I have a confession to make - every time I see an update, I squeeze my hands together and almost squeal with glee.
It's very unbecoming of me, but I can't help it.
It's very unbecoming of me, but I can't help it.
Rome AARisen - a Byzantine AAR
- Thread starter General_BT
- Start date
-
We have updated our Community Code of Conduct. Please read through the new rules for the forum that are an integral part of Paradox Interactive’s User Agreement.
Two giant nations bleeding themselves dry before a storm from east rises? Excellent! 
A risky move to use the same strategy as in the past. Manuel may not be the greatest leader, but he is intelligent, he knows that the Romans managed to defeat the Turks twice. It will be interesting to see if he is prepared (or even alive!) in 3-4 years when the Turks come a calling.
Ah the Seljuks, perhaps the last great external threat to the Roman Empire. You can probably beat them but, as I just learned in my game, underestimating an opponent can have dire consequences.
On a side note, the hardest part about those continual rebellions - besides the shear annoyance of it all - is the bb accumulation. Things can quickly turn into a death spiral if revolts keep popping up and you're unwilling, like I am, to give up an inch of territory. If anything, crushing revolts should increase vassal loyalty, at least in the short term because it shows you capable of dealing with trouble makers. Oh well, limitations of the game I guess. The option to force vassalize in DV might improve the situation some, not sure.
On a side note, the hardest part about those continual rebellions - besides the shear annoyance of it all - is the bb accumulation. Things can quickly turn into a death spiral if revolts keep popping up and you're unwilling, like I am, to give up an inch of territory. If anything, crushing revolts should increase vassal loyalty, at least in the short term because it shows you capable of dealing with trouble makers. Oh well, limitations of the game I guess. The option to force vassalize in DV might improve the situation some, not sure.
It dosen't look like the empires enemies will give Manuel much of a rest. Well once again I am hoping for some sort of setback for the Byzantine jugernaut. But so far Manuel has showen a incredible survival instinct. Let's see how long his rule of terror and violence can continue. How did I think Boris Jelzin put it: "It's impossible to rule from a throne of bayonets".
~Lord Valentine~
~Lord Valentine~
Lord Valentine - I would counter it is possible to rule from a throne of bayonets, so long as the people are persuaded a throne of bayonets is okay, and such a circumstance usually doesn't last. Manuel's behavior has already driven many of the dynatoi to revolt, and considerably weakened the Empire by killing many of the thematakoi on the Eastern frontier. His time is coming...
VILenin - At this point in game if I went all out against the Seljuks, marshaled every single one of Romanions 600,000 and went after them I could handily have crushed them, but for RP reasons, I didn't do that. No Roman emperor would have emptied the garrisons of Italy and North Africa to fight the Turks - it'd leave too many doors open for other enemies. So I played with an arm tied behind my back, with some - unfortunate consequences...
And those rebellions do become troublesome - but even under feudal contract empires can reach such a size where FC doesn't matter... and thats when rebellions (and suppressing them) becomes fatal. I've had many a glorious empire spiral into the abyss because of that. And I agree with you, it sometimes seems a little backward of the way things should be.
Estonianzulu - It might be, but notice one thing - Sulieman is leaving a far larger cohort in reserve, to give him even more flexibility than what Malik Shah had. Look for him to be even more aggressive as well, and to likely have far better results, if only because:
Behold Feyd Rautha!
Enewald - Hmm... this sounds like a sequel to something...
Lordling - This made me giggle out loud when I read it! That is high praise indeed, and I can only hope I continue to make you squeal with delight with each update
AlexanderPrimus - At this juncture, the Empire would not survive another succession crisis, not with the above bearing down on them. Somehow the succession must be smooth, but as we shall see down the road, Manuel won't quite be in a position to ensure that.
English Patriot - I'd love to do a side history at some point of the Seljuk Turks, as they keep coming up as Rome's enemies and they do have several 'restorations.' It'd be a lively alternate view. As said above... the succession, if Romanion is to not suffer gravely, must go without a hitch...
The next update is about 70% done. I'm going to try to have it done for tonight, if not, look for it to be up tomorrow...
Manuel's behavior has already driven many of the dynatoi to revolt, and considerably weakened the Empire by killing many of the thematakoi on the Eastern frontier. His time is coming...VILenin - At this point in game if I went all out against the Seljuks, marshaled every single one of Romanions 600,000 and went after them I could handily have crushed them, but for RP reasons, I didn't do that. No Roman emperor would have emptied the garrisons of Italy and North Africa to fight the Turks - it'd leave too many doors open for other enemies. So I played with an arm tied behind my back, with some - unfortunate consequences...
And those rebellions do become troublesome - but even under feudal contract empires can reach such a size where FC doesn't matter... and thats when rebellions (and suppressing them) becomes fatal. I've had many a glorious empire spiral into the abyss because of that. And I agree with you, it sometimes seems a little backward of the way things should be.
Estonianzulu - It might be, but notice one thing - Sulieman is leaving a far larger cohort in reserve, to give him even more flexibility than what Malik Shah had. Look for him to be even more aggressive as well, and to likely have far better results, if only because:
Behold Feyd Rautha!
Enewald - Hmm... this sounds like a sequel to something...
Lordling - This made me giggle out loud when I read it! That is high praise indeed, and I can only hope I continue to make you squeal with delight with each update
AlexanderPrimus - At this juncture, the Empire would not survive another succession crisis, not with the above bearing down on them. Somehow the succession must be smooth, but as we shall see down the road, Manuel won't quite be in a position to ensure that.
English Patriot - I'd love to do a side history at some point of the Seljuk Turks, as they keep coming up as Rome's enemies and they do have several 'restorations.' It'd be a lively alternate view. As said above... the succession, if Romanion is to not suffer gravely, must go without a hitch...
The next update is about 70% done. I'm going to try to have it done for tonight, if not, look for it to be up tomorrow...
General_BT said:
Let's hope the Romans can breed a Komneni Kwisatz Haderach to counter this threat. On a side note, I couldn't help feeling a bit like the Bene Gesserit in my last Byzantine game as I scoured my huge empire for the most perfect candidates to pair with my ruling dynasty in the hopes of producing a line of ubermensch. Between that and pruning the genetic dead-ends of the family line with the 'die' command, you can't help but play at a god-complex. The evil overlord in me was very happy.
