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Homelands
Chapter Thirty Six: Fortress
Part 2


Prelude:
November 21st, 1317 the 1314 Civil War ended in a final, anticlimactic, siege of Pest. With Hungary out of the war, the other states admitted defeat as well. It was all over and as the dust settled it was Vishly who was still standing. Now he turned his attention to the capture and punishment of the Fraternal forces, where ever they were. For these people it meant fleeing, fleeing for their lives and often leaving behind estates, wealth, family, loved ones and pride. It meant finding jobs, finding a way to hide in a society that they had no training for or purpose in. A tragic circle of pain and poverty, a circle that was not quiet justice, though it was the circle they tried to force on many in the merchant class. In Æstlinn, Prince Gunvald did his best to distance himself from his father. He ruled as Prince during the night and on the few days he did not have work to do helping Nigul run his business receiving goods and shipping them deeper into the Empire. The Prince soon forgot what little life of luxury he had, and few of his co workers understood who he was and the gravity of him being there. They treated him as one of their own. That meant chastisement for failure, praise for success, ridicule for stupidity, and drinks for charm and jokes. He stood out as an outsider, not only for his age, but his mannerisms and accent gave him away as a product of the city. Here in the north he was amongst a different stock.

End.png

Prussia at the end of the 1314 Civil War.

November 21st, 1317

"Eh, Gunny, can ya' and me dat der log keepah?" Hillar asked. Gunvald looked up but was confused. "Eh, you dum or somfing? Giv me dat der log keepah!" Hillar pointed to a large book. Then it made sense, log keeper... the log book is what he wanted. Gunvald nodded and handed him the book. "Fur a city boi you sure don know wats wat."

"W-well you know us, all book smart n-no s-street smart," Gunvald said.

Hillar rubbed his fist against the boy's head in a gesture of faux punishment, "Ya dats fur true, boi. Ere in da nord, it's all 'bout da stretsmart!" He smiled and headed down a ladder back to the dock level of Nigul's business. When he was out of sight, Gunvald returned to crunching numbers. He was the only one beside Nigul who knew math, so it was all he could do. His fingers were always stained blackish-purple from the ink, but the quill became a part of his hand. quickly filling in the spaces. The math just became a mental thing. Walking the streets he would listen to people call their price of their fish and could quickly deduce how much they had caught, the current tax on it and where it had come from.

Even Nigul, who once spoke with just an accent had fallen back into his northern speak. "Gunny, wats say you we cut da bois a break? Cans we afford it?" Gunvald quickly looked down the list.

"If we want to bring Peeter w-we will have to wait until t-tomorrow."

"Wats dat cap'in?" called Peeter from below.

"Nofin, your jus a drunk!" Nigul called. There were laughs from below as the men continued to sort the crates into destinations and care to be given to the cargo. Nigul smiled and shook his head as he patted Gunvald on the back. "Well, den you gets out of 'ere, kay?" Nigul said winking at the boy.

"Th-thanks, Nigul!" Gunvald put his quill away and sealed up his ink well. Then blew across the logs he had been updating and once the ink was set and dry he rolled it up and put it on the top of the pile. Then he grabbed his coat and headed down the latter.

"Eys, cap'in? Can I gos home too?" Hillar called, roughing Gunvald up a bit.

"Yea, cap'in... I ams real tireds!" Peeter called. The men harassed Gunvald in a brotherly way, and after a few laughs they waved goodbye as he headed back toward Nigul's estate. Æstlinn was a bustling city, but it was much smaller and crowded than Memelgrád. The homes seemed to be built right on top of each other. The port was alive with voices and languages from the whole Baltic. Gunvald walked through the old city, made up of ethnic Estonians who spoke a strongly creoled Prussian. Many recognized him as Nigul's apprentice and waved. One lady called him to her door, she had a gift for Nigul, a pie made with fresh lamb's meat, a repayment for when Nigul waived a small fee for her once, probably many years ago. Gunvald took it, and upon urgings, promised not to eat it until Nigul was home.

He walked up the steps of the estate and was let in by a maid, one of three or four that wandered the halls during the day making sure things were tidy, and strangers weren't walking in uninvited. "Ow was work t'day, Gunny?" she asked, closing the door behind him as he put the pie down.

"Good, a-as usual," Gunvald said.

"E is'n ovah work'n you, right?" She asked, putting her hands on her hips.

