Rumors

[Innocent]

The still of the morning is broken by the commotion of a column of carriages, flanked and lead by men on horseback, moves through Rome from the Lateran Palace. Among the mounted men is Pope Innocent VIII, who is departing the city for the Imperial city of Nuremberg. The people of Rome turn out to the streets to catch a glimpse of their pontiff, who waves and greets the people of the city in his best Italian.

By the end of the morning the procession has made its way out of the city, and is well on its way North. With the Pope travels the Curia, many powerful and wealthy men who each carry with them there own following of servants and aides. The column stretches for miles from one end to another, and the towns on which it plans to stop have been warned weeks ago to have enough food and lodging prepared for them. Rarely is there such a glorious scene in the Italian countryside.

Soon the Papal convy will be passing through the provinces of Mantua, and the Northern Venetian Plain, before making its way through the Tyrolean country side and into the lands of the Austria and Bavaria, wherein lies the final destination of Nuremberg. Where it is rumoured the Pope is to preach the Crusade and meet personally with the Emperor and the Imperial nobility.

 

[Bagricula]

Hasan had been scared before. Being a glass vendor in Alexandria meant that he had much wealth and often had to deal with Shi'ite nobility. When the revolts started and then the coup, he'd seen many of his best customers killed. So he'd hidden low for a few days, trying to avoid the more zealous members of his faith, but now he was back in business. The new Sultan, Ulgulekh the Sublime they called him had sent coffers of dinars to the Governor of Alexandria to be distributed among the merchants to compensate for the instability. Naturally, the money wasn't given out evenly, and it helped to follow government policy or have friends in the right place to gain the funding. Hasan sees a foreigner stopping in front of his shop and peering in. Hasan waves the man in even as he checks a paper beneath his counter. It is written in the flowing Arabic of state. Hmm...so if he is an..I...Iberian..from Portugal, Aragon, or Castile I can get fifteen dinars, but if he's a Venetian I'm to refuse him trade.. Hasan smiles on the foreigner who is searching through the display of ornate bottles. He selects two and approaches Hasan,

"How much are these, master glassblower?"

"I'm not familiar with your accent. What is it?"

"Portugese...I have my lord's seal for trade in Africa.."

Hasan nods, still smiling. The Portugese man produces the seal, which Hasan checks against his government paper.

"Lizboa? Well well..for you, I will give you a special price, only thirty dinars each."

"Surely, thirty more than covers the cost of both of them. I could only part with forty dinars for the pair."

"For a man of your taste, twenty-five dinars each...a secret...these are very popular items...you're lucky I still have some.."

And so the haggling continued till both were happy.

 

[Schlieffen]

Have you heard, Great Kahn?
The young Kahn turns towards his advisor to reply before continuing to practice his swordsmanship with an officer in the fields of Anatolia.
Yes, Abdul, I have
What of our soldiers? Shall we retreat back to the Horde?
No, we shall stay.
But Great Kahn...
Are you saying I should allow such cowardace to go unpunished? Our only route to Europe shall not be cut off, at least without it being controled by a more stable power for the next time...

You would be wise to fear the Mongolians as your allies more then you fear your enemies.
If you retreat, you will die a much more painful death.​

​

 

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Vasily was walking slowly down the empty halls of the Kremiln with his wife at his side. The building was still being constructed and the sounds of surf hammers could be heard ringing through the halls. Neither of them talked but spent their time reflecting on the series of events that had just transpired.

In a bloody cue the last Grand Duke of Russia whose origins were Novogradian was arrested by his own men and quartered. All of Muscow rose up to install Muscovian royalty at the head of the government. Vasily was the rightful heir and after the downfall of the Novogradian imposter he was rushed into the barely constructed Kremiln and assumed the title of Grand Duke of Russia. However, the atmosphere of Russia continued to be low as it was split in two by an enemy Orthodox nation, Pskov, and surrounded by Christian and Muslim infidels.

With suspision in his own mind growing of more discontent in the land, Vasily decided that he needed to empower himself in a more central authority in the lives of the now Russians. As such, with absolute haste he decided to crown himself Czar, Emperor of the Russians. It was a gamble, as their has never been a Czar before, and he had no leaders from the Orthodox church their to confirm his status as Czar. Vasily crowned himself and his wife by his own hand.

It is unclear as to whether this gamble will pay off, but in one night Russia went from a Grand Duchy on the defensive to an Empire with imperialistic dreams.

"I shall write to the Patriarch today and have him confirm me as Czar of all Russians. I shall also seek for his confirmation of my claim on all Russian Orthodox powers. Let us hope that this will pay off," Vasily said to his wife.

She merly nodded and they both continued walking.

