Royal Court of England

[unmerged(17303)]

Throne Room, Windsor Castle

He thought about possible Portuguese claims on Muslim-held lands... (Oh my! I might be able to go down in history as a great Crusader!)

"Satisfactory."

He then made his mark undeneath that of the Portuguese.

Signed [x] Edmundus I Yorcus, Rex Angliæ et Franciæ et Dominus Hibernæi et Scotiæ et Cambriæ et dux Aquitaniæ.

 

[unmerged(35921)]

Detlev steps slowly down a shaded avenue he makes his way towards the center of the large city. As he wanders among the common folk the ambassador bound to London from the town of Kassel in Hessen thinks of his mission. Stepping quickly to the side of the lane in order to allow a cart to continue careening past the aging man wonders what will be gained as a result of his troubles. After spending a fair amount of time walking through the streets of London the German seeks a representative of the king of England to discuss business.​

 

[N Katsyev]

Outside the Throne Room, Windsor Castle​

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​

Fedor Nikolitch Yevrin waited patiently outside waiting for response for his request of audeince to see the King or one of this economic advisors. Matters in England were beginning to finally settle into a comfortable pace and he figured the time had finally come when he could act upon the desires set upon him by the Kremlin. He and his family had been living in London for some years now, having set up here during the time of the 'Baltic Gateway Accord' treaty. He rubbed his palms, trying not to appear too impatient and addressed a passing courier in heavily accented english, "Good man, how much longer do you think?"

 

[Fireblade]

A Scottish courtier, a functionary, really, of the Duke of Glasgow, who had been left behind in London to carry back any urgent message the King of England had for the young King of Scotland, found himself accosted by the strange Russian man, speaking terrible English. Snorting, Ian shoved his way past the trader from Pskov, muttering under his breath,

"Thrice damned Russians. One o' these days, me and me laddies will have to slay every last one of those bastards infestin' the Island.. Aye me, they are worse than the Jews!"

Turning around suddenly, the Scot points an accusing finger at the Russian.

"Why don't ye get off this Island instead, you whelp! Always making deals with the damned Jews and Mohomet worshippers. Stealing money from good Scots, and e'en though I hate 'em, the English! Why, your religion is as bad as a Jews!"

Rolling his eyes, he walks on, ignoring any further words from the Russian.

 

[unmerged(17303)]

Outside the Throne Room, Windsor Castle​

​

​

Fedor Nikolitch Yevrin waited patiently outside waiting for response for his request of audeince to see the King or one of this economic advisors. Matters in England were beginning to finally settle into a comfortable pace and he figured the time had finally come when he could act upon the desires set upon him by the Kremlin. He and his family had been living in London for some years now, having set up here during the time of the 'Baltic Gateway Accord' treaty. He rubbed his palms, trying not to appear too impatient and addressed a passing courier in heavily accented english, "Good man, how much longer do you think?"

Outside the Throne Room, Windsor Castle

A slightly less obnoxious Courtier, the Earl of March, scoffed. He had been awaiting audience with the King as well. (What does this eastern bastard take us for? servants? Should His Majesty and his siblings all die without heir, I would be King!)

"Well, Sir, I would have to agree with my Scottish friend, I suggest you make yourself accustomed to waiting, as King Edmund is notoriously --- Patient... when it comes to addressing foreign persons... And, unfortunately, even English ones. I am, after all, his Grandmother's first cousin."

Just then, his own cousin, the Duke of Norfolk, Keeper of the Privy Seal came exited from the Throne Room.

"The King will see you now, Lord Lionel."

Lionel Mortimer then entered the Throne Room. He bowed before the King and made a request. The King was in a good mood, so he thought his chances of a receptive audience were superb.

"Your Majesty, The title of Prince of Wales has been vacated for several years now. As one of your closest relatives and grandson of the last Welshman to hold that title, I think it would be fair to disregard tradition and reward me with the position. You have no sons, Sire. You haven't even a wife. Who better to be your eyes and ears in Wales then I?"

The King did not find the request humorous at all, however he was willing to admit to himself that a vacated post serves no purpose... (Except, of course, for the title of Duke of Lancaster... that shall likely be vacant forevermore.)

Edmund sighed as he replied to the Earl.

