Rumors

[N Katsyev]

Outside of Pskov​

​

Man and wife to be the horse brought both forth through the powdery, virgin snow of the crip winter morning. Both figures heavily bundled as they galloped across a field that only months ago had been golden with crops. Vladimir's eyes were slightly moist from the frigid temperature, made worse it seems as the day was on of those crystal clear ones that so enchant the world after the prior nights brutal storm, to rekindle hope once more, or to shine with respect upon those who did not survive its previous ferocity.

Vladimir felt Serena's arms clasped tightly about his waist as they bounded through the wintery landscape. When they made a sharp turn, a great wave of the light substance bursting from their flank and sprinkling through the air so that if one's eyes caught it quick enough, they would be greeted with the sight of a million rainbows shining off of each particle.

The cut great swathes through the field, as if taking pleasure in making their mark upon the virgin surface alone. And no doubt to an extent both did, for the egoist present in some fashion in all of us. A light wind, no doubt a straggler from the night before who had lost his companions, the same that had awoken Yeleziveta in the nightime hours prior blew across them covering both with a faint dusting - seemingly if only trying to make them blend better with the perfect winter morning scene. The Russian winter an artist who can create beauty and scenes of pain and suffering with equal ease and grace with but a simple gesture of her omnipotence.

Their bodies heated from excitement, exertion, proximity prespired lightly despite the cold outside their fur cocoons - which would ultimately lead one to believe such was impossible. They slowed as Vladimir led them toward the riverbank, the trees that skirted it slightly shaking and shivering though keeping regal and tall, beautiful with their new trappings. It was eerily quiet around them, moreso for one not accustomed to such winters. The only sound the occasional passing wind, like the others only trying to catch up with its comrades or that of the shifting of the ice on the river or the groan of a tree limb supporting a bit more than it could carry.

The horse stopped, pressing at the snow with a hoove, almost daintily if such could be possible for such a large beast. Vladimir sat in silence, listening to the peaceful hollow that was the air with so little ambient noise. He felt Serena's breath more and more on the back of his neck, teasing him away from his momentary trance. Despite his desire to keep the moment, his desire to hear her voice again overcame, and what better way than for him to speak himself? He began softly, wistfully, "Your first real winter my love. Our first full year together begun... and then... the rest of our lives." He smiled slightly at the sentinment of what he was saying, though he felt he could have sounded rather foolish to anyone but Serena. Not that it mattered, he simply wanted to hear... more importantly feel, her voice.

 

[Alex_pharaoh]

A message arrives from Cairo to Yesugai Khan. It was urgent:

"Onto Yesugai Khan of the Timurids:

I have pondered much about this bloody war, and how it must affect the life of my people. I am currently safe in Cairo, and I am treated as a nobleman in Cairo. I know that my nation cannot win this war, and no good will come to fight the invation off.

I know that I purified my soul, and that of Taresh. I will be wed to her and the Shaibanid family will continue. I therefore order my lands, armies, forts, navies and leaders to surrender with a heavy heart. The lands are all yours for your wise administration. In three conditions, that the Uzbeks are not to be opressed, the diversity of the Uzbek lands are to be respected, and that Yumhur, the glorious city of the Caspian, is to be preserved and not harmed. It can be under your rule.

And one more condition: I want safe evacuation of all my friends from the Uzbek Khanate to Cairo.

May Allah be with the Uzbeks, may Allah shine upon peace in Islam. And may Allah be good to us in the future.

-Alxud Shaibani Khan of the Uzbeks."

 

[unmerged(8303)]

In the city of Rome

Rene d'Anjou sat alone in the comfortable room the pope had offered to him. A large wooden desk, illuminated by only a single large candle was the centerpiece of Rene's thoughts.

With his recent failure to claim anything more than the title of King of Naples, he had been filled with anxiety and worry. The fate of the Angevin family had been placed in his hands, and it was now his responsibility to see to that fate.

He had been writing for so long his hand felt cramped. After several hours and failed drafts, he had written the letters he had hoped would establish a political connection to the great powers of south western Europe. It is upon them he could find the leverage and support he would need to make his principal possession, Provence, prosper and support his claims to Naples.

He finally put away his quill and clasped his hands beneath his bearded chin. It had been a hard week. His spirits were raised by papal recognition of his family's 200 year old crown, and then dashed when the necessary support to claim Naples had dissipated on the eve of his victory.

"King Rene, it is time to go", spoke a voice from the doorway. Rene turned to see the captain of his bodyguard. "Yes Captain, we will go to Pisa and from there I have a ship waiting to take us to Marseilles. We'll be home in a few days for some badly needed rest.", replied Rene.

"Aye m'lord", say the captain

Both men walked briskly out of the room and down the hallway to join the rest of his party.

They were met by a courier. "A million pardons, King Rene, but where are those letters you wanted me to have sent out?"

Rene smiled and pointed to a small table outside the door of his room. "They're right thurr."

 

[Alex_pharaoh]

Epilogue

Garesh Oharred:

Garesh Oharred renounced power once I surrendered. He looked one last time at his natal lands, and set off to Cairo where he would live as a merchant in peace, and away from power at last. He is a friend of mine and thus he would accumulate with myself a large ammount of wealth. He would marry a beautiful woman and would have a family with a quiet farm which I often visited.

Muhammed Bahar and the Council of Nobles:

It was rumored that Muhammed Bahar and the nobles, after I went away from Astrakhan, were set free from the house prison that was set for them in the same city, after it was captured by the christian forces. Once it was done, they went each family to their own, after loosing their possesions in the Uzbek Khanate to Timurid nobles. With that, most stayed as prosperous merchants of Astrakhan, others came to live in Yumhur also as merchants, and the rest financed the muslim cause in the Golden Horde in exchange for lands and wealth.

The Uzbek fleet:

The Uzbeks were about to raid the Timurid shores when they heared that the Uzbek Khanate surrendered. They then prayed back to Allah for his mercy, and went back to Yumhur, where the fleet was sold to merchants, and mercenaries who aided in the elimination of Pirates to the zone. They are still loyal to me, even if they will be loyal to Yesugai too.

Myself, Alxud, and my love, Taresh:

After that traty, and with the money Yesugai gave me, I decided to settle down in a villa just outside Cairo, with the view of the amazing piramids. The Caliph of Cairo personally led the lavish ceremony in which we got married. And we also found out that the criminals who tried to kidnap were not from Algiers, but were mercenaries of an important character in Cairo an the Timurid Empire. Warnings were sent to the Caliph and the Timurid Khan when that was found out.

