Royal Court of Bohemia

[unmerged(18481)]

Onto His Royal Majesty Ladislaus von Wittelsbach-Luxemburg, by the Grace of God King of Bohemia and Hungary, Margrave of Moravia, Duke of Styria, Duke of Lusatia, Duke of Silesia, Prince-Elector of the Holy Roman Empire, Grandmaster of the Knights of the Cross of the Red Star, Arch-Cupbearer of the Empire, Arch-Hunter of the Empire.


By Christ’s wounds, man, it seems you are really yearning to sleep with Our cousin. Or, oh, maybe you would call it love? All right, let it be, but then why on earth should We help you in getting what We were denied? Why on earth should We grant you Our forgiveness, this way clearing your way toward Our cousin’s bed while your men killed someone We loved?

And, man, you take Us a fool. You are speaking about Heinrich and Canossa, saying you would do the same for Us --- now We may be a fool, but We do know that Emperor Heinrich later broke each and every promises he made to the Vicar of Christ, later even making His Holiness flee the Eternal City. Heinrich was insincere. Now We cannot decide, either you wanted to let Us know that your awowing of misdeeds would be insincere (that We already know), either you wanted to ridicule Us, or maybe you yourself were the fool? We cannot decide.

Furthermore, you seem to misss the point. Your vice against Us was warring against Our husband, killing him. By Christ, your agents dared to say even that he, Anton, was the criminal! Yet again: We regard you either untalented, unfit to rule, as you were unable to constrain your direct vassal to obedience; in the other, more likely case, We regard you Our enemy, because you ordered your vassal to kill Our husband. Either way, you are the one most guilty in murdering Anton von Savoy, and this we cannot forgive you. There were three men able to prevent my husband’s death and Our following misery: one was too naive, one was not interested, the third was you.

But either way: We are tired of this all. We are tired of you, of the miseries We lived through and cannot forget, We are tired of your ceaseless molestation, your lies, your barely-hidden mockery. And now We do not even want anything. Neither reparations, neither justice. We are tired. We were sorely tried and now We are broken. You may be proud of yourself.

This upcoming marriage does not have Our blessing - not that it would make any difference, as We can do nothing but curse the day when you will be able to call Us your in-law sister, and your victim your in-law brother. Sometimes We fancy We will kill ourselves on that day.

But do whatever you wish. Do whatever pleases you. Endure the assuredly hard punishments your uncle and Our dying, naive, benevolent father imposed on you. Do whatever you wish, mock Us, ridicule Us, go on. There is no justice on the Earth. And We have no business with you.


Written by her own hand in Nürnberg,

Anna Gryphon​

 

[Petrarca]

von Wallenstein nodded, careful to pick up the bits of information dropped by the Hungarian. Entertaining the fellow was a necessary duty of his job and as well a prerequisite to learning more about the situation in Hungary. It was intriguing, of course, but beyond satisfying his own intellectual curiosity von Wallenstein was eager to use such knowledge to further his own ambition. Being the resident expert on the other half of the Dual Monarchy would only solidify his status as Lord Chancellor and caretaker in Ladislav’s absence. Hearing about Garai not only informed him of the situation but lent him an eye as well onto the tactics of his counterpart. “Planned trip? Of course. It is required,” he responded to Gyimesi with a proud tone of someone intimate to privileged knowledge. “But please, go on.”

As the encounter wound to a close, von Wallenstein ordered the stewards to find appropriately comfortable quarters for such a valued emissary. Close to the hall where court was held, and luxurious enough to denote the esteem Bohemia’s officials held for their Hungarian opposites.

***​

Praha was familiar to him, and from the hill outside the city where they paused he could gaze upon his capital while the wind blew harshly into his face. He cared little about the weather. Before him was his cherished kingdom and at his side was his beloved. As the wind whipped past, forcing him to squint and the coachmen to squirm, he only smiled. He was once more ensconced in his realm, and this time there was the arresting woman who quietly understood him. As the rain began to fall with a soft pitter-patter that belied the wind’s intensity or the darkness of the gathering storm, he escorted her back to the royal carriage while servants and courtiers scurried about like ants from a stirred nest. Completely at ease, he leaned back with an arm around her.

***​

The discussion in the court was distinctly muted, even though the number of people assembled was far greater. The months of Jan von Wallenstein overseeing domestic affairs had come to an end, and now a younger man oversaw the court. Ladislav, Lord of the Kingdom of Bohemia, sat at the head of the hall in Hradcany, known to the Germans as Prag Castle, while lords, burghers, and petitioners filled the hall. There was much business to attend. The Estates had been assembled at the King’s request earlier, and they anticipated some new measure or proposal from him. The Rozmberks, staunch loyalists, had wavered slightly after the forcible donation of part of their vast estates to the Crown, and that gap needed to be closed as did the usual division between the powerful Magnates and the impoverished Knights. The burghers had profited much from trade in recent years and doubtlessly had issue with taxation or plans for more mercantile schemes that required official attention. The religious situation was more delicate than ever. A significant portion of the country felt ties to Hussitism—certainly less than if the Czechs had ever won a victory or kept their military campaign afloat, but still a minority that could erupt at any moment. At the other end Germans of all classes looked at the issue with a mixture of fear and arrogance, and they too needed reassurance and comfort that the monarchy was in control. von Wallenstein too was a subject of concern, for Ladislav needed an accounting of his actions, particularly the spending of the enormous largesse courtesy of the Rozmberk family.