Chief Ragusa - Exactly. If the Eastern thema are not bulked up by the time Sulieman comes through, things will be disastrous.
Fulcrumvale - "Manzikert" is an ominous word indeed.
VILenin - I know! Its one of the great things about CK... especially DI where you can sort brides by traits, so I end up plotting how to make the perfect ubermensch king... and then he usually gets stupid traits like "trusting" or "excommunicated" and all the breeding is undone. Of course, the latter trait tends to come up when he deserves it... lol.
October 24th, 1158
"Rome?"
Silence hung in the air in the Council Chambers of the Boukoleon Palace - the ancient hall where the Megos had his first meetings of state. The hall itself was still in a state of partial disrepair - since the burning of the Great Palace, the Boukoleon had become the residence of the Imperial family while their older, grander home was restored. Many of the rooms still had ancient wood paneling that was obviously nearing rot, and a smell of dankness hung in the air.
Manuel Komnenos sat on a recently refurbished wooden throne at the head of the table, and sneezed, ruffling the large map of the Empire and the Near East that was laid out in the middle. A bad cold had been bothering the Emperor for quite some time, but that was not the reason his eyes were wide this day. Nor was it the reason he'd spent previous five minutes disparaging the name of the Pope alongside parts of the Savior's body.
"Yes Majesty," Anastasios Kaukadenos said quietly, answering the Emperor's surprised question. Kaukadenos was the scion of yet another old Imperial family, and for years had served abroad as one of the Emperor's many eyes and ears in places as far ranging as Germany and Cumania. Now, he sat at the table, along with the other great bureaucrats of state, as the Master of Spies. "My contacts are certain that Prince Basilieos is alive and well, and held within the Lateran Palace."
"As a prisoner?" the Emperor's voice hit a higher pitch than normal - despite his cold, his rage was apparent.
"My contact has been quite specific, the Prince is being housed as a guest," Kaukadenos said weakly.
"A...guest?" the Emperor said slowly, sniffling. "Why haven't we heard this in the last three years? He clearly isn't being allowed off of Papal property, which qualifies him as a prisoner in my mind!"
"Yes Majesty," Kaukadenos said quietly. Murmurs of quiet agreement went around the council table.
"Demetrios, how many thematakoi do we have in Apulia?" the Emperor rumbled between sniffles.
"Um, perhaps 5,000 that would be field-ready," the Megos Domestikos replied. "The Bishop of Rome has few forces of his own, though if we move on him, Majesty, I must caution the West will not react kindly. Emperor Hermann might privately back such a move, but it is probably he would be forced to publicly disdain us. Regent Hugh of France and the King of England might be inclined to seek force of arms..."
"Oh pah!" Manuel waved his hand in disdain. "As long as Hermann sits there as a bulwark, nothing will come of it. Hugh must also worry about the Moors to the south of his realm, and the statelets of North Africa, surrounded on all sides by Saracens. I don't think we have much to fear from either."
"Of course, Majesty," went around the table in a murmur.
"Demetrios, muster the Athanatakoi, Herculare and Angeloi tagmata, and Kosmas, prepare a fleet to take them to Italy. Twelve thousand should be small enough to reach Rome quickly, before the Bishop of Rome can create any more webs of intrigue. I'll lead this in person - Romanion has taken Rome before, and we'll take it again."
"Of course Majesty," Demetrios bowed.
"There is one other item, milord," Kaukadenos said quietly.
Manuel merely raised an eyebrow, and the Master of Spies took that as a request to continue.
"One of my contacts in Persia - a grain merchant from Shiraz, is reporting that merchants from Tabriz and Baghdad are purchasing unusually large amounts of grain, especially for this time of year. Normally large cities would have their winter stocks filled by this point, but apparently..."
"Tabriz and Baghdad do not," Manuel said softly, before sniffling. The Emperor looked at the map and frowned. "Both cities are rather close to our borders. Could it be your contact offers the lowest price, and others are taking advantage of his foolishness?"
Kaukadenos coughed. "No, Majesty. My contact is often known for his outrageously high prices, yet his grain often keeps the longest."
The Emperor grunted, looking at the map yet again. "Supply depots?"
Kaukadenos nodded. "That would be my guess, Majesty. My contact of course couldn't tell me how much grain overall is going that way - it might be, as you said, someone with a particular order for some reason, but for that to occur in both cities goes beyond coincidental, if I may say so."
"You may," Manuel sneezed harshly. "Demetrios," the Emperor turned to his brother, "what do we have in those border themes? Not much?"
"Not much at all, Majesty," the Megos Domestikos groaned. "Georgia and Azeribijian were devastated at Your Majesty's orders three years ago. Neither have recovered fully. I would anticipate that Prince Mzitiplani..."
There was a collective wince around the table. The bureaucratic holes left behind after the great rebellion necessitated raising numerous otherwise minor and ineffacious nobles to Princely rank. Georgios Mzitiplani was conveniently of Georgian stock, but the man was otherwise bland and undistinguished. Manuel doubted the man had seen a suit of armor, let alone fought.
"...could muster perhaps 2,500 thematakoi, Al Jazira perhaps another 2,000, and Mesopotamia, Armenia and Azerbijian another 1,500 each."
"So... 9,000 thematakoi in the entire Eastern border down to Aleppo?" Kosmas hissed. The Megas Doux looked around the table, unable to hide his distaste. "That could not stop a fly - that's insufficient to stop a Turkish raid!"
A map of the supply situation on the eastern frontier of the Empire. Most of the large depots to support large armies are in the south, along the Fertile Crescent. In mountainous Georgia and Armenia, the depots and fortresses are far smaller...
"We'll send some money to the Princes, bolster their coffers with direct orders to spend the money outfitting their troops," Manuel steepled his fingers in thought. "Mesopotamia, Armenia and Azerbijian should not be that difficult," the Emperor smiled - all were in the hands of underaged children of the Komnenos family, or members present at the table. "Georgios might require some leveraging. I'll take his father here in Konstantinopolis hostage - that should provide the proper support."
"Yes, Majesty," everyone at the table murmured.
