Huh, the Lancaster King just defeated Death at Chess. This is far too perfect to not include.
Lancaster: The King in the North
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Shockingly awful news Everyone! All of my images and game footage is gone! ALL of it, CKii to HOI.
In practice this means Albion is now definitely not coming back, this Lancaster AAR should be alright (just have to replay up to this point again. We didn't get too far in) and Little Dux...I'm not sure yet.
But hopefully Lancaster will be back soon!
In practice this means Albion is now definitely not coming back, this Lancaster AAR should be alright (just have to replay up to this point again. We didn't get too far in) and Little Dux...I'm not sure yet.
But hopefully Lancaster will be back soon!
Oh no! No chance of redemption, I guess, or you would have said so. What a shame.
Still, things could be worse I suppose
Still, things could be worse I suppose 
This is bad news, still one must look on the brightside. You now have a chance to go full Adams Family with the Lancasters on the re-play and embrace the madness without being held back by mere mortal conventions or morality.
Ouch!
Having lost a laptop or two to lightning (and at least one horribly ineffective surge protector) before, I can certainly sympathize here. At least it sounds like you managed to save the game data, so hopefully whatever caused it isn't a total loss for you.
Having lost a laptop or two to lightning (and at least one horribly ineffective surge protector) before, I can certainly sympathize here. At least it sounds like you managed to save the game data, so hopefully whatever caused it isn't a total loss for you.
Oh no! No chance of redemption, I guess, or you would have said so. What a shame.
Not a chance. It actually happened several months ago and we were just running on air this whole time. I am extremely pissed off that we lost the entire Cosma game though. I have no idea if, given that we are three or four game updates from then, that we could get anything anywhere near what happened. The notes still exist somewhere I'm sure so I could still write the book on it...perhaps I shall try to play the game and see what happens.
Oh yes, we shall go full madhouse now. I've don even the game again, with all invasions including sunset invasion definetly going to happen this time (and at random too so we have no idea when) and absurdist an supernatural events cranked to maximum. So hopefully we shall have a very interesting world to work with, and then laugh as EUIV tries to convert it.
I have indeed played back up to where Elfwine was at. And, in a beautiful display from CKII, his mokier this time isn't 'the Dove'.
It's 'the Bear'.
Nope, we lost everything. Every game ever played sadly. However it does mean that the game and the aar have synced back up again in time, so there will be more allowance for the Lancaster Council to meet and vote on things (that is to say, the readers). It does also allow as Pip says, to embrace the madness which only started to happen about a century from now playthrough wise. In this case though I think it would be a benefit, because elfwine really was where the insane genius tyrant took the helm and turned Lancaster from a plucky independant bunch of counties to a big power.
To all, so as it turns out this game was quite easy to recreate up to elfwine anyway. Other than his portrait looking differently and the game setup being tweaked to allow for more insanity, we still operate under ironman/all settings otherwise stated. So hopefully Lancaster should be back over the weekend, and some family discussion/council voting can happen next week.
To add a break end note to the first game, here's a brief synsopis of weird stuff that I was going to bring up but now can't:
- Italy and Byzantium ended up in a personal union and thus got the Greeks back the Balkans and then started on Italy in Eastern Europe. By the time of the last playthrough, they were very much to top power in the world in an alliance, though due to inheritances the realms never really became one.
- The Lancaster's were blessed with a great conqueror character who I eventually gave Ireland to play with, before being surprised when he gave me the lands back a few year later, and went off to conquer Iberia from the Muslims. He succeeded, but ended up creating his own islamic empire stretching from Santiago to Alexandria.
- The Lancasters did end up subverting the papacy by accident, as the above two empires and the death of Charlemagne dropped Catholics to the bottom of the religious pecking order. Outside of the British isles, no one is Catholic and so Anglicanism is the one true faith in this game
- The Kingdom of England did briefly exist, as a Pagan puppet of Saxony. We swiftly conquered it and destroyed the title. There is no such thing as England in Lancaster.