"While I do not enthusiastically hand out titles to all who seek them, You are one of my principal relatives, and worthy of a higher title than simply 'Earl of March'. Your Grandfather, Owen Glendower, Self-Proclaimed Prince of Wales was at first an ally of the Lancasters, however, he did in fact learn the error of his ways. He was, regardless, an enemy of the English Crown and not recognized by London as Prince of Wales... Then again, London was occupied by a usurper, so damn it all, you can have your title... Provisionally. Should I have a son, your title may be in jeopardy."

The King's mood deteriorated greatly after that. Just before Lionel left, Edmund made a request of his own.

"Send in the schismatic oaf."

The Russian's patience had paid off. He was now allowed to see the King.

 

[N Katsyev]

Outside the Throne Room, Windsor Castle​

​

​

Yevrin has been living in England for years and have even seen the King in that time and couldn't remember ever encountering such a level of barbarity. He had of course already heard that the northerners of the island were feral, uncivilized folk, no doubt much like the northerners back home, but had not expected the level to which this was true. Fedor sighed as the Scot walked off and shook his head, certainly a people that will never have any importance.

Sitting down he spoke quietly about inconsequnetial things with the Earl of March until indeed that man left and came again. It was then that Fedor himself was called in. One arm around a cloth wrapped bundle he entered the throne room and bowed low before the King. Rising he nodded his head and waited for some indication that he could speak, eventually he began, "Your majesty, it is an honour to meet you once more. Consider this a gift in the good intentions of the Russian people." Carefully he unwrapped the cloth bundle he carried with him and presented a brilliantly white and thick scarf of the softest fur, he offered it to a court envoy to give to the King, "It is a scarf made from the finest sable furs from the Mezen region, worth many times its weight in gold, and far more in this Kingdom than in my own. As you will know, furs of this type in this west are astronomically expensive, and it is this that also I wish to discuss with you."

Fedor allowed a minute for the gift to be present to the King and continued, "It is a recognized fact that such goods shall never become less expensive in England to the point where English merchants could then make a steady profit off of selling them in their own markets, in Gaul, the Lowlands, etc. This is because such goods are subject to the costs and middlemen of the Hanseatic League in the Baltic, as these goods must travel through the Sund." Yevrin smiled and motioned with his hand as if indicating Portugal, "The Portugese seek to round Africa to acquire the riches of the east. We may offer you a much safer, more dependanble route to the vast material riches of the Russian markets. Imagine Russian goods trading for nearly as cheaply in London as they do in Riga and the wealth that could come out of this. Gold from mastercraftsmen in Novgorod, the most beautiful furniture, endless supplies of cheap and the highest quality timber, furs, wax, I could go on for quite some time you Majesty." Yevrin allowed the point to sink a moment, "Now, let me tell you this is very possible as it would not have been a decade ago."

"Does Your Majesty know of the White Sea? Upon this sea Pskov-Novgorod posesses the colonial port of Arkhangl'sk which is growing steadily every year. However, the routes through the arctic, above the Norwegian Finnmark are largely unexplored. The people of England have a far greater naval tradition than do my people. I propose that Pskov-Novgorod and England join resources to explore, establish this route and expand the port facilities at Arkhangl'sk. This venture could quite enrich both of us greatly, it would give our goods yet another avenue to reach European markets, and England would have exclusive rights to sell Russian goods at prices that would be impossible for any others to offer in this region."

 

[Fireblade]

The Scot, the one that had so rudely accosted the Russian outside the court, snickered as the Russian extolled the virtues of trade with that far away land. As the court glanced at him after the Russian had finished speaking, Ian Armstrong grinned, and waved a dismissive gesture at the Russian.

"Bah. King Edmund, your Majesty, I apologize for my outburst, but I cannae hold in my laughter. If you want to import goods from Russia, King Edmund, why go through all the expense? Your own Kingdom already produces timber from the northern forests in abundance, enough to construct your Majesty's own fleet, along with meeting the needs of the merchants of England. Furs? Hah, your Majesty, what possible use could England need for furs? Those are so horribly out of fashion, even the Spaniards don't wear them. Wax? Peasants make wax, your Majesty. If you desire wax, then the King of Scotland will simply issue a proclaimation that half of all wax produced as a by-producting of keeping bees shall be collected, and sold to England."

Ian Armstrong snorted again, and shook his head.

"What does a King or a noble care about trade anyway? That sort of thing is best left up to peasants and burghers. We men of blood have better things to discuss, your Majesty."