"For now, that will be our only move. I do not wish to stir the Sultan unnecessarily considering I am headed West," the Emperor said, then sneezed again. "This Sulieman seems to have accomplished a great wonder, bringing back the Turks from the brink of destruction. I wish to prepare, but I don't want him to work any miracles on our Eastern border. Is there any other business?"
"No, Majesty," murmured around the table.
"Good. Demetrios, see to the deployments. That will leave fourteen tagmata, 28,000 troops, of the Imperial Guard in Konstantinopolis, Thrake, Makedonia, Antioch and Jerusalem. Demetrios, you will stay behind with the powers of Kaisar. Should the Turks or anyone else make a move of threat, you have my full blessing to destroy them, no matter who they are."
"Yes Majesty," Demetrios said quietly to his brother.
Manuel did not notice as he adjourned the meeting how his brother's face was filled with worry. At its height, late in the reign of Demetrios Megos, the personal army of the Emperor had been nearly double that number. The tagmata were spread few and far between, with a harried bureaucracy trying to get as much as it could from every single soldier. If a war did break out while the Emperor was gone, the field army would include thematakoi - lesser troops at best.
Manuel cared for none of that. The Emperor's eye was focused west... on Rome.
November 28th, 1158
Rome
A cool autumn wind drifte over the gardens of the Lateran Palace, carrying in its bosom the sounds of a fight.
Basilieos Komnenos, Prince of Romanion, brought his blade down sharply, and the heavy, loud crack of wood on wood echoed through the gardens of the Lateran. Basilieos recovered with easy, while his quarry did not. The Prince brought down another punishing blow, forcing his opponent to reel backwards. Basilieos gave chase, his sword high as if to strike another powerful high slash. He brought his blade down again, and his partner raised his sword up to block. At the last second, however, the prince twisted his wrists slightly, sweeping his blade to the side before bringing it back in. A dull thud greeted his ears as his sword rapped his foe's knuckles. With real blades, his opponent would have lost all his fingers and left defenseless.
"Bernard, never assume I'm going to do the same thing again and again," the thirteen year old prince growled. For the past three years he'd acted as sparring master for the small group in exile, and Bernard still hadn't learned this important lesson. "I made you think there was a pattern to my attacks, and you fell into the trap!"
"But I thought you were..."
"I know what you thought," Basilieos sighed. "I used it to my advantage. You can't think in the past on a battlefield, you can only think in the present. That means thinking instantaneously and reacting. Something as simple as pulling your hand back an inch would have saved your knuckles."
The smaller boy sighed. "Sparring against Basil isn't fun anymore!" Bernard complained. The small, scrawny six year old had turned into a thin, scrawny twelve year old, with a mop of brown hair and perpetually sad eyes. Among the group, Bernard was still the tiniest, and his voice had yet to hit puberty, giving him the look and sound of a pipsqueak. Alexandros often joked the deadliest attack in Bernard's arsenal didn't come from his sword - it was his wail of complaint when he felt he'd been wronged.
Basilieos rolled his eyes. "If you'd take some of my lessons to heart..." the prince began.
"Bernard does have a point," Alexandros Thrakesios chuckled, "None of us have beaten you in well over a year, not even me."
Alexandros himself had grown into a tall, handsome man. Half the reason the eighteen year old still stayed with the small group was because they were still confined to the walls and gardens of the Lateran Palace - since their arrival in Rome, von Kranke, who revealed himself to be Cardinal Giuseppi Rimini, had insisted they remain inside the palace for their own safety. While Rodrigo sneaked out on a regular basis, Alexandros was not nearly as skilled and had been caught in every attempt.
"Well, that's because you fight like a brute," Basilieos said in deadpan. "You go for power, and not finesse..."
"Harsh words as always," Rodrigo Jimenez laughed. The Spaniard was the second oldest and biggest miscreant of the group, at 15 already being the most handsome, charming and witty. His shaggy blonde mane was now finely cut, and he had a gift for wearing clothes just the right way to enhance his already good looks. He routinely slipped out of the Lateran Palace and into the wider city, bringing news of the outside world to the small group of exiles. He seemed able to pry any information he wanted out of anyone, and to go where he pleased. It was he who had discovered that few, if any, in the wider city knew of their presence, and that the Roman Emperor did not know either. "Basilieos is the consumate swordsman, the consumate military man, but is he, I ask, a man?"
"Ah, you cannot defeat me in sparring so you'll defeat me with words?" the Prince raised an eyebrow. Bernard had already cleared himself off of their impromptu sparring field, leaving the prince alone with his blade to do more practices. The Prince didn't mind the confinement - it gave him focus. Basilieos' life in boring Rome revolved around three things - sparring, learning all the military affairs he could from the mercenaries that guarded the Pope, and his lessons. The others, Rodrigo especially, regarded that spartan lifestyle as dull at best.
"I pick my battlefields with care," Rodrigo smiled at his friend.
"Then pick battlefields I care about," Basilieos shot back, going through the first moves of his practice session, "Else I will simply avoid battle."
"Basil?" Rodrigo smiled evilly using everyone's nickname for the Prince, "You've never known a woman?"
"No. Why? I do not sneak out into the city at every chance I get like you, Rodrigo." His sword cut the air with ease has he practiced the Varangian Defense. Old Halfdan had learned it from some Norseman long ago, and it was designed specifically to counter a brute with a Varangian axe. The key was to keep the blade from coming in contact with a swing of the axe, while slashing for the opponents wrists. Basilieos hoped it would be a refuge from what he guessed was about to come.
"It's just odd," the Spaniard chuckled, "that a thirteen year old son of an Emperor wouldn't have known a woman. You'd think there would be an effort..."
Basilieos stopped his practice and glared. So it was the same old mockery again. The young man sighed, and repeated what he had always said before. "Father Rimini has taught me that..."
"...knowing a woman before marriage is a carnal sin," Rodrigo rolled his eyes. "I hear it at mass!"
"Hasn't stopped Rodrigo one bit," Alexandros groaned. "What noble lady of Rome have you not deflowered? If your name was ever connected to your face in the wider city..."
Rodrigo turned, and winked at the older Roman. "Your mother. But aside from that," his attention and barbs refocused on Basilieos, "Basil, I'm wondering, do you have the same affliction as your uncle?" Rodrigo then stretched himself out against one of the columns, and started flexing his muscles. "Do you find this attractive?" he said in a bad falsetto rendition of a woman's voice.