Before these various issues of questionable importance to the kingdom, though, was the question of whether Ladislav still ruled as King. For this, János Gyimesi was welcomed in to the court and officially introduced as all eyes turned to him and Ladislav.

“It is pleasant to once again see representatives of law and order in Hungary,” Ladislav said in Magyar. The vast majority of the court looked on uncomprehendingly, unable to understand the language but attempting to decipher the impending exchange between the ambassador and the unruffled king. “We joyfully look forward to the return of peace and prosperity as well as our travel to Buda. The Lord Chancellor mentioned that you spoke of Hungary being once more prepared to serve as the shield of Christendom. Let it be known that Hungary will not stand alone in that duty.”

 

[Petrarca]

The first message from Frederick only reached Ladislav after he arrived in Praha. The original had been sent to Rome, and before it had come Ladislav and his train had already left to return to Bohemia. Cardinal von Ehrlichman repeated the gist of the note from the Count Palatine, in which Frederick had asked for the presence of the Prince Electors in Nuremberg.

That request was dead now. The Emperor himself was dead now. In the upcoming weeks, the Kurfursten would gather in Frankfurt am Main to elect a suitable successor—but that event was furthest from Ladislav’s mind at the moment. Joachim had slipped away quietly in Nuremberg, the Janus-like figure who had done so much for Ladislav and Bohemia but who reviled Ladislav’s allies such as Ugo and even kin such as Frederick. The very independence of Bohemia was caused by the acts of that one man, not to mention the heights ascended in recent history with the resurrection of Ottokar’s demesne, the dream of ruling Austria from Praha once more realized. The sternness of Joachim was a familiar side as well. Inner Austria was gone because of Emperor’s censure; Joachim had been both harsh and just there just as he was in everything save Pommern’s own affairs. Ladislav’s mind was not consumed in the recollection of the innumerable affairs of politics, however. His thoughts drifted towards Maria-Katarina, the soft beauty whose hand was free for him to marry. Everything had been done, from courting her to gaining Joachim’s permission to marry his daughter.

Sluggishness on the part of the House of Greif, and then Joachim’s own illness, had prevented that union from being consummated. Ladislav could only close his eyes and sigh at what could have been. Had they wed, or were there even opportunity for him to speak with Joachim before the latter’s passing, perhaps things could have been different. He was still ready, but it had been over a year since he had heard from her or even any of Pommern. Joachim had bestrode the Empire like a colossus— the benefits of a classical education, he mused—and if the Germanies were stunned into inaction by the loss of their leader, then certainly Pommern and the Greif House would be even more paralyzed after the death of the patriarch who had guided their fortunes for decades. God, he pined for her, but it was unlikely he would see sweet Maria-Katarina soon. He felt like crying out in despair to the heavens, but it would be wrong after God had given him so much. From Bohemia to lovely Anezka, he thought. The thought of his good fortune at his birthrights was little consolation for the moment, but he turned his thoughts from the gulf that separated him and Maria-Katarina, considering instead the beautiful baker’s daughter who had the same quiet charm as the princess. Content, he consented to speak privately with the Cardinal.

The prelate had served politically as a staunch defender of Catholicism and the monarchy for decades, standing for royal prerogative while the nobles attempted to run roughshod during Ladislav’s infancy. Yet he had never held secular offices such as Lord Chancellor or Chamberlain, retreating from the court as Ladislav matured and only offering counsel when asked or a discrete word when the situation required it. Now was apparently one of those times. “Your Majesty faces a difficult predicament. With Joachim in God’s care now, our northern friends are in disarray,” von Ehrlichman began.

Ladislav nodded slowly. “And the hopes for a union are greatly soured,” he said succinctly.

“I know how highly you thought of the Pommeranian princess. But now it is doubtful that you can still wed her, and there is the future to consider,” Cardinal Dietrich said, his voice dropping to a whisper. Ladislav looked at him. Clearly both realized the situation and the potential crisis. After Ladislav, there were no more Luxemburgs. If he died without heir, perhaps his sisters would be forced to marry a local candidate—Oldrich Rozmberk or Jiri Podiebrad—who would get the support of the Estates. Or another Wittelsbach. Or just pure chaos. Joachim’s death only reinforced the fear of mortality.

von Ehrlichman’s tone went even quieter. “Agnes Bernauer gave birth to a male child.”

Both men looked at each other for a moment.

“I had the child baptized as Otto. His parents…”

The Cardinal could see the realization on Ladislav’s face, and he went on. “Bishop von Dohna and I were prepared to testify to the validity of vows taken in secret. Now that Your Majesty cannot marry the princess, perhaps the daughter of an Augsburg baker might make a suitable wife instead.”

