Principal Court of Ryazan

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Battle of Ryazan - Part Four
Preparations

The sun rose over the Riazan principality, divinding its beams equally over the country in the midst of its short summer. Riazan was a poor country, isolationist for ages and ravaged by wars and wars and more wars throughout the years of its independence. The hardy Rus had withstood invasions from the Mongols and the Muscovite several times, but never before had they been forced to face an invasion the size of this one. Yes, hostile armies were once again marching through the billy no-mates principality of Russia and this time it wasn't an enenmy like the Tatar, but fellow Russians who the Ivanovich considered friends. Add to that the fact that Ivanovich was in a succession crisis, and many nobles were fighting for the power after the death of the strong leaders Fedor and Oleg Ivanovich. Ryazan was in deep shit.

For what reason they were here was unknown to most but they looked determined and unwilling to leave until they had the capital, and thereby all the principality. They had come from the east, from the muscovite lands, but they were not Muscovites. They where Pskovskeeys and they had swiftly taken Kasimov, split up taking Murmino and Spassk-Ryazanski respectively and then merged near the capital where the Ivanovich family was located, or at least what was left of it. That was their goal, and they were determined to accomplish it.

This early summer morning, the armies were preparing to make the final hit with combined forces against the city defense in the Ryazanskeey Kremlin. Swords were sharpened and bows were checked, weapons that would be used to kill Ryazanskeey's that day. In Riazan as well, the preparations were well under way as well although the weapons were outdated compared to the Pskovskeey ones that they had traded throughout Europe, and they were also greatly outnumbered. The Ryazanskeey garrison was counted up to 750 men, with reinforcements having arrived from Kasimov and Spassk-Ryazanski strengthening the defense and also giving valuable information about the strength and equipment of the invadors. While pessmisitc, they helped organizing the defence and planning a strategy. Ryazan had to once again trust its morale and God, against an enemy outnumbering and outteching them greatly. They were praying a miracle would happen.

The time had reached midday when the armies were first spotted by the guards on the walls of the Ryazan kremlin. A horn was sounded and everyone knew what it meant. Boris Tsiplakov was going through the strategy once again when he heard the sound. He hadn't slept for two nights, and he was exhausted, having to devote more of his strength and attention to keep his eyes open than concentrating on the map in front of him. He quickly managed to get up and tottered towards the door, but stopped. Instead he turned around and went for a bottle at the side of his bed. He emptied it, and felt the liquid go down his throat, burning it so nicely making him feel totally warm inside. It was vodka, the national beverage of Russia which had kept Russians warm for centuries. He tottered out, even more unsteady than before.

The archers had already manned the walls when Boris finally had made his way through the stairway and out on the courtyard to find the cavalry and infantry armed and ready for his orders. To Boris they seemed bery quick but fact was that Boris drunk tottering down the way had taken so much time that the army had got themselves both armed and ready several minutes before Boris appeared. He looked at them with sleepy drunk and red eyes, trying to clear his mind of the mist that was inside it and think clear. Why was he here at all? He had forgot. He tried to remember the map he had at his desk up in his room, but his attempts were fruitless. Suddenly a woman appeared next to him, seemingly coming out of nowhere.

"Tsiplakov! Tsiplakov! Don't send out the armies! We need to at least try diplomacy first, you said so yourself when you sent out the scouts a few days ago, don't you remember? Why do you want to fight them, they are our friends! I'm sure there only has been a misunderstanding here, I..."

Tsiplakov half-listened to the woman's rabblings but they didn't interest him a bit. When she didn't seem to want to stop, he gave her a thick ear, and Anastasia fell back on the hard cobblestones on the ground.

"Quiet woman!" he roared. Tsiplakov knew what to do now. He didn't know wether if it was the best thing, but he couldn't let a maiden influence his desicion. Her opinion obviously seemed to be to stay in with the soldiers. Women knew nothing about military matters, he thought and sighed.

"Send them out, we will meet them on the fields outside" he said in a drunken slur. There was a bit of confusion among the soldiers what he said, but a commander finally decided that he had heard right and a bit hesistantly began the usual speech before the battle to raise the troops morale. Boris didn't pay much attention to it, the vodka was beginning to make him ill and towards the end of the speech he threw up near where Anastasia once lay. Where she went Boris didn't know and nor did he care. Damn hags to come intervening in real men's business...