 

[unmerged(7849)]

The Czar sat and watched for awhile as serfs under the direction of Imperial engineers continued on the construction of the Kremlin. It was still a long way from being complete, and until it is the power of Russia in the Czars mind will not be carved in stone. More than just a home for the Czar and the Imperial government the imposing figure of the Kremlin would be a representation of the power and might that Russia would seek to find.

In addition the Czar was thinking of all the other money he had distributed to the construction of cathedrals and buildings around Russia. The Czar was trying to start a Russian Renaissance and bring majesty and glory to the Empire. He sat thinking and hoping that these massive projects would raise the spirits of his people and increase the prosperity of his lands. His immediate goal was to make Moscow a third Rome, and he had sent away for Italian help to achieve this goal.

Just then a man came up and wispered to the Czar, "The letter reached the Venetians."

"Good, then all we have to do now is wait," the Czar said.

 

[unmerged(547)]

From Anglia

The day for "God's Verdict" upon Devon and Somerset was finally at hand. Richard was quite relieved that soon deliverance from this besmerchment upon his name. Certainly both had kept a small hope alive that Richard would yet call the entire 'trial by combat' off and give them both royal pardon, but realistically both knew that this would not be forthcoming.

The Royal Pavilion was set with the Tower in the background. Richard particularly liked the imagery and for a while even toyed with the idea of setting the 'Trial' to take place on Tower Hill. Nonetheless, Richard chose a rather pleasant spot just across the Thames.

With a small flip of the curtain, Richard stepped forth to take his seat as the crowds cheered. Smiling broadly, Richard nodded as he lifted his hand. As he seated himself, Richard eyed the lovely ladies present at the event. Certainly not suited for the status of Queen, but certainly may be suited for another 'position' Richard mused to himself.

After offering their confessions both men stepped before the Pavilion and knelt. Richard stood once more, this time with a solemn visage. "Thomas Courtnay, Fifth Earl of Devon; John Beaufort, Duke of Somerset. You have both been found guilty of involvement in conspiracy against the Crown via usage of the Great Seal in forged documents bearing a false signature of the former Regent of England, Elionor of Castille-Leon."

A murmur broke throughout the crowd as Richard continued. "Both have denied the role as chief conspirator in this act and accepted to resolve this situation through combat. May God show us the virtuous one by granting him victory on this day; and may He show mercy upon the other's soul. M'Lords prepare for justice!"

Both men circled each other uneasily at first. They had been close friends and allies throughout Elionor's Regency, profiting greatly through her allotments of marks. Yet know both knew that he must prevail, not only for self preservation of honour, but now in life as well. Devon was the younger, so had the benefit of quickness and a slight edge in strength. Somerset was the battle hardened veteran though, even serving under Richard's command at Agincourt.

Devon launched a brutal assault upon Somerset with a strong downward clash upon his shield, to which Beaufort seemingly barely kept control, while he stepped deftly to his right attempting to thrust his sword into Courtney's groin. A quick deflection by his shield and this was avoided.

Back and forth the thrusts and shield parries continued. Devon's wild blows rang menacingly through the still air, yet Somerset continued to masterfully deflect them at the proper angle, thus minimizing the blow's shock to his shield arm and shoulder. Finally Courtney, apparently misreading Beaufort's feignt, attempted to land a blow to his opponents visor. Somerset anticipating the attack properly then responded with an upward slice, landing just between the helm and breastplate of Devon.

Blood splay forth from under the visor to the sound of gasps among those present. Devon's body writhed as he struggled to remove the helm. His squires rushed to his side as Beaufort watched on. With the helm removed, Devon was trying to say something, but all that he managed was a blood soaked gurgle before a quick death.

Turning to the pavilion, Somerset waited for Richard to speak. Upon rising, Richard spoke as the Abbot rushed forward to Devon's side: "God's judgement has been made. You, John Beaufort, Duke of Somerset are hereby pardoned for your role in the 'Normandy Affair'. God go with you."

Somerset knelt once more during Richard's words. Oh, perhaps you will be the one who needs God more than I!

 

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In The Canary Islands

Lord Governor Pedro Cortez sat reclining in his favorite chair, staring out over the harbor from his palace balcony. Sipping on his best stock of wine, he wiggled his rather large expanse of belly trying to avoid the heat of the noonday sun

"Damn it, fan harder you lazy lot!" He yelled to the servants fanning him off in the warm breeze.