On that idea that would shatter all customs and precedent, Ladislav departed for Frankfurt, his closest advisers traveling with him, including the Cardinal Archbishop of Praha for spiritual guidance.

 

[cccino]

In Klagenfurt

Finally Ulrich had the opportunity to bring his meetings with Rothenburg to a conclusion. They spoke of politics, to the fighting man's discomfort, and of war, to his delight. There was little more than could be done in Klagenfurt, and Ulrich said so.

"We have relied on as many words as is useful for now, of course, but preparations must be made to act swiftly, for when the opportunity arises - be it God or the Devil who opens the door. We are destined to change the balance of power in Hungary; to take it away from the nobility in general and grant it to the King... and specifically a select few loyalists such as ourselves."

Cilli was loathe to admit his attentions in Austria and Croatia had weakened his political clout in the Hungarian diet, and skirted around the issue.

"If Garai has made moves to establish himself foremost of the barons Ladislav's cause may be all the easier to achieve - or perhaps all the more difficult. His father, and his brother may have been strong allies to my father, but Laszlo is... uncertain." The admission was difficult. "Family loyalties may be lost on him. Recent reports suggest he believes he behaves 'cautiously', but in reality he flirts with danger. Blood and history are not to be so carelessly thrown aside without consequences. He may well choose to curry favour with the nobles, but in doing so he threatens to upset the Barons."

 

[Petrarca]

Kutna Hora​

Vlassky Dvur (The Royal Italian Court)​

The persistent sound of tink-tink-tink was the first thing Claus noticed when he entered. A smith sat bent over his table, tapping repeatedly with a tiny hammer—maybe it was a chisel—at the metal shape he peered at. What eyes the must have, to notice the detail he was making. Claus could squint and still not tell if the man’s work had produced any effect at all. God, it must be sublime. He wondered whether something was still beautiful if you could not see its beauty. As he continued to watch the old smith squint as his material from different angles, he thought about the question. What if the man was stricken with blindness? What if he fell from his chair after too much beer and died, leaving a work of his hidden away, unknown, in a chest somewhere with his children’s swaddling clothes? If someone found it, then it was beautiful again. But it made no sense for beauty to flicker on and off with the attention of man. Then it was still beautiful no matter what. A thing’s beauty was intrinsic, even though man might forget it or even deem it worthless. A tone deaf man might deem the cathedral organ a mere annoyance despite the beauty others heard in its sound. In the end, God would know. Having reached a satisfactory answer, he continued to look at the smith at work, fascinated at the level of detail in the other craftsman’s labor. It was impossible for Claus himself to do as this man was doing, shaping his work but then continually going over it, perfecting it, adding an unheard-of amount of fine, precise, ornate detail. This smith’s art was one of attentiveness and reflection. Claus’s version of persistence wasn’t working with the same object for days or weeks or even months on end, as this artisan of metal surely had to do. He could try over and over again, making object after object in trying to get the perfect piece, but for each one he had only a few precious, critical moments before both his ardor and his material cooled. His temperament matched his art.

He was still staring intently at the smith, who in turn looked only at his work, examining it with eyes trained over the decades but also tired from those same long years. Claus suddenly realized why the room had such large windows that allowed the light to stream through like a river illuminating the table and the smith’s work. They had practiced their craft here for over a century, making dies and sculpting metal. The craftsman judged things Claus couldn’t even see and pulled out his tiny tools to hammer at it once more. A hand on his shoulder shook Claus from his concentration as he turned to see who was behind him. The smith, however, noticed none of this, not even Claus’s presence, and continued.

“Manfredo!” he said, clasping enthusiastically the hand that a second ago had been on his shoulder, “it is good to see you. I can’t believe some of the things you are able to create here”

The other man, apparently Manfredo, smiled placidly. “Yes, some of this is more art than work. I’m happy to see you were able to come, my friend, but I need to ask a favor of you while you’re here.”

“Ah!” he gasped, “have I been too loud? I don’t mean to distract your fellow smiths from their work. I find what some of them are doing is absolutely fascinating.”

“Oh no, it’s not that,” Manfredo responded, dismissing the concern with a flippant wave of his hand. “Old Gianfrancesco there is barely able to hear his wife shouting at him, let alone be distracted by us talking. A blessing, I think, more than a curse.” He grinned broadly. “Still, come, we’ll lunch with my family.”

Claus smiled at his friend’s joke. “Is he able to see what he’s doing? I can’t even notice if his hammer is leaving any impression,” he said in a hushed tone.

“His ears may be old but Gianfrancesco’s eyes are like that of a hawk,” Manfredo said, assuming the position of a raptor coming down to grab an unsuspecting prey with its claws. “I can introduce you to him later. But come, my wife has the food almost done.”

“Of course,” he responded. His strides were both quicker and longer than Manfredo’s, and he beat his host to the kitched.

“My darling wife, Caterina,” Manfredo said in his graceful introduction. She murmured a greeting in Italian before returning to the food.

