The year is 769 anno domini. The Western Roman Empire is but a distant memory, faded into the sands of time. In the west, the Germanic Kingdoms that overran the Western Empire continue to squabble over it’s corpse, while the true Emperor rules from the east, in Constantinople. The Pontiff in Rome refuses to recognise the religious legitimacy of the eastern Patriarch however, still claiming to be the sole head of the Christian faith.
In the Kingdom of the Franks, Pepin the Short, son of the legendary Charles ‘The Hammer’ Martel, has died, leaving his kingdom divided between his sons. Karl, the eldest, inherits the West Francian realm, while the younger, Karloman, rules the realm of Middle Francia, the inheritance of the Frankish realm split in two between the brothers. Neither brother is happy with their father’s choices, with Karl in particular claiming himself as the legitimate heir to all the Frankish realms, which Karloman resists.
As the power struggle for the throne of the Franks begins, Karloman must marshal all his resources to struggle against his elder brother’s ambitions if he hopes to stop his brother’s attempts to usurp him, and claim the throne of a united Frankish realm.
OOC: Hey all. This is my first time doing an AAR so feedback and constructive critique are welcome for this one in particular. The conceit of this AAR is that it's from a 769 start playing as Karloman, younger brother of Charlemagne. Historically, as we know, Karl won the resultant power struggle over the Frankish realms and went on to found the Caroliginian Empire and lay the foundations for most of medieval Europe's most prominent kingdoms. But what if Karloman, not Karl had survived?...
August 769, Brie, capital of Karloman Karling, rightful King of the Franks,
He crumpled the parchment between his fingers, face twisted into a small snarl. If his wife hadn’t known Karloman’s anger was not directed her way, it might have been a frightening thing.
“She won’t agree.” His voice sounded angry but distant, like it was coming from far away across the sea, “she refuses. My own mother refuses to talk to my usurping brother to try and convince him to rein in his ambitions. She dishonours the wish of our late father, her own husband, to split the inheritance between his sons.”
Gerberga, Queen of the Franks, looked up from the baby toward her husband. “Well it’s not shocking, she had agreed to serve in his court over yours.”
“No,” he agreed quietly, “Not shocking, but… disappointing. I had hoped she shared my desire to avoid a quarrel, or at least, to try and ensure our rivalry did not spill over into open warfare.”
In Gerberga’s opinion, love him though she might, neither Karl nor Karloman had covered themselves in glory in this dispute. Karloman’s call for a duel just days after the death of their father had ended in Karl being scarred and slashed across the face, but neither one had yielded their claim on each other’s lands, despite Karloman’s victory. Karl’s lords were strongly in his camp, bar a few malcontents, and Karloman had already dodged two assassins, presumably sent by his brother, in this year.
“Perhaps she feels she cannot publicly respond to your calls.” She suggested, trying to soothe Karloman’s frayed temper, “she is, after all, serving at your brother’s court. If she has so publicly aligned herself with him, responding to your calls for talks could be construed as treasonable by your brother’s lords.”
“My brother’s lords know full well that he would not consent to see his mother as treasonable,” Karloman shook his head, “No, I’ve lost our mother for good. She has chosen the elder son over the younger, as I feared she might from the beginning.”
“Your soldiers are ready then?” she asked, prompting her husband’s next thoughts.
“Not yet, the training of the newest batch proceeds apace, but my brother’s army still looks to outnumber us if we take the field for now. I had hoped his wounds from our duel would kill him first, but it seems it is not to be.”
“You will find a way, husband,” Gerberga replied, awkwardly. She was unsure of what this proud, prickly young man who so despised his elder brother wanted her to say, and so decided to retreat to safer ground, returning to coo and play faces with Pepin, the infant babe, and her husband’s heir.
Assuming his brother didn’t kill him first...
November, 769.
Gascogne, Realm of West Francia,
“What do you make of it?”
Loup, the Duke of Gascogne, had directed that question towards his friend and advisor, Thiaddi. Wise but lowborn, the two had grown up together into adulthood. Loup knew his eldest friend was one of the few who could be trusted to receive such sensitive intelligence as that which the letter contained.
“It does indeed seem to imply what you think my lord,” came the reply, “Buried beneath the courtesies, King Karloman seems to imply he seeks your support in ensuring the death of his brother, your liege lord.”
“That’s what I thought,” Loup grinned, and Thiaddi privately thought that those lopsided teeth gave him a wolflike grin. Duke Loup was aptly named, “Well he knows I bear Karl no love, nor should I. The man’s a viper, and a poisonous one at that.”
“Yes your lordship,” Thiaddi always felt it wise to agree with Loup when the subject of King Karl came up, The Duke’s long rants against the King to his servants and staff could last all day if he were challenged.
“Well I’ll certainly not say no,” Loup grinned savagely, “And God be known that I’d prefer the younger brother over the elder from what I’ve heard of him. Karl’s too busy siring hunchbacks and fawning over Lombard Princesses.”