Basilieos wrinkled his nose. "You look repulsive."
"Awww," Rodrigo moaned in mock complaint. "You wouldn't hear any of the women of this fair city say that!"
"Two reasons why you're wrong," Basilieos went back to his practice, "One, I am not a woman, and two, I have more sense than those women. And you can stop that at any time."
Rodrigo looked at Basilieos strangely, then the rude gesture he was making with his hand. "How did you know I was doing that? Basil, you can't see ten feet in front of you!"
"I didn't, until you just told me," the Prince permitted himself a smile as he finished the sixth set of the Defense. "But I know you, Rodrigo, and that was exactly something you would do. Just like," Basilieos lowered his sword and grinned broadly, "I know if I ever faced you on the battlefield, you're keen to use fast feints and strikes, but you are loathe to receive a blow, even in armor." The Prince started to walk over to fetch his shirt, even as Rodrigo glared at him, mouth agape.
"And why is that?" the Spaniard finally snapped.
Basilieos mockingly patted his friend on the cheek. "Pretty boys don't like to have their good looks damaged?"
Both Alexandros and Bernard exploded into peals of laughter, as Rodrigo's tanned skin erupted red. "Pretty boy? I am not a pretty boy!"
"Amongst our little pack, you are by far," Basilieos threw his shirt on, "the pretty boy! If our little cadre was a tale of old, that would be your role!"
"Why can't I be the dashing swordsman?"
"Basilieos," Bernard giggled.
"But he's the taciturn leader," Alexandros piped in. "Unfair for him to have two roles. He can't be Julius Caesar and Marc Antony!"
"Either way he'll get a Cleopatra," Bernard added, "and that would be more likely to happen to Rodrigo here."
"I'll take Trajan, thank you very much," Basilieos said, turning to walk down one of the rows of the garden. Practice was over, it was time for his lessons. "Learned in lesson yesterday all about him!"
Basilieos leapt into his seat next to his desk, and promptly flopped a stack of parchments onto the lap of his tutor. Cardinal Rimini grunted at the weight, as the Prince pulled out a piece of paper and set up a quill. His reading was still glacially slow, but he'd taken to taking notes of what others read to him in a cryptic shorthand even Rimini couldn't decipher. Apparently the prince could understand the one or two letter acronyms and abbreviations just fine - the whole arrangement puzzled the Cardinal immensely.
"So, Cardinal, tell me more about this Trajan fellow," Basilieos demanded, before adding a "please" at the end to make it more polite. "The others are starting to use ancient Roman references, I need to..." The prince stopped in mid-sentence. "You're looking down and drumming your fingers on the table. What happened?"
Giuseppe Rimini had always been a good liar - regardless of his papal station, the necessary of running Papal diplomacy meant this - but he always faltered when he was in front of the young Greek prince. Especially as of late. The lad was growing tall, and his mind was growing wise - far more intelligent than anything Rimini had predicted. The Cardinal had seen him on the field, and Nocioni had tested his abilities in mock battles, where granite stones were infantry and marble shards were cavalry. The prince bested the leader of the Papal militia in their second game, and Nocioni had not won since. He was clearly made for the diadem, and his eyes of late could even tell when Rimini was attempting to lie.
"It's... your father," Rimini started to say carefully...
"He's coming to Rome to fetch me?" Basilieos said quietly, then nodded.
"...how did you know?" Rimini raised an eyebrow in surprise.
"What else would father do that would cause you such alarm?" Basilieos reasoned. "And by your tone, I take it he has brought an army with him as well?"
"Well, yes, but we have a plan to deal with that," Rimini attempted to recover himself. Prince Basil was far more observant than he was prepared to admit. In a way, it made Rimini's blood run chill - if this child had not spent much of his youth in the arms of Mother Church, and instead learning darkness at his father's side. "I fear if his army reaches the city, they will burn Rome and capture the Pontiff. And that would cause a great deal of fury on all sides."
Basilieos frowned. Everything he'd learned pointed that the Pope was deserving of the utmost respect. The young Prince had already realized that by necessity an Emperor and a Pope might not get along, but civil disagreements were acceptable. Burning Rome? That would bring God's wrath down on the Emperor, that would spell destruction for Christianity, it would spell...
"What plan?" Basilieos asked. His paper and quill were aside. This was infinitely more important. "My father is set on this path?"
Rimini nodded. "I appears so," he said, before sighing. "Well, we do not plan to use the Germans again..." Truth be told, they wouldn't be able to rely on any of the Latins. The Roman Emperor left Konstantinopolis several weeks earlier, sailing south. The Lateran had picked up rumors that the new Prince of Cyrenaica had been stirring trouble, and assumed the Emperor was headed there to quell any revolts before they began. For two critical weeks the Papacy had assumed he was headed that direction...
...until a week ago, when desperate riders came in from Salerno.
The Imperial Fleet had laid anchor offshore, and taken the city by surprise storm. Godfrey was dead, Salerno ravaged.
"Your father caught us napping," Rimini said simply, summing up the whole affair. "Normally, we would have caught an army bearing down on Rome, but your father is a master among spies..."
"Where are they at?" the young prince asked.
"Napoli. One contingent has laid siege to the city, while another makes all haste north..."
"So you will meet them in battle?" Basilieos asked.
"We... don't plan as such. We have something else in mind..." Rimini thought for a second, before he started explaining the plan to the boy. Basilieos was Rimini's greatest gamble, and greatest hope for peace between the Empire and the Papacy, it would only be fair to tell him how the Papacy would survive his father's wrath. When Rimini was finished, the Prince sat, wide-eyed, and quietly pronounced it as the most daring thing he had ever heard.
"And what will happen to me?" the Prince asked.
Rimini looked off into the distance. "I don't know."
Basilieos looked down, then looked up at his mentor and friend. He genuinely liked Rome, as well as Rimini. "If it will keep my father assuaged, and help make your plan work, I should go back to Konstantinopolis."
The Cardinal nodded.
What is Rimini's plan to stop Manuel before he can reach Rome? And while the Emperor has caught a sniff that something is amiss on the Eastern frontier, will it be enough to stop the great Sulieman? All that and more when we update next!
Fulcrumvale - "Manzikert" is an ominous word indeed.