“Ah, Manfredo, how long has it been? How has life treated you?” Claus asked. His wife was certainly charming, though a quiet woman apparently. Regardless, Claus could barely contain his joy at having a meal with an old friend once more.

“Oh, things have been quiet. Just the way I like them, mind you.” Manfredo’s calm was a contrast to Claus’s hurried exuberance. “And Plzen? What is it like now?”

“At times miserable, at other times fantastic! I can’t tell you how beautiful it is to go out looking for the right type of wood personally, with the only sounds being the choir of insects and the waving of the trees in the wind. Fantastic, really. You could run for miles or shout at the top of your lungs and see and hear nothing besides that. When the wind blows you can really feel alive out there, especially as we saw. Just a few hard strokes and we have our prize. The feeling alone is worth the labor.”

“Well, that does sound wonderfully tranquil. I can’t imagine what it must be like just to lay there in the forest without a care,” Manfredo said as he grazed on the pasta.

“Yes, that would probably be fun too,” Claus commented, somewhat irritated at what he saw as the laziness of the comment.

As they finished, Manfredo reached over to slap Claus on the back. “Now I need the favor from you,” he said. Claus followed him as Manfredo went back to the first room.

“They sent us them because we speak Italian. But we speak the Florentine dialect, not the grunts and yelps they pass off as language. I can’t even read what they write, it’s so different. Frankly I don’t know what to do them, and neither does anyone else here. They have no skill in die making or metalworking, so they have no place here. Vlassky Dvur—” he used the Czech name for the Italian Court— “is a mint. We make coins here, and our smiths often find other ways to use their skills. Take Gianfrancesco. He’s crafting an orb out of gold. It’s going to be used at the King’s coronation, and the Lord Chancellor paid handsomely for us to craft it.” Looking around the workshop, he commented, “Looks like the old man left for the day. But look at his work! It’s exquisite once you examine it,” he said as he lifted it up. Other craftsmen and two guards looked up as Manfredo exhibited the work, wary of anything untoward happening with a large commission made from precious gold.

Manfredo set it back in its case, reassuring the silent watchers across the room, and led Claus through a maze of hallways towards another chamber. From the doorway, he could see a large group of men milling about rather aimlessly or slumped against the walls. “The captains ordered these particular men and their families to be sent to Bohemia for a good reason. They are from Murano—” he was saying when Claus’s gasp cut him off.

“The isle of glass!? The dab of land where the Venetians practically imprisoned their glassmakers, afraid that their secrets might escape?”

“My brother was with the columns there. Like you know, the Bohemians didn’t leave a stone standing atop another on that island. What they couldn’t tear down, they burned, and those they couldn’t exile, they killed.” Manfredo paused for emphasis. “They sent us the craftsmen from Murano. I can’t understand their language, but maybe you can understand their work.”

Claus Josef Riedel, citizen of Pilsen and master of the glassblower’s guild, gaped. He instantly agreed to take the group of Venetian glassblowers to his city. With the destruction of Venice, the only site of glassblowing in Europe was the Sudeten. He choked up at the thought of what he would be able achieve with the most skilled craftsmen in the world working with him. They knew everything about the art of blowing glass, from the optimal temperature and shape of furnaces to the delicate touch that shaped each molten blob into works more valued than gold. “Mein gott, it’s so beautiful,” he said. “These men that carry with them the treasured secrets of their craft… Manfredo, thank you so very much. I am forever in your debt.”

 

[von Streusser]

Word traveled quickly back to the various courts of central Europe that the meeting of the Danube Trade Syndicate in Moldavia had begun.

 

[BusterBunny]

Somewhere in Bohemia, on the way to Pragues

The days where Frederick could ride on his own horse from one city to the other were long gone now, it seemed. A dozen soldiers, gards of high rank, were now accompanying the Emperor everywhere, and Frederick had to get used to the idea. It seemed the new role he had was much larger than himself as he realised there were things where that he simply couldn't control anymore. Each and every day, paid with the usual taxes of the Empire, servants, gards and advisors were busy around Frederick. Perhaps the late Emperor Joachim liked the idea of being surrounded by all these people, but Frederick found no recomfort in knowing that he simply couldn't be left alone for two minutes anymore.

Frederick had never been the kind of man who needed to be alone for a long while. He was a social person, and had actually taken a certain interest in politics, with the help of Éléanore. It wasn't his favorite subject, but he had a good grasp on the different issues of the Empire and beyond. He left, however, most decisions to either Éléanore or von Dassel. But with all these advisors and servants now, politics was getting tiresome, and Frederick felt for the first time to really be alone. And so, he had decided to travel in his own coach, to Bohemia, the large lands of his cousin.