The cavalry begun to go out of the gate in walking pace. The banners were held high, and the sun light was flashing in their armor, wearing the coat of arms of Ryazan and the Ivanovich family. The Ryazanskeey army was going to battle once again. For some of them, and perhaps for the whole country, it would be the last battle they would participate in on this earth.

 

[N Katsyev]

The Garrison Issues Forth
The Summer Invasion - IV​

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Barely had lunch begun, the first mouthfuls swallowed, before a light rider came at a gallop toward the little grove of trees where the Supreme Commander and his retinue were resting. Pulling in his horse as he approached the now very curious party he made a salute with his sword, his eyes darting first to the Princess Polotovsksaya and then to Golytsin, "Commander, the gate is opening, the enemy prepares to meet us on the field!"

Setting down the small plate of venetian glassware from which he had been eating, Mikhail stood and moved over to his horse, "A shame, they have decided to die upon the fields... Glorious fools." He sighed and shook his head before pulling himself up into the saddle and began giving orders to his various aides, mostly adoloscent noblemen, which they were in turn to bring to different parts of the army. The Ryazan attackers would be contained, while the walls on all other sides were to be simultaneously scaled. Then the aging man turned to Dimitru, "Head to the reserve camp and call up the Luga pikes, just in case the mercenaries flee, we'll need them to sure up the line." His eyes lingered on the Moldavian a moment, as if making a silent judgement in his mind before he the finally turned to Katya, "Assemble the boyars and servitors. We will wait for the enemy to commit himself, then one great fist of metal and men shall sweep him from the field."

In predictably magnificent form the Ryazanskeey cavalry led the way out of the gate for the small army that remained to Ryazan's defense. It had been a surprise move, and none of the besieging army had actually suspected that Ryazan's army would leave the safety of her walls to engage an army so far superior on the field. A group of german mercenaries had been closest to the gate, ready with their ladders when the Ryazanskeey broke into a charge. The shock and surprise had worked wonderfully and barely had the initial attack landed home than the mercenaries broke into an all-out rout. Cut down as they blindly ran, the germans suddenly found themselves trapped. Trapped with Ryazan's infantry behind them, with Ryazan's cavalry amongst them in continual slaughter and now only it seemed as their flight had begun was the line of Pskovskeey soldiers before them with their weapons lowered, ready to engage the Ryazanskeey cavalry. In panic, many of the germans in rout simply charged the wall of armour and weapons of the Pskovskeey line and were impaled upon the blades of their allies.

In surprisingly good form the Ryazan cavalry held back from charging the readied Pskovskeey soldiers and allowed the infantry to assemble for an attack on the line. While the allied centre saw the destruction of a mercenary band and the imminent attack of its core units from the sallying Ryazanskeeys, both the left and right flanks instead of moving to reinforce their comrades went ahead with their previous orders of attacking the walls of the city, now only thinly defended by archers. For every ladder thrown off, for every man shot down, there was always another to take his place. It was only a matter of minutes before the wall was secured and at this point Ryazan's infantry came forward, crashing into the prepared line. Despite the initially high losses of attacking into the wall of spears and pikes, once they were bypassed by the first few men, they became largely inneffectual and amid considerable losses the men had to switch to close quarter weapons to continue fighting off their attackers. It was then that the Ryazanskeey cavalry noticed the breach in the allied line caused by the left and right flanks attacking the walls. It would be possible to slip through the line and attack the engaged Pskovskeey from the flank or rear.

Almost as soon as the command was given, as the Ryazanskeey cavalry burst through the hole in the Pskovskeey line, the mistake was made shatteringly clear. Not only was a contingent of pikemen moving to reinforce their comrades and already lowering their weapons, but a mass of heavy cavalry had assembled, who now upon seeing their enemy began their own charge. It was thus that the fate of the small sallying force was sealed. The walls behind them were now largely captured, through their initial attack had been greatly successful they have subsequently not been able to break Pskov's line and now the reserves moving up would surely swing the melee into Pskov's favour, finally and most critically Ryazan's cavalry were now trapped between an 'armoured fist' and the walls of her own city, they could flee in hopes of escaping through the gate, but this would only doom their infantry comrades to a slaughter to the man...