After thew wedding, we went to Mecca where we purified our souls and got enlightened by Allah. We remained friends with the Caliph of Cairo, and with connections in Cairo and the Uzbek and Timurid lands, I managed to accumulate a significant ammount of wealth, making me a notable noble in the Egyptian lands. We had children, and we held memories from the palace in Tashkent. However we were happy, for the Shaibanid family was never disgraced. And even if I renounced my throne, I still remain Alxud Shaibani Khan of the Uzbeks, and lord of Muwarannahr. And for once, I felt completeness in me. I felt trully alive, for I am no longer a slave of power.

 

[N Katsyev]

Naryan Mar - 'I Fear We Are Doomed' (VII)
"To Meet Once More the Face of the Forgotten"​

​

How long had it been since the residents of this small settlement had seen travellers from the west? A simple wooden stockade surrounded the settlement, though the reindeer herds ambling about the area could probably afford more protection. A few voices could be heard in the native tongue, yelling out. It was simply the herders calling to each other, or fishermen on the river.

The sound of the sea could distinctly be heard, though it was not yet visible due to the thick mist. Anatoly led the way toward the wooden stockade and the opening into the settlement, he spoke quietly to nobody in particular, "So its still here..."

It was then that Zinaida Stroganova realized that for the first time since that small village on the Dvina they would be among other people, buildings even, properly prepared food. Kazimir kept a watchful eye out, looking about him at the herds, the herders, the river and the few fishermen gathered around it, not hearing one word spoken in Russian. The boy simply brought up the rear. He had been very quiet since that day when they cut his bonds, and as he became more and more comfortable with the Stroganovs he seemed to grow very sad sometimes. Kazimir even though one morning he caught tears on the boy's face. His curiousity to the boy's origins growing all the time.

They passed through the stockade and into the settlement proper. The buildings were very low, obviously half the structure actually resting below ground-level. Typically the largest building in the settlement was a chapel, though its wooden cross looked quite worn, and the ground about it already dotted with many stone monuments to those who could not survive the colonial life.

A few people ambled about the proper, between the modest izbas, each giving a curious glance to the newcomers, though none taking the effort or time to approach them. Many of the izbas were connected by long lines with fish or reindeer hides hanging and the smell of cooked meat was prevelant in the air, burning of fatty oils. Kazimir turned about, looking over the small settlement when he noticed a large blonde haired man, a man by the look of his hair, slightly graying in places and the rest dulled middle aged that kept looking their way from around what Kazimir assumed must be his home.

Finally it seemed the blonde haired man's curiousity got the better of him and with a jerk he finished the knot he had been in the middle of tying and slowly approached the four. He titled his head to the side, his eyes studying Anatol in particular. Finally he called out to them, "Fedor Dmitrivitch?... No it can't be... or else you have become younger since I saw you last. You must be Fedorivitch."

Anatoly stepped forward, realizing he was the one being addressed, people had always said he looked much like his father, "Anatol Fedorivitch. You know my father?"

A smile broke the middle-aged man's face and he clasped Anatol's hand, "Know your father? Who doesen't know Fedor Stroganov?" The man paused, shaking his head and keeping hold of Anatol's hand, as if it were a direct link to a Russia he had only heard of from his father, "What would bring people back to Naryan Mar again?" Once more than man paused and looked about the other three travellers, "Forgive my manners, I am Kiril Levivitch, Hetman of the settlement. Please, come into my home, we can talk more there." His eyes lingerd a particularly long moment on Zinaida who managed to give him a polite smile in return.

Kiril's home was a long structure, partitioned only once in the back by hide, which must be his bed area. The firepit in the center was blacked by what appeared to be coal. The four travellers took their seats around the pit on soft furs that Kiril set for them. Having attneded everyone he sat down himself, cross-legged, "Now... what brings you to Naryan Mar?"

Anatoly met Kazimir's gaze for a moment before he looked back to answer Kiril, "My brother, Kazimir Fedorivitch and my sister Zinaida Fedoravna were sent to Naryan Mar and Pechora to first of all determine if they still existed, and to what extent."

Kiril exhaled slowly, as if a great burden had been lifted from his shoulders, "So there will be more? More people coming this way? To whom are the settlements of any value... or concern? There is a reason Novgorod abandoned us in the first place..."

Anatoly shifted on the furs he was seated, "I'm not sure really. When I left I know there were plans being made for further settlement of the Dvina. Maybe as just a first step to reclaiming the far eastern settlement as well... To whom? The Czarina of Pskov-Novgorod."

Kiril looked away, a look of shock on his bearded, hard face. Slowly he turned his eyes back to Anatol, "It as if you speak of an alien world to me. I've never even been west, i've lived my whole life out here. My father is from Pyatolovo, he would tell me stories sometimes of the great fields and harvests, of Pskov and Novgorod. But all I ever knew were a hundred other Russians here, ice-fishing, reindeer herding, tanning, the mists of summer when the perma-frost melts briefly during the days... He told me of summers in Novgorod when it would get so hot that you would wish more than anything for the winter to come again... I've never been that hot."

Zinaida and Kazimir now exchanged glances at Kiril's words, before Zinaida spoke, "Why did you stay here? When it was abandoned by Novgorod... why did people stay?"

Kiril looked up at Zinaida, most assuredly the most beautiful woman he had ever set eyes upon, though he had looked upon very few as Zinaida was pretty at times but certianly not beautiful, "Stay? Why not stay? This is our home. And even for the original colonists, by the time... we were 'abandoned'... They already had kids, old people to attend, people that never could have survived the journey back. However, the idea has crossed our mind recently... There are problems."

Kazimir now took his turn to speak, or more exactly queston, "Problems, what kind of problems?"

Kiril sighed and gestured with his hands in a sign of resignation, his eyes rising to meet Kazimir's but fluctuating between the siblings, "We've lost contact with Pechora. They have sent nobody our way in what will soon be two years. A couple have gone there... but never returned. We fear something has happened... which bodes very ill for us. Pechora is below the perma-frost, they could actually grow crops, we would trade with them for berries, grain, even coal. Now the canoes that once brought goods up and down the Pechora river are rotting from lack of use... We can get by sustenance wise on the reindeer, on the fish... maybe. All it would take would be an unusually hard winter, and Naryan Mar could vanish, such winters come I have lived through a few and people die. But we are stuck, what are we to do? Abandon our families while the young and strong make their way west, hoping to meet civilization once more?