VILenin - I know! Its one of the great things about CK... especially DI where you can sort brides by traits, so I end up plotting how to make the perfect ubermensch king... and then he usually gets stupid traits like "trusting" or "excommunicated" and all the breeding is undone. Of course, the latter trait tends to come up when he deserves it... lol.
October 24th, 1158
"Rome?"
Silence hung in the air in the Council Chambers of the Boukoleon Palace - the ancient hall where the Megos had his first meetings of state. The hall itself was still in a state of partial disrepair - since the burning of the Great Palace, the Boukoleon had become the residence of the Imperial family while their older, grander home was restored. Many of the rooms still had ancient wood paneling that was obviously nearing rot, and a smell of dankness hung in the air.
Manuel Komnenos sat on a recently refurbished wooden throne at the head of the table, and sneezed, ruffling the large map of the Empire and the Near East that was laid out in the middle. A bad cold had been bothering the Emperor for quite some time, but that was not the reason his eyes were wide this day. Nor was it the reason he'd spent previous five minutes disparaging the name of the Pope alongside parts of the Savior's body.
"Yes Majesty," Anastasios Kaukadenos said quietly, answering the Emperor's surprised question. Kaukadenos was the scion of yet another old Imperial family, and for years had served abroad as one of the Emperor's many eyes and ears in places as far ranging as Germany and Cumania. Now, he sat at the table, along with the other great bureaucrats of state, as the Master of Spies. "My contacts are certain that Prince Basilieos is alive and well, and held within the Lateran Palace."
"As a prisoner?" the Emperor's voice hit a higher pitch than normal - despite his cold, his rage was apparent.
"My contact has been quite specific, the Prince is being housed as a guest," Kaukadenos said weakly.
"A...guest?" the Emperor said slowly, sniffling. "Why haven't we heard this in the last three years? He clearly isn't being allowed off of Papal property, which qualifies him as a prisoner in my mind!"
"Yes Majesty," Kaukadenos said quietly. Murmurs of quiet agreement went around the council table.
"Demetrios, how many thematakoi do we have in Apulia?" the Emperor rumbled between sniffles.
"Um, perhaps 5,000 that would be field-ready," the Megos Domestikos replied. "The Bishop of Rome has few forces of his own, though if we move on him, Majesty, I must caution the West will not react kindly. Emperor Hermann might privately back such a move, but it is probably he would be forced to publicly disdain us. Regent Hugh of France and the King of England might be inclined to seek force of arms..."
"Oh pah!" Manuel waved his hand in disdain. "As long as Hermann sits there as a bulwark, nothing will come of it. Hugh must also worry about the Moors to the south of his realm, and the statelets of North Africa, surrounded on all sides by Saracens. I don't think we have much to fear from either."
"Of course, Majesty," went around the table in a murmur.
"Demetrios, muster the Athanatakoi, Herculare and Angeloi tagmata, and Kosmas, prepare a fleet to take them to Italy. Twelve thousand should be small enough to reach Rome quickly, before the Bishop of Rome can create any more webs of intrigue. I'll lead this in person - Romanion has taken Rome before, and we'll take it again."
"Of course Majesty," Demetrios bowed.
"There is one other item, milord," Kaukadenos said quietly.
Manuel merely raised an eyebrow, and the Master of Spies took that as a request to continue.
"One of my contacts in Persia - a grain merchant from Shiraz, is reporting that merchants from Tabriz and Baghdad are purchasing unusually large amounts of grain, especially for this time of year. Normally large cities would have their winter stocks filled by this point, but apparently..."
"Tabriz and Baghdad do not," Manuel said softly, before sniffling. The Emperor looked at the map and frowned. "Both cities are rather close to our borders. Could it be your contact offers the lowest price, and others are taking advantage of his foolishness?"
Kaukadenos coughed. "No, Majesty. My contact is often known for his outrageously high prices, yet his grain often keeps the longest."
The Emperor grunted, looking at the map yet again. "Supply depots?"
Kaukadenos nodded. "That would be my guess, Majesty. My contact of course couldn't tell me how much grain overall is going that way - it might be, as you said, someone with a particular order for some reason, but for that to occur in both cities goes beyond coincidental, if I may say so."
"You may," Manuel sneezed harshly. "Demetrios," the Emperor turned to his brother, "what do we have in those border themes? Not much?"
"Not much at all, Majesty," the Megos Domestikos groaned. "Georgia and Azeribijian were devastated at Your Majesty's orders three years ago. Neither have recovered fully. I would anticipate that Prince Mzitiplani..."
There was a collective wince around the table. The bureaucratic holes left behind after the great rebellion necessitated raising numerous otherwise minor and ineffacious nobles to Princely rank. Georgios Mzitiplani was conveniently of Georgian stock, but the man was otherwise bland and undistinguished. Manuel doubted the man had seen a suit of armor, let alone fought.
"...could muster perhaps 2,500 thematakoi, Al Jazira perhaps another 2,000, and Mesopotamia, Armenia and Azerbijian another 1,500 each."
"So... 9,000 thematakoi in the entire Eastern border down to Aleppo?" Kosmas hissed. The Megas Doux looked around the table, unable to hide his distaste. "That could not stop a fly - that's insufficient to stop a Turkish raid!"
A map of the supply situation on the eastern frontier of the Empire. Most of the large depots to support large armies are in the south, along the Fertile Crescent. In mountainous Georgia and Armenia, the depots and fortresses are far smaller...
"We'll send some money to the Princes, bolster their coffers with direct orders to spend the money outfitting their troops," Manuel steepled his fingers in thought. "Mesopotamia, Armenia and Azerbijian should not be that difficult," the Emperor smiled - all were in the hands of underaged children of the Komnenos family, or members present at the table. "Georgios might require some leveraging. I'll take his father here in Konstantinopolis hostage - that should provide the proper support."
"Yes, Majesty," everyone at the table murmured.
"For now, that will be our only move. I do not wish to stir the Sultan unnecessarily considering I am headed West," the Emperor said, then sneezed again. "This Sulieman seems to have accomplished a great wonder, bringing back the Turks from the brink of destruction. I wish to prepare, but I don't want him to work any miracles on our Eastern border. Is there any other business?"
"No, Majesty," murmured around the table.
