General_BT said:
I see dead people
That kid's got some seriously creepy schizophrenia.
Rome AARisen - a Byzantine AAR
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That kid's got some seriously creepy schizophrenia.
phargle - He's definitely got a Haley-Joel Osment look going there... though that pic should be a giveaway to the next set of people I'm going to be using for characters...
Kirsch27 - Hey, welcome to the thread first of all! (I don't remember you posting earlier... though the story's become so long I could be confused
)
In all actuality, I was completely unaware of the background behind the name Acheron. I actually borrowed it from Master and Commander thinking the name sounded appropriate. I had no idea just how appropriate it would be though! :rofl: Hmm...
VladAntlerkov - Yes, in game the Exarchates are actually kingdoms (Exarchate of Galicia is the Kingdom of Leon, Exarchate of Lusitania is Kingdom of Portugal, Exarchate of Baetica is Kingdom of Castille, Exarchate of Tarraconensis is Kingdom of Aragon). In game I had alliances with a few of them at all times, but the whole Hyperexarchate is something I've created in the AAR to explain the close relationship between these Greek Orthodox Spanish states and Constantinople. It will also explain some later events quite nicely...
vanin - I don't know if Acheron was in Conan, but I know it was the name of the French 44 gun frigate being chased by the HMS Surprise in Master and Commander...
Dimmimar - There was definitely going to be an Emperor named the "Ill-Advised." There was also a "the Mad," "the Beautiful/the Superb" and "the Conqueror" as well. I didn't give any names with those nicknames though...
Enewald - Acheron (and company) will definitely rule, provided young Thomas survives to rule, that is...
Ksim3000 - He's definitely got the early stages of the trait. I won't tell you when it becomes full blow (ie. the event shows up in game), but his young mind has certainly been traumatized and hurt.
Basil II - Nikolaios? Do you mean Heraklios, or little Thomas? And yes, Sophie definitely got the short end of the stick - serving the state faithfully for years only to get undercut and exiled. Sophie's story isn't done yet, though - she has several more parts in this play before she finally leaves the stage...
asd21593 - It's going to be a crazy time!
TC Pilot - :rofl: Hmmm... for the most part, that's a fair assessment. There are a few differences and exceptions though. And what'll really be interesting is to see how the two Andronikos' play out. I dropped a teaser about Andronikos II a while back, but I've said nothing about Andronikos I...
AlexanderPrimus - Christina was banking onf Anteminos, and now she has a hurt, frightened little boy...
kalenderee - Next update, more about Heraklios and Christina will be revealed.
The_Archduke - There's always the question of did she know or care. After all, she's quite busy - screwing her brother-in-law, plotting with her husband's cousins, allegedly acting as a spy for a foreign king - when does a girl have time to care about her children in that mess? :rofl:
Qorten - Indeed. Considering Constantinople's bloody reputation, there's a good chance he might not even make it that far. If he were to go, and his father die soon before or after, there would literally be an implosion. Alexios would have the best claim, but he's in Spain, and many cousins, brothers, nieces and nephews are far closer to Constantinople with claims of their own...
Fulcrumvale - The next update is a happy sing along filled with clowns, toys, and a happy ending beyond a cheerful rainbow! *birds chirping*
Okay, that was a lie. A horrible, bad, silly lie.
Nikolai - Thomas is still only eight... a bigger question is how will he deal with his fear? If he cowers in the corner through all his adult days, Romanion is in deep deep trouble...
I've got parts of the next update finished already. As this is officially my break from school, hopefully I'll be able to write faster, and the next update will be up perhaps Sunday or Monday...
Kirsch27 - Hey, welcome to the thread first of all! (I don't remember you posting earlier... though the story's become so long I could be confused
)In all actuality, I was completely unaware of the background behind the name Acheron. I actually borrowed it from Master and Commander thinking the name sounded appropriate. I had no idea just how appropriate it would be though! :rofl: Hmm...
VladAntlerkov - Yes, in game the Exarchates are actually kingdoms (Exarchate of Galicia is the Kingdom of Leon, Exarchate of Lusitania is Kingdom of Portugal, Exarchate of Baetica is Kingdom of Castille, Exarchate of Tarraconensis is Kingdom of Aragon). In game I had alliances with a few of them at all times, but the whole Hyperexarchate is something I've created in the AAR to explain the close relationship between these Greek Orthodox Spanish states and Constantinople. It will also explain some later events quite nicely...
vanin - I don't know if Acheron was in Conan, but I know it was the name of the French 44 gun frigate being chased by the HMS Surprise in Master and Commander...
Dimmimar - There was definitely going to be an Emperor named the "Ill-Advised." There was also a "the Mad," "the Beautiful/the Superb" and "the Conqueror" as well. I didn't give any names with those nicknames though...
Enewald - Acheron (and company) will definitely rule, provided young Thomas survives to rule, that is...
Ksim3000 - He's definitely got the early stages of the trait. I won't tell you when it becomes full blow (ie. the event shows up in game), but his young mind has certainly been traumatized and hurt.
Basil II - Nikolaios? Do you mean Heraklios, or little Thomas? And yes, Sophie definitely got the short end of the stick - serving the state faithfully for years only to get undercut and exiled. Sophie's story isn't done yet, though - she has several more parts in this play before she finally leaves the stage...
asd21593 - It's going to be a crazy time!
TC Pilot - :rofl: Hmmm... for the most part, that's a fair assessment. There are a few differences and exceptions though. And what'll really be interesting is to see how the two Andronikos' play out. I dropped a teaser about Andronikos II a while back, but I've said nothing about Andronikos I...
AlexanderPrimus - Christina was banking onf Anteminos, and now she has a hurt, frightened little boy...
kalenderee - Next update, more about Heraklios and Christina will be revealed.
The_Archduke - There's always the question of did she know or care. After all, she's quite busy - screwing her brother-in-law, plotting with her husband's cousins, allegedly acting as a spy for a foreign king - when does a girl have time to care about her children in that mess? :rofl:
Qorten - Indeed. Considering Constantinople's bloody reputation, there's a good chance he might not even make it that far. If he were to go, and his father die soon before or after, there would literally be an implosion. Alexios would have the best claim, but he's in Spain, and many cousins, brothers, nieces and nephews are far closer to Constantinople with claims of their own...
Fulcrumvale - The next update is a happy sing along filled with clowns, toys, and a happy ending beyond a cheerful rainbow! *birds chirping*
Okay, that was a lie. A horrible, bad, silly lie.
Nikolai - Thomas is still only eight... a bigger question is how will he deal with his fear? If he cowers in the corner through all his adult days, Romanion is in deep deep trouble...
I've got parts of the next update finished already. As this is officially my break from school, hopefully I'll be able to write faster, and the next update will be up perhaps Sunday or Monday...
I'm not so sure Thomas will become a frightened or cowardly adult as he gets older. Me thinks that he'll become quite a possibly brutal ruler like his father only with "Achaeron" as his only "friend" if you like. Afterall, he has "told" Thomas to do things such as lash out and set fires so it is entirely possible he could tell him to wipe out populations or invade certain countries.....