We do not even have a real holy man any longer. Zavid, our last man who could even read died four years ago. We have Oleg bless his old heart, but he only remembers a few verses. It is a shame, I understand they were making decent headway with converting the heathens, a few of the natives still confess to Christ...

Not that it matters, you see Fedorivitch... I fear we are doomed."

 

[Mettermrck]

”Your Highness, there is nothing on the charts to back his story. Nothing! If there was an island out there, I would’ve seen it! My route took me right through those waters.”Goncalves was annoyed, frustrated that an upstart like Tristao was getting all the attention. He stood hunched over the Prince’s desk, his right hand white with the tension of pressing it down on the hard wooden surface. Before him, on the desk, lay a large map unfurled, which covered the western coast of Africa –as they knew it. His left hand was on the map, at a point where the coast seemed to be turning from southwesterly to southerly.

He heard a cough behind him, and the rustling of clothes as someone adjusted his stance behind him. The young Tristao, positively, beaming with enthusiasm, his delicate features flushed with pleasing news. ”I beg to differ, Your Highness. We were blown westerly some leagues off the coast as we rounded Blanco, right here along this line of scale. It was late in the evening, and the sun was shining out of the west. And that is where we saw it! The silhouette...a darkness in the light...it was land, Your Highness!”

Again, Goncalves sighed, shaking his head. ”And I tell you my fleet went through that very same spot a year ago and saw nothing. It was evening, you say? I bet it was a shadow...a combination of sunlight and approaching darkness.” He turned to give the young captain a brief scowl. Already Goncalves was on the way out, shuffled off to the Sagres school to teach, or to lead more of the slave raids the Prince was ordering. It was left to men like Tristao now to do the exploring – and Goncalves resented every minute of it. He ran his hand through his hair, and sighed, the lines on his cracking, worn from wind and sun. Though he would never admit it, he was old beyond his years.

The Prince, meanwhile, was regarding them both seriously, a finger dangled precariously below his lower lip, his eyes narrowed in thought. Finally, he leaned forward, his wooden chair creaking from the sudden movement. Staring at the map, he moved his hand to where Goncalves had been indicating, and turned to Tristao. ”And how large was the silhouette? Would you consider this an island? More? A speck of rock, perhaps?” When the captain shrugged, he nodded briefly. ”Well, it’s certainly worth looking into, whether or not it is true,” he said, adding a touch of emphasis to quiet Goncalves. ”Captain Tristao...I want you to take...three ships...out of Rio de Ouro. Base yourself from there. I’ll give you two weeks to find your shadow. Either way, I want you back before the winter tides. I can’t spare the ships for too long...but by God it’d be good to find a decent harbor down there. I’m getting tired of stretching out my ships south of Blanco. Very well, you’re both dismissed.”

The two captains turned and briefly glanced at one another before heading out. Goncalves recalled a scene almost five years ago, when he and Captain Eannes had been in a reverse situation. And now, here he was, the old man, ready to be put out to pasture. He sighed and nodded, knowing deep down that one day it would be Tristao’s turn to become obsolete.

 

[Alex_pharaoh]

Rioting and Revolts in Genoa!​

The Ghibelines have revolted! THere are several uncontrolable riots heading to the Palazzo Ducale. As the riots move towards the palace, the Council members have met in the Senate in an emergency reunion. The Doge suddenly realized what happened while he was enjoying his dinner. Eventually, the

"Council, the riots have burst out in the city of Genoa..."

But the Doge was interrupted by members of the council who yelled at him: "Out with the Doge! Out the Doge!" And while the Doge was going away in amazement, the council calmed down, and the head of the Grimaldi family has spoken: "Gentlemen, Gentlemen! We need to save whatever we can from the Ghibelines who threaten to end this way of the republic..."

But then the head of the Adorno family rose up: "No we don't. You know what I hear? I hear the voice of people who are not as incompetent as the last two doges were. Wasn't it Andrea Doria who caused the destruction of our glorious past? And wasn't it another Guelph Doge, Tommaso the Incompetent who has lengthen the suffering of our people? Definitely, the Ghibelines propose to have the past glory when Genoa was a true merchantile serene republic, and not the times of the Segnorial oligarchy we have right now!"

"Then it is agreed. We must allow the Ghibelines sieze power... I could never have imagined that day would come..."

As the senate was talking about the Ghibelines siezing power, the Ghibelines entered the hall of the senate.

"Where is the Doge?!" -part of the mob asked. But from nowhere, someone entered the room, and appeared that he led the revolt, which realy looked more like a cue: "I am Antonio di Merchanno, head of the Ghibeline party, and as you see the Ghibeline sieze of power. I deand to know where is Tommaso the inept!"

Then, head of the Grimaldi house, a somewhat young yet powerfull man got closer to Antonio who had this devout look, like he was dedicated to the Ghibeline cause:

"He is the room of the door to the left. But first, let me tell you that the Senate has decided to embrase the Ghibeline cause, and to establish an end to this system that doesn't work. We must establish a true Serene and Merchant republic that trully is for you, the Genoese people."

"Amazing, coming from a Guelph, or a former Guelph. Very well, we will establish a new order for the Republic of Genoa. Vita Genova!"

And as the crown yelled Vita Genoa, the Doge has sent one letter of help by a pidgeon which arrived to Piemonte.

 

[Petrarca]

Snow reigned still over the Tyrolean Alps. It never left the mountains, but the valleys were just now beginning to see the rivers and streams that arose from the snowmelt, and it would be months until it was all gone.

The passes from Trent to points north of Innsbruck were clear, though. The Valtelline Route that the Brenner Pass and the other sections of the corridor composed was beginning to flow again with the incessant traffic between the Italies and the Germanies. Moving goods overland was horrendously expensive, though, so only finished products and travelers went through the Valtelline or indeed any other land course. Because of the expense, cities like Genoa and Venice had arisen not only to control maritime trade but, by being situated at the farthest reaches of the waters into the continent, make it significantly cheaper to transport their wares to their final destinations. Barring intervention by pirates or other unforeseen factors, it was less expensive to ship silk from Beirut to Venice than it was to trek with it overland from Venice to Nuremburg. Such was harsh reality that a single ship of sea could carry what would take great numbers of mules to carry at greater cost.