Grunting in happiness as the feather fans begin to swing faster he gazes once again back out to sea. "What a lousy place to be stationed" He thought glumly to himself. Off in the middle of no where trying to increase the profits of the Kingdom. "What profits?" He snorted to himself. The African coastline was a great barren land of undiscovered hazards. Only minimal trade so far had been made off from what little they knew of it. But here he was, on a little island off the coast because the King decided that they needed a station down here to increase their influence. "So much for that" Cortez laughed to himself, looking at the handful of merchant ships docked below. Only the crazy ones come here and an occasional warship. "We should just give it to those damn sneaky Portuguese; they seem to enjoy sailing up and down this hellhole." He thought with a great yawn.

Thinking about what a useless post he had been assigned to, Cortez begins to drift off to sleep when a messenger arrives.

"Well what is it?" He growls

"Letter for you my lord" the man says handing over a folded parchment.

Grumbling his thanks Cortez snatches it and begins to read.

"Lord Governor of His Majesties Island,
It has come to my attention that a Portuguese trader of some sort has breached the inner lands of Africa and brought back riches. Little is known so far on it, but I assumed this was vital news that must be passed on. I thought that you as the Kings representative in this area would be the best to approach with this information. I beg you to pass this on to the King, if the Portuguese truly have achieved this feat, it would be in our interest to make some sort of pact with them. We must act quickly and strike some sort of deal with them before they claim it for themselves. Here is a chance to increase the profits of our realm ten-fold I hope that you don't mishandle this.

Sincerely,
Castilian Merchant


“What in the seven seas is this?” Cortez roars after reading the letter. “This merchant does not even sign his name. I will not write His Majesty a letter based on this nameless warning. I would be the laughing stock of the court” Cortez says crumbling the letter and throwing it in the corner. “Besides, no matter how crafty those Portuguese are, even they could not have accomplished such a feat.” He declares. “Now I must go lay down, this damn heat is killing me.”

Pablo Garcia, the local garrison captain, enters the balcony a few minutes after the governor has left. Hearing the entire outburst from the other side of the doors he quickly walks over and picks up the letter. After reading it over once he turns and rushes from the palace.

An hour later a messenger dressed in army clothing can be seen rowing out towards an anchored brig. After a quick converse with the master and the handing over of a bag, the brig raises anchor and sets sail. No one having any clue where.

 

[Mettermrck]

Rabat

He always enjoyed Rabat at this time of the year. The cool Atlantic breezes flowed into the main quarter and made even a crowded marketplace smell fresh...well, as best as could be managed. Pedro Nobarae smiled wistfully at the sea and then turned back to business.

His contacts with Rui Domingez had been of inestimable value in his trading ventures. Though the young man had gotten great value from his first caravan, Pedro stood to gain even more when he sold the bags of salt and ivory horns. He could tell by the barely-concealed looks of avarice he received in the market that he stood to make a fortune, even more if Portugal could develop this trade route.

After haggling for a bit and politely rebuffing all offers, Pedro returned to his tent to think more on this. The main trading routes into Morocco from Europe either came by land from Tlemcen to the east or through the main ports at Ceuta and Tangiers. Either required long distance and the usual heavy tolls. No, thought Pedro...the key to accessing the heart of Morocco and Fez was right here! Rabat...Portugal's ownership of Ceuta and Madeira gave her an excellent strategic position on this route. Of course, we'd have to work with Castille, thought Pedro. Their ownership of the Canaries their friendship valuable. Yes, they would be interested in a joint venture for sure. And he knew some very sharp Castillian merchants in Rabat he could speak to.

In the meantime, he prepared a hastily written letter to send to his benefactor, Prince Enrique, on Madeira island. This opportunity could not be missed!

 

[unmerged(8054)]

Kronborg, Copenhagen

von Liebenstein leaned back in his chair.

So far his negotiations with Danish nobles and merchants were progressing, allthough at a much slower pace than he would prefer.
Most of them had started accepting Bremer forces as the official authorities, and he no longer heard any complaints about his official rules, which among other things stated that every execution, even for ordinary crimes, had to be accepted by Bremer officials, or that no man, even nobles, could have more than 50 armed men under their command, and that even this number was reserved for those who had willingly cooperated with the occupation forces.

4 nobles had been executed, and 3 more had had their titles annuled and their land confiscated. If you added to this the number of childless, yet landholding nobles who had fallen on the fields of Jutland in the early days of the war, and the estates held by nobles who had volenterely followed queen Penelope and the goverment into exile in Norway, there was quite some land ownerless, and von Liebenstein smiled for himself. He would make sure that his family and friends would be among those receiving most of this.

As his personal guard respectfully knocked on the door, von Liebenstein looked at the paper in his hand:

The Danish solution.​

1) [insert name of noble here] will be crowned King of Denmark. For the first 5 years of his rule, the Greif-Schussel Allianz guarentees military protection against both internal and external threats.

2) Gotland will be given to Bremen.