I am hoping he'll become the Emperor. It will certainly add a nice twist to the story.
Also, I do feel there is insanity with the Komnenid line anyway. Manual clearly was a sociopath of his own kind. Basil had his own mental dilema's going on such as all those "dreams" and "visions" he had. Thomas is clearly an insane brute. So Thomas II I feel won't fare any better.....
Well, looking forward to the next update as always.
I am hoping he'll become the Emperor. It will certainly add a nice twist to the story.
Also, I do feel there is insanity with the Komnenid line anyway. Manual clearly was a sociopath of his own kind. Basil had his own mental dilema's going on such as all those "dreams" and "visions" he had. Thomas is clearly an insane brute. So Thomas II I feel won't fare any better.....
Well, looking forward to the next update as always.
first catch up for a few weeks and this never fails to disappoint, also liked your recommendation of Furor Normannicus. I don't know why but your picture of the princes friend made me picture a flame elemental from baldurs gate, perhaps it was the picture mixed with the fire.
Are there any other threads you would recommend?
Are there any other threads you would recommend?
Once again I have saved reading "Rome AARisen" for last, and once again you do not disappoint, General_BT. The last chapter is not only well-written, it is also dramatic. So the heir to the purple is slain, and the culprits are known. I wonder what a cruel megalomaniac like Thomas is going to do about it. And also what will become of this second madman, or rather madboy. It seems that somebody has passed on his mental illness to his son...
Great stuff!
Great stuff!
Just read Thomas sacking of Rome. What an astonishing and shocking chapter!
So Thomas has turned to the dark side and has some pretty serious mental problems. His reign certainly isn't going to last long from now on. Gotta wonder what Mehtars reaction to Thomas is going to be after he returns from his western campaign. I eagerly wait to see the fallout of this cataclysmic event, both for orthodox and latin world. I also expect that Drogos plan to allow Thomas take Rome might backfire now, that he will certainly become seen at least as an indirect accomplishment of Thomas the Pope Slayer! Perhaps not immediatly, but word of things like these spreads fast, even during middle ages.
Also one note regarding Sophie, Heraklios, Christina and Alexei. I think Heraklios and Christina may have done grave mistake in turning against Sophie, without even realizing it. After all Sophie has so far kept the truth of Heraklios birth a secret, but after she returns to Constantinople one word (well sentence really) from her, and Heraklios status is deeply shaken. Thus Chistina has gotten herself between raving mad emperor and bastard co-emperor, not the most ideal situation for politically ambitious beauty as herself. Perhaps Romans won't consider half-Frank emperor so bad anymore.
Of course next chapter might turn everything around, but that's how things seem to be now.
So Thomas has turned to the dark side and has some pretty serious mental problems. His reign certainly isn't going to last long from now on. Gotta wonder what Mehtars reaction to Thomas is going to be after he returns from his western campaign. I eagerly wait to see the fallout of this cataclysmic event, both for orthodox and latin world. I also expect that Drogos plan to allow Thomas take Rome might backfire now, that he will certainly become seen at least as an indirect accomplishment of Thomas the Pope Slayer! Perhaps not immediatly, but word of things like these spreads fast, even during middle ages.
Also one note regarding Sophie, Heraklios, Christina and Alexei. I think Heraklios and Christina may have done grave mistake in turning against Sophie, without even realizing it. After all Sophie has so far kept the truth of Heraklios birth a secret, but after she returns to Constantinople one word (well sentence really) from her, and Heraklios status is deeply shaken. Thus Chistina has gotten herself between raving mad emperor and bastard co-emperor, not the most ideal situation for politically ambitious beauty as herself. Perhaps Romans won't consider half-Frank emperor so bad anymore.
Of course next chapter might turn everything around, but that's how things seem to be now.
In case anyone else here is interested in the fate of my AAR, like I already told you I lost the games save to technical problems, so it's continuation is sadly not possible. Tough time and circumstances permitting I intend to return to AAR writing at some point in future, tough perhaps not Byzantium as my next subject.General_BT said:Glad to hear you're back... you need to update your own Byzantine EU3 AAR!
I'll have replies up later, for now I want to get the update posted! Enjoy!
April 12th, 1199
“Who did it?” Thomas’ voice was low and menacing. Christina closed her weary eyes yet again. There were no more tears – they’d stopped long ago. The Imperial bedroom was silent, almost stifling, as if the air itself was in mourning over the tragedy.
It seemed only moments before she had sent her sons off to their favorite getaway, the Lainez villa, so she could focus on her next political move. It seemed only a few hours before that she’d been talking with the patriarch, asking him loaded spiritual questions as to what would happen should an Emperor be of bastard descent. It seemed only a short time ago she’d watched as her snares in the city kept closing around Mehtar, Thomas and Heraklios. Then, she’d been looking forward to Thomas banishing Mehtar for incompetence at the least, Thomas’ death, and the downfall of Heraklios, leaving her ruling with Anteminos.
And now, all those years of planning, plotting, were seemingly shattered with the death of her dear son and the maiming of another.
It’d been at least two days since the disastrous fire at the Lainez manor, yet to Christina, it still seemed as if the messenger had arrived only hours before telling her that her eldest son was dead, and her younger son only barely alive, both of his legs broken. Only moments after, she’d received first word from Mehtar’s people that they had caught some of the murderers – there was no other word to describe such men – and were questioning them. Then the news that they’d all came from Spain…
Christina closed her eyes, wanting the tears to come again. They wouldn’t.
“My agents, after interrogating the chief suspects, have come to the conclusion that the agents came from Spain, Majesty, and were operating on orders of Rodrigo Jimenez, Hyperexarch of all the Spains,” Mehtar said quietly.
“Rodrigo…” Thomas hissed quietly.
Christina blinked. She knew better.
There were assassins from Spain in Konstantinopolis, she had known that. She’d also known their target – they were supposed to assassinate Thomas’ cousin Demetrios, Prince of Kappadokia. She’d even known who was supposed to ‘arrange’ for the assassins to be successful, one of her elite agents within the city, an Italian named Guilio di Firenze. When Rodrigo’s agents had clambered into the city, rough spun and sticking out like a sore thumb, di Firenze hid them… for a fee, of course. He was charged with helping them plan the means of assassination, and Christina gave the man bribe money out of her own purse, and the names of guardsmen around Demetrios and, yes, Mehtar, that could be turned.
Information he had put to perfidious use.
The Lainez family villa after the disastrous fire. Gregor Lainez would eventually rebuild the villa, which remained a family home well into the 15th century.
“They said that they were assisted by a man named Guilio di Firenze,” Mehtar continued, “but we have been unable to apprehend the man as of yet.”
“Unable to app…un…?!” Thomas sputtered, before he grabbed a vase next to the Imperial bed and hurled it across the room. Christina, like Mehtar, winced. She knew where Guilio was – on her orders another agent had stolen him away from his house two nights ago. The night she should have been planning for Thomas’ return (an ordeal in and of itself), she instead was inside the dungeons of the palace, listening to a man she once trusted scream on the rack. Even now his body was likely feeding some fish in the Marmara.
