kingdom held a very important position, for, with Alderic’s succession of France, the peninsula was isolated from the Empire, the nearest titles being Evreux and Vexin along the Seine.
As he pledged his support in anticipation of a war against the British, I returned to Bremen to formulate my plan, for the concierge-in-exile had already begun to run the numbers. In a pure battle, we were on equal footing, for, with the support of my vassals, Germany, Jerusalem, and Egypt had the power to contest Ireland, France, and Spain. However, we would be split between two fronts, for Alderic had several loyalist counts along the Nile, who would prove a threat to our holdings in the Levant, like Paul de Vassy during Robert’s rebellion. While I now had Paul on my side, this time, the war in Europe would depend on our speed, for we had to take as many castles as possible before the Celto-Iberian-Frankish army assembled and met us in battle. Though I had the claims to my father’s kingdoms, I was still hesitant to start a new campaign, considering everything that would put my state into jeopardy. With my lords mustering and preparing supplies for an unannounced war, which many suspected to be against Thuringia, I assured Valentino that I had no such intentions, for I aimed to challenge a much greater foe.
Realizing I had lacked the subtlety in my response, I was prepared for him to leak the information to the British, but, instead, he sent back a reply of his own, saying that his Provencals had seen British ships taking to the Mediterranean. Trying to understand what he meant, merchants then confirmed that Alderic had departed for Egypt, mustering 30 thousand men to seize Gabiyaha. Surprised that the Emperor had left his kingdom defenseless, there was no more time for plans, for it was now the time to act. Sending invasion orders to Bonaventura of Baden, Ringaudas of Hesse, and Eustache of Brittany, I assured them that, upon our successes in the field, we would later be joined by the Levantines, who would be leaving a portion of their forces in defense of Jerusalem while preventing Alderic’s navy from leaving the Meditteranean.
Without a need for an ultimatum, for there was no way that a deal could be struck regarding the scale of my demands, I took my first step onto British-occupied Francia on the 19th of August, land that would be returned to Empereur Etienne de Boulogne II. Without his forces on the continent, our invasion started well, fending off a few local forces along the Rhine before laying siege to Cologne and the surrounding castles, but, starting late in the season there was only so much we could do. In fact, the first major battle we faced was consumption, a terrible cough echoing from my tent that soon spread itself throughout the siege camp. Though I didn’t suffer a headache, like my concussion, I was significantly more waylaid, alternating between fevers and chills and so Zelekman had brought me back to Marburg, where I could rest inside of a house, where my temperature could be more controlled whilst he sought ingredients to soothe my insides, for the Jew said that something evil was trying to choke my lungs.
Following his advice, I was back in shape by 1450, and, though I still had coughing fits, I was able to take to the saddle, just in time too, for Philip Mac DubSithe of Connacht had gathered some 8 thousand Irishmen in defense of his Emperor. However, we had 12 thousand men and the spring thaw in the Hesbaye, flooding the drainage basins and giving us the time needed to surround the southern flank of his forces, cutting half of them down. The survivors then regrouped under Viceroy Mark de Turberville of Leon, and fled northward, where they stumbled about Bonaventura, laying siege to Nijmegen. While the Duke of Baden had only 3.2 thousand men, the 4h thousand Irishmen were still panicked from their loss in Loon, and broke, losing a fifth of their men to Bonaventura’s 164.
The summer arrived with news that Eustache had cleared the Emperor’s forces around Paris and had begun to lay siege to that city, the centerpiece for my claim, though the King of Brittany warned that Duke Sigismond, one of his subjects, had turned traitor, and had apparently lead a contingent to unite with Mark and Philip’s survivors in Flanders. And while they did, amounting to 5.3 thousand, they then marched back to Frisia, intending to reinforce the garrison at Utrecht, which was when Bonaventura, reinforced to 5.5 thousand, intercepted them at Woerden. With the bogs reclaimed, there were open fields for his knights to maneuver, giving an edge against the enemy, who marched with vengeance assuring them of their victory. However, it would be us who would win the day, especially since Duke Sigismond was captured very quickly, and so Philip and Mark quickly organized a retreat to prevent another Hesbaye. Seeing how Bonaventura was good at the task, I then ordered men to carry the siege of Utrecht whilst he chased the Irish and Brentons, giving him full command over the Rhine.