- The Saxons were able to do this conquering because they killed Charlemagne, and because they did manage to steal some bears from the welsh in some raid somehow, and ended up getting conquered by them. Funnily enough, being a bear doesn't stop the insane trait landing on you, so there was a time one point a bear king of Saxon Europe, being advised by his chancellor glitterhoof, a horse, to invade Britain.
Chapter 18: The Rise of Elfwine Lancaster
Chapter 18: The Rise of Elfwine Lancaster
Elfwine sat alone in his chambers. That evening, like every evening for the last week since his father died, he had told stories to the men. Inspired their capacity for war. Whipped them into frenzy. Now there were no more stories to tell, save the one he intended to write about himself.
Actually, that wasn’t a bad idea. Unlike his forebears, Elfwine could in fact read and write both his native tongue and Latin. Perhaps once the initial task was completed, he would record his thoughts down. He intended to create a dynasty after all, it made sense to give some advice to future rulers. First though, he would have to do something worthy of note.
And he was planning on it. His father and grandfather had through a great deal of effort built their family holdings, and had even begun their own settlement here at Lancaster. Elfwine however, was not content to merely reside and build. Within his bones he felt the yearning to dominate, to conquer. It was not enough for the local Welsh to accept his presence amongst them, they had to bend the knee. Fortunately, the death of the old earl had riled up the Briton princes, and word was they were even now readying their people for war. This suited him fine, given his inheritance included enough coin for a large mercenary army of his own. First, he would have to go to the lands his ancestors had managed to steal from the natives, to Anglesey. He would marshal his men, and his beasts of war. The Welsh would once again fear the roar and bite of Lancaster’s Bear Guard.
So it was, at Chesterfield, and at Rhuddlan, and at Caernarfon. Whilst the Welsh continued to grow in number at each battle, so did their loses. It was not long before Powys, closest and weakest of the Welsh Lords, begged his peace. This was exactly what Elfwine desired, a divide-and-rule strategy that the disparate and often antagonistic Britons were especially vulnerable to.
And so, one by one the villians fell. South Wales at Cardigan, Dyfed at Tyddewi. Finally, Glywysing was brought to heel, though he fought for much longer than his countrymen.
In a mere few months, Elfwine had restored his powers to the height of what previous earls had managed. His mercenaries were barely diminished, and the treasure from Wales and his own lands would keep them for a good while yet. Thus, the Earl could swiftly move to greater targets.
Wessex had been the up-and-coming power for years amongst the southern Saxons. Mercia, even in the time of Offa, had struggled to dominate these people. Now with the old enemy waning, Elfwine believed he could make his own name by overpowering the realm, and through them onto Cornwall, the other remnant of the native Britons in these lands. Should both fall, Lancaster would control the western coastline and over-land trade from the Isle of Man down to the Channel. A heady proposition for a mercantile people such as they were. It would also match and threat Mercia along a huge front, and provide more than enough manpower to subvert even they, who had at one time been the masters of all on the island.
Elfwine went to war again, marching across the small county of Hwicce (and as an afterthought enforcing a tributary status on the local earl) onto Ramsbury, where they managed with luck to catch the advanced guard of the West Saxon army unawares, and rout them from the field. It was only in the aftermath they found the body of King Beorhtric himself, leaving his infant son of the same name on the throne. It is amusing how quickly the regency council begged reprieve and surrendered their charge’s realm to Elfwine. Cornwall, also currently in the hands of lesser regents, swiftly bent the knee as well. A bemused Elfwine had doubled the size and tripled the power of his realm through barely any effort on his army’s part.
It did not take long for the Earl to adjust however. Fate it seemed was shining down upon his path ahead, for Mercia itself stood open and ready for invasion. The new Queen was young, untested and, crucially, unpopular. Elfwine decided to roll the dice whilst they seemed skewed in his favour, and declared war again, calling up his new vassal lords to join him in what he promised would be his family’s great revenge against the treacherous Iceling. None needed telling twice, as both the Welsh and Wessex despised the Mercians as much as Lancaster did. And so many hundreds and thousands of men marched through what were once feared lands.