Slouching in his coach, he looked outside. Somewhere, southward, were lands strange to him. Austria, of what was left of it, were managed by his assistants. He drove good revenues from the Lords of Vienna, and he had even raised a few garisons there. And yet, these lands seemed strange to him, alien in a way.Taking a deep breath, he turned around, and could see the other members of the delegation riding in similar coaches. Frederick wasn't sure how many of the kids Éléanore had brought with her this time around. He didn't think it was necessary, but Éléanore had said that she thought "The sight of young kids, full of energy, might convince Ladislav to have some kids of his own". Somehow, the idea of Ladislav having kids seemed funny to Frederick. "How would he court a lady anyhow? Make her weary with stories of no interest until she falls asleep, and then abuse her?" Frederick faked being offended by these words at the time, but actually found the allusion quite funny, partly because Ladislav was indeed a little boring on the side, but also because Éléanore was quite the contrary, as most french women.

Ladislav was still the key to Frederick's ascension to the role of Emperor. And through him would probably come control of a good part of the Empire. The Dual Monarch was one of the few men who weren't affraid of the Emperor. How could Frederick manage the Empire without him? He didn't know. In the end, he needed to be given a role that would allow him to get more prestige... but which one. Again, the idea of circles came back. Surely, the King of Bohemia was one of the rare men who could levy an army large enough for that task.

But also, Ladislav was a man of peace, and perhaps other duties would be interesting to him.

It was with these thoughts that the coach and the delegation made its way to Pragues, to the large mansions of the King.

 

[unmerged(34029)]

A letter arrives from Barcelona, addressed to the Holy Roman Emperor, and to the Princes of the Empire. One copy arrives in the Diet, and the most powerful of the Imperial Princes recieve a copy.

"Unto His Most Holy and Apostolic Majesty, Frederick, Emperor-Elect, King of the Romans, of Germany and of Italy, Elector of the Holy Roman Empire, Archduke of Austria, Count-Palatine of the Rhine, And Prince of Many other Lands Besides, and Unto the Princes of the Holy Roman Empire,

Troubling times are at hand for the Cause of Christ. The Kingdom of Aragon, prostrated by a Usurper that illegally and unlawfully seized power in the Kingdom, interested more in partaking of the harlots of Barcelona than of bathing his sword in the blood of Muselmen. However, those sad and hateful times have finally drawn to a close, and the true heir to the Kingdoms of Aragon, Valencia, and Mallorca, Myself, has been Legally and Lawfully, by the Laws of the Kingdoms, Crowned. Now, I have taken the Cross, and fully intend to begin a new Reconquistada, Reconquest, of the lands seized by the Muselman during the sloth of Constantine the Usurper.

Your Majesty, Princes of the Empire, I remind you of your Christian Duty, to uphold the Cause of Christ and the end the threat of the Mohametan from Christian lands, now, and forevermore. When the Mohametan threated the City of Venice, your Fathers, and quite a few of your Distinguished number took the Cross, and entirely expelled the Turk and Muselman from Europe. King Frederick, Princes of the Empire, the Holy Roman Empire has been, since its birth, known for its glorious wars against the Pagan, against the Infidel, against the Muselman, against all who threaten the Church and the Empire. Shall you sit in your Castles in Germany and Italy, while Christian city after Christian city is overrun?

Yes, the Empire is far from the Kingdom of Aragon. However, King Frederick, Princes of the Empire, consider these words, for I speak nothing but the truth, and am interested only in preserving the Cause of Christ: the Kingdom of Aragon has, ever since the collapse of the Greek Empire, served as the bulwark against the Mohametan in the Mediterrean. Constantinople and all Romania has fallen, swept aside by the Turk. What shall happen if Barcelona and the Kingdom of Aragon will fall? Shall Palermo, and the young and inexperienced King of Sicily, plagued by poverty and strife among peasants and nobility, somehow rally a prostrated Kingdom? Shall the King of Naples, more interested in fantastic claims than in Christ, use his vast resources to hold back the Muselman? The King of Castile, having to deal with the unruly Cortes of his Kingdom?

No, my friends, if the Kingdom of Aragon were to be crushed, noone shall rise to defend Rome itself from the Mohametan. I urge you, the Princes of the Holy Roman Empire, to take up the cross, and journey to Aragon to fight the Mohametan, or at the least, to loan monies to my coffers, so that I may train and equip my own armies and navies to war against these Devils. Fight for the Glory of Christ, or for your own Glory. However, be assured: with the armies and men of the Holy Roman Empire engaged in war against the Mohametan, then how can the armies of Christ be defeated? The Muselmen will tremble and flee, just as their fathers trembled and died at the hands of your fathers, not twenty years past.

And you, King Frederick, Emperor-Elect, Most Fair, Sword of Christ: You are the heir and ruler to the Greatest Empire, even, I dare say, Greater than the Roman Empire of Antiquity, for the Rome of old was pagan and corrupt: you rule over a Christian Empire, uncorrupted by the greed of men or of Satan. Just as the Emperors of Old took the battles to the Mohametan, so I urge you, one King to another, one Christian to another, to do as your predecessors did, not least among them Frederick Barbarossa the Crusader, or Joachim the Powerful, and lead your Empire and it's Princes to Glory personally. For what greater joy can be derived, than joy derived from serving God?

In the Name of God,

Peter, Fifth of the Name, King of Aragon, Valencia, and Mallorca, Duke of Barcelona and Noto, Grandmaster of the Knights of the Lance."