3) Skåne will be given to Gelre.

4) Sweden will be released from Danish vassalage, and a king will be appointed by Joachim of the Greif, prince-protector of Sweden.

5) Merchants from the Hansa will not pay Sund due. All other Sund due will belong to the Danish crown.

6) Bergslagen, Jamtland, Vastergotland will be given to Sweden.

7) A port in Iceland will be given to Gelre, however, the province at large will remain under Danish control.

8) The Greif-Schussel Allianz have the legal rights to break any Danish blockade of the Sund installed by the Danish crown.

9) The Swedish cities of Helsingfors, Viborg and Stockholm will once again become Hanseatic members.

So far, only minor nobles had agreed to these terms, and the name of the future king had yet to be decided.
The upcoming negotiations could change that, or they could just be more waste of time.

The door opened, and von Liebenstein, smiling broadly, rose and walked towards his visitor.
"Count Lövenskiold. I'm very glad you could come. Please, be seated.
Herr Lövenskiold, I have a proposal to make..."

 

[unmerged(6757)]

In Madrid

"Messenger here to see you milord." Said the servant poking his head in the doorway after knocking.

"Very well send him in" replied Duke de Luna relaxing in his chair and wondering who this could be.

Just then a man wearing the outft of a Merchant Captain steps timidly into the office and bows before the Duke.

"Well out with it man, I haven't got all day." de Luna snaps impatient to get back to his duties.

"Your Grace.." The man stops to gulp. "Your Grace, I was instructed by a soldier stationed in the canary islands to deliver this letter to you in person. Failour to do so would result in the forfeit of my life." Upon finishing he holds out the letter in a shaky hand.

de Luna quickly snatches the well worn letter and reads it quickly. He then reads the added scrawl below it.

My Lord Duke,
I send you this letter knowing it will be of great value to the King and the future of Castile. The Lord Governor here thought it to be just a lie, but I think that it is real and would be to the benifit of the Country if we could act upon it.

Your Humble Servant,
Captain Pablo Garcia
Commander of His Majesties Forces in Africa

Upon reading both letters, Luna looks up sharply at the Mechant. "No one has seen these letters since you aquired them?"

"No Lordship, I was ordered to keep it secret." The scared man replies.

"Very well, you have done well Captain" Luna says tossing a few gold coins at him. 'You are dismissed."

de Luna pulling out quill and paper, does not notice the hurried thanks, and bowing merchant as he leaves.

Quickly he writes a message to the one man in Africa he knows he can trust with this info. He then summons a servant to dispatch the message at once to Morocco. he then writes another message to the King and has that one sent out as well. After all is done, the Duke leans back in his chair smiling. Up until now all he had heard was a bit of gossip from his eyes and ears about a Portuguese expedition into the deep desserts of Africa. Dismissing it at the time as idle boost between merchants, he now had sitting on his desk a letter that acknowledge it. He of course knew immediatly who had written the letter by the handwriting and was sure the man would be pleased by the response he was going to get, Luna Thought with a chuckle. "Perhaps God truly is smiling down upon our realm. this will certainly be a great gift for Castile." he mused to himself.

 

[unmerged(8915)]

Events

Venetian Inflation event​

The economy of the Venetians is getting out of hand. Despite the warning from the leading merchants of the republic, the Doge has not heeded their advice and has continued lending money to support is extravagant policies. Soon the port is awash in coin as the mercenary captains, condottierri and merchants bring their monies to purchase. With all these bidders, the sellers are running out of their wares and soon up prices, as people are willing to spend more to get the merchandise. Inflation arrives in the Serene Republic and takes up residence besides war within the citadel of St. Mark.

Effect: It will cost Venice 2 econ to perform any act that would cost 1 econ otherwise. (All economic expenditures 100% more expensive for Venice for 1 year. Venice’s eco is worth half for the purposes of loans and repayment.)

* * * * *

Friesland Inspection Event​

Emperor Joachim I ordered Hessians to inspect the government of Friesland to fully understand the events surrounding the death of Arnolf der Leeuwarden. Ely von Tibalt the head of the inspection has been busy during the months of his Friesian tenure. After meetings with the nobles and meeting with almost all the people who could have had a chance to see or know something, he concludes:

1-2: General Assenga likely ordered Leeuwarden’s death privately, and holds the nobles in a grip of fear.

3-4: The Frisian nobles masterminded the plan, and only a few behind it were ever imprisoned. Something is still rotten in the state of Friesland.

5-6: Assenga speaks the truth, and he has routed out all the criminals and is restoring order to the land. The Frisian government is innocent of any wrongdoing.