That was because ships had started to arrive. It was one at first, and then a couple, and then a full fleet, unloading in Evreux before taking to Picardie and Flanders: 30 thousand Levantines, with Jalil of Damascus, Welf of Khozistan, Bartholmaios of Eilat, and Pasquale of Cyrenaica. Saying that Ashraf of Nefoud and Archbishop Bernard were holding the Sinai, Welf said that Alderic had taken Gabiyaha and had moved over to Alexandria, laying siege to that city and the surrounding cities with 30 thousand men. It came at a princely cost to let the Emperor have reign over Egypt, but it came at a cost to his base on this side of the Mediteranean: why would anyone want to fight for a land that his lord didn’t defend? With that, I took command of the siege of Boulogne: it felt somewhat poetic, to reclaim our family’s nameplace, to see the buried bones of our ancestors, and to live in the hall that the Counts de Boulogne had once called their home. But, despite my refusal to use siege engines and my promise of forgiveness to the garrison, the Boulonnais, to their credit, held firm, subsisting on a diet of salted herring.
Giving them the winter of 1451 to see the error of their ways, my coughs had become infrequent enough to no longer be an issue, though the return of the cold did put a compression on my breath, which Zelekman said was typical for survivors of consumption. Meanwhile, the British were desperate to reclaim the Archdiocese of Cologne, as Geoffrey de Vassy of Normandy had sailed 7.5 thousand Normans and Scotsmen to Frisia, disembarking in Antwerp before heading east. Having learned of this already, the Bonaventura had gathered our remaining forces of the Rhineland, raising his army to 11.2 thousand, before meeting Geoffrey’s forces at Maastricht, where the Germans had defeated a French army over a hundred years ago, the same result happened, for the Norman knights were uncoordinated with their infantry, granting the Duke of Baden another victory.
With news of that victory, the British garrison surrendered Boulogne back to me. It was taken without any ill will of the soldiers nor its people, for in some ways, it was merely a formality of honor in a part of the war. As such, the chateau was left intact, and the three torteaux and the swan finally returned to its walls. But, more importantly, was that the Notre-Dame-de-L’Immaculee-Conception had been untouched by the conflict, ignored from Alderic's wrath. For what I couldn't do in Bruges, I had saved in Boulogne-sur-Mer, preserving my family's legacy beneath the Notre-Dame de la Mer.
Pursuing Geoffrey’s troops, Bonaventura won a series of battles across Frisia, at Antwerp, in the Hesbaye, and at Bergen Op Zoom, securing Lorraine again, though I then started thinking about the British army in Alexandria, and the threat they posed to Jerusalem. While Archbishop Bernard had some 11 thousand men, Alderic was reported to have 30 thousand men, split between two armies. Thinking this a good opportunity to take one of them by surprise, I ordered Bonaventura to take his men to Egypt, to coordinate with Bernard and crush the Emperor’s forces between their two armies. With his departure, it did not mean that all was safe in Europe, however, for Bishop Gintautas of Frankfurt, who had been watching over Germany, said that the recent plague of consumption was not just the cause of miasma, but witchcraft! Whilst that went against all dogma, for the Devil had no real power, the burghers had no concept of this, and so, to placate them, I ordered Gintautas to conduct a search of the Elbe and the Rhineland for any suspected heresies.
While the British may have been defeated in Europe, Alderic’s vassals still had the will to fight, as Jean de Toulouse, the Duke of Flanders, had gathered some 3.4 thousand men in defense against his own rebellious vassal, Jaspert de Chatelaillon of Yperen. Assembling with the men we had released from Boulogne, we set our eyes on destroying his force before he turned it in the service of the Emperor of Britannia, marching into Guines with 5.8 thousand men. But, despite our superior numbers and more experienced troops, the weather was not to our side, and a torrential downpour stuck our knights in the mud and ruined the strings of our crossbows. Holding port of Calais with his pikes and men at arms, progress was very slow, and, while the men were eager, we took considerable losses in risky gambits. While the city had wide open streets for the transport of goods to and from England, Jean’s men held the line, allowing for an organized retreat, and we counted 1.5 thousand dead on their side, whilst taking only 1.1 thousand of the traitorous Flemings, a bitter drink to swallow.