“He has simply disappeared. His manservants said armed men came and took him in the night,” Mehtar hurriedly offered. “Thomas, believe me, I’m…”
“Failing incompetently!?!” the Emperor roared.
Christina bit her lower lip, as the Italian’s words came back to her. All those rambling words, incoherent accusations and claims. As Thomas roared and Mehtar tried to defend, it all suddenly came together, in a flash. It all made sense, after Guilio’s half bloody mutterings.
It was Drogo.
Guilio had worked for Drogo long before he came to Konstantinopolis, and had confessed to receiving instructions by courier that he was to lead the Spanish assassins to killing the crown princes, not the paltry Prince of a theme. If it just so happened that Mehtar Lainez could be bagged in the bargain, so much the better. Guilio had been the one who had advised the assassins to use Greek fire stolen from the naval yards, supplied them with jars of the mixture, and secured their access into the Lainez villa as painters, slated to refinish part of their chapel ceiling. It was only blind luck in the fires that resulted that young Thomas had gotten out with only a broken leg. As for Anteminos…
Why did Drogo betray her? He was supposed to help her! When she gained the Roman throne, she’d ensure that the Roman sword stayed far from the Western Med and Germany, letting Drogo rule. She’d even said she would cede any lands Thomas gained in Italy to the French King if he wished! Of course she’d planned to renege on those promises if convenient, but Drogo didn’t know that! Or did he? Christina closed her eyes, trying to focus her mind as a myriad of dark thoughts raced through her brain.
Of course he’d betray her. Drogo didn’t want a friendly helm at the head of Romanion, he wanted no one at the helm of the state! A prostrate Romanion was the only Romanion he wanted to see, and killing her heirs only helped with that, especially since he knew of all the plans she’d already been making with the Roman military. The next time Thomas went to war, it’d be to his doom. With no Thomas, and no heirs of Thomas, the throne would be split between an underage Alexios, educated in the Latin way and a relative of Drogo, versus the secretly bastard Heraklios – the recipe for a divisive fight that could last decades and cripple the Roman state. As Thomas’ voice arched dangerously higher and Mehtar grew increasingly defensive, Christina bit her lip even harder. How could she have been so naïve? So foolish as to trust the King of the Franks?
“You… love me?” Thomas’ voice had dropped to that whisper Christina knew all too well, a noise that instantly brought the Empress back to the present. She watched as her husband’s head cocked to the side. “If you loved me as a brother, why did you, my Megokyriomachos, my master of assassins,” Thomas hissed between clenched teeth, “let my son die at the hands of a foreign blade in your own house!” The last word was punctuated by Thomas roughly shoving Mehtar in the chest. The spymaster stumbled back a step, hands held up.
“I would have rather died than let that happen!” Mehtar protested.
“You would rather die? That could be arranged!” Thomas spat. Christina emptily looked at Mehtar – his eyes were shimmering with tears, wide with fear. She watched as Mehtar pleaded, and Thomas paced. It’d been the entire goal of her slow, steady plan. Years of work had gone into this moment, yet at the height of her success, she only dimly observed it all. She’d won this battle, at the cost of her eldest born…
“Well then fine!” Thomas snapped. “You’ve served me well in the past, but you’re clearly a blunt instrument! A useless tool! You’re banished to the Princes Islands for the time being, while I think of what to do with you!”
“Banished?” Mehtar was horrorstruck.
Mehtar was so stunned he could not speak
Christina blinked. Drogo had killed her son.
He would pay.
Immediately she snapped towards thoughts of vengeance, of how she could extract from a King in Paris all the pain he’d caused her the last three days. Her father Khor Nubt and her grandfather Romanos had always taught her to have a backup to your backup, a plan to fall on in case everything else went wrong. Failing that, they also said to have a snake close to every associate, every contact, to make them pay the price of betrayal.
So, Drogo wanted a snake then…
“You can’t banish me!” The scream from Mehtar had a tone of panic she’d never heard in the man’s voice, breaking her reverie of planning and bringing her back to the dark, somber present. “I love you Thomas! You and I are meant to be together!”
It was the crowning moment of her years of planning, plotting on how to drive a wedge between her husband and the man most capable of keeping him on the throne. She’d thought of how’d she’d react at this moment many times – would she cackle with laughter? Feign shock and surprise while secretly smiling? Absently, she realized she realized she had no expression on her face at all – no reaction whatsoever. Mehtar’s words seemed distant, inconsequential, even…
“Be together?” Thomas’ head cocked again, his voice arching up into a falsetto that made Christina’s ears hurt. Finally, after years of blindly looking past things, Thomas was seeing the truth. Part of Christina’s mind appreciated the irony – the rest was too focused on Drogo… Drogo…
“Yes Thomas…” Mehtar said quietly. “You and I…”
Christina looked back at her husband. Thomas’ breathing was heavy, his hands were clenching and unclenching. She saw the tell-tale tick, as the eyelid fluttered like some obscene butterfly. Despite the fact she knew all too well what was coming, the speed and power of Thomas’ swing caught even her by surprise.
Let alone Mehtar.
Thomas’ blow struck the Megokyriamachos underneath the jaw, and Christina plainly heard the loud click of Mehtar’s teeth chipping against each other. The tall, thin spymaster tumbled onto the ground, blood running from his mouth. For a moment, Thomas hung over the man he once called friend like some angry shadow, before the Emperor’s bright, flaring gaze flashed up, towards the guards standing in the doorway.
“Guards!” Thomas barked, a shout tinged with terror and fury, “Take him away! Confine him to Lesbos! Get this thing away from me!”
“Thomas?” Mehtar asked. His voice was trembling, until the guardsmen got their hands on him. Then, and only then, it seemed, did the Megokyriamachos understand. “Thomas?! Thomas?!” he cried. “Thomas, you can’t! No! You can’t! THOMAS?!”
The screams came to an abrupt end as the Emperor slammed the door behind the guardsmen. Christina shivered – Thomas’ eyes were still wide, the tick was still there. Their brown, beady forms swept around the room until they caught her in their sights. Slowly, menacingly, the Emperor started towards her. Instantly, all thoughts of vengeance and the French king left her mind, replaced with far more simple instincts – fight, or flight…
“And then there’s you…” Thomas hissed, his voice an icy whisper in the silent room.
Christina started to open her mouth, but not noise came out. What could she say? What could she defend herself from? Thomas was in a rage, he was mad, he could kill her…
“You hurt my living son…” Thomas rumbled, finally reaching his wife. Before she could even open her mouth, Thomas roughly grabbed her arms and shoved her towards the bed. She tumbled face down, landing on the bed with a thump. Roughly, Thomas twisted one arm till she was turned around, facing his blank, deadly face.
“I was trying to make him stronger!” Christina offered, before wincing as her husband’s grip on her wrist grew even tighter. She knew her voice sounded weak. “Thomas was afraid of the dark, afraid of people he didn’t know, afraid of anything! I wanted him to stand on his own…”
“You wanted him to stand on his own?” her husband growled, his eye twitching. He suddenly leaned close, and was only inches from her face. His free hand snaked around until its fingers lay dangerous close to her neck. “You let Father Simeon burn my son’s hand,” Thomas said in that quiet voice that made her shudder. She felt his harsh, foul breath on her face, and the slight touch of his fingertips on her neck. She dared not move, but she felt her body trembling in fear. A dark smile was on his face – he always enjoyed it when she was afraid.