*****​

Katya leaned upon the buttery fly scene decorated wooden shutters as she looked out over the city of Ryazan and upon the brilliant summertime sunset with her arms crossed over her chest. The air was dreadfully still and almost eerily one could make out the sounds of soldiers from portions of the city far off. It had indeed turned out that many of the inhabitants were not within in the city as the invading army had entered. Whether they had fled to the Kremlin, or had fled the city itself days before was largely unknown. What it did mean however, was that the city seemed terribly like a seashell, long since abandoned by the creature that called it home. The signs of habitation curiously remained, but altogether this inanimate thing felt somehow dead.

"Give them two months to surrender or capitulate. Then, if necessary, we'll assault the Kremlin.", only after speaking did Katya look over her shoulder into the shadowy room where both Dimitru and Golytsin sat.

Mikhail, scratching his broad chin under his beard, looked up at his niece and made something of a nod, "And I was hoping to be home by September." He said with a resigned and not at all too serious sigh. Throwing a glance over at Dimitru, he shrugged his large shoulders and stood up, walking over to the window and exchanging kisses with the Princess, "Sleep well Katya... And get comfortable, we're going to be here for a while it seems."

Smiling in response, Ekaterina wrapped her arms around the large man's neck and she embraced him, her lithe body freed from the annoying chain shirt of earlier and now wore only a wispy summer dress that fluttered about her body with the slightest breeze, "And you do the same Mikhail... " Drawing back from him she smiled more and winked, "It was a good day."

Golytsin took the Princess' hand and pressed it in adoration to his lips, bowing to her in the process, "Your father would be proud of you Katya, until next."

Holding onto the man's hand that had held hers while he kissed it, she stepped forward and kissed his bald head. Golytsin had always been dear to her and during her father's self-imposed exile, and after, he had always been something of a fatherly figure to her. She knew not how many summers she had left to be with Golytsin and the army. She remembered clearly being at the foundation of the fleet in Byedantsa, the islands in the Gulf of Finland, the cold dark days of the Lithuanian war... Her own wound, and now it was this kind old man's last campaign. For fear of her own tears, she said nothing more, and with a parting word and gesture to Dimitru the old man left the room.

The tears would come anyway however, welling up in her eyes. Ekaterina looked over to Dimitru, minduful of her tears and pressing them aside with her finger, her lashes now thick and wet. "Dimya.", she quitely voiced, sitting, or more flopping down on the bed beside him she draped her arms about his neck and pressed her face into his shoulder. Silently she stroked locks of his hair through her fingers and without need for words took comfort in the simple presence and embrace of this companion of so many years.

 

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The Battle of Ryazan - Part Five
Battle Outside the Gates

"...Therefor I call thee, men of Riazan, to stand before the spirit of Oleg Ivanovich may his name be sacred for all eternity. I trust thee to make him proud of what was once his, and to show him that although Ryazan is mourning his death infinitely, we are still able to stand united in our grief against an enemy who wishes us bad. One after one has our cities fallen, but on this day, on this field that lays before us, the enemy shall be reined and driven back to where it once came from. Ride without fear, soldier of Riazan, ride and feel the wind of change caress your face! Ride for Ivanovich!"

With these words Nikolai finished his speech and rose his sword over his head, watching the cavalry regiment he commanded follow his example. A loud cheering was heard from the men, and a warm feeling filled him up inside. These men were ready to sacrifice their life because of him and their country, and that's how it should be. That's how it must be, Nikolai thought. The military was nothing for the weak hearted or death fearing man, you had to have a cold brain and a cold heart. Those were the abilities that had taken Nikolai to the position as a commander in the Ryazanskeey army, one that he was very proud of.

Nikolai pressed his spurs into the sides of the animal he was sitting on, who reared and ran over the field outside the city in panic. The rearing was something he had been practicing for very long, and just recently had mastered. It gave a very nice effect on the men, Nikolai thought, and it had also made him famous among the other commanders. Nikolai, a worshipper of fame, thought it was well worth the hundreds of time he had fallen off the horse. This was the first time he actually did it in a real battle though.