"Good. Demetrios, see to the deployments. That will leave fourteen tagmata, 28,000 troops, of the Imperial Guard in Konstantinopolis, Thrake, Makedonia, Antioch and Jerusalem. Demetrios, you will stay behind with the powers of Kaisar. Should the Turks or anyone else make a move of threat, you have my full blessing to destroy them, no matter who they are."
"Yes Majesty," Demetrios said quietly to his brother.
Manuel did not notice as he adjourned the meeting how his brother's face was filled with worry. At its height, late in the reign of Demetrios Megos, the personal army of the Emperor had been nearly double that number. The tagmata were spread few and far between, with a harried bureaucracy trying to get as much as it could from every single soldier. If a war did break out while the Emperor was gone, the field army would include thematakoi - lesser troops at best.
Manuel cared for none of that. The Emperor's eye was focused west... on Rome.
========== ===========
November 28th, 1158
Rome
A cool autumn wind drifte over the gardens of the Lateran Palace, carrying in its bosom the sounds of a fight.
Basilieos Komnenos, Prince of Romanion, brought his blade down sharply, and the heavy, loud crack of wood on wood echoed through the gardens of the Lateran. Basilieos recovered with easy, while his quarry did not. The Prince brought down another punishing blow, forcing his opponent to reel backwards. Basilieos gave chase, his sword high as if to strike another powerful high slash. He brought his blade down again, and his partner raised his sword up to block. At the last second, however, the prince twisted his wrists slightly, sweeping his blade to the side before bringing it back in. A dull thud greeted his ears as his sword rapped his foe's knuckles. With real blades, his opponent would have lost all his fingers and left defenseless.
"Bernard, never assume I'm going to do the same thing again and again," the thirteen year old prince growled. For the past three years he'd acted as sparring master for the small group in exile, and Bernard still hadn't learned this important lesson. "I made you think there was a pattern to my attacks, and you fell into the trap!"
"But I thought you were..."
"I know what you thought," Basilieos sighed. "I used it to my advantage. You can't think in the past on a battlefield, you can only think in the present. That means thinking instantaneously and reacting. Something as simple as pulling your hand back an inch would have saved your knuckles."
The smaller boy sighed. "Sparring against Basil isn't fun anymore!" Bernard complained. The small, scrawny six year old had turned into a thin, scrawny twelve year old, with a mop of brown hair and perpetually sad eyes. Among the group, Bernard was still the tiniest, and his voice had yet to hit puberty, giving him the look and sound of a pipsqueak. Alexandros often joked the deadliest attack in Bernard's arsenal didn't come from his sword - it was his wail of complaint when he felt he'd been wronged.
Basilieos rolled his eyes. "If you'd take some of my lessons to heart..." the prince began.
"Bernard does have a point," Alexandros Thrakesios chuckled, "None of us have beaten you in well over a year, not even me."
Alexandros himself had grown into a tall, handsome man. Half the reason the eighteen year old still stayed with the small group was because they were still confined to the walls and gardens of the Lateran Palace - since their arrival in Rome, von Kranke, who revealed himself to be Cardinal Giuseppi Rimini, had insisted they remain inside the palace for their own safety. While Rodrigo sneaked out on a regular basis, Alexandros was not nearly as skilled and had been caught in every attempt.
"Well, that's because you fight like a brute," Basilieos said in deadpan. "You go for power, and not finesse..."
"Harsh words as always," Rodrigo Jimenez laughed. The Spaniard was the second oldest and biggest miscreant of the group, at 15 already being the most handsome, charming and witty. His shaggy blonde mane was now finely cut, and he had a gift for wearing clothes just the right way to enhance his already good looks. He routinely slipped out of the Lateran Palace and into the wider city, bringing news of the outside world to the small group of exiles. He seemed able to pry any information he wanted out of anyone, and to go where he pleased. It was he who had discovered that few, if any, in the wider city knew of their presence, and that the Roman Emperor did not know either. "Basilieos is the consumate swordsman, the consumate military man, but is he, I ask, a man?"
"Ah, you cannot defeat me in sparring so you'll defeat me with words?" the Prince raised an eyebrow. Bernard had already cleared himself off of their impromptu sparring field, leaving the prince alone with his blade to do more practices. The Prince didn't mind the confinement - it gave him focus. Basilieos' life in boring Rome revolved around three things - sparring, learning all the military affairs he could from the mercenaries that guarded the Pope, and his lessons. The others, Rodrigo especially, regarded that spartan lifestyle as dull at best.
"I pick my battlefields with care," Rodrigo smiled at his friend.
"Then pick battlefields I care about," Basilieos shot back, going through the first moves of his practice session, "Else I will simply avoid battle."
"Basil?" Rodrigo smiled evilly using everyone's nickname for the Prince, "You've never known a woman?"
"No. Why? I do not sneak out into the city at every chance I get like you, Rodrigo." His sword cut the air with ease has he practiced the Varangian Defense. Old Halfdan had learned it from some Norseman long ago, and it was designed specifically to counter a brute with a Varangian axe. The key was to keep the blade from coming in contact with a swing of the axe, while slashing for the opponents wrists. Basilieos hoped it would be a refuge from what he guessed was about to come.
"It's just odd," the Spaniard chuckled, "that a thirteen year old son of an Emperor wouldn't have known a woman. You'd think there would be an effort..."
Basilieos stopped his practice and glared. So it was the same old mockery again. The young man sighed, and repeated what he had always said before. "Father Rimini has taught me that..."
"...knowing a woman before marriage is a carnal sin," Rodrigo rolled his eyes. "I hear it at mass!"
"Hasn't stopped Rodrigo one bit," Alexandros groaned. "What noble lady of Rome have you not deflowered? If your name was ever connected to your face in the wider city..."
Rodrigo turned, and winked at the older Roman. "Your mother. But aside from that," his attention and barbs refocused on Basilieos, "Basil, I'm wondering, do you have the same affliction as your uncle?" Rodrigo then stretched himself out against one of the columns, and started flexing his muscles. "Do you find this attractive?" he said in a bad falsetto rendition of a woman's voice.
Basilieos wrinkled his nose. "You look repulsive."
"Awww," Rodrigo moaned in mock complaint. "You wouldn't hear any of the women of this fair city say that!"
"Two reasons why you're wrong," Basilieos went back to his practice, "One, I am not a woman, and two, I have more sense than those women. And you can stop that at any time."