"N-no, ma'am, Nigul n-never over works m-me."

"All right then, but iff'n 'e does... you run to Auntie Eha, you hear?" she said, shaking her head and wandering off. Gunvald went up into his room, there he had a small stack of books he read on days like this when he had little to do. But today he didn't feel like reading, or writing. He sat in uncertainty, looking at the quill and paper at his desk. The feeling, one he had know from before, was boredom. The ire of all children was the feeling of having nothing to do. He had no siblings around him to play with, and even with his parents he never saw any brothers or sisters. A feeling of emptiness and loneliness flooded over the small boy as he sat there, pulling his knees up onto his chair and clutching them to his stomach. On the desk was a small statue, it was of King Sviendorog, mounted and armored he sat gallantly in the saddle, his visor up and his sword on his side, lance in his hand.

"Wh-what sh-should I do?" he asked the small figure. He half expected an answer, in a childish way he wanted an answer, he wanted his long-dead relative to speak to him, just briefly. The statue, of course, was silent and motionless. The boy sobbed, lonely and seemingly forgotten he had nowhere to turn, no one to go to. He tried to forget his past, and his current situation. There was a rocking noise, as if his statue was moving, and when he looked up it had seemingly moved. It now faced the window, Gunvald followed the small man's gaze and saw it peered toward the window. Rushing up, the boy saw that it faced a street, usually quiet and abandoned it was now full of children singing and dancing and playing small games with one another. Gunvald ran down, past Eha, and headed outside.

As he left a voice called to him, "Dinnah is aft'r da church bells, boi!" Outside he turned the corner and headed down that street he saw from his window. There he could surely find something new to do, at least for a little while.
 
Sorry for the delay with both Bastions and Homelands. I've been working at a seminar all week and I'll be one and ready for updating again at the end of the week. I might try to get a few Bastion updates out during this time.
 
Homelands
Chapter Thirty Six: Fortress
Part 3


Prelude:
By the end of 1318 the last of the men branded as traitors had been round up by the Death Knights and brought to Memelgrád where they would be doomed to a death that was eerily symbolic. Some three or four thousand people, some only distant relatives of the actual traitors, were buried inside the foundation and walls of the new fortress in Memelgrád. Sometimes it was just between walls, a sort of insulation that would quickly corrode to nothing. Other times ten by ten rooms were built just to be filled with people and sealed up. Chained down to prevent their escape, they could only helplessly watch as they were cemented in brick by brick. Their moans drove many of the builders to flee and never return. Their rattling chains were said to be heard years after the fortress was completed. They spoke of cannibalism and incestuous relations and a race of tiny people, deranged and deformed, they would run down the streets of Memelgrád in the night. These bogeymen, no more real than any other monster, were called daro. A uniquely Prussian monster, they were connected to everything from Vishly's cruelty, to taxes, to sheriffs. They represented any human evil, and in Memelgrád circa 1318, there was plenty of evil. The reign of King Vishly was long from over. His cruelty far from used up. In the spring of 1319, few would have believed that there were still thirty seven years left in the reign of the madman and his wife. But, in a strange irony, Prussia brightened slightly. With the King's attention turned to finding traitors within his own court, the people were able to go on with life unabated. Feudalism and Serfdom seemed to slip away, though it would only be a temporary relief.

April 2nd, 1319

Houses were being built all around the city of Æstlinn. The city, like many others, was growing. People could move, though few knew how long it would last, so they took advantage of the freedom while it existed. Cities around the Empire grew, their numbers bolstered by a sort of controlled anarchy left in the wake of the removal of many of the nobles. Æstlinn, like Memelgrád, Mariengrád, Sambigrád, Keæv, Cærnigrád and Krákográd grew quickly and expanded physically as a result. In Mariengrád the city required a new ring of walls to defend what used to be the outer reaches of the city and was now part of the bustling central quarter. In Sambigrád the city required the building of seven bridges as it expanded across the Pregel River. The port city Morcárgrád once again became the single most important port in southern Prussia. Without Croatia goods bound for Rome and the Mediterranean had to leave through the Black Sea. This meant trying to patch up relations with the Roman Empire so that tariffs could be talked down.