After so many years of living in terror of Offa and his heirs returning to reclaim their errant subjects in Lancaster, the actual war against them was pathetically underwhelming. The Queen managed a mere 400 men to match the near 3000 Elfwine used to overrun the south. Oxford and Bedford were subsequently put to the torch, and in short order even Leicester was threatened by his army. Several men advised the Earl to alter his plans to seize more than just dominion over Mercia, but Elfwine persisted. He recognised the youth of his family’s grasp on power, and was wary of expanding too quickly. Far better to become overlord of other realms than attempt and fail to build his own before he was ready.
Soon the emissaries from Queen Eadburh arrived to beg for mercy and restraint from a man whose family had only three generations before served most willingly underneath Mercia’s banner. The fortunes of war and of peace and firmly shifted in Elfwine’s favour, and in recognition of that fact, he insisted that the peace between realms would be not between his old family of Derby or Chester. No, it would be Lancaster, and he as its King, that the Mercians and all others would pay homage.
And so, two years into his earldom, he had become overlord of petty kings and lords, first of the line of Lancaster. He joined his family’s order of St. Benedict, and married the Lady Agnes, though she would prove sickly more often than not. Still, the new Duke felt blessed in all things, and prepared to undertake a pilgrimage to celebrate his ascension to the upper echelons of power in his homeland. Yet with all he had achieved, still the craving for more did not leave him. Elfwine would need to war again, and the next time he did so, it would be to a whole new land.
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It certainly appears as though Lancaster's star is on the ascent. Elfwine's rise is nothing short of meteoric.
Once more, the use of tributary wars characterise Lancaster’s ascension. Not a single county conquered among them, it seems. We shall see if foe or fate ends up putting any genuine obstacles in Elfwine’s way.
Good to see this one back at least, recreated as closely as possible from the ashes of the old.
Good to see this one back at least, recreated as closely as possible from the ashes of the old.
Yes and no, as Bullfilter points out, so far he's made sure he as an individual is powerful but needs to do a lot more to secure a future for a dynasty. Tributary wars though are great for simulating early history (feudalism doesn't really exist yet so this is literally how most 'kingdoms' are set up). No one really has powerful vassals, just independent rulers who recognise dominion over them. Lancaster is powerful now only because Elfwine himself is powerful and wealthy. If he dies, all this goes away and the next ruler has to do it all again. That's why he seems to be determined to tribute as many people as possible but will also have to try to forge something a little more permenant.
Once more, the use of tributary wars characterise Lancaster’s ascension. Not a single county conquered among them, it seems. We shall see if foe or fate ends up putting any genuine obstacles in Elfwine’s way.
Good to see this one back at least, recreated as closely as possible from the ashes of the old.
He's actually fairly similar to original Elfwine aside from not having a Greek background and comes to the throne four years earlier.
You've hit upon the problem with the current system, which Elfwine himself will realise soon enough. Fighting tributary wars constantly to keep the same lands under you is wasteful even if you can easily do it (tribute wars are much easier than wars of conquest in game) and if Lancaster is going to grow from a wealthy earl's private land to a proper power on the island. He needs to actually seize some more land and then figure out how to govern it. As it stands, he could tribute the entire British isles and lose everything upon his death. Whilst he is capable and ambitiously enough to aim for that, and it would set a good precedent, future heirs may not be so fortunate or warlike, so his main problem his entire reign is to make the family as a whole more powerful, not one member.
Chapter 19: Elfwine goes to Ireland
Chapter 19: Elfwine goes to Ireland
The only real difficulty in securing the southern reaches of the island, Elfwine noted, was shipping the men across. The sea between Wales and Ireland was filled with treacherous spots of bad weather and pirates. His aim in expanding to the other side of the sea was to attempt to build a squadron of ships that could patrol the waters. There was little point in building a trading network only to lose over half the shipments to criminals.