And beyond the Brenner Pass and a few other gaps in the alpine peaks of Inner Austria lay the Germanies. The Swiss cantons had nothing comparable to the ease and clearance from the inclement weather that the Valtelline provided; this inaccessibility provided them their fabled impregnability, a myth destroyed by soldiers of Luxemburg and Burgundy. To come from the Mediterranean, the heart of European trade, to the Germanies by bypassing the Brenner and coming west meant a long, arduous, and most importantly, highly expensive detour through Marseille, Lyons, Dijon, and the Duchy of Bar before even reaching the borders of what most considered Germany. To the east lay somewhat tougher roads still passing through the Austrian Alps from Trieste to Vienna. There were none to the east that did not traverse the territory of Inner Austria; Croatia was devoid of roads and mountain passes leading from the few small ports along the Dalmatic coast. Except for the trickle through the cantons, the Valtelline controlled practically all exchange of goods and wares between Northern Italy and the Germanies. Rulers had prized the Tirol for this strategic location from which to levy taxes; some had always been fearful of driving away too many of the merchants and depriving themselves of a somewhat fixed revenue that attracted no odium from the people. The Valtelline, beginning with a gentle slope at Lago da Garda and making a near-perfect straight path through Trent, Belzano, and Innsbruck, was the site of a convergence of interests between merchants eager to protect their wares and rulers eager to protect their tax base.

With the passing of the County of Tirol into Imperial custody, though, this was no longer a concern to the monarch residing in Hradcany, Prague Castle, and his advisers, to whom the Valtelline appeared a ripe fig ready to be plucked. Such a toll as they proposed would dry up many portions of the trans-Alpine trade, but with the Tirol not long theirs, Ladislav had approved of Count von Dohna’s plan to squeeze the County dry while it was still His Majesty’s demesne.

South of Trent​

“Bauer, summon the watch! Our first visitors of the day,” came the call.

From his previous slumber, a bear of a man arose. Meinhard Bauer was no farmer, but instead, a soldier in the King’s service. From his upbringing in the Tirol, he knew the tongues of the mountain and the Lombardian as well as the South German language. The watch-captain doubtlessly wanted another to back up his own spotty knowledge of the northern Italian dialects, and Bauer grumbled that the idiot shouldn’t be captain of the watch if he had to rely on someone else all the time as a crutch. He rousted the other watchmen from their posts to arrange a suitable guard, all the while cursing the Italian merchants for being more important that he was and thus forcing him to travel down to the valley path instead of them coming up to the castle built on a mountainside.

Meinhard was even more annoyed when, after he and the men he had selected from the watch (the ones he disliked the most, for misery loves company) had met the watch-captain and descended, he discovered that the band of businessmen passing by his odd castle weren’t Italians at all. Why does the Lord hate me so, he considered.

“We are men of Celle; we seek passage through the King’s mountains to reach Augsburg, beyond the Alps,” spoke one of the travelers to the watch-captain.

Meinhard cursed the merchants for both speaking such a debased northern version of his German language and making his presence immaterial. Though the bastards spoke with a thick Saxon accent, even the captain wasn’t thick enough not to understand them.

The moron, though, had apparently missed some of what was said, and motioned for Meinhard to address them in his stead. What does he think they spoke in, Neapolitan?! he asked, his opinion of the watch-captain falling lower with every breath. “His Majesty has ordered the garrisons of the Tirol to collect a toll on passage through the Valtelline. Without payment on your wares, you shall not pass.”

The leader of the Celle merchants responded, “We are prepared to pay the customary rate. These notes have been guaranteed by the bankers of the house of Welser, do they serve as tender?”

Meinhard spoke, “Indeed they are, mein Herr, and they are the correct amount for the old tariff.”

“The old tariff?” The merchant from Celle looked at him quizzically.

“Why yes. His Majesty has decreed that those who brave the alpine passes must pass twice, once to get wherever they are going and once more to return. Such pious men set against the harsh elements donate to the Church, do they not? And since they must pass twice through our pass, then they should tithe twice, but to the coffers of His Majesty. Di I make myself clear?”

The merchant looked indignant, but he complied. A bill of ledger was produced, a few mules inspected to verify the contents, and a hefty tax of 20% was paid in full through notes and coin. Meinhard looked at all the money contentedly and was quite pleased.

He was less pleased when the watch-captain ordered the men up to the castle, with Meinhard toting the purse heavy with Saxon and Bohemian coin. He cursed the watch-captain instead and wondered what idiot would build a castle so high up from the valley.

An idiot with a horse, he concluded.

 

[Hamilcar]

Yumhur, Palace of the Governor
Meeting of the Provisional Governor and the City Council
11:23am, Sunday 25 Ramadhaan 846 A.H.

The palace was a simple, yet sturdy structure. While construction had largely finished, the furnishing was not yet complete and servants could be seen hurrying through the corridors carrying tables, carpets and porcelain and many other things.

The city leaders had been summoned to meet with the provisional governor sent by the agha Khan to oversee the final stages of construction and the implementation of Khanate law.

‘The pace of construction is quite acceptable, but the streets are still empty.’

An older man, representing the northen al-Jahiri mosque coughed.

‘Sire, many fled to the countryside during the war. They were afraid that all those who would remain in Yumhur would be slain and so they took to the mountains. Only the old and sick remained.’

‘Indeed. And are they returning?’

‘Word of the peace is spreading and some have returned. The Zuhra family, wealthy slik merchants, have returned already and have donated a significant amount to our mosque to feed the poor.’

‘Good, good.’

The provisional governor sipped some tea. The assembled men watched him cautiously – after all he represented the overwhelming strength of the agha Khan’s army here in Yumhur.

 

[Alex_pharaoh]

The New Order: Political Reforms of the Genoa Republic

As the Senate of the Republic was discussing the Ghibeline proposal of a new political constitution for the sake of the stability of the Republic, the former Doge was taken away to the dungeons of the Torre di Popolo, where he send many of his personal and political enemies to rot and even die. And now, he will have a taste of what he has done to dosens or even hundreds of people in his 2 year reign over Genoa.