Rodrigo looked at Basilieos strangely, then the rude gesture he was making with his hand. "How did you know I was doing that? Basil, you can't see ten feet in front of you!"
"I didn't, until you just told me," the Prince permitted himself a smile as he finished the sixth set of the Defense. "But I know you, Rodrigo, and that was exactly something you would do. Just like," Basilieos lowered his sword and grinned broadly, "I know if I ever faced you on the battlefield, you're keen to use fast feints and strikes, but you are loathe to receive a blow, even in armor." The Prince started to walk over to fetch his shirt, even as Rodrigo glared at him, mouth agape.
"And why is that?" the Spaniard finally snapped.
Basilieos mockingly patted his friend on the cheek. "Pretty boys don't like to have their good looks damaged?"
Both Alexandros and Bernard exploded into peals of laughter, as Rodrigo's tanned skin erupted red. "Pretty boy? I am not a pretty boy!"
"Amongst our little pack, you are by far," Basilieos threw his shirt on, "the pretty boy! If our little cadre was a tale of old, that would be your role!"
"Why can't I be the dashing swordsman?"
"Basilieos," Bernard giggled.
"But he's the taciturn leader," Alexandros piped in. "Unfair for him to have two roles. He can't be Julius Caesar and Marc Antony!"
"Either way he'll get a Cleopatra," Bernard added, "and that would be more likely to happen to Rodrigo here."
"I'll take Trajan, thank you very much," Basilieos said, turning to walk down one of the rows of the garden. Practice was over, it was time for his lessons. "Learned in lesson yesterday all about him!"
========== ==========
Basilieos leapt into his seat next to his desk, and promptly flopped a stack of parchments onto the lap of his tutor. Cardinal Rimini grunted at the weight, as the Prince pulled out a piece of paper and set up a quill. His reading was still glacially slow, but he'd taken to taking notes of what others read to him in a cryptic shorthand even Rimini couldn't decipher. Apparently the prince could understand the one or two letter acronyms and abbreviations just fine - the whole arrangement puzzled the Cardinal immensely.
"So, Cardinal, tell me more about this Trajan fellow," Basilieos demanded, before adding a "please" at the end to make it more polite. "The others are starting to use ancient Roman references, I need to..." The prince stopped in mid-sentence. "You're looking down and drumming your fingers on the table. What happened?"
Giuseppe Rimini had always been a good liar - regardless of his papal station, the necessary of running Papal diplomacy meant this - but he always faltered when he was in front of the young Greek prince. Especially as of late. The lad was growing tall, and his mind was growing wise - far more intelligent than anything Rimini had predicted. The Cardinal had seen him on the field, and Nocioni had tested his abilities in mock battles, where granite stones were infantry and marble shards were cavalry. The prince bested the leader of the Papal militia in their second game, and Nocioni had not won since. He was clearly made for the diadem, and his eyes of late could even tell when Rimini was attempting to lie.
"It's... your father," Rimini started to say carefully...
"He's coming to Rome to fetch me?" Basilieos said quietly, then nodded.
"...how did you know?" Rimini raised an eyebrow in surprise.
"What else would father do that would cause you such alarm?" Basilieos reasoned. "And by your tone, I take it he has brought an army with him as well?"
"Well, yes, but we have a plan to deal with that," Rimini attempted to recover himself. Prince Basil was far more observant than he was prepared to admit. In a way, it made Rimini's blood run chill - if this child had not spent much of his youth in the arms of Mother Church, and instead learning darkness at his father's side. "I fear if his army reaches the city, they will burn Rome and capture the Pontiff. And that would cause a great deal of fury on all sides."
Basilieos frowned. Everything he'd learned pointed that the Pope was deserving of the utmost respect. The young Prince had already realized that by necessity an Emperor and a Pope might not get along, but civil disagreements were acceptable. Burning Rome? That would bring God's wrath down on the Emperor, that would spell destruction for Christianity, it would spell...
"What plan?" Basilieos asked. His paper and quill were aside. This was infinitely more important. "My father is set on this path?"
Rimini nodded. "I appears so," he said, before sighing. "Well, we do not plan to use the Germans again..." Truth be told, they wouldn't be able to rely on any of the Latins. The Roman Emperor left Konstantinopolis several weeks earlier, sailing south. The Lateran had picked up rumors that the new Prince of Cyrenaica had been stirring trouble, and assumed the Emperor was headed there to quell any revolts before they began. For two critical weeks the Papacy had assumed he was headed that direction...
...until a week ago, when desperate riders came in from Salerno.
The Imperial Fleet had laid anchor offshore, and taken the city by surprise storm. Godfrey was dead, Salerno ravaged.
"Your father caught us napping," Rimini said simply, summing up the whole affair. "Normally, we would have caught an army bearing down on Rome, but your father is a master among spies..."
"Where are they at?" the young prince asked.
"Napoli. One contingent has laid siege to the city, while another makes all haste north..."
"So you will meet them in battle?" Basilieos asked.
"We... don't plan as such. We have something else in mind..." Rimini thought for a second, before he started explaining the plan to the boy. Basilieos was Rimini's greatest gamble, and greatest hope for peace between the Empire and the Papacy, it would only be fair to tell him how the Papacy would survive his father's wrath. When Rimini was finished, the Prince sat, wide-eyed, and quietly pronounced it as the most daring thing he had ever heard.
"And what will happen to me?" the Prince asked.
Rimini looked off into the distance. "I don't know."
Basilieos looked down, then looked up at his mentor and friend. He genuinely liked Rome, as well as Rimini. "If it will keep my father assuaged, and help make your plan work, I should go back to Konstantinopolis."
The Cardinal nodded.
=========== ===========
What is Rimini's plan to stop Manuel before he can reach Rome? And while the Emperor has caught a sniff that something is amiss on the Eastern frontier, will it be enough to stop the great Sulieman? All that and more when we update next!
Last edited:
Manuel has bungled the aftermath of the war badly—9000 thematokoi between the border and Aleppo!—and he’s let his position as Emperor go to his head. He seriously thinks that a reinvigorated Persia will pose no threat to Byzantium. That’s the sort of arrogance which ruins empires.