Prince Georgs Tomássun circled around a very stern man, when around the King and Queen he was soft spoken, almost humble, but outside of their ear-shot he was a cold, calculating and cunning man. Marshal Árás Kæstótis had been hardened by the war, many men had been. Off to the side General Juhán Ramondssun stood against a wall with his arms folded across his chest, his chin against his neck, he snored quietly. They stood as the three pillars of military action. Strategy, tactics and occupation. The Marshal had a knack for winning wars, the General a knack for winning battles, and the Prince was there to keep what was won. It was the first time all three men were in a room at the same time, and it was uncharacteristically quiet.

"The King has asked we consider the invasion of Croatia..." Árás said after a few minutes. "He would like to know what you think of the situation and what could happen, Georgs." The Marshal leveled his eyes keenly at the Prince who only shrugged.

"Fool's folly. We've only just ended this war, it is far too soon to start a new one. I would strongly suggest trying to get any notion of war out of his majesty's head, my good Marshal," Georgs said frankly. He too crossed his arms and waited for Árás to reply. The Marshal nodded as his thought it over and looking down at some notes he bit his lip and shook his head.

"How long to rebuild?"

"Fifteen years, maybe more. Parts of the south are ruined. Morcárgrád is seriously damaged and now must carry all of our southern trade. Only the heart land got out mostly unscathed. Even then famine and the lack of men hurt industry and farming. We cannot risk another war, no matter how small the opponent. Prussia is going to fall apart, Árás. There is no stopping it."

"What do you mean, Georgs?"

"Can you not see it, man? The nation has been sitting at the brink for decades, this war has pushed it over. We lost Croatia. It is gone... probably forever. Listen. Every time we lose something from now on, we will never... never in a thousand years... get it back. Sure we might reoccupy it, but we'll lose it again soon. All those provinces and people tasted freedom for the first time, soon they'll be leaving in droves. And what happens when Vishly dies?"

"Are you suggesting that Gunvald cannot rule, Prince?" Juhán asked. His voice was lazy and he yawned as he waited for an answer, making him seem disinterested and only speaking enough to be considered part of the conversation.

"We know nothing of the child. I was only with him short amount of time, and all he did was stutter. Now he is off with some middle-class upstart learning the trade of Jewdom."

"What do you mean by 'Jewdom'?" Árás asked.

"O, you didn't hear? I've done some research on Nigul, Gunvald's mentor. Turns out he's a converted Jew. Born to Jewish parents in Dánzik. He converted a several years back, before moving to Estonia. He's was banker, now a merchant and a rather wealthy one at that. Not particularly sympathetic to the Monarchist cause as well."

"Quiet, Georgs," Árás said. "You are starting to sound like the King and Queen. We get enough of that. The boy is good and far away from his parents, so he won't end up like them. Let us leave him where he is. There isn't even a synagogue in Æstlinn, so you are worried over nothing. Now, I agree with you, Georgs... we have no time for war... but fifteen years?"

"You heard me right, Árás. Fifteen years. The country needs time to rebuild, pay off the damages to inn keepers and farmers. We need to pay off our foreign debts and we need to rebuild trade. Convince the King to turn his attention elsewhere. Jousting and fences should be active enough to keep his mind occupied."

"But occupied for fifteen years? Are you mad, Georgs?"

"He needs to know the truth. He needs to know Prussia is vulnerable so that he doesn't take us from bad to worse. Understand, Marshal, it pains me to say it, but right now we aren't in the same position we were in even just five years ago. Not even close."

"Then you tell him, Prince."

"I think it better left to you, Marshal."

"Why me?"

"Because they will trust you. They would just kill me or Juhán. We are expendable, you are not. Especially if he wants to win a war in fifteen years."
 
I think Vishly needs to import some harsher Legalism into Prussia. The Qin-like. :p
He might have to.

A jewish king! Imagine the crazy crusades for the Levant to create the Promised Land, the wealth Prussia would be swimming in, the pure randomness!

Well, it wouldn't be like that, but if it was, it'd be interesting. :p
It would be interesting, but alas that is not how this AAR turns out.

And so, in victory we still find defeat :(. Let's hope the Marshal doesn't get his head lobbed off.
I believe Árás shall be fine.
 