“Father Simeon was recommended to me by the Patriarch as a learned man who could break Thomas of his fears!” Christina protested. “I…”
Suddenly, the Emperor’s smile disappeared, and those slight fingertips became a harsh vise around her neck. Christina squeaked out a gasp, before her husband cut her off. “I ought to throttle you for that!” Thomas hissed, leaning close, his spittle landing in her ear. “Putting Anteminos ahead of him like that!” The whisper was arcing upwards into a feral whine, like that of a frightened, rabid wolf ready to strike. “My father put my brother ahead of me like that!”
The Empress reached upwards with her fingers, desperately trying to break her husbands grip. It felt as if she was clawing at stone. Her heart was racing, her lungs burning for air.
“My father put David ahead of me! He loved David more than me! You will not treat my namesake the same! I should kill you! KILL YOU!”
As her lungs burned, as her nose was filled with foulness and heated breath, the distant part of Christina’s mind noted this was an ironic end. She knew better than to kick or flail – their wedding night she’d done that. He was far too strong, far too powerful, and it only made things more painful. She wanted to strike back, she wanted to kill the man. She’d waited, she’d plotted an ending so perfect she would be in complete control, but in this one moment, she longed for the strength to break his grip and kill him, strangle him with his own hands. That was what made her angry – her powerlessness in the face of his strength.
Just as she was feeling the welcoming blackness start to envelop her, Thomas’ fingers relaxed, and Christina coughed, gasping for air. “But you’re too useful. There will be war,” Thomas said, his voice now suddenly frighteningly calm. He spoke as if he was talking about the weather or a random garment. “It will be a war the likes Christendom has never seen, and my enemies will see divine judgment lashed out upon them. And to fight this war,” Thomas drew even closer to her, his breath on his neck, “I need more commanders. I need more heirs,” the Emperor said, biting her neck before pulling back. His eyes were wide, his breath was heavy. He was already unbuttoning his trousers, and rough hands started down her dress.
Christina closed her eyes – another round of pain and ignominity was ahead.
Drogo would pay.
Her husband would pay.
They all would pay.
Janina rolled to the side, arched her back, and smiled. Sweat drenched her body, and she turned and smiled at the man who caused it.
The Hyperexarch’s eyes were closed, a smile on his lips as well. It’d been no less enjoyable for him. Janina always took pride in her skills, after all, they’d gotten her this far.
When she’d first arrived in Cordoba six months past, to her future employers Janina seemed little more than an exceptionally good looking young woman with basic skills in maidservantwork, as well as book-keeping and minor herbals. However, she’d immediately caught the eye of the Hyperexarch, and for good reason – her healthy build, brown eyes and dark hair was exactly the thing that would draw his famous attention.
Her real masters wouldn’t have had it any other way.
Janina finished her stretching, then slowly clambered out of the bed. She started to lick her lips – they felt dry – but she stopped herself just in time. No, she couldn’t do that… not with the contact poison from dried lily roots, carine foot, and a host of other tinctures that had colored her lips a rosy red for tonight’s tryst. Mentally, she started counting – the number of times those lips had been pressed to Rodrigo’s, and the length of their endeavors, meant the poison would be well spread by now. Exertion always made poisons run faster, and the two had not exactly been quiet for the past half hour.
“Janina… that was wonderful,” she heard Rodrigo say breathlessly, as he always did. She made sure she was good at what she did – so good that, at least for the past month, she’d been the only one he took to his bed. She couldn’t have some young, innocent trollop of a milkmaid from the countryside inside the room on days she wasn’t here.
“Why thank you,” she made her face go red as if embarrassed by the compliment, and started putting her nightgown back on. Her mental clockwork arrived at its conclusion – the poison should be well at work by now. Normally, she wouldn’t tell her target what was to befall them, but she’d been waiting for this moment for a long, long time. It was not every day, after all, that one was able to take down the great Rodrigo Jimenez a man who had survived three reigns and the murderous rampages of the infamous Manuel himself.
“Too bad tonight will be the last time,” Janina said, quickly donning her clothes. She looked over at the Hyperexarch. He was looking at her, his eyebrow arched in a question. For just a moment, she saw his eyes narrow, and her heart skipped a beat. Had she fouled things up? Had he caught on to her, and found some reason…
“Why… whuh…” he started to say, before his voice began to slur. A look of alarm exploded across his face. There was a momentary pause, before he turned his head, eyes wide with fright, looking towards his arms.
She’d timed it just right. Her heart slowed back down, and she laughed in relief.
“It’s no use, Highness,” Janina said, choosing to keep using the formal title she’d cried out only a few minutes before. The irony was entertaining. “Your limbs are unable to move. Shortly all of your body will be immobile.”
Rodrigo opened his mouth, but only incoherent noises came out, mumbles, bobbling cries of some kind.
“I think I owe it to you to tell you who ordered this. I think you can guess,” she said, tying up her bodice. “Emperor Thomas did, some eight months ago. You’re slated to die. And not just you…your wife, your children… even your bastards,” Janina smiled. Yes, there was the look of shock and horror. The Emperor’s agents had long tracked the string of children Rodrigo had left across the Mediterranean, at first in case he needed to be blackmailed. Now, they would be systematically rooted out, to make sure that there were no claimants left to his dead throne. “You and your line will die, and the Hyperexarchate will die along with you…”
She watched as the man tried to open his mouth, but nothing came out, and her smile grew. “It burns now, Highness, oh I can imagine it burns. In a little bit, though, that feeling will die away, replaced with a numbness you will bless me for.” She turned, and walked towards one of the far dressers in the room, one which the Hyperexarch hardly ever used. She rummaged inside, and soon pulled out a small jar, about twice the size of her fist, the lid of which was sealed in wax. She turned back to her prey, and watched as Rodrigo’s eyes went wide.
He knew what it was. He knew all too well. After all, it was his agents who had tossed Greek fire all around the Lainez family villa…
Greek fire was often placed into clay jars such as this. During sieges, these jars could be tossed at opponents, spreading fire and mayhem.
“I could be vicious,” Janina cooed, “but my assignment wasn’t altogether unpleasant,” she said with a lascivious grin. “In return for your bedroom talents, I’ll wait till you are unconscious before tossing this above your bed. Everyone will assume that Rodrigo Jimenez, perhaps too excited by his lover’s exertions, knocked over a candle and perished in the flames…”
She watched as he tried to speak, but no sound came out. The poison was slowly breaking down his throat. Things couldn’t have gone more perfect. Jimenez was paralyzed, and her escape was only a doorway away. She sighed, and looked about the room. There was a part of her that would miss the fun she had in here – but that part was very small, and far outweighed by the part looking forward to the cash and dignities that lay ahead of her.