Ian Armstrong pulls a sealed letter from a pouch, and presents it to the King of England.

"Your Majesty, the King of Scotland sends word that the rebellion against his rule shall prove no obstacle in honoring his alliance with the Crown of England."

 

[N Katsyev]

King's Throne Room​

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​

Fedor felt a true pity for the English, having to put up with this ignorant notherners. He had heard stories of these noble barbarian types, resisting foreign powers and all, but now he realized that they were nothing more than an impolite stock of sheep shaggers. Regardless, Yevrin only smirked and replied, "Yes i'm sure the man from Scotland prefers terribly itchy woolen garments when its cold and is wordly enough to speak for men like him. Civilized men however prefer something far more grand. Your Majesty, the Scots have never been a wealthy poeople and I think this outburst has quite shown why."

 

[Fireblade]

Ian grins upon hearing the ignorant words of the Russian.

"Schismatic barbarian, you are little better than your former Mongol masters. Poor? Yes, we Scots may be poor. But that, your Majesty, as you can well speak for, is because we Scots put our minds to more manly pursuits. While you Russians dress up in your effeminate robes, put on your jewels and make up like a common whore on a street, we Scots don our tartans, pick up our claymores and shields, and fight like men."

Lifting the side of his French made silk shirt to reveal a sword, the latest in French fashion, he smirked.

"So, you Russian barbarian, underneath my 'terribly itchy woolen garment', I do carry the weapon of a man. However, I can see under your.. disgusting fur rags, fit only for a Tartar, that you are as unequipped with the steel sword as you more than likely are with the flesh sword. Let us now duel, you ignorant, foul idiot, and see who the real man here is."

 

[N Katsyev]

King's Throne Room​

​

​

Yevrin a middle-aged man with peppery hair and beard, simply couldn't believe what he was seeing. He'd never had a sword drawn on him in his lifetime, nor would he ever had expected for it to happen in the Throne room of a King before all manner of people. Fedor scoffed, "I should hope you aren't addressing me as the barbarian. No christian I know would act as you do just now. Shed the blood of an innocent and be a murderer if you wish. It should be an interesting interview on your day of judgement."

 

[Fireblade]

Ian Armstrong stood dumbfounded.

"You dolt. I'm not going to strike you down, here. I was challenging you to a test of skill, a duel, a fight with swords, to determine just who is the better man. But then again, what can I expect? You dress as a woman, what should you know about masculine virtues such as.. courage? Honor? Or do they not exist where you come from? Perhaps.. your mother, having been ravished, time and again, like the whore she was, was determined to have her son become just as much of a coward and fool as her husband was?"

Ian spits on the floor.

"You disgust me, Russian."

 

[N Katsyev]

King's Throne Room​

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​

Tiring of this sad display of insecure masculinity Fedor answers, "I should think if my presence bothers you so, you would like to spend as little time around me as possible."

 

[Fireblade]

Ian shrugs.

"How can I avoid your type? You Russians are as bad as Jews; where there is money to be found, there will be found a Russian alongside the Jew, salivating like a dog for a taste of the silver."

 

[unmerged(17303)]

Throne Room, Windsor Castle

Most Kings would be offended by such a display in their court, in front of the royal throne, being documented by the Royal archivers and witnessed by courtiers and guards. However, Edmund was not most kings. He, the first King of the Yorkist branch was nothing like his predecessors.

"Your majesty, it is an honour to meet you once more. Consider this a gift in the good intentions of the Russian people. It is a scarf made from the finest sable furs from the Mezen region, worth many times its weight in gold, and far more in this Kingdom than in my own. As you will know, furs of this type in this west are astronomically expensive, and it is this that also I wish to discuss with you."

"Well, my Eastern Friend, You have my attention. However, even if as you say is true, and this fur is quite valuable, I would be much more receiving should you have given me a gift of 'many times its weight in gold', as you put it.."

"It is a recognized fact that such goods shall never become less expensive in England to the point where English merchants could then make a steady profit off of selling them in their own markets, in Gaul, the Lowlands, etc. This is because such goods are subject to the costs and middlemen of the Hanseatic League in the Baltic, as these goods must travel through the Sund. The Portugese seek to round Africa to acquire the riches of the east. We may offer you a much safer, more dependanble route to the vast material riches of the Russian markets. Imagine Russian goods trading for nearly as cheaply in London as they do in Riga and the wealth that could come out of this. Gold from mastercraftsmen in Novgorod, the most beautiful furniture, endless supplies of cheap and the highest quality timber, furs, wax, I could go on for quite some time you Majesty. Now, let me tell you this is very possible as it would not have been a decade ago."

