Altmann of Passau hated his life.
He was 21 years old and the count of an impoverished German backwater. Now, most people would consider being a count cool, because it meant noble title, but in Altmann's case, it was all a joke.
You see, Altmann wasn't his real name, nor was of Passau his family's name. It was all a horrible, ironic nickname given to him by an old schoolmate of his, who was currently the Duke of Thuringia.
"You're the old man of Passau!", Ludwig soon-to-be-Duke had cried, "So we'll call you Altmann von Passau!" Altmann or better said, Jochaim, for -that- was his actual name, detested the nickname, so of course everyone immediately started calling him that.
It was bad enough when his fellow nobles did it, but then the peasants picked up on it and from then on, he was stuck. The of Passau part he could live with, since he -was- the Count of Passau... but Altmann, no.
Sighing, he poked his chubby face out over the balcony of his wretched little fort and looked at the small town below.
It got cold here in Germany and the women weren't so pretty, either. He longed to be someplace warm, where the girls were lovely and nobody thought Altmann was a bad thing to be called.
Somewhere like Spain.
As Jochaim started turning his thoughts in that direction, he was interrupted by a loud throat-clearing behind him.
"I say, Altmann! Isn't it about time you married my daughter?"
Jochaim sighed and turned around to eye his marshal, Kuno von Schweinfurt. At least there was someone else who had a worst last name than him as it translated into something like Pig Fart. Kuno of Pig Fart. The thought of it made the count smile, just a tiny bit.
Then he remembered Pigfart's daughter, Adelaide, and the smile disappeared.
Obese, ugly, and with a prodigal talent for getting into other people's business, she was in charge of discovering everyone's secrets. Which basically meant that she gossiped with all the old women in town all day long.
"Err... well... you see, marriage for a count is a very, very serious thing. It isn't something that should be taken lightly you know" Jochaim offered.
Kuno snorted.
"Oh come off it, Altmann! Who would marry your fat ass except my daughter? Sure she's not a looker, but she's been getting trained by some French girls, if you know what I mean."
The marshal's wink-wink-nudge-nudge failed to impress Jochaim, who simply grunted.
"What's so great about French girls, anyway? Why does every troubador sing the praises of French women and why do all the jesters tell stories about beautiful, blonde French girls?"
"Because they're pretty and blonde?" Marshal Pigfart shrugged his shoulders, "And they've been teaching my daughter some neat tricks! Or so I hear... so marry her already!"
"Umm... I can't. I.. uhhh... sent the chancellor to Iberia to find me a wife!"
Kuno glowered at his liege.
"What?! You don't even have a chancellor!"
"Look! A French girl!"
As Jochaim pointed, Kuno whirled around to look. When the marshal turned back, about to bellow his outrage at the count's deceit, there was only empty air.
"Curses! Foiled again! He'll marry my daughter though, or I will know the reason why!"
He was 21 years old and the count of an impoverished German backwater. Now, most people would consider being a count cool, because it meant noble title, but in Altmann's case, it was all a joke.
You see, Altmann wasn't his real name, nor was of Passau his family's name. It was all a horrible, ironic nickname given to him by an old schoolmate of his, who was currently the Duke of Thuringia.
"You're the old man of Passau!", Ludwig soon-to-be-Duke had cried, "So we'll call you Altmann von Passau!" Altmann or better said, Jochaim, for -that- was his actual name, detested the nickname, so of course everyone immediately started calling him that.
It was bad enough when his fellow nobles did it, but then the peasants picked up on it and from then on, he was stuck. The of Passau part he could live with, since he -was- the Count of Passau... but Altmann, no.
Sighing, he poked his chubby face out over the balcony of his wretched little fort and looked at the small town below.
It got cold here in Germany and the women weren't so pretty, either. He longed to be someplace warm, where the girls were lovely and nobody thought Altmann was a bad thing to be called.
Somewhere like Spain.
As Jochaim started turning his thoughts in that direction, he was interrupted by a loud throat-clearing behind him.
"I say, Altmann! Isn't it about time you married my daughter?"
Jochaim sighed and turned around to eye his marshal, Kuno von Schweinfurt. At least there was someone else who had a worst last name than him as it translated into something like Pig Fart. Kuno of Pig Fart. The thought of it made the count smile, just a tiny bit.
Then he remembered Pigfart's daughter, Adelaide, and the smile disappeared.
Obese, ugly, and with a prodigal talent for getting into other people's business, she was in charge of discovering everyone's secrets. Which basically meant that she gossiped with all the old women in town all day long.
"Err... well... you see, marriage for a count is a very, very serious thing. It isn't something that should be taken lightly you know" Jochaim offered.
Kuno snorted.
"Oh come off it, Altmann! Who would marry your fat ass except my daughter? Sure she's not a looker, but she's been getting trained by some French girls, if you know what I mean."
The marshal's wink-wink-nudge-nudge failed to impress Jochaim, who simply grunted.
"What's so great about French girls, anyway? Why does every troubador sing the praises of French women and why do all the jesters tell stories about beautiful, blonde French girls?"
"Because they're pretty and blonde?" Marshal Pigfart shrugged his shoulders, "And they've been teaching my daughter some neat tricks! Or so I hear... so marry her already!"
"Umm... I can't. I.. uhhh... sent the chancellor to Iberia to find me a wife!"
Kuno glowered at his liege.
"What?! You don't even have a chancellor!"
"Look! A French girl!"
As Jochaim pointed, Kuno whirled around to look. When the marshal turned back, about to bellow his outrage at the count's deceit, there was only empty air.
"Curses! Foiled again! He'll marry my daughter though, or I will know the reason why!"
This is my crappy attempt at a comedy AAR, but I'm not a master like you, phargle, Fiftypence, or Farquharson, just to name a few.