“You know, Highness,” Janina muttered, “You and your family are far more lucky than your dear Alexios, that witch Alienor or the Norman. Even now Thomas is amassing the legions of the East. Come next year, he’ll be making for Spain with an armada the likes of which Mediterranean has never seen. Thousands of ships, tens of thousands of men, all with the goal of watching every single disloyal Spaniard and Greek on the whole peninsula swing from a rope…”
More gurgles, and she sighed. The game wasn’t that much fun – Rodrigo couldn’t reply. Finally Janina turned back around. The Hyperexarch lay sprawled, half under the covers, his eyes rolled into the back of his head. His breathing was slow, ragged – it wouldn’t be long now, and Janina smiled. She’d keep her promise. She stepped back towards the door, and hurled the jar towards the bed.
As the jar arched towards his head, Rodrigo’s eyes suddenly flicked open, and his arm came up, hard. For a moment, the world seemed to move in slow motion, and Janina watched as the Hyperexarch’s fingertips slapped into the jar, and suddenly it was flying directly back at her. Instinct made her dodge to the side, and the jar sailed on and on…
…until it hit the door with a crash.
For a moment, Janina could see the shimmering, dark liquid exploding across the door, draining down the grain of the wood. She let out a sigh of relief, a sigh that was all too premature. A second after it landed, the volatile liquid began to smoke even as it flowed, and only moments after that, bright orange flames started licking the door, tendrils of flame crawling up the wood at a lightning rate.
Her eyes went wide. The flames roared upwards, now licking the underside of the ceiling, every timber their fingers grasped bursting into yet more flame. She flashed a look towards the window – it was barred shut, per the Hyperexarch’s instructions. Even if she could unlock the window before the room became a raging inferno, there was a good sixty feet to the courtyard below. The pit of her stomach seemingly sank to the soles of her feet.
“I missed…” a voice slurred above the crackle of the flames. She spun around to see the Hyperexarch sitting up, his body swaying drunkily as he pulled at his blankets, attempting to rise. “…but I won’t be dying alone…you’ll come with me…”
Janina cursed herself as the pall of smoke now blackening the ceiling started to lower, the roar of the fire drowning out the Hyperexarch’s voice. She was a fool! She was sure the poison would have taken effect, but Jimenez, like all students who had seen the life of Manuel Komnenos, had practiced building up a resistance to poisons. Of course the lily flower had worked slowly on him!
As she cursed her fate, the watched him mouth a few more words, as he started to rise from the bed. He stumbled one step forward, then his eyes rolled into the back of his head, and he tumbled to the floor. As the pall of choking, blast furnace smoke lowered around her, Janina had only a few moments to curse her own luck. Her poison would make sure Jimenez felt no pain. As the searing smoke and embers filled the air, she screamed as her lungs burned…
Thomas is now bent on war, and has banished the only capable person who truly was on his side. Meanwhile, Christina realizes she’s been duped by Drogo, and Rodrigo Jimenez meets a fiery demise. Will Mehtar stay on Lesbos? How will Christina get her revenge on Drogo? A civil war looms on the horizon, as Rome AARisen continues!
April 12th, 1199
“Who did it?” Thomas’ voice was low and menacing. Christina closed her weary eyes yet again. There were no more tears – they’d stopped long ago. The Imperial bedroom was silent, almost stifling, as if the air itself was in mourning over the tragedy.
It seemed only moments before she had sent her sons off to their favorite getaway, the Lainez villa, so she could focus on her next political move. It seemed only a few hours before that she’d been talking with the patriarch, asking him loaded spiritual questions as to what would happen should an Emperor be of bastard descent. It seemed only a short time ago she’d watched as her snares in the city kept closing around Mehtar, Thomas and Heraklios. Then, she’d been looking forward to Thomas banishing Mehtar for incompetence at the least, Thomas’ death, and the downfall of Heraklios, leaving her ruling with Anteminos.
And now, all those years of planning, plotting, were seemingly shattered with the death of her dear son and the maiming of another.
It’d been at least two days since the disastrous fire at the Lainez manor, yet to Christina, it still seemed as if the messenger had arrived only hours before telling her that her eldest son was dead, and her younger son only barely alive, both of his legs broken. Only moments after, she’d received first word from Mehtar’s people that they had caught some of the murderers – there was no other word to describe such men – and were questioning them. Then the news that they’d all came from Spain…
Christina closed her eyes, wanting the tears to come again. They wouldn’t.
“My agents, after interrogating the chief suspects, have come to the conclusion that the agents came from Spain, Majesty, and were operating on orders of Rodrigo Jimenez, Hyperexarch of all the Spains,” Mehtar said quietly.
“Rodrigo…” Thomas hissed quietly.
Christina blinked. She knew better.
There were assassins from Spain in Konstantinopolis, she had known that. She’d also known their target – they were supposed to assassinate Thomas’ cousin Demetrios, Prince of Kappadokia. She’d even known who was supposed to ‘arrange’ for the assassins to be successful, one of her elite agents within the city, an Italian named Guilio di Firenze. When Rodrigo’s agents had clambered into the city, rough spun and sticking out like a sore thumb, di Firenze hid them… for a fee, of course. He was charged with helping them plan the means of assassination, and Christina gave the man bribe money out of her own purse, and the names of guardsmen around Demetrios and, yes, Mehtar, that could be turned.
Information he had put to perfidious use.
The Lainez family villa after the disastrous fire. Gregor Lainez would eventually rebuild the villa, which remained a family home well into the 15th century.
“They said that they were assisted by a man named Guilio di Firenze,” Mehtar continued, “but we have been unable to apprehend the man as of yet.”
“Unable to app…un…?!” Thomas sputtered, before he grabbed a vase next to the Imperial bed and hurled it across the room. Christina, like Mehtar, winced. She knew where Guilio was – on her orders another agent had stolen him away from his house two nights ago. The night she should have been planning for Thomas’ return (an ordeal in and of itself), she instead was inside the dungeons of the palace, listening to a man she once trusted scream on the rack. Even now his body was likely feeding some fish in the Marmara.
“He has simply disappeared. His manservants said armed men came and took him in the night,” Mehtar hurriedly offered. “Thomas, believe me, I’m…”
“Failing incompetently!?!” the Emperor roared.
Christina bit her lower lip, as the Italian’s words came back to her. All those rambling words, incoherent accusations and claims. As Thomas roared and Mehtar tried to defend, it all suddenly came together, in a flash. It all made sense, after Guilio’s half bloody mutterings.
It was Drogo.
Guilio had worked for Drogo long before he came to Konstantinopolis, and had confessed to receiving instructions by courier that he was to lead the Spanish assassins to killing the crown princes, not the paltry Prince of a theme. If it just so happened that Mehtar Lainez could be bagged in the bargain, so much the better. Guilio had been the one who had advised the assassins to use Greek fire stolen from the naval yards, supplied them with jars of the mixture, and secured their access into the Lainez villa as painters, slated to refinish part of their chapel ceiling. It was only blind luck in the fires that resulted that young Thomas had gotten out with only a broken leg. As for Anteminos…
Why did Drogo betray her? He was supposed to help her! When she gained the Roman throne, she’d ensure that the Roman sword stayed far from the Western Med and Germany, letting Drogo rule. She’d even said she would cede any lands Thomas gained in Italy to the French King if he wished! Of course she’d planned to renege on those promises if convenient, but Drogo didn’t know that! Or did he? Christina closed her eyes, trying to focus her mind as a myriad of dark thoughts raced through her brain.
