Prologue: LandGraf of Hesse
The belch of cannons was growing louder and panic had gripped the city. The rebellious Dutch, the conniving French, and the influential Roman Emperor in Vienna had all declared war and already their forward troops were on the outskirts of Duchy Cleves. The Duke had locked himself in the tallest tower of the Schwanenburg and refused to come out. People were running pell mell in the streets, some making for hidden places in basements and sewers, others to such refuges as churches and hospitals. Many others were fleeing out of the city, hoping to make it to the safety of the Reichwald or to small boats that would take them across the Rhine.
A squad of fresh-faced recruits were with me, they gripped their halberds nervously. We must secure the main gate , I yelled to them, They mustn’t walk in without a siege or a fight . We forced our way through a tangle of townsfolk outside of the state bank, all yelling, some waving sheaves of script and paper, some hammering the doors with their fists, trying to get access to their share of bullion within. The oak and iron portals remained shut, unperturbed and the windows did not open.
The bank was closed, had been closed all week. There was nothing for it. The realm was bankrupt. And I had to close the gate.
I led my shifty column across town, and came to the north gate. The portcullis was raised, the great iron doors were splayed open like a split head. The guards were not to be seen, they had fled at the rumor of enemy, or had slipped off earlier the week before when their pay did not come as promised. A steady stream of townspeople were moving though, clutching bags and all manner of bric-a-brac that people seem to take with them when they panic: small items of furniture, rolls of carpet, one person a mechanical clock, another a colored window pane. It was all very odd.
No, not deserted. A troop of horsemen rode up. They were ours, I noticed with relief. Scouts in fact.
Captain, what word from the North Road? How many Dutch? I asked,
His name was Hauptman Linder, I remember, his commission came in last year. He had been highly rated at the academy. Linder’s cloak was torn and his boots were muddy. Clearly, he had not cleaned his kit or shaved for days. His men were in worse shape. Discipline had collapsed.
How many Dutch? I repeated. Linder looked at me, with his hollow, dark eyes. I didn’t like that look.
Too many. Too many for us, he said slowly. Too many for you.
We must stop them, I said, gesturing to the panicked people leaving Cleves. We must close the gate.
Linder, nor his horsemen, made a move. My escort shuffled nervously, looking up and down the street.
Close the gate, I ordered my men, Captain Linder, make a line and prevent these people from leaving. No one flees. The enemy must think Cleves is strong. If they think we are strong, we will win this war.
Linder turned, looked at the fleeing people for a moment, then his own men and then he drew his sword.
Get them in line, I said.
Linder turned back to me in his saddle, and looked as if he would bark an order. He raised his sword to do … and then swung it down. Hard. At me. I felt the blade cut through my hat, my hair, the bone and eat into the soft tissue within.
And I fell. It was too sharp a blow for there to be much pain.
Through a haze I saw my body crumple to the mud, and my guards look blankly at my prostrate form. Then I saw Linder hack at my neck, and then lift up my severed head to show to the small group of soldiers and panicked people nearby. A few cheers went up in fact.
He is dead. The man who brought us this curse, said Linder. He had more to say, but I could hardly hear him, for I was already on my way .
The belch of cannons was growing louder and panic had gripped the city. The rebellious Dutch, the conniving French, and the influential Roman Emperor in Vienna had all declared war and already their forward troops were on the outskirts of Duchy Cleves. The Duke had locked himself in the tallest tower of the Schwanenburg and refused to come out. People were running pell mell in the streets, some making for hidden places in basements and sewers, others to such refuges as churches and hospitals. Many others were fleeing out of the city, hoping to make it to the safety of the Reichwald or to small boats that would take them across the Rhine.
A squad of fresh-faced recruits were with me, they gripped their halberds nervously. We must secure the main gate , I yelled to them, They mustn’t walk in without a siege or a fight . We forced our way through a tangle of townsfolk outside of the state bank, all yelling, some waving sheaves of script and paper, some hammering the doors with their fists, trying to get access to their share of bullion within. The oak and iron portals remained shut, unperturbed and the windows did not open.
The bank was closed, had been closed all week. There was nothing for it. The realm was bankrupt. And I had to close the gate.
I led my shifty column across town, and came to the north gate. The portcullis was raised, the great iron doors were splayed open like a split head. The guards were not to be seen, they had fled at the rumor of enemy, or had slipped off earlier the week before when their pay did not come as promised. A steady stream of townspeople were moving though, clutching bags and all manner of bric-a-brac that people seem to take with them when they panic: small items of furniture, rolls of carpet, one person a mechanical clock, another a colored window pane. It was all very odd.
No, not deserted. A troop of horsemen rode up. They were ours, I noticed with relief. Scouts in fact.
Captain, what word from the North Road? How many Dutch? I asked,
His name was Hauptman Linder, I remember, his commission came in last year. He had been highly rated at the academy. Linder’s cloak was torn and his boots were muddy. Clearly, he had not cleaned his kit or shaved for days. His men were in worse shape. Discipline had collapsed.
How many Dutch? I repeated. Linder looked at me, with his hollow, dark eyes. I didn’t like that look.
Too many. Too many for us, he said slowly. Too many for you.
We must stop them, I said, gesturing to the panicked people leaving Cleves. We must close the gate.
Linder, nor his horsemen, made a move. My escort shuffled nervously, looking up and down the street.
Close the gate, I ordered my men, Captain Linder, make a line and prevent these people from leaving. No one flees. The enemy must think Cleves is strong. If they think we are strong, we will win this war.
Linder turned, looked at the fleeing people for a moment, then his own men and then he drew his sword.
Get them in line, I said.
Linder turned back to me in his saddle, and looked as if he would bark an order. He raised his sword to do … and then swung it down. Hard. At me. I felt the blade cut through my hat, my hair, the bone and eat into the soft tissue within.
And I fell. It was too sharp a blow for there to be much pain.
Through a haze I saw my body crumple to the mud, and my guards look blankly at my prostrate form. Then I saw Linder hack at my neck, and then lift up my severed head to show to the small group of soldiers and panicked people nearby. A few cheers went up in fact.
He is dead. The man who brought us this curse, said Linder. He had more to say, but I could hardly hear him, for I was already on my way .
so taking copius notes while i play in becoming natural to me while I play EU. As this AAR progresses there may be changes in presentation as i learn to handle the material and shape it into an entertaining yarn. I can see already there will be some changes as the story develops. i want to try a lot of things, but i will take it one step at a time. 