Roll:1. So it was Assenga who likely ordered the death! Yet Friesen is terrorized by the Machiavellian backstabbing politics of the enterprising general, whom the best Italian statesmen could be jealous of. The poisonous daggers multiply in the dark halls of the Friesen courts during this period of dark machinations (no effect, flavour event only)

* * * * *

Russia welcomes Italian craftsmen event​

The Russian empire awakes from its slumber after year of inactivity. With this new found zeal, the monarchy under Czar Vasily II. strives to cath up with the magnificent advancements made in other parts of the world. Long has Russia slept beneath the eternal snow of the North. Moscow sends out envoy throughout Italy, so famous for its industrial as well as artistic sophistication, to bring them back to the barren land and transform it to resemble more European principalities to the west, rather than Tatar tribal areas to the east. The Venetians respond in largest numbers, but how will Russia react to heretics who speak in strange tongues and dismiss long held traditions of Russia?

1. The craftsmen have a profound effect and Russia advances in leap and bounds (+1 Tech, +1 starting eco +1 current eco +1 morale for 1 year)

2. The Italians have a profound effect and the modernization progresses steadily (+1 starting eco +1 current eco for 1 year)

3. The Russians are impressed by their Czar’s long reaching influence, able to bring craftsmen from distant lands (+1 morale for 1 turn)

4. The Italians arrive, but leave soon afterwards. Russia has not been attractive enough (no effect)

5. The Italians arrive, but leave soon enough. Domestic craftsmen are dispirited, for the Italians could have taught them much, but are now gone (-1 morale for 1 turn)

6. The Catholic Italian craftsmen create a stir among the Orthodox clergy and local guilds, by constructing heretic Roman churches first and treating their Russian counterparts as if they were children (-1 morale for 2 turns –1 Tech for 2 turns)

Roll:1. The craftsmen arrive in the Russian winter, but even the snows do not stop their labours. Soon enough the sounds of carpenter tools are chipping in the Russian nation and stack of smoke rise from the armories of the blacksmiths. Russia progresses by leaps and bounds and the entire nation rejoices in the growing strength and pride, guided by the wise hand of their Czar (+1 Tech, +1 starting eco +1 current eco +1 morale for 1 year)

 

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Event

Northern War Event​

It has been two years now that the monarchies have clashed above the ice covered seas of the Baltics. Banners sporting the yellow cross of Sweden, through the crimson dragon of Pommern, keys of Bremen and white cross of the Danish monarchy have fluttered above heads of combatants for years now. The feudal levy has long since departed and the mercenaries are demanding higher wages again and again. The war coffers of the hosts are reaching emptiness and so many soldiers turn to plunder, as is the custom. But how many times can an army pillage poor village houses of the Swedish countryside. More and more soldiers are deserting and unless peace returns to the war ravaged Baltics, many an army might simply evaporate!

(no effect. Warning only)

 

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Passing the coast of Sardinia

Don Alejandro Menacho-Gabon looks at maps of Naples. Since King Alfonso sent his ultimatium to the revolutionary government of Naples he and the army of Aragon were placed on ships headed to Sicily. So far there was no word as to if Naples had responded to his King's demands on the Aragonese vassle, but for Don Alejandro Menacho-Gabon he and his men were ready to serve King and country should war break out.

 

[unmerged(7849)]

"Get those horses ready and make sure to take off those seals of Russia," an Imperial captain barked at his men busy taking off their uniforms. Just then a wagon pulled up to the large gathering of men and the driver got out.

"Here, their are plenty of civilian dress in the wagon, enough for your men here, " the driver said as he pointed to the soldiers who quickly grabbed the clothes and started changing.

"Good, once all my men have changed you are to take their uniforms back to the barraks, oh, and if you mention this to anyone, I will personally cut out your throat, " the captain said as he stared at the man.

The driver then bowed and watched as the 100 armed men changed to look like civilians.

********

Nadia picked up some of the grain she had dropped. She had just harvested what here elder father was too tired to finish, and she was busy walking back to their small house. She passed several people on the rode, but only nodded to them; her family had just moved to Olnets from Pskov, and were still not aquainted with everyone.

As she was walking thinking of their new future in Olnets the heavy sound of horses galloping came from behind her. She could tell by the sheer volume of the sound that there was a large party of horses travelling fast. Since she was from the city and never ventured out into the country side before her move to Olnets she was not used to the opportunity of seeing so many men on horses. She decided to stay on the road and watch as the horses came around the corner. She soon saw the first horses dash out from the bend and into the middle of the road, she could see that the men were in civilian clothes, yet they looked slightly larger than ordinary men. She started to edge to the side of the road as the men came on thinking that they would make an effort to go around her. She was dead wrong, the men rode on and suddenly she realized that they werent slowing down or moving around her, she dropped the basked of grain and tried to dart off the road, but one of the men swerved his horse towards her and ran into her. Her body bounced off of the horses front legs and onto the ground where her frail body was further rolled by the trampling of the horses legs. Her body was broken by the many men that rode over her with no sympathy and not even bothering to look down. After they had past, she lay there among the grain that she had harvested only hours before.