Though Gintautas shared news of his first suspected witch, a heretic woman by the name of Beatrix Bilung of Portucale, the bishop of Frankfurt said that the people of Germany were greatly appreciated to hear that I was addressing their issues, even in the midst of this great war, in their salvation. Letting Gintautas continue his work, as it meant that the burghers would be willing to pay their taxes, I was pleased that Jean’s forces soon deteriorated, for, in spite of his organized march from Calais, we had at least managed to destroy their supply wagons, and, without a stomach to fight on, the Flemings had returned to their homes. However, I was less pleased to receive a report from Egypt, for, in the last months of summer, Bonaventura had landed his forces in Paraetonium, near Alexandria, for he was aiming to have Archbishop Bernard cross the Nile and strike Simon of Cairo’s forces in the rear. But the 16.7 thousand British loyalists acted first, abandoning their siege of Alexandria and marching on the Duke of Baden, who was still trying to organize and collect his men after the long voyage back to the Mediterranean.
Outnumbered by some than 3.3 thousand men and unorganized, Bonaventura’s attempt of a retreat was hastily foiled, and, when he was finally able to rally them together in Marsa Matruh, he found he had lost 5 thousand men to the enemy and the sea, almost half of his force. Saying that his men probably took half that number from the Duke of Cairo, the failure had still put the entire Levant in jeopardy… or had it? The report came with news from Ascalon, as Simon and Alderic had gathered their 30 thousand and had begun to march towards Jerusalem, only for a storm to ruin almost their entire flotilla of supply barges. The remaining ships had been picked off by my Levantine navy, and so, having crossed the Sinai without supplies, the British quickly turned to the habitable lands of Gaza and Ascalon—only to meet opposition from the Templar! For, though Grandmaster Fath had remained neutral in the war so far, he would not permit an excommunicated lord from pilfering his supplies, and so he had mustered the whole of the Order in defense of their lands.
While some said that my brother Alexandre still served me beyond death, I learned that this trick had been organized by Archbishop Bernard, and so I praised the ecclesiarch of Jerusalem, for he and his 11 thousand bedouins had then entered Egypt. With the Templar occupying the Emperor, he was no free to join with Bonaventura’s survivors, and reclaim Alexandria before removing all British forces from the Nile. Settling down for the winter, things seemed to be going well, though Gintautas did arrive at our siege camp outside of Amiens, saying that he knew of a warlock very close to me, and, after my skeptical remarks, the bishop of Frankfurt accusing Zelekman of being a Satanist. Saying he had found a foreign book of false scripture, and had reports of his un-Christian habits, I was amazed at the stupidity of the bishop, and I began to ponder what other people he had locked away in his mad witch hunt as I explained to Gintautas that Zelekman was a Jew and their ways were protected by the crown.
Sending Gintautas back to his task, I also sent a message to Gilbert, Archbishop of Bremen, though I utterly despised the man, to take a look at Gintautas’s tasks, for I feared that he had accused and jailed several innocent Christians. Glad that he hadn’t started burning anyone yet, I let the Church combat their issue as I returned my attention to the war. The spring of 1452 came with no new reports, for the British still tried to take the Rhine, whilst we took over the Seine and its surrounding counties. It was then that I received the most curious proposition, for Captain Ridoredh, a captain of a Brenton Free Company, said that he had been contracted by Emperor Alderic to defend London from any French invasion. However, diverting all of his funds and attention towards fighting the Templar, the Brentons were not receiving their pay, for Alderic had no need of mercenaries who did not fight. While they had made their way along the Thames, Ridoredh had the great idea of proposing his services to us, as his men would be more than ready to take London.
Seeing much to gain for working with the 7.2 thousand Brentons, I agreed to his terms, letting him have the bounty of their conquest, for Ridoredh had full control over their operation. This also came with great news from the Levant, for the British force was suffering terribly from their wintering there, as, deprived of resources by the Templar, they had been unable to breach the crusader castles and were slowly draining away. With Alexandria reclaimed, we then had another victory along the Lorraine, for Maastricht bore us another great victory, almost halving Mark of Leon’s 8 thousand with 11 thousand of our men. Gilbert then sent his report of Gintautas’s witchhunt, as, having checked for evidence and disregarding speculation, the Archbishop of Bremen had removed all but two heretics, Beatrix Bilung and a rather strange woodsman by the name of Andre. Setting them both aflame for their crimes, Gintautas sent word a few weeks later that there had been no further reports of witchcraft in Germany, and, with no more accusations, the matter was all but solved.