"The Hanseatic League are a bunch of half-balt German thugs. They are little better than the Danes, whose 'Sound dues' are an abominable act of piracy. The Danes themselves are little better than the Berbers, so you know how I feel about them..."

"Bah. King Edmund, your Majesty, I apologize for my outburst, but I cannae hold in my laughter. If you want to import goods from Russia, King Edmund, why go through all the expense? Your own Kingdom already produces timber from the northern forests in abundance, enough to construct your Majesty's own fleet, along with meeting the needs of the merchants of England. Furs? Hah, your Majesty, what possible use could England need for furs? Those are so horribly out of fashion, even the Spaniards don't wear them. Wax? Peasants make wax, your Majesty. If you desire wax, then the King of Scotland will simply issue a proclaimation that half of all wax produced as a by-producting of keeping bees shall be collected, and sold to England."

"Normally, I wouldn't welcome someone speaking out of turn, but you are representing Scotland, our closest ally, so not only will it be allowed, but encouraged. If the damned fool Mortimer told me that a Scotsman was here, I would have seen you first. That being said, I agree. I am not too fond of furs, however I have many younger siblings, many of whom are young enough so that they enjoy wearing such passé garments."

"Your Majesty, the King of Scotland sends word that the rebellion against his rule shall prove no obstacle in honoring his alliance with the Crown of England."

"Ah, James is a good man. The Royal Army, hardened after utterly destroying the Lancaster forces is more than capable of assisting should His Majesty request aid."

"Yes i'm sure the man from Scotland prefers terribly itchy woolen garments when its cold and is wordly enough to speak for men like him. Civilized men however prefer something far more grand. Your Majesty, the Scots have never been a wealthy poeople and I think this outburst has quite shown why."

"I do not measure wealth solely in gold. The Scots are rich in ferocity. They even defeated England on more than one occasion, and neither of our people will ever forget that, or the fact that we've beaten them on even more occasions..."

"Schismatic barbarian, you are little better than your former Mongol masters. Poor? Yes, we Scots may be poor. But that, your Majesty, as you can well speak for, is because we Scots put our minds to more manly pursuits. While you Russians dress up in your effeminate robes, put on your jewels and make up like a common whore on a street, we Scots don our tartans, pick up our claymores and shields, and fight like men."

"I do not profess to be a scholar on Scottish culture, but do your warriors not wear.. forgive me, I believe it is called 'woad'? Perhaps not effeminate, but make up nonetheless."

"I should think if my presence bothers you so, you would like to spend as little time around me as possible."

"All are welcome here. The Crown enjoys exotic gifts from the far east, as well as the unique friendship we have with Scotland. I hear strong words, but I detect only minimal malice between the two of you, otherwise I believe this court would be sans one Russian, and I would have to have the Scottish gentleman put in the stocks."

He let out a belly laugh. It was clear that he was enjoying the two men competing for his attention.

"How can I avoid your type? You Russians are as bad as Jews; where there is money to be found, there will be found a Russian alongside the Jew, salivating like a dog for a taste of the silver."

"Ah, my friend, You cannot blame the Russians. Much like the Tartars are now, the Jews were their masters before. Sadly, they've always been subservient. Much like your Irish brethren."

 

[unmerged(4271)]

A messenger and a party of porters arrive, carrying small samplings of exotic goods, at the Royal Court. The messenger presents the letter, bearing the royal seal of the Emir Elector of Fez, which reads:

His Majesty King Edmund, Lord and King of England, France, Scotland, Wales, Aquitaine, and Ireland...

Should his majesty desire access unequalled by his neighbors into the exotic goods of North and Inner Africa, the Emirate of Fez would seek to enter into a formal commercial agreement.

The historical relations between your isles and North Africa date back to at least 1213 AD, when King John of England dispatched envoys to seek the support of Mohammed El-Nasir, Morocco's fourth Almohad ruler. While Mohammed El-Nasir did not have the wisdom to join in alliance with the English King, our Almohad people would propose a lucrative exchange of goods.