The men continued to ride on, and when civilians would appear on the road they would make an effort to ride over the poor people. If they failed then a single man would depart from the column and run down and kill the civilians with their swords. At least 15 people were slain by the road side, a shadow of what was to come.

The men soon left the road and rode into a large field full of grain; just beyond the field straw roofs of a peasent village could be seen. Within the field workers were busy harvesting grain; as they saw the riders dart into the field they at first stood their looking at each other a little shocked. Once they realized that the riders werent stopping they dropped their tools and began to run, but the riders soon fanned out into a large line that spanned the entire field. The peasents were helpless as almost twenty of them were trampled to death in the fields. The men continued on.

In the village people were carrying on their daily life and many who were on a break from the harvesting were chatting with each other about their back breaking work. There were two hundered peasents who lived and worked in the village and its sorrounding fields. As it was harvest time, all two hundered were present on that day.

Soon enough the men dressed in civilian clothes emerged from the field and let out a blood curtiling scream that caused all the peasents to turn their heads in the mens direction. At first the peasents, like the others in the road and field starred at the men not understanding were they had come from, but as the riders drew their swords and cut down some of the peasents on the side of the road the others let out screams of terror and began to run. Many ran inside their small houses, but their flimsy wooden doors were no match for the hoves of the powerful horses, and the armed men would simply ride in to the houses and slaughter the cornered peasents. For those doors that were too thick to nock down, fire would do the job and the men would laugh as they could hear the voices of the peasents being burned alive.

Some of the peasents darted back through the streets hoping that they could get away, but the riders played cat and mouse and herded the peasents into corners and then slaughtered them all. For those that did escape the village they faced no hope out in the open against the riders and were soon cut down by those men who chased the peasents outside the village. Within ten mintues the entire population was screaming in terror, but the men were not done yet.

With most of the strong men already killed the riders gathered all the women and elderly in a circle in the village center. The riders then took their children and placed them in a seperate group watching their mothers and grandparnents. The captain, now dressed in black robes, dismounted and placed a knife in one of the childrens hands, a young boy. He then told the boy in a deep voice that if he killed one of the adults he would be allowed to live, and stepped aside so the boy could see his potential victim. The boy was too shocked to cry and began shake, he dropped the knife. The captain then picked it up and slit the boys throat. He then handed the knife to another child, and another, and another. They stayed there for an hour as the riders would watch as the children killed their own parents or were killed for doing so. When it was over the children who had killed the adults were put into another circle, they were few in number and starred lifelessly at the ground. The captain promissing them food led them into another house; once they were inside the door was closed shut, and the house fired. They all died.

Once this was over the men produced more torches and the entire village and the fresh fields of grain went up in flames. The men mounted their horses and before leaving etched into the wood of some houses and buildings muslim words and symbols.

********

The captain bowed deeply, "It is done Czar Visily"

 

[Mettermrck]

It was quiet in the throne room when Queen Adalia entered. King Reginald was discussing some economic figures with Senor Alvarez, and most of the Council members were talking amongst themselves, dealing with the latest gossip that the higher-born concerned themselves with.

As she approached, Reginald stood and smiled.

"My dear Queen..." he said, bowing and kissing her hand. "My, you look radiant this evening. Is this a special occasion, I dare hope?"

Adalia merely smiled at him, though Reginald could tell something unusual was in the air.

"Speak, my dear wife, speak. Tell me the news that brings joy to your face."

Adalia looked briefly uncomfortable. "P-perhaps milord husband would care to hear it in private...?"

"Nonsense!" Reginald shouted cheerily, waving his hand to encompass the people in the room. "If it's good news, we shouldn't be afraid to share it."

"I am with child, Reginald."

"You see?!? I was right. Such news is good and should be shared---------" He paused, as the weight of the announcement sunk in. Muttering could already be heard in the room. "D-d-did you say, you are......"

Adalia smiled again and curtsied. "Yes, my lord husband. I am with child."

Reginald gaped at her. For a moment, Adalia thought he might be displeased but then his joyous grin broke through and none doubted his happiness.

With very unroyal dignity, he leaped into the air, shouting, "Did you hear that! She is with child! I am going to have an heir!"

Adalia smiled indulgently. "Perhaps a little princess, dear Reginald."