Prussian Lesson #10
Survival Phrases


lá.
/la/
Yes.

na.
/nei/
No.

ludzó.
/lədɥu/
Please.

paldátu.
/peildatə/
Thank you.

vænmer lapni.
/wɛnmiɹ/ /leipnɪ/
You are welcome.

piedt æm.
/paɪdt/ /ɛm/
Excuse me

bin sárik.
/bɪn/ /saɹɪk/
I am sorry.

lábrit
/labɹɪt/
Good morning.

lábdien
/labdiɛn/
Good day.

lábvákár.
/labwaKaɹ/
Good evening.

lábnat.
/labneit/
Good night.

rædzæŝános
/ɹɛdɥɛʃanoz/
Goodbye.

runáp ɵáó ánglæn?
/ɹənap/ /θau/ /anglɛn/
Do you speak English?

runáp gæ ánglæn?
/ɹənap/ /gɛ/ /anglɛn/
Does anyone here speak English?

æs runáj ænlik ien wisletán próŝjæn.
/ɛs/ /ɹənay/ /ɛnlɪK/ /iɛn/ /wɪslitan/ /pɹuʃyɛn/
I only speak a little Prussian.

kát ist tavs námá?
/Kat/ /ɪst/ /teiws/ /nama/
What is your name?

min námá ist Nick.
/mɪn/ /nama/ /ɪst/ /niK/
My name is Nick.

ká seæp ɵáó?
/Ka/ /ziɛp/ /θau/
How are you?

æs bin lábs, paldátu.
/ɛs/ /bɪn/ /labs/ /peildatə/
I am fine, thank you.

æs bin glæd uz ɵum sastadæt.
/ɛs/ /bɪn/ /glɛd/ /əʦ/ /θəm/ /seizteidɛt/
I am very glad to meet you.

æs izbrastáj næ.
/ɛs/ /ɪʦbreistay/ /nɛ/
I do not understand.

kát háp ɵáó forrunæná?
/Kat/ /hap/ /θau/ /foɹənɛna/
What did you say?

cannt ɵáó márá lænsæn runæt?
/çeint/ /θau/ /maɹa/ /lɛnsɛn/ /ɹənɛt/
Can you speak more slowly?

æs izbrastáj lábs.
/ɛs/ /ɪʦbreistay/ /labs/
I understand perfectly.
 
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Moving!

That's right I am moving and will be with only limited internet availability (my phone). So updates will resume on Monday at the earliest. Sorry everyone. :eek:o

Nooooo!
Also, why do I predict many a rebellion and misfortune for the next 30 years?
 
Homelands
Chapter Thirty Six: Fortress
Part 4


Prelude:
After many years of peace between Western Christians and the Caliphate, the Kings of Sweden and Norway decided that the time for peace was over, and the time for renewed wars had begun. In 1320 Swedish and Norwegian raiders struck Germany, the Netherlands, and France with raiding parties. Their low-keeled boats allowed them to slip deep into the enemy's territory using rivers as literal paths to targets. Cities like Köln, Paris, Luxemburg, Amsterdam, Hamburg and even Strasbourg were open to raids by the Christians. The Scandinavians, however, were unwilling to commit to an all-out invasion. Instead they concentrated on naval dominance and quick, easy raids on wealthy targets. However, in time the Muslims would become wary of their ships sailing down the rivers during the night. The solution was simple. Any ship sailing in a river during the night was open for attack, whether it be a raiding ship, or a drunken fisherman. The only reason Sweden and Norway could commit to such attacks was their pacification and conversion of the Lappish regions to the north. The Caliphate put heavy pressure on Prussia to close her ports to the Scandinavians. Prussia didn't want war from either side, but agreed with the Caliphate and soon put an end to the use of her ports as staging points. However, she was clear in saying that they would do nothing more to stop the raids, and Swedish raider ships often sailed well within sight of Prussians in the Baltic and around Denmark.

NorseRaids.png

Sweden and Norway. In lighter shades the regions often raided by soldiers from that country. The use of rivers was important for the Norse raiders.

September 14th, 1320

Öland stood as the first line of defense between Prussia and Sweden. It was far out of the sphere of interest for Prussian Kings and Princes, instead it was a rather strange place, inhabited mostly by Orthodox Swedes who continued to speak their own language and live their own lives free of influence from the mainland, unlike Gotland. The fortress of Gotland was a very Prussian place. A bewildered traveler might think that he was really in Riegá or Memelgrád as they walked down the bustling Lettish streets. The guards of the outpost watched as a Swedish ship moved silently between the island and the mainland. Her sails were out and her oarsmen motionlessly sat as they tried to slip by unnoticed. "Should we warn the captain, sarge?" a man asked as he turned to point out the ship. It was obviously a raider bound for Germany, by its size one could assume it was headed to the Frisian coast.