The Senate has reached a decision. The head of the Senate, the head of the Grimaldi house, spoke: "The Senate of the Republic of Genoa have decided to change and modify the political constitution to a more stable and efficient one. As for the Dogeship, Tomasso di Campofregado will be abolished as Doge, and Antonio di Merchanno will be the new Doge for a period of 2 years, in which time he will be given a chance to put order back to the Republic of Genoa, and establish a clear future for it. As for the former Doge, he will be expelled to the island of Sicily where acording to a treaty made with the Byzantine Empire, such nobles and their houses can have refuge in Byzantine territory, or what is now the Kingdom of Sicily.

The modifications will be made with acordance between the Senate and the Doge, representing the Ghibelines. Session dismissed."

**********************************

Days have pased, and the city went back to the quiet it had before the rioting and revolts occured. It much reminded me, Antonio di Merchanno, about the nostalgia I have to the times before the disaster of 1442. Finnaly, the day had come, when the new constitution would be put in action, and the former Doge would be expelled to Sicily. It was I who was given the honor to do the veredict true, and to express the charges to the people of Genoa who gathered in the dock of the city. Ironically, the ship was manufactured by the very same Fregado family:

"Tomasso di Campofregado, from the Fregado house, you are accused for treason in the war of Genoa in 1442, and accused for tirany and crimes against the Republic of Genoa, and it's populace. Therefor, your scencence is to be banished to the Island of Sicily, where you are to seek refuge and live honorably despite your actions in this region."

And so, he set for Sicily, never to step again in the city of Genoa or any territory in Liguria. An hour later, I ws headed to the chapel of the Palazzo Ducale, where I was to be crowned Doge of the Genoese Republic. In a ceremony made in the chapel of the palace, I was dressed with the red cape, the crown and the other symbols of the Dogeship. I was proclaimed Doge infront f the Senate, my fellow party members, and the people of Genoa. The joy was not waited to be expressed, for I was the first Ghibeline ever to be proclaimed a Doge.

And now, once I am a Doge, I have the right to proclaim the new Political Constitution of the Republic, which hopefully will bring the stability and prosperity denied to us in the rule of Tommaso the inept. As I stepped forward to the seat of my new throne, the Senators greeted me, as well as my party members, and all yelled: "God bless the new Doge, Antonio di Merchanno!" And finnaly, the paper envolved by a leather string, with golden ornaments was given to me for I was to read it. Well, I was one of the few people who knew how to read. But my ambition to study the arts of politics got me to overcome the challenge for me to learn how to read and write. I was hoping that in the future all Genoese would know how to do that, for it is becoming an ever more important aspect for the economical and political characteristics of this era.

With aid of the Senate, the new era will begin with the proclamation of this new constitution created for the good of the Republic:

Constitution of the Republic of Genoa, Anno Domini 1444

Part I: The Doge and his Autorithy.

Article I: The Doge is the leader of the Republic of Genoa, and will represent the executive power in the name of God and the Republic of Genoa.

Article IIa: All citizens of the city of Genoa who know how to read or write can be a Doge.
Article IIb: There can be, however, 3 candidates for each election, and the Dogeship will be elected by a council of the election of the Dogeship. That electorate will be composed by 20 people which 12 of the electors will be elected by the Senate and the other 8 will be elected by the Doge himself.

Article III: The Doge has the right to Veto the decisions of the Senate, and to administrate the economy and the public administrations related to culture, education, infaestructure, and administration of Genoa and it's dominions. He has also the right to apoint or dismiss public officials including members of the Genoese armed forces, ministers and diplomats.

Article IV: The Doge's duty is to protect the interest of the Republic of Genoa and it's people. The Doge also must respect the functions of other political administrations.


Part II: The Senate.

Article I: The senate are magistrates who represent the legislative and supreme judicial powers.

Article IIa: To become a magistrate, the person should know how to read and write, and have land property in the area he will be elected or appointed.
Article IIb: The first part of the Senate will be composed by 70 men who will be elected by people who know how to read and write acording to the district of the empire he comes from. There will be 5 Senators for each district. Genoa itself will be devided into 3 districts due to the importance of that city.
Article IIc: The second part of the Senate will be an extra room for the noble families, which will have each one a Senator to represent their own house.

Article IIIa: The Senate has the right to proclaim and abolish laws in votes which will need the majority of 51 or more percent of the Senate.
Article IIIb: The Senate also has the right to dismiss the Doge in case he abused power and/or violated his suties of this constitution. That measurment will need the 70% of the Senate for aproval.
Article IIIc: The Senate finnaly has the right to judge any person who performed a high crime like Treason or other of that nature against the Republic of genoa.
Article IIId: Finnaly, it has the right to appoint or dismiss magistrates who will perform the duty of judge for crimes in earthly matters. The Inquisition on the other hand will perform the duties of judging in Spiritual and godly matters.


Part III: Citizenship.

Article I: A citizen is all who lives in the territories of the Republic of Genoa, owns property in the Republic of Genoa, and performs an office of any kind which will contribute to the Republic of Genoa.

Article II: A citizen of Genoa has the right to have it's own property, to move where he wants with his family, and to participate in public events such as the coronation of a Doge or the festivals.

Article III: The citizen has his duty to be loyal to the the Republic of Genoa, the Doge, the Senate, God, and the laws of this constitution or any other law of the Republic of Genoa. Not doing so, is to commit treason against the Republic of Genoa.


Part IV: The Constitution.

Article I: The constitution shall remain as the supreme laws of the Republic of Genoa.

Article II: To change any article of the constitution, there must be the aproval of the Doge, and 80% or more of the Senate, with the aproval of at least 50% or more of the citizens of Genoa.

 

[AugCaesar]

To Save a King

The Halls of Windsor

John felt a strength and power he never had when his blade plunged viciously into his victim’s chest, and as the adrenaline flowed and he looked down at the dying man he was filled with rage. A desire to lash out at all those before him and let them share the man's fate. He never had the chance though as soon the Comte's guards were everywhere and his traitorous enemies quickly put at bay. The boy was breathing heavily, his chest heaving, and tears welling his eyes, he looked once more at his blooded sword and dropped it from his hand, leaving it to clank at the lieutenant’s feet. Two men rushed forth to the Comte, and Assheton quickly, kneeling at their sides, and then making to pick them up. The lieutenant said something to John but the boy did not hear it as he wheeled backwards, his head growing dizzy at the horrible sights and thoughts that course through his young mind. He backed into the wall, and his head banged solidly off of it, sending a shock of pain through his skull. John was sobbing uncontrollably know and his hands hung lifeless at his sides his body hunched forward as he leaned against the wall. He looked up at the lieutenant not far away and heard the cries of the French guards,

"GOD SAVE THE KING!"