He grinned in return. "Perhaps...but I would rather think Our Lord would favor us with a son, an heir...come, come, you must exhausted, let us get you to your sitting room...."

Adalia would have none of that. "I'm with child, Reginald, but I have not suddenly turned into porcelain. Oh, don't look at me like that. Very well, I'll at least sit down."

Reginald helped her to her throne, and Adalia sat with him during the meetings. But the buzz of her announcement had captured the emotions of the room, and for the rest of the night, delighted whispering broke out, and Reginald could not help beaming proudly at his wife.

 

[Schlieffen]

The Fields of Asia Minor​

Sir, the Venetians have yet to move into Asia Minor, and we recieved another messenger asking for peace.
Damdinsuryn, wearing the same uniform and armor he has been for the last few weeks, kicks over a chair in the tent.
Damn those Turks. I'm sure the Caliph will great to speak with once I return without a single battle fought...
As the officers and soldiers in the tent attempt to comfort the furious would-be defender of Islam and retaker of the Balkans, a messanger from the Horde arrives, handing a message to the Great Khan. He immediately hands it to his military advisor, Tikhtamysh, saying that he is too furious to read it.
After reading the message, he dismisses all of the other men in the tent with a slightly timid look upon his face.

What is it, Tikhtamysh? Have yet another ally abandon the cause of Islam?
No, Great Khan. The Russians have a new prince, and they already insult our just claims over the Rus. The Khan of Astrakhan has been asked, in your stead, if the Horde would be interested in "selling" the vassalage of the loyal Russian princes to his own person.
Although the look on Tikhtamysh's face clearly seems to be expecting an outbreak of fury, he looks up from the ground for a moment to see the Great Khan looking down at the floor, his hand in a fist but no emotion on his face.

Damdinsuryn smiles.

All hail the Great Khan Damdinsuryn, savior of Islam!
Our Allies cower in Fear of the Latins,
But the Catholics do the same for us.
Now the Great Khan Damdinsuryn will give us what we have been wishing for,
And the Honor of the Horde will be regained for the cowardace of the Catholics.​

 

[unmerged(7849)]

A party of men, about two hundred strong, were now leading the horses on foot through the forrest. They were dressed in dark clothes, and the tips of swords could be seen sticking out of the bottom of their coats. They were fairly large men, and didnt seem to be regular soldiers. As they walked, taking great care to be quiet, a little girl stumbled through the trees and onto the road right in the middle of the party. She stood their looking at them, and they at her. Innocently she walked up and touched one of the horses playfully; upon that moment the man leading the horse she touched grabbed her and covered her mouth. He drew a knife from beneath his cloak and cut her throat. He dropped her in the road and the men then continued their silent walk.

They were in the lands of Novograd, now belonging to Pskov. Though they were not by the actual city but traveling towards a large town near the city. The town was in the center of a major road way, and most of its citizens were upperclass merchants of trade within the north.

The road continued to wind on through the forest, but soon the forrest died away, and when it did the roofs of a large town were visible. Smoke was rising from many of the chimnies as the servants prepared the dinner for the wealthy. There were some small surf houses on the fringe of the town, but they showed no activity. The men immediately emmerged from the forrest and fanned out in a large line showing their immense numbers. Almost like a reflex they mounted their horses and drew their swords. And with no signal, they all started ridding to the village at the same time. They trotted at first but soon picked up speed until they had reached a full gallop. In an erie atmosphere they made no sounds except for the beating of the horses and rode on towards the town. When they drew close some of the citizens saw them, but stood in confusion at the sight of these men which appeared from out of no where. Some even thought they were just a large body of hunters, but as they drew close and the people saw their weapons drawn and horses at full gallop they started to back away and many ran into their homes. Unfortunately no one screamed or even let out a shout of warning and the men rode into the town without alerting the populace to their presense.

In an erie scene they silently cut down and killed anyone in their way. Many broke down the doors of the peasent houses and killed all those inside. By now, screams could be heard from the dying and many people who soon realized what was going on started to run in doors or try and escape the sound. But the wave of riders continued on through the town, and they were soon clogging every street, killing all those outside their homes, and breaking down the doors, those that they could, and killing every one inside. For those doors that couldnt be broken, fire would do the deed.

In a span of twenty minutes the entire town was alive with screams, and many of its people lay dying or dead in the streets of in their own homes. Over half of the town lay burning as the men started to torch each house. One of the riders was stopped and sitting on his horse in the town square. Their were several others around him, watching the scene unfold. The one rider in the middle then pulled of the hood of his cloak, and the fading sun revealed the face of the Russian captain that had led the raid against the village in Olonets. He watched as his men torched every building, and killed anyone who was unfortunate to still be alive.