"No, that's the fifth one tonight. We are not picking sides with this nonsense, Árás made a case to the King. It seems we are going into a rebuilding phase."

"Hmm, and what do you think that means, sarge?"

"No idea, not with King Vishly at the helm, anyways. We could be in for some big surprises. The war might be over but people don't just give up on ideas, ideas smolder long after the flame has been put out," the sergeant said to his man as he turned and left the post. The soldier stayed and watched the raider slip by without so much as calling out to it. There was talk that the Muslims were building an invasion fleet preparing to invade Scandinavia and end it all once and forever. Would Öland one day become the first defense against Islam? Would Prussians from the mainland come and settle like in Gotland? Maybe Prussia would take this chance to strike out and conquer Sweden and control the whole Baltic as a big lake? The soldier shrugged his shoulders and made himself comfortable, resting along a wall, his spear close to his hands he dared let his eyes close.

He was woken by the next guard, who shook him slowly and then laughed when he woke up. "Long night, eh?"

"Very. Don't bother if you see any Swedish war ships. Unless they are headed straight for us, the order is ignore them."

"Can do, though I am not as good at ignoring things as you are." The new guard laughed and then patter the sleepy solder on the back. He walked down back into the fort as the first rays of sun's light poked over the horizon. He tried to empty his head of restless thoughts, he didn't have time for it all. He was just supposed to be a soldier, a simple soldier who wasn't supposed to care about these things.

Downstairs he pulled the sheets off of his bed and changed out of the chain-link armor he wore over a light linen tunic. He replaced that tunic with a simple cloth cover-all and rolled into bed. Sleeping during the day would normally be hard, but being up until an hour before dawn made it much easier. Men in the room tried to keep quiet for all the night watchmen who were just coming in. A few rooms over the captain was waking up and the sergeants would update him on anything from the previous night.

"Swedish raids are increasing, sir. At least five ships were spotted last night alone, and many more could have slipped by without our noticing. Is it truly wise to continue to allow this to happen? The Caliphate must think this partially our fault if we will do nothing to stop the Swedes."

"I understand your worry, gentlemen, but the answer remains no. We have closed our ports to the Swedes, at great price to ourselves, and that is as far as we will go. This is not our war. Never was and never will be, got it? Öland is one tower in a bigger fortress... a fortress of Prussia. Fortresses do little to stop raids from walking by, but they sure as hell stop raids from coming in, so let us stick to our jobs. You have monitored the raids, and that is your job, leave it at that so we can all get a little rest," the captain said, still fixing to get his uniform on.

"Very well sir, we shall continue to keep you informed on the Swedish raiders," one sergeant said, speaking for the rest, "We shall report any other movements we see."

"Good, thank you. You are all dismissed." Once everyone was out the captain sat down, he had a little desk and behind him was a window facing Sweden. In this position one really felt as if they were the only one holding back a terrible flood. Prussia fell into an uneasy sleep as her first civil war slowly died down. Hatred still flared from time to time and a smoldering need for freedom burned inside Hungary and the other "dependencies" that surrounded Prussia proper.

In the northern region of Estonia the prince-in-training worked alongside common men. His daily tasks set upon him by a local merchant far from the corrupting influence of his parents. He had almost forgotten his position and what it meant, walking the streets he would often hear his named cursed for high taxes by some and praised for sparing coin to rebuild a dock by others. Courland-Livonia was quickly growing on him, and he regretted the thought that one day he would have to grow up and leave. But for now he was just a young man, his fancy rarely strayed from girls or work. In time this might change. His stutter, ever persistent, made him stand out and he became a strong silent type. Never shy, he preferred to be alone, often working in a small room on a tiny desk. When people did approach him, he was friendly and kind, offering everyone a firm handshake and a smile. His very being was very different from his father's. The two men were almost opposites in many ways.
 
Nooooo!
Also, why do I predict many a rebellion and misfortune for the next 30 years?
Isn't it obvious? :p

Also this is very belated, but thank you to everyone who voted for Homelands in the recent ACAs! It is always a wonderful feeling to even just get a single vote, so winning has definitely left me overjoyed and feeling especially appreciated, and I want to make sure to thank you guys for your continuing support.