Northumbria was an annoyance all to itself. Their king had objected to Elfiwne’s war, for whatever reason, and had sent far more troops than the Irish defenders ever managed to lay siege to Lancaster itself.
Still, they had killed many in their surprise assault. Enough for Mumu, the largest and best led of the Irish Chiefs, to fight on for longer than he should have. Whilst several battles, including a large one at Tyddewi, had produced victories for the confident Lancastrians, Elfwine was frustrated by how long it took to force a surrender from the Irish.
Still, he returned triumphant from war yet again, and had firmly stamped his foot down on any rebellious thoughts throughout his tributaries. His lands alone were bustling with trade and commerce, bolstered by links all across the land. Whilst the Church continued to give a mere pittance for their protection, the towns and cities his family had established were roaring with trade, and provided nearly as much treasure as his conquests combined. Clearly, more development and care would be required regarding the polis, if they could provide as much as a war without the uncertainty or bloodshed.
Elfwine’s empire-building was paused after the successful opening of Ireland, stricken as he was by some foreign flu. In his retirement he began to write the book he had long pondered over regarding the building and management of a small realm. He also took refuge within the monastery founded outside of Lancaster, where he found much comfort for his physical and spiritual ailment. Here he redoubled his efforts to be a lay member of his family’s religious order, as well as study the growing library his family had collected…and Secret had stolen, from Rome and Constantinople.
As he knew, the Faith in Saxon lands was not particularly strong, especially in comparison to the northern monasteries founded by Irish missionaries. Mercia had struggled with its pagan past more than most, though Elfwine knew for a fact that outside of Kent and the seat of the Archbishop, most remained heathens in their outlook. Multiple wives, fornication out of wedlock, woodland spirits and native practices were still common even amongst the ‘educated’ kings of Mercia and Wessex. He was not therefore surprised that his family’s efforts at a Godlier way of life had been met with resistance. Armed uprisings however were always a concern. As he gave leave for the baliffs to disperse the crowds and the preists to placate them, he was suddenly hesitant to call down his Guard upon the townsfolk. Elfwine was torn back to the earliest days of his military career, before he had even become Earl, fighting his father’s fight in Powys. The Battle of Perfeddwlad had been one of his first, and an abject failure at that. He shuddered at its aftermath of grieving widows and lost sons and brothers. Many men and bears had fallen that day, and he could not even pull a victory out of their sacrifice. Another army had captured Powys and won the war. Suddenly he was angered at the injustice of it all, and called out for his Guard to seize any man who did not disperse peacefully. This was not a time to dwell on past mistakes. He was in command now, and he would be victorious.
Less than a week later, Elfine was pent up for another reason. His wife was in labour with his first child, a son by the Grace of God hopefully. Shut out as he was by midwifery and arcane witchcraft of womankind, he sat outside pondering the compound his family had built. Lancaster sparkled in the sun beneath the hill, atop which Elfwine had finally completed the stone tower his father was so insistent upon, and had begun extending the Great Hall his grandfather had built beside it. The tower was, for the most part, for show. It was certainly no pleasant place to be when the sea winds howled through the draughty corridor and staircase, though the view from the top was both unrivalled in tactical utility and beauty.
Secret came through the great gates and plodded down next to him with a grunt. They shared a companionable silence as they watched handlers attempt to wrangle the Bear Guard through daily training, and yet more others attempt to make soldiers do the same. They both leapt up however when an exhausted and harried older woman burst called from the window that the Lady had given birth to a boy child. “Edward!” Elfwine smiled at the name, as Secret snorted next to him. The men gave a great cheer at the news, which led to a hasty retreat as the bears began yowling and roaring about the place. Secret huffed and set off to try and restore order to the mess, whilst Elfwine made his way to his wife’s side.