 

[cccino]

A courier arrives bearing a message for the King.

To His Royal Majesty Ladislav, King of Bohemia and Hungary, et cetera,

Your Majesty, it is my intention to travel to Praha presently. I plan to arrive in about one month's time from the signing of this letter. I hope that we may meet and discuss matters of mutual interest, relating to issues between ourselves and those that effect us inside and outside of our respective territories.

I hope that our talks are productive in establishing a suitable relationship regarding Inner Austria and that within time I may consider myself,

Your friend and ally,

Duke Ulrich von Cilli of Carinthia, Margrave of Carniola, of Slovenia, Ban of Croatia, of Slavonia, Count of Cilli and Ortenburg.

 

[cccino]

Galati, Trade Meeting

"Vienna is a good choice for a capitol, I agree. It is central to...most...of the members of the Syndicate...

"We also have the suggestion on the floor of appointing a chairman for life. Any comments from the rest on this matter, gentlemen? Additionally, Bohemia, Moldavia-Wallachia, and Carinthia have all agreed to the charter in its present form...do the delegates of Hungary and His Imperial Majesty have any thoughts on the charter? If you gentlemen agree with the charter in its present form, we may ratify it and move on to the other issues...and get back to the business of making money."

Friedrich eyed the silent faces around the table. Morgenthaller, Nagy, Karonlinger... Dragos was clearly unimpressed by the silence.

Not wanting to talk too much, but feeling pressed to say something, he cleared his throat. Unanimous decisions? He decided to take a different tact. "Perhaps, then, does anyone object to the proposed charter? If not, may we take it as read that we are prepared to ratify it?"

Passive concensus would have to do in the face of indifference.

 

[Longinus]

Letters from beyond the grave.​

Strangely enough a letter with personal seal of the former Emperor is handed to Ladislav.

“Onto His Majesty Ladislav of Bohemia and Hungary,

Your Majesty,
Ladislav,

I am most perplexed by the fact that we cannot meet in person, and though I am praying for this meeting I can easily feel that my days are coming to an end. Having that in mind I decided to dictate this very letter and order it to be dispatched should we would not have the pleasure to meet again.

First of I wish to say that all is forgiven to you Ladislav, I pray you care for it as much as I do for it burdened my heart ever since that fatal day few years ago. With my forgiveness I pray that my daughter and God will forgive you as well.

Secondly, after speaking much to my second daughter, who is equally cherished by me as Anna, I decided, together with Christine to give you our blessing and allowance for marrying Maria-Katarina. May you live in peace and happiness. I pray that you have learnt your lesson and never allow things that happen to Anna happening to Maria-Katarina.

Thirdly, I urge you to seek reconciliation with Anna, even if she will be reluctant to do so. Even if she will be throwing away your hand for decades do never lower it. Try to think of the ways of compensating her loss, even if it would appear that she has compensated it already in somebody else’s arms. While doing so you will earn my respect and love.

Finally, I wish to say that I was always pleased to see your advance, being so familiar with your background and destiny. Sadly we might miss the opportunity to know each other better if this is to happen, remember me as your friend and supporter.

My Son, I wish you all the best. Now I can only pray that there will be no necessity to send this massive.

Dictated in Nurnberg,

Joachim Griffon of Pommerania.”​

 

[von Streusser]

Galati, Danube Trade Syndicate Meeting​

​

Dragos nodded, that left only Hungary to accept the charter, and so far they had offered no objections. "Very well, I take Hungary's silence to mean they have no objections, and this charter will be adopted as the Danube Trade Syndicate's official document by a 4-0 vote.

Additionally, Moldavia-Wallachia has no objections to making Vienna the new capitol of the Syndicate, and therefore this motion passes by a 4-0 vote. The charter shall be amended to reflect this change.

Finally, that leaves us only with the issue of a chairman. Domn von Cilli has suggested that our chairman be appointed for life, and Domn Morgenthaller has suggested myself as the first chairman of the new Syndicate. Are there any objections to either of these two motions? Once these matters are concluded, we may return to business, and I assume Domn Karolinger could arrange for the Syndicate to acquire a suitable council house within Vienna, where we may all meet from now on?"

 

[cccino]

"As things stand, perhaps Your Highness would find a productive discussion in Praha? The King is there, and I am sure he would welcome consultation with his Carinthian neighbor."

Ulrich replied: "Yes, yes I think that would be an excellent idea. I will make the preparations presently. I trust we may travel together? If you do not object to staying in Klagenfurt for another week, at least."

Ulrich considered the letter he had received from the Emperor. It would certainly be efficient to accomplish two tasks by this journey.​

Word is sent to the King that Ulrich von Cilli has arrived in Prague. The messenger asks to have the message passed on that the Duke does not require to see the King right away, but expects to be summoned within one week. He also asks whether or not the Emperor is in embassy yet.