Speaking of solving problems, our war was just about won. The Brentons took Westminster, whilst Eustache had taken Paris long ago. I had been welcomed back into the Cite Palais as its Roi, the nephew to Hugues the Confessor (whom we called Architect), the one who would bring the pack the pieces of our fractured Empire. And so, the lords gathered, the counts and Dukes of France, Lorraine, Occitania, and Navarra, before, finally, an emissary from Alderic arrived, bearing the signs of the office: the crown and the ring of France. The Emperor had no desire to show his face against such humiliation, and, though I would have loved to see him grovel before me, I made his emissary give me the kiss of peace in his master’s stead. However, as I assumed my role and received the oaths of my vassals, I noticed there were a few missing: Grand Mayor Renaud de Salins of Languedoc, Archbishop Jean of Holland, Orson de Maine of Sens, and Nicholas de la Pole of Faiyum. But that was no matter, for I would take them soon enough. It was a wonderful July day, the 19th, and, with the concierge returning to their home, I finally felt like I had reclaimed my birthright.
With peace returning to the land, I’m told that Alderic raged upon his return to London, cursing my name for hours as he lamented his own foolishness, for only Windsor had been looted, whilst the city at large had escaped damage. That’s not to say that Ridoredh and his Brentons hadn’t had their fun in taking the city, but, having loaded themselves and all their goods onto a fleet of captured cogs, they had sailed off into the sea, leaving no word to where they had ventured off to. Vanishing into the winds, some suspected they had gone to claim Greenland and establish their own colony in the north, whilst others believed they had all been sunk by a freak storm, one that had dragged them all to the bottom of the ocean. Myself, I thought the former was more likely, for Alderic was still under interdict, and didn’t have the power to ask God to smite his foes. Laughing at the idea of the Brentons smuggling their treasures to a northern paradise, I then received a special audience from Roi Eustache, for the Karling King of Brittany had wished to pay homage, for it was the de Boulogne whom had resurrected the title of Rex Brittaniae. Having attended his coronation, I saw no reason for the formality of the event, but nonetheless appreciated Eustache’s show of support, as I suspected that it would take some time before everyone truly respected my right to rule.
In fact, it wouldn’t take long before my power was challenged, as in October, I received a pair of declarations. The first was from Guichard of Franconia, who had formed a coalition of Germano-Lotharingian lords intending to place Alderic’s half brother, Geoffrey, upon my throne, even though my kinsman had committed to the Knights of Sardinia. The second came from the Levant, for Mula Akutlid was shocked with how I had “carelessly put the interests of France before Jerusalem,” and, calling it a betrayal of the Haute Cour, had rallied the other members against me, seeking to break away from the Empire, notably with the support of Cecilia of Galilee, and Welf von Henneberg of Khozistan, a betrayal that I thought cut deeper than that of my Franconian kinsmen.
But, I was not worried. Though they may be strong, and though I may be harangued on two sides, I knew I could weather this storm. The Empire would survive it; France would survive it; the de Boulogne would survive it. It was how it had been and shall forever be.
I rose from my throne, hefting the battle-worn mace used for centuries, repaired and handed down my family for generations. It had seen counts rise to dukes, from duchy to kingdom, from Roi to Empereur. Normans, Gaels, Englishmen, Germans, Dutchmen, Saracens, Spaniards, Andalusians, Italians, Slavs, Mongols, Turks, Blackamoors, Magyars, Cumans and fellow Frenchmen had fallen beneath this weapon. Though none of the original had remained, each de Boulogne had added their personal touch to the mace, adjusting the grip, sharpening the edges, balancing the weight, or tapering the length—it was a continuation of the original, as much as any other.
Boudewijn Iron Arm had been the first margrave of Flanders, and then it was Badouin who first to take up Boulogne. From a long line of Eustaches, Guillaume was the first duke, Guichard the first to be Roi, then Hugues was Empereur all in but name, leaving that honor for his grandson of the same name. Through a wave of brothers, my namesake had survived the turmoils, and, after a wave of brothers and cousins, I had taken my rightful place. I gave a prayer in thanks to the Virgin Mary, for I had brought a facsimile of Notre-Dame de la Mer to the Cite Palais and descended onto the floor. My men followed me as I walked towards the door, thrusting it open as we prepared for war. As we prepared to defend the Empire. As we prepared to defend France. As we prepared to defend de Boulogne.