Of course he’d betray her. Drogo didn’t want a friendly helm at the head of Romanion, he wanted no one at the helm of the state! A prostrate Romanion was the only Romanion he wanted to see, and killing her heirs only helped with that, especially since he knew of all the plans she’d already been making with the Roman military. The next time Thomas went to war, it’d be to his doom. With no Thomas, and no heirs of Thomas, the throne would be split between an underage Alexios, educated in the Latin way and a relative of Drogo, versus the secretly bastard Heraklios – the recipe for a divisive fight that could last decades and cripple the Roman state. As Thomas’ voice arched dangerously higher and Mehtar grew increasingly defensive, Christina bit her lip even harder. How could she have been so naïve? So foolish as to trust the King of the Franks?
“You… love me?” Thomas’ voice had dropped to that whisper Christina knew all too well, a noise that instantly brought the Empress back to the present. She watched as her husband’s head cocked to the side. “If you loved me as a brother, why did you, my Megokyriomachos, my master of assassins,” Thomas hissed between clenched teeth, “let my son die at the hands of a foreign blade in your own house!” The last word was punctuated by Thomas roughly shoving Mehtar in the chest. The spymaster stumbled back a step, hands held up.
“I would have rather died than let that happen!” Mehtar protested.
“You would rather die? That could be arranged!” Thomas spat. Christina emptily looked at Mehtar – his eyes were shimmering with tears, wide with fear. She watched as Mehtar pleaded, and Thomas paced. It’d been the entire goal of her slow, steady plan. Years of work had gone into this moment, yet at the height of her success, she only dimly observed it all. She’d won this battle, at the cost of her eldest born…
“Well then fine!” Thomas snapped. “You’ve served me well in the past, but you’re clearly a blunt instrument! A useless tool! You’re banished to the Princes Islands for the time being, while I think of what to do with you!”
“Banished?” Mehtar was horrorstruck.
Mehtar was so stunned he could not speak
Christina blinked. Drogo had killed her son.
He would pay.
Immediately she snapped towards thoughts of vengeance, of how she could extract from a King in Paris all the pain he’d caused her the last three days. Her father Khor Nubt and her grandfather Romanos had always taught her to have a backup to your backup, a plan to fall on in case everything else went wrong. Failing that, they also said to have a snake close to every associate, every contact, to make them pay the price of betrayal.
So, Drogo wanted a snake then…
“You can’t banish me!” The scream from Mehtar had a tone of panic she’d never heard in the man’s voice, breaking her reverie of planning and bringing her back to the dark, somber present. “I love you Thomas! You and I are meant to be together!”
It was the crowning moment of her years of planning, plotting on how to drive a wedge between her husband and the man most capable of keeping him on the throne. She’d thought of how’d she’d react at this moment many times – would she cackle with laughter? Feign shock and surprise while secretly smiling? Absently, she realized she realized she had no expression on her face at all – no reaction whatsoever. Mehtar’s words seemed distant, inconsequential, even…
“Be together?” Thomas’ head cocked again, his voice arching up into a falsetto that made Christina’s ears hurt. Finally, after years of blindly looking past things, Thomas was seeing the truth. Part of Christina’s mind appreciated the irony – the rest was too focused on Drogo… Drogo…
“Yes Thomas…” Mehtar said quietly. “You and I…”
Christina looked back at her husband. Thomas’ breathing was heavy, his hands were clenching and unclenching. She saw the tell-tale tick, as the eyelid fluttered like some obscene butterfly. Despite the fact she knew all too well what was coming, the speed and power of Thomas’ swing caught even her by surprise.
Let alone Mehtar.
Thomas’ blow struck the Megokyriamachos underneath the jaw, and Christina plainly heard the loud click of Mehtar’s teeth chipping against each other. The tall, thin spymaster tumbled onto the ground, blood running from his mouth. For a moment, Thomas hung over the man he once called friend like some angry shadow, before the Emperor’s bright, flaring gaze flashed up, towards the guards standing in the doorway.
“Guards!” Thomas barked, a shout tinged with terror and fury, “Take him away! Confine him to Lesbos! Get this thing away from me!”
“Thomas?” Mehtar asked. His voice was trembling, until the guardsmen got their hands on him. Then, and only then, it seemed, did the Megokyriamachos understand. “Thomas?! Thomas?!” he cried. “Thomas, you can’t! No! You can’t! THOMAS?!”
The screams came to an abrupt end as the Emperor slammed the door behind the guardsmen. Christina shivered – Thomas’ eyes were still wide, the tick was still there. Their brown, beady forms swept around the room until they caught her in their sights. Slowly, menacingly, the Emperor started towards her. Instantly, all thoughts of vengeance and the French king left her mind, replaced with far more simple instincts – fight, or flight…
“And then there’s you…” Thomas hissed, his voice an icy whisper in the silent room.
Christina started to open her mouth, but not noise came out. What could she say? What could she defend herself from? Thomas was in a rage, he was mad, he could kill her…
“You hurt my living son…” Thomas rumbled, finally reaching his wife. Before she could even open her mouth, Thomas roughly grabbed her arms and shoved her towards the bed. She tumbled face down, landing on the bed with a thump. Roughly, Thomas twisted one arm till she was turned around, facing his blank, deadly face.
“I was trying to make him stronger!” Christina offered, before wincing as her husband’s grip on her wrist grew even tighter. She knew her voice sounded weak. “Thomas was afraid of the dark, afraid of people he didn’t know, afraid of anything! I wanted him to stand on his own…”
“You wanted him to stand on his own?” her husband growled, his eye twitching. He suddenly leaned close, and was only inches from her face. His free hand snaked around until its fingers lay dangerous close to her neck. “You let Father Simeon burn my son’s hand,” Thomas said in that quiet voice that made her shudder. She felt his harsh, foul breath on her face, and the slight touch of his fingertips on her neck. She dared not move, but she felt her body trembling in fear. A dark smile was on his face – he always enjoyed it when she was afraid.
“Father Simeon was recommended to me by the Patriarch as a learned man who could break Thomas of his fears!” Christina protested. “I…”
Suddenly, the Emperor’s smile disappeared, and those slight fingertips became a harsh vise around her neck. Christina squeaked out a gasp, before her husband cut her off. “I ought to throttle you for that!” Thomas hissed, leaning close, his spittle landing in her ear. “Putting Anteminos ahead of him like that!” The whisper was arcing upwards into a feral whine, like that of a frightened, rabid wolf ready to strike. “My father put my brother ahead of me like that!”
The Empress reached upwards with her fingers, desperately trying to break her husbands grip. It felt as if she was clawing at stone. Her heart was racing, her lungs burning for air.
“My father put David ahead of me! He loved David more than me! You will not treat my namesake the same! I should kill you! KILL YOU!”