 

[Petrarca]

Pražský Hrad – Prag Castle​

“herr Netolicky, how long until your little project is finished?” came a harsh interrogative from Jan von Wallenstein. The old man’s stern face fitted his clearly annoyed attitude. The Chancellor of Bohemia had never been a man to suffer fools or obstacles to his ambition, and this intoleration of incompetence had taken him far among the knights class of the nobility and landed him in the highest position to which he could aspire. As Chancellor, every edict of the King had to be approved by him and stamped with the Great Seal of Bohemia, and his counsel was valued by many parties out of both necessity and respect. Only the King and the High Burgrave of Prag were more powerful than von Wallenstein. The latter was leader of the magnates class and ruled Bohemia during interregnums—technically while Ladislav was absent as well, but the High Burgrave, Jan Rohac z Dube, was openly despised by the Crown as a snake in the grass and had few supporters outside the lords.

“Your Lordship, there have been some troubles and necessary delays in the masonry,” his respondent managed, trying to be as diplomatic as possible before his customer. A very powerful customer who knew where the royal coffers were.

“Necessary delays?” von Wallenstein’s expression had the emotion that his flat rhetorical question did not. One did not prevaricate in front of him. “His Majesty has been absent for years, time enough for the construction to be complete particularly since the King traveled to Frankfurt unexpectedly before returning. Your commission, herr Netolicky, has taken entirely too long to finish. Excuses about the roof are unacceptable. It should be a simple matter for an engineer as experienced as yourself to have built the vaulting during the time agreed upon. Otherwise I will assume that the Crown’s side of the contract is open to negotiation as well?”

Miroslav Netolicky cringed at the idea of not being paid for his laborious work. von Wallenstein had hired him to expand the palace complex by adding another hall, setting grandiose dimensions for it and promising wealthy payment so long as it was completed before the King returned. Years spent in Nuremberg and Rome and even Frankfurt had made the last part a formality. Construction had proceeded rapidly—Miroslav was continually in admiration of the power that money had over men’s labor—and there had been few problems. Until now. “Your Lordship, the vaulting of the roof is quite complicated,” he said. Staring down at his feet for a few seconds, he decided to tell the Chancellor the progress and let the rest be damned. “We are finished with it, and I think you will be most impressed, but our work there has meant that the ramp is incomplete. The spiral, you see, is quite difficult to construct. However, the rest is finished.”

von Wallenstein brightened a little. Perhaps his project wouldn’t be such a disaster at all. “The hall, in its entirety, is complete?”

“Yes, Your Lordship, all of it. Only the ramp leading to riders’ entrance—“

“Finish it, but erect a door over the entrance. There won’t be any equestrian displays,” von Wallenstein ordered.

After his curt remarks, he turned to the next issue demanding his attention. By contrast, Miroslav sighed, secure once more in his commission. Leaving the hall of the court, he wound through the passages until he reached his building, silently admiring its scale and craftsmanship. He had designed it and built it, but as with every other edifice it would be named for those who had funded it.

Ladislav Hall was complete.

 

[Petrarca]

Three vitally important guests, independent of these domestic intrigues, awaited him, and after addressing the Estates conducting business with them was the highest priority.

Rainmund and Friedrich von Wittelsbach had beaten Ladislav to his own capital. The two Rhenish cousins had surmounted the obstacles before them to become supreme in religious and temporal spheres respectively. If the Wittelsbach clan were the Holy Trinity, then Rainmund was God the Father, the old man sitting supreme in his control of men’s destiny. Friedrich, resurrected from near anathema, was the Son inheriting his father’s mantle. Ladislav could probably edge himself in as the Holy Ghost, the adjunct rounding out the pair with hazy responsibilities. In nomine Patris, et Filii et Spiritus Sancti. Emperor and Pope sat in Praha, their power granting them the leisure to respect Ladislav as a host when it surpassed his own. The ties of blood had led him to support them in the past; now he could hope for reciprocation.

Ulrich von Cilli was the third prince, not one who wielded power as awesome as the Emperor of Humanity or the Vicar of Christ on Earth, but respected nonetheless. His Carinthia had been formed from the Crownlands at the behest of Joachim, but despite the forcible nature of its creation Ladislav viewed him as an ally. Cousin to the palatine of Hungary, ban of various Cisleithanian territories, and gatekeeper to the south, von Cilli was held in courteous esteem.

Each of these three was summoned according to the forms of their office to audience with His Majesty at their own leisure. Ladislav had kept them waiting for a while. If they felt the need to return the snub, then he understood.

 

[Petrarca]

The seal of Joachim von der Greif upon a letter took Ladislav aback. The Estates had been receptive to his address, proving enthusiastic to have another player in the great game they played for their individual advancement. The four estates each had their collective agendas as well as those of every attendee, but Ladislav ignored this while he looked down at the missive. Unmistakable. Was it some last will and testament, or merely a Pommeranian chancellor desirous to remind the world of past glories?

“Summon Cardinal von Ehrlichman,” he said quietly, retreating to private chambers. He strode there alone, a pale figure moving noiselessly, he of the haggard face, a ghost in his own palace.

***​

The old German prelate entered and nodded to his foremost parishioner. “Majesty, what news?” came the question as he sat.