Yet there was a strange silence from within, and as his concern grew so did his haste, till he was practically running through his own home. As he approached the room, the infant could be heard wailing, and quieter but no less tragic sobs could be heard within. Bursting onto the scene, he first took in his new son, pink and screaming against the whitest sheets the nurses could fine. And in the bed, the remains of his beautiful wife, blood and congealed bile dried upon her lips, her eyes absent of vitality. The Duke carefully ordered the room emptied, then bolted the doors from within.
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The wife of King Elfwine 'The Bear' dies frothing at the mouth. Hmmm.
Has the King been too 'friendly' with Secret, caught something unfortunate (because lets be honest Secret probably has a whole host of surprising diseases given his past activities) and then accidentally given his wife a dose of Rabies? Normally I wouldn't ask, but this is the House of Lancaster we are talking about so I refuse to rule anything out.
Has the King been too 'friendly' with Secret, caught something unfortunate (because lets be honest Secret probably has a whole host of surprising diseases given his past activities) and then accidentally given his wife a dose of Rabies? Normally I wouldn't ask, but this is the House of Lancaster we are talking about so I refuse to rule anything out.
Can just imagine them all around the bed wailing "why does this keep happening?!" Whilst various bears shrug in the background. Though to be fair, last time it wasnt actually rabies, but the doctor was a mad drunk. We might have issues with rabies going forward though, clearly.
Don't believe he's had sex with animals (yet) but it's probably something to do with the bears, yes. I found it very amusing the game itself changed his name from The Dove to The Bear. Very suitable.
Starting to wonder of some of the House of Lancaster are Secret Bears themselves...
Honestly had no idea that this was something that could happen in ckii until it happened out of the blue in a Welsh game I played (no idea why the welsh keep turning into bears...). My sister just started acting weird and then turned into a bear at court one day.
Lancaster's haven't had this happen yet. Whether or not people start saying they are skin changers anyway...remains to be seen. We haven't had many bear antics so far in the new game but a rival court got in on the crazy animal action and used it against us multiple times, to my annoyance.
Chapter 20: A Recovery, of sorts
Chapter 20: A Recovery, of sorts
The Bishop of Halton was not a patient man. Having served under various members of what was now the Lancaster family, he suffered through their rule mostly be virtue of their treasure. They were excellent moneymen and soldiers and, up till the reign of this new Earl or Duke as he now styled himself, were content to simply protect and fund the Church within their lands. Elfwine however, upstart that he was, rolled back on many ancient privileges, threatened many a new tax and tariff on not merely town churches but the bishoprics themselves! Halton had grown rich enough with the Lancasters, but there was really no such thing as ‘enough’. Now the self-appointed great lord of the land had locked himself away in his hall for over two weeks. Mourning was one thing, but business needed to be done. He could not raise another war tax if there was no new war to be getting on with.
Walking through the inner gates of the family’s hold in Lancaster City, the Bishop glared at servants and guardsmen alike till he was intercepted by the Bailiff. He had no time for interruptions today however and so barged past, leaving the other man shouting after him.
“He ordered not to be disturbed.”
“Oh, he shall be disturbed, and by God’s right too!” Halton fired back, bursting into Elfwine’s chambers where the lord knelt over some prayer for the departed. “For Heaven’s sake man, get up and be about yourself! We were in the middle of planning for further campaigns against the heathen Irish.”
Elfwine rose, glancing over at the Bailiff who stood awkwardly in the open doorway before setting his own glare straight back at the bishop. “Are you suggesting I am remiss in mourning my dead wife?” he said.
“No, but time does not heed her anymore than it heeds you. This realm of yours is held together by force alone. You cannot simply vanish whenever fancy takes you!”
Elfwine stared at him, long enough for Halton to bow his head. “Let us walk,” the Duke said.
The family seat was hardly large, yet the city was already expanding far beyond initial expectations. Still, it did not take long for the pair to stroll down from the high hill, through the streets and onto the wall overlooking the sea. Halton breathed in the fresh air and relaxed a touch, and decided to throw an olive branch at his silent companion. “The air is excellent here. No doubt it has aided you in your sickness?”