In exchange for your fine English cloth and the wondrous manufactured goods you produce we would offer North African sugar, dates and almonds along with rare dyes and the bounties of inner Africa.

Such a highly profitable benefits both of our people, providing you with goods unavailable elsewhere, not simply for your own people but to remarket elsewhere, and providing us with goods we cannot produce ourselves.

Please accept a generous sampling of our goods. If your find them pleasing, we shall send an envoy to discuss the specifics of a permanent trade agreement, or shall accept proposals for any agreement you care to initiate.

Should his majesty seek closer relations with Fez, other possibilities may be negotiated, such as rights of passage through the ports of Fez and resupply into the Mediterranean.

May you live in peace throughout your days,

Abu-Mohammed Abd el-Maliki, Emir-Elector of Fez

 

[N Katsyev]

Throne Room, Windsor Castle​

​

​

Fedor Yevrin bows in response to the comment about the gold, "Of course your majesty, my apology." He rises again and continues, "Let me assure you, this proposition does not entail any commitment other than the exploratory voyage and the expansion of the colony in question. However i'm sure with such a route available, a number of Englishmen would find it quite to their liking to not only make purchases from what is offered in Russia but also to sell."

Shifting, becoming a bit more comfortable his little discussion with the Scotsman ended, Yevrin continued, "In the Baltic Gateway accord, a treaty established before between ourselves, the Hansa and the English Crown, there were provisions and preferrable rates offered by English merchants on goods from metalware to canvas, to more mundane sheep and wool. All things that are already purchased from various suppliers in the Baltic area, I see no reason why the English with a cheaper route could not find a market in Russia for these items once more." Yevrin paused a smiled, "And do not forget simple prestige. We seek England in paritcular for this arrangement, not only for our previous cooperation, but also for her considerable naval tradition. Well, considerable in regards to our own which is nearly non-existant." Yevrin grinned at this remark, "I imagine your majesty would like to portray himself and his Kingdom as forward moving ones, ready to... how shall I say push at present limitations and achieve something that very few realms have the capability to do."

 

[unmerged(2461)]

- EVENT -

England's Oustanding Loans

​

Triggered by outstanding loans to the bank. New player since last Inflation Warning event.

After quite a long period England still owes massive amount of monies to various contractors. This fact creates a dangerous situation for the balance of England's treasuries and general credibility.

We who dances must pay the piper.

RESULT: (no effect - warning only)

 

[Longinus]

After being granted an audience, a group of foreigners from Germany deliveres a letter to the king.

”Onto Edmund of York, Rex Angliæ et Dominus Hibernæi et Scotiæ et Cambriæ et dux Aquitaniæ.

Your Majesty,

First of all be it known that the Royal House of Griffon sends his best regards and salutations, to the one we consider a friend and hopefully, future ally and family member.

With great sadness we were forced to cease our negotiations regarding the marriage contract in between Your Higness and Mary Gryphon. Now, while we recovered after the loss of our princeps, King Joachim, we wish to renew the bounds between our Houses and begin the talks about the union again.

We hope that Your Majesty still, finds this venture satisfactory. If it is so, we send Henrich Zakrzycki, together with retinue, to negotiate suitable agreement.

Given in Stettin,

Christine von der Greif-Wittelsabch, Dowager Duchesse of Pommernia, Hannover and Poznan, Queen-Regent of Sweden

Boguslaw IX of the Greif, Duke of Stolp and Stargard,

Wartislaw IX of the Greif, Duke of Wolgast,

Barnim VIII of the Greif, Duke of Rugen.”​

 

[Longinus]

Again a small group of Pommeranians is granted an audience with Edmund of York.

Their leader steps forward and sweeps the ground in deep bow.

"Your Majesty,

I am Landgraf Henirich Zakrzycki herbu Wczele, emissary of the House of Greif, ready to negotiate an appropriate marriage contract between Your Majesty and Her Highness, Princess Mary Gryphon.

My credentials has already been presented to Your Majesty’s steward.

Now, it is up to Your Majesty decision to determine the course of our discussion from now."

 

[unmerged(17303)]

Throne Room, Windsor Castle

A dumbfounded look graced his face.



"Tell me, good sir, how does one spell such a name? Lord. that must have been rough in your childhood.. Or are all Poles named similarly?"