With one hand holding the sword and the other one holding the reins with the yellow shield attached to the arm Nikolai and his horse rushed over the field in a blind fury. In front of him he saw the infantry units had already started moving but with the speed of the animal they would soon pass them and ride right into the enemy army in front of him. Without thinking anymore, with only the wind of change in his face and the sound of banners flappering, hooves hitting the ground and the battle screams of men he and his men rode into the German division in front of him, which in his eyes was the whole Pskovskeey army. Blindly, he stroke insanely around him hitting flesh, helmets, shields, swords, or in not too few cases only the thin air, but all times with the same insane fury. His cavalry did the same, and when the infantry finally arrived the work was done, the Germans were retreating.

"Follow them! Nikolai heard his voice scream out as loud as he could, and the cavalry ran after the infantry who didn't have a chance to get away from the speedy animals by foot. One by one were their men slaughtered from the back and forward, and when there were only a few 50 men left, Nikolai looked up. What he saw amazed him, it was a Russian infantry unit who had sneeked in front of the Germans and now stood in the way of the Germans retreat, some 200 metres in front of them.

"Halt! he screamed and his unit stopped only to watch the Germans blindly run into the wall of spears only to get mowed down in a sea of blood. Nikolai looked at his sword and wiped the blood off it. That was almost too easy, they seemed to have greatly underestimated the German invadors. He had even heard from someone that they would've been fellow Russians, hehe. Like the Muscovites would make any threat to them, the poor jackasses had even promised to pay tribute to the Tatars to protect them from the Ryazanskeey's.

Then suddenly, a horn was sounded on the hill, and Nikolai's attention turned towards it. What appeared on the hill was a massive army, many times larger than Nikolai could have imagined was moving towards him behind the infantry that had just slaughtered the Germans. The Pskovskeey main army was more than twelve times as big as his own cavalry unit who now seemed ridicolously small. Nikolai's horse felt the fear building up in his master and took a few insecure steps backwards, also she getting worried about the sudden quietness and fear around her. Nikolai wondered if he were to fall back to the gates again, but then he noticed that the infantry unit that had slaughtered the germans were now moving towards his direction instead instead of turning around and fighting the invadors.

Treason?! The worst possible sin for a soldier, and now he had a whole unit of what (he thought) was his own army's spearmen moving at him. His sight turned red, and an irresistable anger was growing inside him. What if his own army had done the same, what if the whole army would have followed their example and betrayed their commanders, what kind of army would that be? In an insane fury, now based on anger rather than nationalism, he pressed his spurs into the sides of his horse who again reared and ran in panic towards the pikes that were lowered against him. His men followed him blindly, with him in the front of the unit as was suitable for a man of his rank. He was the first one to be hit by a spear, who seeked its way through his plate armour that didn't do much good against the piercing weapon. The tip of the spear found its way under a plate and into his flesh, making him fall off the horse but with his animal rushing further mowing down a few soldiers herself. That was the last thing Nikolai saw. Then darkness...

***​

The infantry units had marched at the rear of the cavalry and then catched up on them when they stayed, watching the Germans run into the wall of spears. The commander of the infantry were three old men, each with a division each and very experienced unlike the young man in head of the cavalry army. Each three of them had opposed Tsiplakov's desicion to make him commander of the cavalry, but Tsiplakov had insisted. Therefor, they were not surprised to see the young man leading his army right into a trap, it was suicide. The unit had tried to keep on fighting despite the loss of their leader, but to no use.

They had tried to fall back to the gates, and "The Three Wise Men" as the infantry generals were called had tried to help them but the invading army was just too much. There were too many spears, shields, swords and men. Not the smartest tactician in Europe could have come up with a strategy that could lead the Ryazanskeey's to victory. The three old men saw the Pskovskeey starting to raise ladders to the walls and take out the unarmored archers on it easily. The battle was lost, the city was lost. The three wise men ordered the small remainder of their force to retreat to the Kremlin, and put their own horses into full gallopp.

The citizens in Pereslavl-Riazanski, those who hadnn't had the money or the strength to get out of the city before the battle, looked out their windows when they heard hooves hitting the cobblestones on the streets. To their alarm, they saw the retreating three mounted men's yellow arms with the portrait of Oleg Ivanovich painted upon it retreating and with their army running behind. The family sat down close together, waiting for the inevitable pillage that would follow. Their army had failed them.