The chant was repeated, and every time John became dizzier until finally he stumbled forward and holding his stomach with both hands vomited forcefully onto the blood soaked floor. He stumbled forth eventually catching himself on the frame of the door to his study, steadying himself there for some moments before he rose strait up again. He looked across the room at the traitors arrayed before him and spit onto the ground, a mixture of blood, saliva, and vomit. The pain in his head was throbbing now. He had no words for these men, but a fierce anger was brewing inside him again, and he felt that he could not control his rage he turned to the lieutenant with a fire in his eyes and spat out the words contemptuously,

"Disarm these men, and chain them together...leave on their armor. Assemble all the castle guard in the courtyard...ready an executioner." The boy walked forward very near to the guards and just before them knelt down, picking up one of the coins from the ground, he fingered it in his hands looking at it from all sides, its glint and shine almost momentarily removing him from the task at hand. Snapping back into the moment he dropped it at the traitor’s feet and began to head off before turning back to the lieutenant. "Prepare these things for me...I must now see to your Comte."

North of Caen, Normandy​

​

John Stafford slammed the young man up against the wall and pushed his face close against the smooth face of the youth, he spoke vilely his saliva landing on the boys face as the words flew from his mouth,

"This is evil treachery child, you will do as you are told or rue the consequences here and in eternity. The fleet will be ours."

The young knight trembled in the man's grasp and feared that he may not leave this room. He wondered why his father had sent him on such a desperate mission. Even if Stafford had not been in Caen what chance was there that Talbot would defect to Gloucester. His father must have no love for him to send on such a mission. He tried to compose himself, fighting back tears as he answered,

"Lord Regent, it is my father's will, he says not you, nor the Lords Talbot, or Erpyngham are to cross the channel with their armies, he fears you will take the throne for your own."

Just as the words escaped the heir to Gloucester’s lips he found himself flying through the air as Stafford heaved him off the wall and over the table behind them, his body skidding across it before it crashed to the floor. Gloucester felt a sharp pain in his arm as he landed and scurried backwards on the floor eventually bringing him up against the wall where Stafford stepped forward and loomed over him. For the first time the boy thought clearly and something clicked in his head, he knew why he still lived,

"You can not kill me Lord, the fleet is just offshore, and its captains loyal to me and my father, If I am dead they shall sail away from here, and you shall never get your armies to England before York has reached London."

The boy almost smiled, pleased with himself, as he pulled himself up from the ground and stood not far from the Regent. Stafford boiled with frustration, as he knew he could not win this way though still he answered back bitterly,

"These things shall not matter to a boy with one foot in his grave." The room was silent now as Stafford stepped backwards into a nearby chair and sat down, his face growing pensive. Footsteps could be heard approaching but neither of them paid any heed; Stafford lost in thought the boy still uncertain of his fate. Finally John broke the silence and spoke again, more thoughtfully now,

"It is your father who is traitor Alfred."

Stafford was interrupted as the door opened and John Talbot, and Thomas Erpyngham stepped into the room. Talbot's eyes burned fiercely as he looked at the boy and moved to the corner of the room seething. Erpyngham though bore a more compassionate expression and after bowing to Stafford stepped near the boy and pulled two chairs from the ground. The boy looked at the chair that was put before him and it reminded him of the pain his arm that was what he had landed on. Thomas sat and motioned for Alfred to as well, the young Gloucester obliged and Erpyngham spoke in a friendly tone to him,

"Lord Stafford is right Alfred,” Thomas paused and now laid his hand on the young man's knee, leaning in towards him, "I know your father, I know his motivation. He seeks the throne because he sees now that the King is weakest." He leaned back in the chair again and motioned to his side, "York will march from the north," His swung his arm around to the other side, "The Regent and we are stuck here in Normandy. Your father has told you that he will march north and destroy York to protect the King? Correct?"

The boy nodded and meekly answered, "That is his word." Alfred thought back to his father's cold glances and harsh words before he had left. The young man also remembered times at court and how friendly these men were to him and the King; he remembered his father's aloofness and distaste when Stafford had become regent. It was all making sense now.

"Your father means to destroy York...that is true, but then he means to destroy the King, but he has not the means. He will run your inheritance, and your family to the ground under the hooves of his enemies. Your mother, Lady Annabelle will be captured...your brothers. Thomas and Timothy...killed...and then your life will be forfeit."

Alfred looked at the ground beneath him and finally he did begin to cry as desperation and a hatred for his father boiled inside of him. Thomas seized this weak moment and stood up placing his arm on the boy's shoulder.

"Join us, give us the fleet and together with us save your family and your title. For god's sake boy...Save your King."

Across the room Stafford and Talbot looked at each other remarkably amazed at the turn of events, and hopeful that the boy would say yes. It was only moments before their hopes were confirmed and the boy rose clasping Erpyngham's hand in his own, with his other hand wiping the tears from his face. He spoke through the sobs,

"Let us prepare to sail. I shall save my King...and myself. I thank you Lord."

Stafford shot to his feet ecstatic and ran to Erpyngham's side where Talbot joined him, the four Englishman exchanging looks of solidarity. Quickly they were headed out of the castle, they must prepare for war. As they came out into the city Alfred saw the fleet out ahead and he thought of his father. Soon the Duke of Gloucester would be in Nottingham, and there this war would begin as the forces of Gloucester and York clashed over the throne of England that neither had yet gained. It seemed an odd coincidence to the boy that only his father, and four men in Gallia knew of the battle to come, but he pushed the thoughts aside to focus on the task at hand and to pray for King John.

 

[Alex_pharaoh]

The Hidden Treasure​

Some days have passed since I proclaimed the constitution. I was doing my best to bring Genoa to it's former stability and Glory. However, when the minister of economy has passed the ammount of wealth Genoa had, I was amazed, for Genoa had just 500,000 Ducats. It was nothing concidering the 2 years of heavy taxation, and the lack of use of that money.

"Your highness, here I promise you, this is what we found in the Republic vault."

"It makes no scence! Where did all the money go?!"

"Sire, I believe I have the answer..." -Said to me a young boy, around 15 years old.

"Who are you, and how did you get in?!" -I said frustrated, as I was watching the low numbers on that piece of paper.