And Basilieos has grown from a spoiled brat into a precocious adolescent, in a very surprising development. He reminds me a bit of Nikolaios…
And Basilieos has grown from a spoiled brat into a precocious adolescent, in a very surprising development. He reminds me a bit of Nikolaios…
Maybe thus shall the Eternal City rise under the command of Basil... he could make it the capital of Romaion! (after the pope moves away... )
But as far as I can guess, Basilieos shall be the next Imperaator
)But as far as I can guess, Basilieos shall be the next Imperaator
Bah Damned Basileous, he must accept that his place is at his father's side, only as Father and son can they truly continue the Romanion legacy..
Cue heavy breathing and James Earl Jones voice.English Patriot said:
I like young Basileios and think he would make an excellent Basil III. If he could only shake off the influence of those pesky latins... Rimini seems to be the crux, however, and he won't live forever. When the good priest is gone maybe Basileios will find the papacy more disagreeable, especially when the next inevitable conflict between eastern and western Christendom flares up and troubles his empire.
Manuel seems to be falling into the trap of becoming fixated on Rome and the West at the expense of his eastern border. He could've sent half the number of soldiers under a loyal general to go take Rome but instead he's acting out of pride and leading the expedition himself. The Seljuks will almost certainly strike while he's away and the empire never functions as well when the Basileus isn't in the City.
One of my favourite chapters to date ! Naturally , I have a little bit of bias of course but I think that the best part was the witty characterization done there by the young men . The group dynamic is one of the best and most fun things to write about and it's well executed !
but I think that the best part was the witty characterization done there by the young men . The group dynamic is one of the best and most fun things to write about and it's well executed !
VILenin said:Cue heavy breathing and James Earl Jones voice.
That is exactly what I thought when I read English Patriot's comment.
I have the feeling that Manuel is finally losing touch with reality. The empire is still weakened and even if his campaign against Rome succeeds he will incur the wrath of the west while the Turks are already planning their revenge in the East. I see a dangerous scenario developing for the empire!
~Lord Valentine~
Lord Valentine - Well, Manuel is leaving most of the remaining tagmata of the Imperial Guard in the East - his main problem is he's lost touch with how weakened that all important arm of the military is. Demetrios Megos could have done what he plans to do - Demetrios the Younger is a highly capable commander, and with proper troops could hold a front. He just wouldn't have the numbers he'd normally need. Romanion has 600,000 soldiers - only about 45,000 are veteran professionals...
canonized - This was one of the fun updates for me to write. Personally, I needed a little comic relief considering the situation! Speaking of comic relief I didn't know Rodrigo wore lipstick!
VILenin - Normally I'd insert a picture of Jonathan Rhys-Meyers photoshopped into a Vader suit, but I'm pressed for time. You'll just have to imagine it in your head.
Basil is definitely under the influence of the Papacy - he's not a Catholic himself, but he's definitely inclined to see their point of view, far more than a normally good Byzantine should. As for Manuel, you are exactly right - the fatal obsession of adding the "Rome" back into Romanion is rearing its ugly head again...
English Patriot - Only then will his training in the Dark Side be complete! *ooooh whoosh* *ooooh whoosh*
Hellvik - Welcome to the AAR! Glad you enjoy it and hope to hear more of what you think in the future!
Enewald - Basilieos definitely has the makings of a good Emperor. Whether he takes the throne or not remains to be seen...
...Zeno is still out there...
Fulcrumvale - Basilieos might have a little of Nikolaios in him, but his main concern with the past is practical, not sheer curiosity. He wants to learn about Trajan so he can keep up in conversation, even though Trajan wouldn't belong in a conversation about Caesar and Marc Antony. His mind and soul are mostly focused on one thing - war.
Well, I hope you enjoyed the recent update splurge, because things will become a little dearth around here shortly. In one week I have my last preliminary exam, and a week after that I present my dissertation proposal, so for the next two weeks, we might have two updates. After those two things, I'll be home free, so look for posting to go back up afterwards! I hope everyone had a safe holiday weekend (and Spring Break for those of you where had a late one like me), and welcome back to the grind!
Sucks, doesn't it?
canonized - This was one of the fun updates for me to write. Personally, I needed a little comic relief considering the situation!
Speaking of comic relief I didn't know Rodrigo wore lipstick! VILenin - Normally I'd insert a picture of Jonathan Rhys-Meyers photoshopped into a Vader suit, but I'm pressed for time. You'll just have to imagine it in your head.
Basil is definitely under the influence of the Papacy - he's not a Catholic himself, but he's definitely inclined to see their point of view, far more than a normally good Byzantine should. As for Manuel, you are exactly right - the fatal obsession of adding the "Rome" back into Romanion is rearing its ugly head again...
English Patriot - Only then will his training in the Dark Side be complete! *ooooh whoosh* *ooooh whoosh*
Hellvik - Welcome to the AAR! Glad you enjoy it and hope to hear more of what you think in the future!
Enewald - Basilieos definitely has the makings of a good Emperor. Whether he takes the throne or not remains to be seen...
...Zeno is still out there...
Fulcrumvale - Basilieos might have a little of Nikolaios in him, but his main concern with the past is practical, not sheer curiosity. He wants to learn about Trajan so he can keep up in conversation, even though Trajan wouldn't belong in a conversation about Caesar and Marc Antony. His mind and soul are mostly focused on one thing - war.
Well, I hope you enjoyed the recent update splurge, because things will become a little dearth around here shortly. In one week I have my last preliminary exam, and a week after that I present my dissertation proposal, so for the next two weeks, we might have two updates. After those two things, I'll be home free, so look for posting to go back up afterwards! I hope everyone had a safe holiday weekend (and Spring Break for those of you where had a late one like me), and welcome back to the grind!
Sucks, doesn't it?
Well, to help tide people over until the next update is ready, I have a little bit of a teaser for you all. Below are pictures of three of the Komnenoi in this tale. All three have been introduced to you already, and all three will become immensely important shortly in the AAR. Any guesses as to who these three people are in the upcoming tale?
Last edited:
Is Clive Owen playing Zeno? I know you had Colin Firth playing him earlier. Or does he represent an adult Basileos?
As for the other two, I can't venture a guess as yet.
Great AAR, by the way. Way to build excitement!
As for the other two, I can't venture a guess as yet.
Great AAR, by the way. Way to build excitement!