 

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Battle of Ryazan - Part Six
Kremlin Under Siege

Anastasia was walking in the park, wearing only her thin summer dress in the cold autumn breeze that was stroking the Kremlin garden. It was evening and the sun had already begun its journey downwards when she stepped out of the protecting Kremlin and out to its nature surroundings. The leeves on the trees had already begun shifting colour, and she could see two of them on the ground. One of them red, and another one yellow. The trees also knows what is dwelling near the horizon, Anastasia thought. Although they are too short to see over the walls, they feel that their security is threatened and are entering their winter sleep earlier than usual.

It was only one day after the humiliating loss outside Pereyaslavl. A battle where more than half of Ryazan's infantry, most of Ryazans cavalry, the head of the Ryazanskeey army and the most important city of Pereyaslavl had been lost. Also Murmino, Spassk-Ryazanski, Kasimov and several other villages to the east were lost, what was left of the principality of Pereslavl-Riazanski was merely a shadow of its former glory, the army only a fraction of what it was. The trees were right, it wouldn't take long until also this the last stronghold of Ivanovich would get overrun and the enemy would aquire total victory. Although the Ryazanskeey's had been invaded several times, the Kremlin had never really been adapted to resist sieges. The city had some strong walls, but those had get overrun by modern Pskovskeey siege ladders pretty quick.

Anastasia continued down the avenue, and another tree catched her eye-sight. It was an old oak, and its leaves were falling off just like the other trees. Nothing extraordinary there, but yet something made Anastasia go off the road and up to it. She had always liked trees, just like her mother, and she felt something was different with this oak, something she wanted to find out. Trees were so beautiful, and resisted the cold climate this far north very well, unlike flowers that only lasted for a season and had to be watered often. The oak reminded her of her own childhood, of her parents. They had used to take her out to play below it a few times during the summers, and she had enjoyed it immensely. It was one of the few times her father had actually showed feelings and spent time with his daughter.

Now they were both dead, unfortunately. Anastasia moaned them greatly, but she never let it show. She reached out to caress the bark gently, but it fell off like dry paper and fell to pieces as it hit the ground. The tree was just as dead as the Ivanovich dynasty was; it wouldn't survive the winter, that was for sure. One after one the leeves would fall off until there was no left. Anastasia went down to the Kremlin, wondering when her time would come to fall off the tree and sail down to the cold earth, waiting to be buried and forgotten by the flow of time.

As Anastasia came back to the courtyard and in to the warmth of the Kremlin again, she was as usual during a longer absence bombarded by people needing her "immediate attention". Tired, she directed them to her advisors and went upstairs, directly to her bedroom. Barely had she closed the door though, until she heard a knowcking despite her wish not to be disturbed. She threw up the door and screamed

"WHAT NOW?!"

She looked at the boy who had been knocking. He had jumped back by the sudden opening of the door and was now several meters from Anastasia looking terrified. Anastasia recognized him as Havlik, a young boy Maria had found on the streets of Pereslavl and taken with her, noone knew why. He had got fed and taken care of, and been allowed to stay as a servant, mostly to Maria but also to the rest of the Ivanovich. Lately he had been bringing up food to Rodislov in his room, what could he possibly want her, and why right now when she was in her worst mood for a long time?

"I... I... thought I should inform you... that his Majesty... Rodislov... is dead"

The poor boy only whispered the last two words, fearing that the anger of the princess would be directed towards him. He started to walk backwards, holding one of his hand in his pocket squeezing the gold bracelet he had stolen from the dead body. But the princess said nothing. She just stood still, with her eyes wide open and tears running down her cheek, wetting her beautiful dress.

 

[N Katsyev]

Siege and Assault of the Ryazanskeey Kremlin
The Summer Invasion - V​

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The siege, if there could be one, had been an amicable one. The attackers, for their part, had gained considerable respect for their advesary during the assault upon the city and considering that they were both Russian and Orthodox brothers only increased their desire that all of this could still ultimately end peacefully. There were no corpses tossed over the Kremlin walls, nor were there even the odd launched rock from a catapolt or attempts to set the inner buildings on fire. In fact the entire campaign and surrounding land had developed an almost eerie degree of quiet following the fall of the city.

There was little doubt that either side had any illusions as to the outcome of this conflict. This was most frustrating to many of the allied commanders, who simply hoped that the Ryazanskeey would come to terms with reality with something of typical Russian fatalism and just accept that they were defeated. Deep in their hearts however, they knew it was a different quality altogether of the Russian persona that would force this siege into bloody resolution, the almost mythical tenacity, ferocity and pride.