“Shall I send the reply in the affirmative then, Your Lordship?”
“Save it,” Loup replied, “This is one letter I’d rather write myself…”
In the Kingdom of the Franks, Pepin the Short, son of the legendary Charles ‘The Hammer’ Martel, has died, leaving his kingdom divided between his sons. Karl, the eldest, inherits the West Francian realm, while the younger, Karloman, rules the realm of Middle Francia, the inheritance of the Frankish realm split in two between the brothers. Neither brother is happy with their father’s choices, with Karl in particular claiming himself as the legitimate heir to all the Frankish realms, which Karloman resists.
As the power struggle for the throne of the Franks begins, Karloman must marshal all his resources to struggle against his elder brother’s ambitions if he hopes to stop his brother’s attempts to usurp him, and claim the throne of a united Frankish realm.
OOC: Hey all. This is my first time doing an AAR so feedback and constructive critique are welcome for this one in particular. The conceit of this AAR is that it's from a 769 start playing as Karloman, younger brother of Charlemagne. Historically, as we know, Karl won the resultant power struggle over the Frankish realms and went on to found the Caroliginian Empire and lay the foundations for most of medieval Europe's most prominent kingdoms. But what if Karloman, not Karl had survived?...
August 769, Brie, capital of Karloman Karling, rightful King of the Franks,
He crumpled the parchment between his fingers, face twisted into a small snarl. If his wife hadn’t known Karloman’s anger was not directed her way, it might have been a frightening thing.
“She won’t agree.” His voice sounded angry but distant, like it was coming from far away across the sea, “she refuses. My own mother refuses to talk to my usurping brother to try and convince him to rein in his ambitions. She dishonours the wish of our late father, her own husband, to split the inheritance between his sons.”
Gerberga, Queen of the Franks, looked up from the baby toward her husband. “Well it’s not shocking, she had agreed to serve in his court over yours.”
“No,” he agreed quietly, “Not shocking, but… disappointing. I had hoped she shared my desire to avoid a quarrel, or at least, to try and ensure our rivalry did not spill over into open warfare.”
In Gerberga’s opinion, love him though she might, neither Karl nor Karloman had covered themselves in glory in this dispute. Karloman’s call for a duel just days after the death of their father had ended in Karl being scarred and slashed across the face, but neither one had yielded their claim on each other’s lands, despite Karloman’s victory. Karl’s lords were strongly in his camp, bar a few malcontents, and Karloman had already dodged two assassins, presumably sent by his brother, in this year.
“Perhaps she feels she cannot publicly respond to your calls.” She suggested, trying to soothe Karloman’s frayed temper, “she is, after all, serving at your brother’s court. If she has so publicly aligned herself with him, responding to your calls for talks could be construed as treasonable by your brother’s lords.”
“My brother’s lords know full well that he would not consent to see his mother as treasonable,” Karloman shook his head, “No, I’ve lost our mother for good. She has chosen the elder son over the younger, as I feared she might from the beginning.”
“Your soldiers are ready then?” she asked, prompting her husband’s next thoughts.
“Not yet, the training of the newest batch proceeds apace, but my brother’s army still looks to outnumber us if we take the field for now. I had hoped his wounds from our duel would kill him first, but it seems it is not to be.”
“You will find a way, husband,” Gerberga replied, awkwardly. She was unsure of what this proud, prickly young man who so despised his elder brother wanted her to say, and so decided to retreat to safer ground, returning to coo and play faces with Pepin, the infant babe, and her husband’s heir.
Assuming his brother didn’t kill him first...
November, 769.
Gascogne, Realm of West Francia,
“What do you make of it?”
Loup, the Duke of Gascogne, had directed that question towards his friend and advisor, Thiaddi. Wise but lowborn, the two had grown up together into adulthood. Loup knew his eldest friend was one of the few who could be trusted to receive such sensitive intelligence as that which the letter contained.
“It does indeed seem to imply what you think my lord,” came the reply, “Buried beneath the courtesies, King Karloman seems to imply he seeks your support in ensuring the death of his brother, your liege lord.”
“That’s what I thought,” Loup grinned, and Thiaddi privately thought that those lopsided teeth gave him a wolflike grin. Duke Loup was aptly named, “Well he knows I bear Karl no love, nor should I. The man’s a viper, and a poisonous one at that.”
“Yes your lordship,” Thiaddi always felt it wise to agree with Loup when the subject of King Karl came up, The Duke’s long rants against the King to his servants and staff could last all day if he were challenged.
“Well I’ll certainly not say no,” Loup grinned savagely, “And God be known that I’d prefer the younger brother over the elder from what I’ve heard of him. Karl’s too busy siring hunchbacks and fawning over Lombard Princesses.”
“Shall I send the reply in the affirmative then, Your Lordship?”
“Save it,” Loup replied, “This is one letter I’d rather write myself…”
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