"My name is Alberto. And I used to work here for the previous Doge. I was his shoe cleaner."

"Then what do you know, kid?"

"Well, the night of the revolt, the previous Doge was going all arround going mad and with a short temper of everything. But I did understand what he was speaking to himself: "They will never find the gold... They will never find it!"

"Where do you think he could have hid it, Alberto?"

"Well, I saw many bags inside his boxes and suitcases he brought with him to the dungeon. And I also know there is a secret room in the Dungeons where I used to enter as a shortcut to the palace. And that is how I entered to the palace right now..."

"So if you entered through there, it is not there..."

"I never said it was not there. I saw all those bags and small boxes containing golden coins..."

"Guards! Follow me and this kid!"

We went down to the bottom of the Torre di Popolo, and into the dungeons. The kid then showed us part of the wall which opened like a door. And there it was, bags and boxes full of golden coins and precious stones.

"There must be at least 7 million ducats in here!" -And after admiring the ammount of wealth accumulated in the last few years, I spoke to Alberto: "You have made a noble thing. Do you have a family?" -He answered no.- "Where do you live?" -He answered nowhere.- "You did a noble thing telling us about this secret passage and this gold. You have saved Genoa from bankrupcy, and it would be unfair to not give you nothing in return. So instead, I promote you to Master of the Ducal Palace. You will live in the palace, and would run the administration of it, for your good knowledge of the house. And I alo promote you Sir Alberto di Palazzio. And one last thing, I want you to spend a few hours every morning in the library with me."

"Why?"

"It's a surprise. Just do what I say, and you will be fine."

As I got out, Alberto has been showed his room. And so, my dream to teach people how to read and write starts here. Who knows, maybe he will be a Doge one day...

 

[unmerged(8303)]

In Marseilles harbor

The sun was hot and weighted heavily upon the dockworkers shoulders. They had been out since sunrise, hammering away at a small dock extension that had been ordered by a local nobleman. The rumor was that it had been ordered by someone even more powerful than he, maybe even Count Rene himself.

The new dock was supposed to let an extra ten ships be docked at the harbor and would probably take them an entire year to complete. Every day more supplies were arriving in the bustling port, and a steady flood of workers kept the project moving along nicely.

All day long the loud sounds of hammers and other tools adding dock extensions, ladders, stairways, lookout towers and various other naval necessities echoed throughout the coast. These extensions were not only to increase the trade capacity of the harbor, but to give the city some extra defenses from the barbary pirates who had plagued the Provencal coast for centuries now.

As the workers slaved their day away, there was talk about how Count Rene himself might be arriving in this harbor soon, and this generated some excitement. However it was not til early evening, when the men were winding down for the day did an excited voice announce a ship on the horizon. And not just any ship, but the Charles d'Anjou.

It had been a gift from Rene's grandfather Joan I of Aragon to his son-in-law, Louis II of Naples. Louis had willed it amongst many other estates and magnificent castles and chateaus to the Count upon his death.

As the ship drew near shore, the men put away their tools and stood respectfully and quietly as the ship pulled close to the docks and was secured. As the boarding planks hit the dock, everyone strained to get a look at who the ship might carry.

A small group of french knights disembarked first, followed by a group of decoratively dressed infantrymen. As the crowds were pushed back and held in place with by the Infantrymens spears, a robust figure climbed down to the dock.

Though few could see him well in the evenings diminishing light, they were all certain. Count Rene had returned home.

 

[unmerged(7347)]

In Aleppo

The Mamluke Sultan was inspecting how the Mamluke administration took over the rule in Aleppo.

Already an Amir had been appointed to overwiew that the taxes flow as they should to the state treasury and as the population by now, was used to that there masters changed frequently, they didnt lift more then an eye brow when it was announced that their lands had been turned over to the Mamlukes. What also probably helped the smooth installation of Mamluke officials was that it was less then 25 years since Aleppo last was ruled from Cairo, so it was only the young which didnt remembered that time...

The Sultan was currently looking at some papers, showing how much tax the different parts of the province contributed with when he was disturbed by one of his subordinated.

"Sultan, the men are ready!"

The Sultan nodded. He had ordered the raising of yet even more troops to support the northern campaign in the defence of the Khan of the Horde. Now they apparently where ready to marsch.


"Good, then see to that they begin there marsch as soon as possible. Make also sure of that they carry enough of provision to atleast operate for half a year. How ever, I have been promised by the Ottoman Sultan that we shall also have the oppertunity to seek provision in his own lands while on the marsch..."

And thus the reinforcement to the Grand Mamluke Army began their journey north. It was a delightfull sight as colourful mamluke warriors marsched side by side, like a long serpentine, passing the northern gate of the city and out in the open landscape...

 

[unmerged(9167)]

King Constantine and Queen Blanca have been recovered from their poisoning even as they still felt lingering effect of poison. They are now determined to find out whose have poisoned them. Constantine swore a revenge on the poisoner. Everybody in the court suspects that that it was either Don Pedro, Carlos of Navarra, a traitor or even accidental poison, depends on the persons.

Constantine walked to the court, where the people were cheered to see King back in action and mostly recovered! He sat down in his throne and spoke,

The court of Aragon is now opened!

 

[unmerged(7347)]

As the two armies headed north, the grand one in Taurus and the reinforcement in Aleppo, skilled navigators in both forces plotted the course. It was done with an ancient method, developed to maintaine the course both in the sandy deserts of the south as on the grand oceans. The altitude was obtained by measuring the latitude to a know star over the horizon and then by deduct that from the altitude of the Pole Star. It could be done with just by uising the widht of the fingers.

When held at arm's length, the width of four fingers was considered to measure 4 isba'. In a 360 degree circle there are 224 isba'. It is considered that a day's sailing due north would raise the Pole Star 1 isba' from the horizon, but as it was now a matter of navigate on land another unit was used aswell, zam. as the isba' was further divided into 8 zam.

Crossing the territory of the Ottoman Empire, supplies was “purchased” from the local population.

As ordelry as it could be done in an veteran army. The officers tried to see to that not entire villages where empty, but that every village contributed with a fair share of there supplies. Bread and other supplies was purchased in an advanced set, fixed price, thus there wouldnt be any quarreling about prices.

The Mamluke army had experience from before for marsches like this and camels where located in the rear of the great ”serpent” as the ”logistic core”.