Elfwine’s mouth curled upwards, “For the most part, yes. I fear I shall be inconvenienced for but a little while longer.”
“Most excellent news,” Halton said with false cheer. “Perhaps now we might discuss the situation in Ireland, and the funding?” Now, with his desires in the open, the bishop was content for the Duke to plan his attack and, more importantly, his taxes.
“Ireland shall keep. Our steadfast friend Lord Lindsey has sent his condolences wrapped around a gift, a new bride for…I.” Elfwine looked away briefly before continuing, “She is young yet, so who can tell these things but she seems intelligent. And the claimage she brings is considerable.”
Halton huffed. “Oh yes, you still believe you can expand eastwards? Even after all the easy picking elsewhere?”
“York is not elsewhere,” Elfwine said firmly. “Whilst I do not desire it to be my capital, there is no denying that it has been the finest city in the North for many centuries. The Archbishop warms to our cause. The local lords are weak or children. To secure York is to secure the future of my realm in the North. So yes, I shall be expanding eastwards.”
Halton would not be deterred. “And Ireland?”
Elfwine looked out to sea, and there across from Lancaster lay the land in question. Beautiful, practically untouched by large-scale habitation. It was, he supposed, what the Romans must have found, so long ago when they arrived upon these shores. Here and now, he saw the same possibilities and complications they too must have grasped.
“Two chieftains remain in our concerns, and they are the strongest. We shall begin by defeating the last tribe unaffiliated with either they or us, and then take them down together. Of the two, I am most wary of Meath. They have actual settlements, with walls and fortifications if our spies are to be believed. Flann is by all accounts a cunning and strong warrior. If he can convince his friends and allies to follow him, it may well be a rough fight. I shall win of course, but still he concerns me.”
Halton smiled, “That sounds agreeable to me. I have already taken the liberty of noting down some ideas for funding amongst the city elites. The Church of course shall be of use in quelling these awful riots we seem to be having.”
“No doubt,” Elfwine said, still looking westwards. “Tell me, do you know why the people seem to be so angry with the Church?”
Halton bristled. “This has nothing to do with me, and everything to do with their own damn moral failings. In fact,” the Bishop stepped forward, “I happen to find I have been most useful in stopping more outbreaks of this treachery! Why, I have not only doubled the revenue for the realm these past few months but also had several peasant leaders hanged by my authority. The mob understands force better than any other mistress.”
“I see. Surely we are blessed for such patronage as your good self.”
“Indeed, but it is a mere trifle my lord. Of course, some reward for the Church would not go unappreciated by my flock, or by I.”
“Naturally,” Elfwine said, suddenly turning to face the bishop. “I must think on what you could possibly deserve for such triumphs.”
“My lord, I am at your service as ever,” the Bishop bowed. “I shall go now to the local prayer house. The priest there asked me to drop in on him. May I await you further on this week?”
“You may await,” Elfwine said, waving him off. He considered the retreating back of Halton for some time, before the Bailiff ran up to him in a huff. “Yes?”
“The Uprising Sire! They are but two hours march from here!”
Elfwine breathed in deeply, shutting his eyes to the world and sinking into the depths of his mind. Slowly he opened them and smiled toothily at the older soldier.
“Excellent.”
The sky was black by time of Elfwine’s return to the hall. In the end it had been a fairly decent battle, though the enemy commanders were ill-suited to much more than tavern brawling. It gave good excuse for his men to become bloodied again, and he sent riders to each of the Saxon lands in his thrall, preparing them for the coming adventure into Ireland.
Removing his gloves, he was surprised to find an unexpected visitor at his hearth, sat next to the great body of Secret. The good Bishop of Burton was supposed to be in Leeds, sounding out key locals to the idea of Lancaster rule and illicitly forging documents to prove his right to it.
“Thurfrith? Is all well?” he asked. The man was, outside of his chancellor and pet criminal, a personal friend.
“Oh, my lord,” Burton rose from his seat, “well…yes and no. I am pleased to say that Leeds is rightfully yours and that many officials are quite insistent you take up your place with haste.”