However, he did not want to stay long as Novograd was far from Russia and close to Pskov itself. So he had ordered in his mind a simple extermination of the village, and no brutal executions of the elderly and pregnant. They would simply all die the same way. As soon as the town was on fire and all of its people dead, the men simply turned around and left.

They rode back onto the rode and into the forrest as darkness aproached hiding their movements. After a while of riding through the woods, the captain pulled to the side of the road and turned around. While he could not see the town in great detail, he could see a orange glow peering through the trees. He smiled and then continued on.

 

[unmerged(9313)]

Stranger...

Let me tell you a story about a great king, Christoffer of Oldenburg, the mightiest king that the north has seen in recent time. Oh, how his destiny was hard. How his end was horrible. How his story is brutal and bloody. Seeking justice, but finding only betrayel and corruption. Abandoned by those near to him, stabbed in the back by those owing him allegiance, attacked by those hostile to him. Fallen in battle on the fields of Jutland, his memory forever buried among those other few warrior kings. His country ravaged, his family shamed, his life's work burned to the ground.
But still, do not feel sorry for him, for he has been granted the greatest gift a king could ever dream about. He died for what he believed in, in the face of an numerical superior foe, him alone against the servants of greed. His memory will shine forever and cast eternal glory on the war-ravaged kingdom of Denmark-Norway.

God bless the soul of King Christoffer the Great and God bless Denmark...

 

[unmerged(8915)]

Flavour Event

- EVENT -

ORANGES ARE NOT THE ONLY FRUIT

The ambitious King of Aragon, Alfonso V, has sent the Czar of Russia a gift he most likely has never experienced before for all his jewels and finery - two crates of Valencia oranges. But how well does the perishable token of friendship survive the long
journey to Moscow?

1. The oranges survive the long journey and arrive at the Czar’s palace almost as fresh as the moment they left the citrus trees of sunny Valencia. Preserved by the skillful packing of the master merchants of Aragon, the taste of the fine fruits is a revelation to those Russians lucky enough to experience it.

2. The oranges survive the long journey and arrive at the Czar’s palace in good condition. Some have become slightly soft in parts, but these are discarded before being brought before the Czar. The gift is the talk of the amazed court for many weeks to come.

3. The oranges survive the long journey and arrive at the Czar’s palace in fair condition. Some have become slightly soft and developed green mould in parts, but these are discarded before being brought before the Czar. The gift is the talk of the impressed court for many weeks to come.

4. The oranges complete the long journey and arrive at the Czar’s palace in mediocre condition. Many have gone soft and developed green mould, but these are discarded before being brought before the Czar. There are only enough fresh oranges for the Czar himself and his immediate family.

5. The oranges complete the long journey and arrive at the Czar’s palace in poor condition. Most have gone soft and developed green mould, but these are discarded before being brought before the Czar. There are only one or two fresh oranges left amongst the mess of decayed and pungent mess.

6. The oranges complete the long journey and arrive at the Czar’s palace in appaling condition. The crates appear to be filled with a hairy, green mess whose pungent stink assails the nostrils when the lids are prized away.

Result: 2.The oranges survive the long journey
and arrive at the Czar’s palace in good condition. Some have become slightly soft in parts, but these are discarded before being brought before the Czar. The gift is the talk of the amazed court for many weeks to come.

 

[Schlieffen]

In the Palace at Astrakhan

The Great Khan storms into the palace, a guard and his military advisor trailing behind him. All three are still wearing their military gear, obviousaly just arrived from the "Crusade". Despite the fact that nothing more then candles and torches light the palace, there are still guards and a few diplomats roaming the building.
"Where is my Regent" asks Damdinsuryn in an irritated voice to the first guard in the building. The guard points to a room in the left of the Great Hall, to which the Khan immediately begins marching to.
"Nurgai!" he yells as he approaches the room to wake the Khan, but Nurgai replies from the slightly open door.
"I am awake, Great Khan. I was expecting you."
What is this I hear of the Russian rebels demanding our territory during our time of need?
Nurgai, Khan of Astrakhan, is in a chair beside the bed in the room, looking at the ground as he calmly explains the situation to Damdinsuryn. "Well, Great Khan, they did offer a sum for our more loyal vassals. A petty sum, perhaps, but economic compensation was offered for..."
"That is enough," states the Great Khan, calmer, but still angered at the lack of victory in the Balkans, the lack of loyalty to Islam in Asia Minor, and now the trechery of the Russian rabble who failed to offer the loans required by the treaty he was foolish enough to sign with them. "I just required to hear of this in person."

"We will march on Moscow and retake what is rightfuly ours, and then we will recover from this insult by the Catholic world."