Ladislav let a breath pass before responding. “We received a letter from Joachim, written during his last days and only now given unto us.” With that terse remark said, he looked at the Cardinal before casting his eyes down.

von Ehrlichman noticed the look of pain in Ladislav’s expression. “My son, what troubles you?” He bent forward as best he could, obviously concerned at Ladislav’s consternation and reaching out to him.

“We have lost a good man,” he said quietly, placing the letter in the Cardinal’s outstretched hand and clasping it. “Truly this is so.” He turned up to look at von Ehrlichman again. “There are things to be attended to,” he said, trailing off while silently extolling Joachim in his thoughts.

 

[BusterBunny]

No invitations had been formally sent... at least none that Frederick was aware of. It had been like that for a while now. He was being "managed" by his counsellors, courtiers and other men of high importance. Through some of his close counsellors, he order of the day was set in advance. He could move things around, if he wanted to, but as he had no clue what to do with his imperial powers, he moved with what was presented to him, not knowing he was simply loosing control over his own life.

It was quite early in the morning when he heard that a meeting with King Ladislav had been arranged. On the way to the throne room, he was asked to meet with different lower nobles, who simply wanted to request a thing or two, or impose themselves to the Emperor. Frederick, as always, would nod politely, say a few words on the "difficulties of understanding the whole issue from a neutral standpoint" while ackowledging that the lower noble was "however making a valid point".

The throne room was surprisingly modest for a man with the titles of Kind Ladislav. He expected something larger, perhaps like the court his Burgundian cousin Louis. But then Louis had one court, and Ladislav had at least two, one in Pragues, and the other in Pest. Perhaps the Hungarian court was more vibrant.

He stepped forward, and the whole room fell silent. Ladislav approached Frederick slowly, with a few other nobles by his side. "Cher Cousin, Ladislav! We meet again! We have many things to talk about... but perhaps I should let you go first..."

 

[Bagricula]

A thick sheef of parchment bearing a the Papal seal of Nicholas V boiled in red wax and the arms of the Holy Father. It reads thusly:

"Principes Orbi Terrae,

Through the revelations of the living Word of Him who sitting at the right hand of the Father passed to Peter the Keys of Heaven, granting him viceregal authority over all the laws of men and angels and observing the moral decay of Christendom and the weakening of our strength against the Mohammedans, I, fifth to serve and be called Nicholas, command the following:

The Presence of Blanca d'Trastamara, Rene d'Anjou, and Basil Palaelogos-Trastamara in Praha to be held in account for the catastrophic war between supposed men of God and the subsequent defeat before the arms of men of the Morning Star. Representatives of these three may come in their stead, but their words and actions bear the full weight of their masters' doom.

The Presence of Ladislav von Wittelsbach, Frederick von Wittelsbach, and Christine von Wittelsbach or their chosen representatives to discuss the resolution of the Algerian war against the Holy See and the people of God.

The Baptism of Basil Palaelogos-Trastamara and his entrance into communion with the Holy See in Rome.

The Cessation of Martial Operations between the Crowns of Aragon, Sicily, and Naples. The troops of Pommerania and Bohemia are requested to lodge in Naples, in preparation for the resolution of the hostility of the Algerians, who having taken dominion over faithful Christians still hold a state of war with the Holy See.

To allow for the safe conduct of the eminent sons of the Church who must appear before His Holiness to receive blessings and castigations, all summoned shall bring an escort appropriate to their station but respectful of the grace and eminence of their host Ladislavus Rex.

Faultering grossly from this path shall imperil the wayward souls with hellfire as they wander further from the salvation of Christ's Church.

Ad Maiorem Gloriam Dei,
Dictated in Praha by,

Nicholas P.P. V

 

[unmerged(7849)]

Christopher Pulcini arived in the captiol of Bohemia angry and disgusted that outside influence came out of know where to stick its nose into the buisness of southern italy. Neverthless, he, Basil, and the Dons knew that facing down a German army was not in their best interests; there would be plenty of time later to strike at thier enemies in the dark, a Sicilian specialty.

He came prepared ready to present the case on the danger of Naples, and the just oath, sworn before god, that the crown of Sicily was to uphold when asked to enter into a state of war with Naples.

 

[Bagricula]

Prospero Vivarelli, Secretary to the Holy Father, walks through the corridors of Prag Castle, his crimson silk robes floating over the worn floorstones in the crisp early winter air. Prospero Vivarelli is shivering, cursing the lavish cloth of his office woven for the heat of Rome. He rubs his hands together as he stands outside of one of the many doors of the palace covered with strange and frightening gothic carvings.

"I am Cardinal Vivarelli. I come bearing a message for your lord."

The footmen exchange lazy glances, not enjoying the drafty hallway anymore than the Italian priest but not willing to let a foreigner see it. They show the man in.

Prospero bows deeply before King Ladislav, sweeping his scarlet raiment to one side out of his way, as he speaks:

"His Holiness, Nicholas V, Pontifex Maximus, conveys his gratitude for your hospitality and will see you now."

The Papal Secretary rises out of his bow, his gaze mildly interested in seeing what and who else are in the chamber.