As her lungs burned, as her nose was filled with foulness and heated breath, the distant part of Christina’s mind noted this was an ironic end. She knew better than to kick or flail – their wedding night she’d done that. He was far too strong, far too powerful, and it only made things more painful. She wanted to strike back, she wanted to kill the man. She’d waited, she’d plotted an ending so perfect she would be in complete control, but in this one moment, she longed for the strength to break his grip and kill him, strangle him with his own hands. That was what made her angry – her powerlessness in the face of his strength.
Just as she was feeling the welcoming blackness start to envelop her, Thomas’ fingers relaxed, and Christina coughed, gasping for air. “But you’re too useful. There will be war,” Thomas said, his voice now suddenly frighteningly calm. He spoke as if he was talking about the weather or a random garment. “It will be a war the likes Christendom has never seen, and my enemies will see divine judgment lashed out upon them. And to fight this war,” Thomas drew even closer to her, his breath on his neck, “I need more commanders. I need more heirs,” the Emperor said, biting her neck before pulling back. His eyes were wide, his breath was heavy. He was already unbuttoning his trousers, and rough hands started down her dress.
Christina closed her eyes – another round of pain and ignominity was ahead.
Drogo would pay.
Her husband would pay.
They all would pay.
==========*==========
December 12th, 1199
The Cordoba Palace of the Hyperexarch
December 12th, 1199
The Cordoba Palace of the Hyperexarch
Janina rolled to the side, arched her back, and smiled. Sweat drenched her body, and she turned and smiled at the man who caused it.
The Hyperexarch’s eyes were closed, a smile on his lips as well. It’d been no less enjoyable for him. Janina always took pride in her skills, after all, they’d gotten her this far.
When she’d first arrived in Cordoba six months past, to her future employers Janina seemed little more than an exceptionally good looking young woman with basic skills in maidservantwork, as well as book-keeping and minor herbals. However, she’d immediately caught the eye of the Hyperexarch, and for good reason – her healthy build, brown eyes and dark hair was exactly the thing that would draw his famous attention.
Her real masters wouldn’t have had it any other way.
Janina finished her stretching, then slowly clambered out of the bed. She started to lick her lips – they felt dry – but she stopped herself just in time. No, she couldn’t do that… not with the contact poison from dried lily roots, carine foot, and a host of other tinctures that had colored her lips a rosy red for tonight’s tryst. Mentally, she started counting – the number of times those lips had been pressed to Rodrigo’s, and the length of their endeavors, meant the poison would be well spread by now. Exertion always made poisons run faster, and the two had not exactly been quiet for the past half hour.
“Janina… that was wonderful,” she heard Rodrigo say breathlessly, as he always did. She made sure she was good at what she did – so good that, at least for the past month, she’d been the only one he took to his bed. She couldn’t have some young, innocent trollop of a milkmaid from the countryside inside the room on days she wasn’t here.
“Why thank you,” she made her face go red as if embarrassed by the compliment, and started putting her nightgown back on. Her mental clockwork arrived at its conclusion – the poison should be well at work by now. Normally, she wouldn’t tell her target what was to befall them, but she’d been waiting for this moment for a long, long time. It was not every day, after all, that one was able to take down the great Rodrigo Jimenez a man who had survived three reigns and the murderous rampages of the infamous Manuel himself.
“Too bad tonight will be the last time,” Janina said, quickly donning her clothes. She looked over at the Hyperexarch. He was looking at her, his eyebrow arched in a question. For just a moment, she saw his eyes narrow, and her heart skipped a beat. Had she fouled things up? Had he caught on to her, and found some reason…
“Why… whuh…” he started to say, before his voice began to slur. A look of alarm exploded across his face. There was a momentary pause, before he turned his head, eyes wide with fright, looking towards his arms.
She’d timed it just right. Her heart slowed back down, and she laughed in relief.
“It’s no use, Highness,” Janina said, choosing to keep using the formal title she’d cried out only a few minutes before. The irony was entertaining. “Your limbs are unable to move. Shortly all of your body will be immobile.”
Rodrigo opened his mouth, but only incoherent noises came out, mumbles, bobbling cries of some kind.
“I think I owe it to you to tell you who ordered this. I think you can guess,” she said, tying up her bodice. “Emperor Thomas did, some eight months ago. You’re slated to die. And not just you…your wife, your children… even your bastards,” Janina smiled. Yes, there was the look of shock and horror. The Emperor’s agents had long tracked the string of children Rodrigo had left across the Mediterranean, at first in case he needed to be blackmailed. Now, they would be systematically rooted out, to make sure that there were no claimants left to his dead throne. “You and your line will die, and the Hyperexarchate will die along with you…”
She watched as the man tried to open his mouth, but nothing came out, and her smile grew. “It burns now, Highness, oh I can imagine it burns. In a little bit, though, that feeling will die away, replaced with a numbness you will bless me for.” She turned, and walked towards one of the far dressers in the room, one which the Hyperexarch hardly ever used. She rummaged inside, and soon pulled out a small jar, about twice the size of her fist, the lid of which was sealed in wax. She turned back to her prey, and watched as Rodrigo’s eyes went wide.
He knew what it was. He knew all too well. After all, it was his agents who had tossed Greek fire all around the Lainez family villa…
Greek fire was often placed into clay jars such as this. During sieges, these jars could be tossed at opponents, spreading fire and mayhem.
“I could be vicious,” Janina cooed, “but my assignment wasn’t altogether unpleasant,” she said with a lascivious grin. “In return for your bedroom talents, I’ll wait till you are unconscious before tossing this above your bed. Everyone will assume that Rodrigo Jimenez, perhaps too excited by his lover’s exertions, knocked over a candle and perished in the flames…”
She watched as he tried to speak, but no sound came out. The poison was slowly breaking down his throat. Things couldn’t have gone more perfect. Jimenez was paralyzed, and her escape was only a doorway away. She sighed, and looked about the room. There was a part of her that would miss the fun she had in here – but that part was very small, and far outweighed by the part looking forward to the cash and dignities that lay ahead of her.
“You know, Highness,” Janina muttered, “You and your family are far more lucky than your dear Alexios, that witch Alienor or the Norman. Even now Thomas is amassing the legions of the East. Come next year, he’ll be making for Spain with an armada the likes of which Mediterranean has never seen. Thousands of ships, tens of thousands of men, all with the goal of watching every single disloyal Spaniard and Greek on the whole peninsula swing from a rope…”
More gurgles, and she sighed. The game wasn’t that much fun – Rodrigo couldn’t reply. Finally Janina turned back around. The Hyperexarch lay sprawled, half under the covers, his eyes rolled into the back of his head. His breathing was slow, ragged – it wouldn’t be long now, and Janina smiled. She’d keep her promise. She stepped back towards the door, and hurled the jar towards the bed.
As the jar arched towards his head, Rodrigo’s eyes suddenly flicked open, and his arm came up, hard. For a moment, the world seemed to move in slow motion, and Janina watched as the Hyperexarch’s fingertips slapped into the jar, and suddenly it was flying directly back at her. Instinct made her dodge to the side, and the jar sailed on and on…
…until it hit the door with a crash.