The city remained quiet and much to everyone's relief, remarkably looting had been kept to a minimum following the heavy casualties to the mercenary bands during the initial assault. Even more remarkably was that no fires had started within the city and most of the allied soldiers took shelter quite comfortably in the many homes and shops of Ryazan as the months passed and supplies were gathered from the countryside or shipped in via the Oka river. Summer turned to late summer, and late summer turned to early autumn. Mikhail Golytsin, maybe as something of a last gasp, for his last campaign, led personally a number of diversionary attacks to secure the surrounding Uzeds and conquer those who continued to resist. Considering the vast superiority in numbers that Golytsin could call upon, it was little surprise that each uzed fell in turn with little cost.

The Princess for her part tried one last effort at diplomacy, however she would never know that her message never even made it into the walls of the Kremlin due to the incompetence of a few to whom the task was assigned. Perhaps in years from now the letter would be discovered, a bitter reminder of a dark chapter in the city's history. Her and Dimitru spent a good bit of time travelling between Ryazan and Kasimov, which in itself became a subject of a couple letters back to Mina in Novgorod. Chess, reading, and the beginnings of developing a relationship between herself and her new subjects all took up a good deal of time. One project in particular she had made her pet during this time, and this was the development of plan to create what was in a sense, a permanent body of mercenaries. The strategy during the assault on the city had been largely successful, in that hired mercenary bands had absorbed a great majority of the casualties. It was Katya's idea to create an actual unit in Pskov-Novgorod's army, comprised entirely of foreigners with Russian officers. Mercenaries, as well as foreign trades people in the major training centres would be sought out to fill the ranks of the unit, but instead of being a simply 'by hire' expense, which was considerable. There could be estates, maybe here in Ryazan, devoted simply to their upkeep. Thusly creating a professional and depednable force of foreign soldiers, who could, in times of war be devoted much more freely to 'high risk' campaigns and assaults and draw upon the skills and specialties of all included cultures.

*****​

The planned day for the assault started with a misty rain typical for early autumn that as providence would have it, was not accompanied by any significant wind. The attack would continue, if anything, the poor visibility might work to the allied advantage by reducing the accuracy of Ryazan's missiles. For an enitre week and a half now, fires in the sectors of the city closest to the walls of the Kremlin had been forbidden and it was with little doubt that the defenders knew the assault would come soon and this time of darkness was kept for so long to wear on their readiness and nerves. In the cool mists of the pre-dawn hours, the final preperations were made for this morning's attack. A specially forged ram's head had come down the Volga and Oka rivers from Suzdal, and once mounted upon the largest tree found in the city, made for an impressive piece of siegecraft - promising in its foreboding appearance the quick destruction of the Kremlin gates. Combined with the attack on the gate were extended and reinforced ladders left over from the attack on the city walls. Golytsin had insisted that the defending force, so far outnumbered by the attackers, should be spread as thinly as possible by conducting simultaneous attacks on as many fronts as possible.

Defended by the ever loyal servitors as she had been throughout the campaign, Katya strained her eyes through the darkness from the vantage point of the second storey window of a nobleman's house which on the very first day of the assault on the city she had claimed as her own. The morning was still much too dark however and she anxiously walked back over to the desk to sit down and drum her nails upon the wood, before once more going back to the window and repeating the process. Occasionally muttering some observation or another to Dimitru who waited with her in the darkness.

Then the annoying silence and waiting all came to a dramatic halt with the sounding of a horn which echoed off the walls of the city, between her wooden buildings and in the ears of many with a dread note to some, a much anticipated one by all. There was a loud cheer, and Katya was once more at the window a moment, clutching the shudders on each side she leaned out into the crisp autumn air, the cool misty rain soon greeting her warm skin and dampening her hair. Only a hint of the sun's light could be made through the thick clouds above, and it cast an eerie, dimly grey and largely inconsequential light upon the city below. It was enough however at the moment to make out the shape of the Kremlin and the fires now lit upon her walls, smokey as they were against the wet weather. Then there the darts of fire, as the defenders shot lit arrows down into the masses that were now approaching their walls. Many of these little flames however seemed to be extinguished before the time the arrows themselves could do their deadly work upon their targets. A not lit arrow against the reinforced armour of a ram was little good and soon the gates of Ryazan audibly shuddered and moaned it seemed painfully in the early morning air...