When approaching Astrakhan, the forces of the Khan was sighted. The commanders of the both armies saluted eitchother and as the Great Khan himself was leading the forces of the Horde, he was to determine where the first strike upon the walls of Astrakhan would be launched. Not that it made any real difference where it was launched as the combined armies of the Horde and the Mamlukes was in such a majority in relation ot the defenders, but it was anyway a way to show the Great Khan respect and acknowledge his high position.

 

[Alex_pharaoh]

Alberto di Palazzio, the young master of the palace, has decided to go and buy by himself the goods needed in the palace. So, after his reading session with the Doge, he set off to the main market to buy some food, and maybe a new thing to surprise the Doge. When he arrived to the market, it was filled with people waiting to buy new products that have arrived from other countries.

There was activity everywhere. Not only that there were many merchants buying the goods Genoa provided, but also there were many foreig merchants to buy those. As Alberto aproach one of those foreign merchants selling in a small yet very active stand, which he knew he were foreign because of his strange clothes, he saw what they were selling: Wine. Fine wine from south eastern Germany, made in the baks of the Badenese Rhine, known for it's excellent taste. That was the perfect surprise Alberto could give the Doge, which he himself made the possibility of trading with Baden, and here are the results. There was also the possibility of buying cheap salt, but lberto decided that it is enougth with the wine.

As he continued to pass through the market, he bought many supplies along with the whole team that were sent to buy supplies to the large and populated palace. Of cource, the near market was the richest of all, since the palace was one of the most consuming things that there could be in Genoa. And in the years of Tommaso di Campofregoso, the only thing that was left were merchants from Rome and buyers from the palace. Finnaly, Alberto arrived to another odd stand, presenting goods from the holy lands. He had never seen such goods so close to him. Only incense which was used for his prayer every Sunday. But other goods such as strange spices, limestone, and flexible timber from Lebanon, which unlike the strong timber from Baden, this was perfect for arrows and other goods that can use such flexible timber.

Alberto decided not to buy those goods, at least not today. But in his short life, he never have imagined that Genoa would start trade again such goods. Was this realy the begining of a new and prosperous era? Or should the jelousy of other European powers would decide to destroy again the wealth that Genoa is acumulating again?

 

[unmerged(10364)]

During a cold night, 1 week after the declaration of war by Venice, 20 guards were summoned by king Obrenovic. Their are told what to do and head for the chamber of the venetian ambassador, Abramo. They reach it. They open it gently and rush the room to get the sleeping Venetian. He is caught without a fight and tied with ropes.

He is taken before the king, on his knees.

"You should've know better than stay here after the treacherous letter your king has sent me. Since our two countries are at war, I have no choice but to confine you to a prison cell. Take him away!"

Abramo is sent to a small dark cell, infested with rats.

 

[Eu_proof]

Rennes, Brittany​

”Fish! Delicious fish!”, there where too many stands in the market. ”Sausages! The fatest sausages in Brittany!”, he had to get back to the inn. He walked in on a backstreet and walked in to the inn, “Le chat noir”. ”Juilan, you are back, can you serve these two gentlemen?” He lay of his jacket on the table behind the desk and served the two men two glasses of beer.

He threw himself into the bed. He had two books next to him at the small table left of the bed, one deep novel about a man and his life as viking in Norway. The other one was a interesting small book about a solider in the hundred years war. He read about one hundred pages and then begun thinking about his father, had he made the wrong decision maybe? He got an idea, got to his feet and sat down on a chair and begun writing.

”Un Breton please. Do you serve food in this place?” A dark-haired, young man leaned his elbow on the desk and ordered un Breton. ”Of course we serve food, from meet to soup. Un Breton it was.” Juilan made Un Breton for the man and served it. ”Here you are. What would you like to eat?” Juilan studied the young man, he did not sound like he was from any of the towns nearby, he had a barely noticeable Nantesian accent. ”Ehhrr… A nice pork could be good.” Juilan telled the chef, the owner of the inn, to make a pork ready. ”You are not from here are you?” Juilan looked interested at the man, almost as young as himself, about 18-19 maybe. ”No, actually, I am from Nantes, but I had a fight with my father and decided to leave home. I was moving out soon otherwise too and start my own life.” Juilan laughed. ”Such a coincident, guess what the reason was I left Nantes? Juilan was the name, Juilan Yvernes.” Juilan held out his hand. ”Juilan Yvernes you say? Is that not the name of the son of the duke? Tony Oliviers.” Tony took his hand and shook it. The chef arrived with a plate which had potatoes and porkpieces on it.

 

[unmerged(3236)]

Huang Jie was still sad due to her brothers death. He was, apart from the harem girls, the only one she trusted outside China. She was always close to him when he wasn't out on his royal duties yet his death came as a complete surprise. Huang Jie did not know that there were dieseses that could kill a man that quick, but the only alternative, poison is unthinkable. The new Khan wasn't even in the land when Aghakhan Hytshtej died and no one but him have really gained from Hytshtejs death.

Huang Jie realizes that her travel is complete, she have arrived at the tomb of Hytshtej, like she have done every day for several months. As always she bowed her head in respect and walked slowly and silently through the entrance of the tomb.

However as soon as she entered the tomb she could feel that something was wrong in the tomb. Something had disturbed the peace of this holy grave! She stopped and peered into the darkness of the tomb and soon she saw something in the shadows, something that reflected the sparse moonlight. Knowing that she was no fighter she decided to leave the tomb. As soon as she turned her back to the tomb she heard that the figure in the dark started to run towards her. Huang Jie began to run towards her horse so she might be able to escape this attacker.

After just a few steps Huang Jie saw her horse coming running towards her, Huang Jie immediately thought that someone had attacked her beloved Olzai and that she was doomed now.

Huang Jie stopped and turned to face her attacker after Olzai had ran past her. When she did so she was reminded to why she had chosen Olzai. The Large horse ran with full sped right into the black robed attacker who was knocked out from the powerful collision.

Huang Jie feared that new attackers was comming and decided to ride of without questioning the knocked out attacker.

But where should she ride? Who could be behind this attack? She could not return to Samarkand, the new Aghakhan, her brother have showed minimal interest in her and would do nothing to save her, he would probably be glad if she died!

Hytshtej had always had icy relations to the Hashanshish, perhaps the Grand master was trying to retake the power which his order held 300 years ago during the leadership of the old man on the mountain. Huang Jie decided to ride to Al-Alamut, the current stronghold of the Hashanshish