For a moment, Janina could see the shimmering, dark liquid exploding across the door, draining down the grain of the wood. She let out a sigh of relief, a sigh that was all too premature. A second after it landed, the volatile liquid began to smoke even as it flowed, and only moments after that, bright orange flames started licking the door, tendrils of flame crawling up the wood at a lightning rate.
Her eyes went wide. The flames roared upwards, now licking the underside of the ceiling, every timber their fingers grasped bursting into yet more flame. She flashed a look towards the window – it was barred shut, per the Hyperexarch’s instructions. Even if she could unlock the window before the room became a raging inferno, there was a good sixty feet to the courtyard below. The pit of her stomach seemingly sank to the soles of her feet.
“I missed…” a voice slurred above the crackle of the flames. She spun around to see the Hyperexarch sitting up, his body swaying drunkily as he pulled at his blankets, attempting to rise. “…but I won’t be dying alone…you’ll come with me…”
Janina cursed herself as the pall of smoke now blackening the ceiling started to lower, the roar of the fire drowning out the Hyperexarch’s voice. She was a fool! She was sure the poison would have taken effect, but Jimenez, like all students who had seen the life of Manuel Komnenos, had practiced building up a resistance to poisons. Of course the lily flower had worked slowly on him!
As she cursed her fate, the watched him mouth a few more words, as he started to rise from the bed. He stumbled one step forward, then his eyes rolled into the back of his head, and he tumbled to the floor. As the pall of choking, blast furnace smoke lowered around her, Janina had only a few moments to curse her own luck. Her poison would make sure Jimenez felt no pain. As the searing smoke and embers filled the air, she screamed as her lungs burned…
==========*==========
Fire consumes the Cordoba Palace on the night of December 12th, 1199
Fire consumes the Cordoba Palace on the night of December 12th, 1199
Thomas is now bent on war, and has banished the only capable person who truly was on his side. Meanwhile, Christina realizes she’s been duped by Drogo, and Rodrigo Jimenez meets a fiery demise. Will Mehtar stay on Lesbos? How will Christina get her revenge on Drogo? A civil war looms on the horizon, as Rome AARisen continues!
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I want to count how many people have been assassinated in the last ten updates. Something tells me it'll be in the area of ten.
Very Byzantine of you.
Very Byzantine of you.
Colossal.
Truly, monumentally, colossal.
Mehtar is banished! We've all been waiting for this moment for so long, and now, after all the evil he's done, I actually pity Mehtar. He's an evil genius, but he is a fool when it comes to his own emotions, which he cannot manage to bridle.
Rodrigo is dead! We've known him for so long -- an era is truly ending. And yet, the manner of his death seems appropriate for his characteristic brilliance... and his profligacy. Slain by his own lover, yet despite it all he manages to bring her down with him.
What a truly epic update, if ever there was one! This AAR is my favorite CK AAR ever! I want to read more!
Too bad I have to wait until you write more.
Truly, monumentally, colossal.
Mehtar is banished! We've all been waiting for this moment for so long, and now, after all the evil he's done, I actually pity Mehtar. He's an evil genius, but he is a fool when it comes to his own emotions, which he cannot manage to bridle.
Rodrigo is dead! We've known him for so long -- an era is truly ending. And yet, the manner of his death seems appropriate for his characteristic brilliance... and his profligacy. Slain by his own lover, yet despite it all he manages to bring her down with him.
What a truly epic update, if ever there was one! This AAR is my favorite CK AAR ever! I want to read more!
Too bad I have to wait until you write more.
Amazing once again! You really master the changing of scenery very well. First we're in the Imperial Palace under a dark cloud of anger and fear while in the next paragraph everything is going fine and dandy.. until the poison sets in.
And I feel somewhat sorry for Methar and I especially do not want to be in Drogo's shoes when the queen exacts her revenge.
And I feel somewhat sorry for Methar and I especially do not want to be in Drogo's shoes when the queen exacts her revenge.
Nice try General_BT, but I won't be satisfied until Mehtar is dead, dead, dead...
So Christina has been planning on cutting Heraklios out of the line of succession all along. It makes perfect sense. After she got rid of Thomas, she could be the sole ruler of Romanion (as regent for her son of course). It will be interesting to see what she has in store for Drogo
And furthermore, Mehtar delenda est.
So Christina has been planning on cutting Heraklios out of the line of succession all along. It makes perfect sense. After she got rid of Thomas, she could be the sole ruler of Romanion (as regent for her son of course). It will be interesting to see what she has in store for Drogo
And furthermore, Mehtar delenda est.
I dig the intense death scene of Rodrigo. Great descriptions, great banter. Great irony.
Heck, I want to offer a bit of a more detailed critique, so here's an edit: I really like the fluidity of the banter between the assassinatrix and Rodrigo. You're cheating in some ways, borrowing as you are so many femme fatale tropes, but it's honorable cheating, and you translate the sceme from the little death to the big death in a remarkable way. Death by Greek Fire is just showing off in terms of the irony you're piling on. I am delighted by the way Rodrigo and his killer both are consumed by fire, but he escapes without any pain while she suffers. In that sense, the scene hints at their respective afterlives. I love it. I don't really follow your AAR - nothin' personal, Byzantine AARs just aren't my thing - but that entire scene is one of the coolest things I've read on these forums. I had to read it again just so I could cram more awesome into my head. I don't know how how much of that came together by intent and how much came together by an accidental coinciding of your writing with my perceptions, but it's a unique piece of art that stands out sharply. I'm impressed.
Heck, I want to offer a bit of a more detailed critique, so here's an edit: I really like the fluidity of the banter between the assassinatrix and Rodrigo. You're cheating in some ways, borrowing as you are so many femme fatale tropes, but it's honorable cheating, and you translate the sceme from the little death to the big death in a remarkable way. Death by Greek Fire is just showing off in terms of the irony you're piling on.
I am delighted by the way Rodrigo and his killer both are consumed by fire, but he escapes without any pain while she suffers. In that sense, the scene hints at their respective afterlives. I love it. I don't really follow your AAR - nothin' personal, Byzantine AARs just aren't my thing - but that entire scene is one of the coolest things I've read on these forums. I had to read it again just so I could cram more awesome into my head. I don't know how how much of that came together by intent and how much came together by an accidental coinciding of your writing with my perceptions, but it's a unique piece of art that stands out sharply. I'm impressed.
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Wow. Amazingly bad.AlexanderPrimus said:Sounds like you've been watching this! Especially between 2:00 and 3:30.
This series of updates has been like watching the empire start to slowly spin faster and faster towards catastrophe…and I think that we just crossed the point of no return before everything flies out of control.
Vale , Rodrigo . My dear beautiful boy -- may he rest in peace . A troubled and conflicted and strange man . That's why I love him . Great update !
Well that's a lot of dead people in two updates time. I love what you did to Janina btw, so lovely evil...
Whooo! What a chain of events. Rodrigo dead. Thomas complaining about how his father neglected him. (He did not!! Thomas is just a jealous asshole!! David would have made for a much better Basileos!! ) Conspiracies. Well, the best die young... now let's see what mess the Empire will stumble into next.
) Conspiracies. Well, the best die young... now let's see what mess the Empire will stumble into next.