“Why, this is wonderful news,” Elfwine smiled. Secret rumbled and nudged closer towards the fire. “But what is the matter my friend, you seem out of sorts?”
“Something terrible has happened, my lord…it’s Elfweard.”
“The Bishop of Halton? I spoke to him just this morning.”
“He’s dead! Died in his sleep, so the doctor says.”
“Alas,” Elfwine said, moving to stand by the hearth, “he was by all accounts an excellent moneyman. Perhaps the air here took to him wrong.”
“Perhaps,” the Bishop commiserated. “And…dare I ask, how are you? I was sorry to hear of Agnes, and now all this with Halton and the heathens. And your health! Elfwine, you must know things will improve. We shall be better, all of us.”
Elfwine sighed. It had been quite the day. “Do you know,” he said warmly, “I believe we shall be fine.
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"She’s beautiful, she’s rich, she’s got huge … tracts of land." Plus you can have anyone who complains about the age gap sent to the oubliette, that is the CK2 way.
At the outset, it was to link back to the Lindsey's actually being decent back when we were all under Mercia, plus she's got the one county outside Northumbria that we need to complete the set Elfwine wants for his personal estate. It later turned out that she's useful in two other ways, maybe three if you count giving birth safely multiple times. Which...given the period, we probably should.
Age gap is actually immutable in the game. No shacking up with 12 year olds like the Tudors and Stuarts did with Margret. And for good reason, forcing a girl to have a child that early utterly wrecks their bodies, making them infertile. So basically no one with any sense married someone that young. Contracts and arrangements on the other hand...
Elfwine doesn't send people to prison. That's a waste of resources. If they need to die, they'll just do that. If require chastisement, they'll be chastised. Prison in those days was reserved almost entirely for people you were trying to ransom, political hostages and, later on, nobles who had pissed you off and had to sit out for a while. Curiously, this last one never really went away in British society, they just made it increasingly more opaque (reassigned to Antarctica, garden leave etc).
Big notable exception was the Tower of London, where people actually were imprisoned for long periods. In fact, a lot of interesting people from history were dumped there, some that make you tilt your head. For example, at least three Scottish kings ended up there, and one king of France. So was Robert Walpole...for corruption. Insert your own joke here. The first person we know of who got imprisoned there was the bishop of Durham, funnily enough. However, he's also the first person to successfully escape.
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Chapter 21: Meditations on the Future
Chapter 21: Meditations on the Future
A man sat alone in the small stone chamber, dimly lit only by the faint moonlight. He sat still, silent, solemn, his eyes closed to the world and outer influences. Within his meditations, Elfwine thought on his sins, his ambitions, his realm as it was, and as he wished it to be. Records at this time were less than reliable, the infrastructure of good governance simply wasn’t there in the North to account for all the trade and goods that flowed through its borders. So, it was kept safely away within his head instead, and that required concentration, and not a small amount of solitude. He was blessed that he lived in an age where most did not question great men locking themselves away for hours at a time to ‘pray’. Elfwine did of course think on God, but he would not spend so much time in retreat if it were not worthwhile. If he was honest with himself, and Elfwine strove to at least be that, the self-reflection was also good for his soul. Not only had it given him time to memorise his realm but to mourn his wife. A ruler, he had learned through study and thought, was only as good as his worst vices. The downfall of many a realm was not in fact Godsent retribution or Fate but the stubbornness or the idiocy or the sloth of its ruling classes. Wroth, so useful in small doses in battle, was dangerous for its uncontrollability. Better to be stoic, and thought of as heartless than passionate, and mad.
Elfwine frowned, but kept his eyes closed. His anger had proven troublesome but had yet to truly betray him. Halton needed to die anyway, a brainless thug who thought to break his lease was a threat that needed squashing. Halton died so suddenly however, in truth, because he had gotten to Elfwine, insulted his wife, himself. It was fortunate that he had remained in control enough to not simply shove the bishop off the wall. That would have made an impact, in more ways than one.