*****​

Wheezing slightly, a result of his earlier wound at Murmino, Vasili Vasilovitch pulled his sword from its sheath at the sound of the horn that echoed painfully in his head. The ominously dark morning set him ill at ease already though he hoped his men could not see it upon his already rain soaked and pale face as he turned to them. His orders had been to wait for the ram to make its first strike upon the gates before his soldiers were to raise their ladder upon the walls. So they all stood together uneasily in the dark alley as the Ryazanskeey archers did their best despite the poor light seeping through the clouds above to murder he and his comrades while they simply sat in impotence.

The minutes dragged on seemingly endlessly as the whistling and impact of arrows cruely taunted at Vasili's ears. Thud, thud, thud - he wondered which were striking the wooden buildings and thatched rooves and which were striking human flesh. Unfortunately it became all too evident when the latter actually did happen. A man near him simply crumpled to the muddy street and screamed. The stricken man, in his cries evidently alerted the enemy archers to the allied presence and despite their inability to clearly make out his men, a greater hail of arrows began to fall around them. With brutal efficiency, one of his comrades slaughtered the screaming wounded before Vasili's own eyes and then glared at his commander, as if threatening him to chastise him for silencing the wounded. Vasili Vasilovitch however had no thoughts of punishing this man, he only hoped more that he himself were not struck, to met such a cruel end as the now dead soldier of his command, his face brutally broken open by the blade of a comrade.

There was a greaty cry and cheer, the many thousands of the allied force, as if triggered by very fate itself let out a great noise as the ram finally made its first shattering crash into the Ryazanskeey gate. Without a single word out of their already shaken commander, the men of his command, pushed past him and with great strength and effort threw the reinforced ladder up onto the walls before them. All around them, the same motion was emulated and a hail of arrows this time rose from the allied forces on the ground to make way for the ladders that were now around the fortress landing upon the walls, their rugged hooks, digging into the stone. To cries for the motherland, against the backdrop and the return of arrows and bolts, as the large ram seemed to make the entire fortress shudder, the men began their deadly ascent above their comrades below and toward their enemies above. As a melee began upon the walls of the Ryazanskeey kremlin, there came one last gasp and moan out of the gate before it was finally breached...

*****​

Flanked on either side by large, heavily armoured warriors, the Princess Ekateirna passed through the once proud gate of the Ryzanskeey Kremlin. Portions of it still remained, though the rest of it was brutally torn apart and cast in all directions around the gatehouse. There were relatively few bodies on either side of the wall she had seen and even fewer had been moved in the interim. There were so few defenders, so many attackers, there were simply not the numbers to create the carnage that it seemed these valiant defenders so deserved as testament to their struggle. Golytsin was already inside the walls of the Kremlin, there were rumours that there was still fighting in some of the corridors and basements of the Kremlin, but that it was largely secure. Now the light above them was simply grey and dismal, Katya's clothes utterly soaked clung to her body, clearly showing the mail shirt under her dress, her hair hung about her face, water dripping down her small, distinctly feminine jaw, "The former Grand Prince of Ryazan and his family, do any of them survive?" Flatly she asked, as if it were only a matter of the most superficial importance and curiosity...

 

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Battle of Ryazan
The Final Battle

Yuri was watching the Ryazanskeey army, or what was left of it at least, standing at attention on the courtyard in the besieged Kremlin. His eyesight went over every little detail of their armor, heir face, their whole body and sometimes, the soldiers felt, his eyes penetrated their body and watched inside them. Therefor everyone was extremely careful to behave correctly, to stand still with straight back and to not think bad thoughts. But despite everyone's sacrifices Yuri was not pleased with what he saw. The numbers were many times too few, their weapons outdated, the men aged and now also thin after months of siege and food rationing. No way Riazan could fend off the invadors, now also strengthened by the victory on the plains.

Yuri was surprised they hadn't assaulted yet, did they want to starve every Ryazanskeey man out before they assaulted? The food supplies wouldn't last much longer, the refugees from Pereslavl and other villages was a great drain on them. Yuri was only a military commander, but he knew they wouldn't last long. If the Pskovskeey's didn't attack soon Ryazan would have to make a desperate attempt to break the lines, with minimal odds of even a single soldier surviving. If only someone would go out and tell the Pskovskeey's our desperate situation, but it wasn't that easy. Riazan had been invaded at the worst possible time in its entire history, in a succession crisis where there were no real clear male heir to the throne.