Enough! He berated himself for wandering down paths already trodden. Halton was dead, his new steward was a pliable and clever idiot, a most excellent moneyman given careful handling. And Ireland was settled. Just that morning in fact the ship carrying Meath back to his lands had returned safe and sound. The clans were with him now, after a struggle yes but not an altogether destructive one on either their terms or his. All for the better, for he could make use of their armies now.
And he would, should his spies return and confirm the rumours that the King of the Picts was indeed grievously wounded from a great civil war. Whilst he had initially dismissed the seemingly distant power from his plans, upon arrival in Ulster he had been dismayed to see how close the Picts and Scots were to Ireland. And indeed, the local clans on both sides of the narrow sea traded and warred with great intensity. So, it seemed, to avoid the inevitable interference from the one true kingdom on this island, he would have to strike first.
For now, however, domestic issues came first. The economies of various cities and towns and even small villages were booming. Trade was thick along the roads of Lancaster, and Elfwine noted he would soon have to fund and build a better network of bridges and roads for landed transport. The sea routes were…a longer-term project. He had gravely underestimated the complexity and cost of a decent naval force. Ports would have to be built and expanded all along the Welsh and Irish coasts. Pirates did not vanish simply because the land now held allegiance to one man. Neither did fishing villages magically have the capacity to provide their own ships for combat whenever and however he wished. No, this was going to take time; in truth, he suspected that until such a time came that he and his descendants actually annexed all that territory, his navy would be as large as the city of Lancaster alone could manage. No more. Then again, he consoled himself, it was not as though he needed a large body of ships. One landmass at a time, of course.
Lancaster’s own lands were enriched, and for now that was what mattered. This still created problems of course, the Clergy especially disliked tellers in the Temple. In this case, it was the church squares. Having pushed the Church as a whole fairly hard with a firm but fair tax policy (as opposed to none at all under Old Chester and son, and very little under his own father), Elfwine was inclined to demur at their request. After all, it gave him the excuse to insist on a proper marketplace or market hall in every settlement larger than a village. That should encourage even more commercial ventures. Not that the smaller villages were discounted. Elfwine was aware that happy peasants were productive, loyal and useful. To that end he took care to ensure that local customs, especially in the Welsh hamlets, were honoured and even supported to a reasonable degree. Honestly, most worthy of note were festivals that involved many villages collaborating in a partially commercial, partially cultural venture to promote marriage, good feeling and such. Why on earth would a ruler not encourage such practices?
Smiling to himself, Elfwine opened his eyes and rubbed them. He stood and stretched, before searching around for the one bit of parchment he had brought with him. Upon it were the most important figures: the annual tithes and taxes of his lands. The Lancaster family were quite wealthy, and would continue to be off the proceeds of their own lands. The cities however had already eclipsed them, with the Church providing small yet welcome additions, mostly in the form of upkeep to the few bridges and roads Lancaster did possess, not coincidentally all within Church lands. The tribute however had soared with his uniting of Welsh and Irish lords under his belt. He was pleased at the amount, and yet also pleased he would not be dependent upon it. As things stood, his was an empire built upon sand, or rather, the unsteady foundation of his own life. Should anything happen to him, no doubt the tributaries would flitter away (or at least attempt to) much like they had with his father’s demise. Elfwine was determined to build a more robust system, and a strong dynasty to rule it.
As things stood now, he was Elfwine of Lancaster, Overlord of the Welsh and Irish. But this did not satisfy him. A petty kingdom was yet petty. He, who could and would command nations, would not be halted by death but carry forth a legacy across centuries! His blood would hold power and respect, and all who came after himself, who bore his name and his lineage, would be powerful and respected. In time, they would make the world bow. In turn, he must make the North bow. All of it. Every Saxon, every man upon this island would pledge to the throne of Lancaster or be buried beneath it. Yes…Pictland would be first, and then York would complete his own holdings. And then? Then he would be a king in full, and go about writing the next page of his great destiny!
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