There was a quite large risk that the whole country would or already had broken into hundreds of minimal independent villages with total anarchy. A bit like the heathens in Scandinavia had administrated the Russian lands during the viking era, Yuri thought. There was no real regent anymore, rather 100s of pretenders that each wanted a part. Anastasia Ivanovich should according to martial law inherit the principality, but there was a minor problem; she was a woman. There were hundreds of land owners and nobles who had suffered under her father's strict rule and now wanted revenge, and to maybe even become the new Grand Prince of Pereslavl-Riazanski. Therefor, there was noone who could go out as the leader of the Ryazanskeey army and say that we give up, and that we wish this to end peacefully. If he did it himself, it would be mutiny and treason, a sin punished with an eternal stay in the fires of hell.

Dejected, he left the army in insecurity wether he would come back and expect them to still stand or if they could go to rest again. They could have that, he thought in a bad mood. Not that it was their fault that the Ryazanskeey army was in its worst shape ever, but he wanted to release his anger and soldiers were perfect for that purpose. If they objected him, they got executed. Let's see how long their obedience can beat their desire to get in and escape the harsh and cold Russian autumn. It will be a nice lesson, and if there was any poor stubborn fellow left tomorrow he would release him from his duties, Yuri thought with a smile on his face as he was trying to get some sleep.

***​

The day when the attack finally came, was a rainy and misty day, just like the four days before it had been. The ground was soaking wet and the mud gave up groaning sounds as the Pskovskeey soldiers started marching towards the Kremlin. Anastasia was at the wall that day, alone except for a few guards on a comfortable distance from her. She stood at the wall and looked out over the huge field and the city that was once hers. Her body and clothes were wet and despite her almost magical appearance at the wall, looking out over the principality as its indomitable queen tears were running down her cheeks in an endless stream. Maria, her sister and the only member of the Ivanovich family still alive besides herself, had been struck by the plague and was most likely going to die within a week.

Anastasia had suddenly understood why her sister spent most of her time in her room. Anastasia had thought that it was the death of her father that kept her, just like her brother, trapped. She had always been a shy girl disliking the publicity her title gave her, so it was only natural that she spent even more time with herself when her father had died Anastasia had thought. But it was this proudness so typical for Ivanovich, the determination not to show any sign of weakness what so ever, that had held her kept in her room unwilling to leave even for the smallest of issues. She was the last Ivanovich, the last heiress of a dying dynasty. Everything had been so bright when Oleg was alive and Fedor was still with them but now it was like Satan had chosen to direct all his evil power to this small principality in the east.

For long she considered jumping off the wall. To leave the principality to its own problems. It wasn't hers anymore anyway, whoever would rule this land in the years, decenniums, milleniums, yeah until all eternity it would not be her dynasty. The Ivanovich would fade away, and while Oleg might still be a national hero the rest of the family would be known as the family who lost the country to a seemingly unprovoked aggressor. But she didn't jump, she kept the majestic straight-backed position as the iron-queen she could've been. Far away, as if she was already in heaven and watched the whole thing from above, she heard the compulsory guards that had joined her scream "The Pskovskeey are moving!" and the following screamings below by different commanders. "Man the walls!". A soldier probably not more than half her age carefully touched her dress and Anastasia turned around in a violent movement.

"Princess, it's probably best you go down now. The Pskovskeey are moving"

***​

The final battle and assault of the Kremlin were to go to history as one of the most peaceful in its time. The totally overwhelming size of the attackers made for a swift capture of the fortress, and some Ryazanskeey soldiers tired of war as they were didn't even bother to fight their Russian comrades. Treason or not, they welcomed the attackers and gladly lay down their weapons in front of their feet in exchange for a bit of food, and the Pskovskeey had mercy on them. The ones that chose to fight were either killed or driven away, and the two princesses were captured alive in their respective bedrooms although Maria died of her illness a few hours after capture.

Outside in the garden, the oak let go of its last leaf. The rule of the Ivanovich had come to an end, and laying before the young principality was now the rule of a foreign princess known to be both cruel and caring, depending on who you ask. Never before had future been so uncertain for Riazan, but one thing was for sure: Ivanovich would never again rule over the little land of many forests.