The Alexandriad: A Personal History of the Times of King Alexander I the Conquerer

[LordTempest]

Okay guys, update time!

To be honest I didn't expect to have another update finished this quickly, but I unpaused the game two days ago and had an absolute ball! And as any AAR writer will tell you, updates are a lot easier (and a lot more fun) to write when you're having fun playing the game. This update was originally meant to cover a lot more game time, but I sort of got lost in writing it up, lost to the point where the update was reaching dangerous "wall-of-text" levels, so I decided to split it in two. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Oh, and with any luck I may just get one more update through before the end of 2012. Expect three more conquests (try to guess where!), some rather nice maps (I know because I made them myself. ), another "Ovid baby" and perhaps most importantly, Anna and Alexander's children come of age!

 

[LordTempest]

Alexandros had by this time fought in two great conflicts: one to seize England from the clutches of the Norman oppressors – who themselves had taken England by force from the Saxons, who had taken it by force from the Britons and so on ad infinitum – and another to seize England from the claws of the German oppressors who considered Alexandros' rightful land and vassals part of their own realm based on a slight yet absurd legal technicality: namely, that he was still technically speaking a vassal of the false Emperor at the time.

One would think that two glorious victories would have sealed Alexandros' authority over those upstart Norman nobles who had hitherto caused us all so many headaches; one would be wrong. Ruling a newly independent Kingdom has its own set of headaches to go with it: namely, that men of high birth yet low intellect and selfish disposition – I shan't name names – tend to get uppity and greedy and begin to act like spoiled little children, demanding this be given to them and that be handed to them on a silver platter as a reward for their “loyalty.” Of course these men are nowhere to be seen in a real crisis or when times get tough – so much for loyalty – but nevertheless Alexandros had to keep them onside, otherwise they may grow fond for the old rule of a Norman King, or worse; a German Kaiser.

One such noble was the current Chancellor, Robert (another one!) a duke of Anglo-Norman stock[1]. Robert was a very skilled Chancellor, and therefore very useful to Alexandros and the realm. He also had a deep and seething hatred of dear Alexandros for some strange and inexplicable reason...

Duke Robert was a man worth keeping onside, and Alexandros, ever the genius, had a brilliant plan which aimed at both improving his relations with the Duke of Gloucester and at improving his own position in the country. He awarded the recently re-created title of the Duchy of Deheubarth to the Duke of Gloucester, and then offered to press his claim to the county of Dyfed, promising that that little corner of Wales would fall under his (and therefore ultimately Alexandros') rule once victory was assured. Meanwhile, Duke Robert was assigned to the nearby county of Gwynedd, where he was tasked with er, finding holy relics and other such documents, a task which he performed with great gusto.

One mere county can hardly stand up to the might of an entire Kingdom, any more than a mere fly can best a lion in combat. The war was a short one, and Alexandros and the might of England triumphed easily at the one decisive battle of the war, at Carmarthen.

With the war going so well and victory all but inevitable, Alexandros and I got rather tired of sitting around at camp waiting for surrender or a breach in Carmarthen's “mighty” walls and instead decided to travel around the countryside together with our young children. I had a wonderful time, and I'm sure Alexandros and our children did too: visiting our subjects, joining in their festivities, eating the local cuisine and speaking to them in our then somewhat limited knowledge of the Saxon tongue. In fact, Alexandros was rather taken by the whole experience, and began to practice native Saxon customs more and more at home – he even took great steps to master the language! Much to the chagrin of those Hollanders who had followed him since his days as a lowly duke and to the delight of his English subjects, Alexandros seemed to become more and more English as his reign went on.

Perhaps naturally, some of his Hollander subjects did have reason to feel alienated from him for this, but the reaction from some of them was wholly inappropriate and totally inexcusable. In particular one's memories turn to the actions of Lord Mayor Lambert of Winchester who was terribly bitter about the whole affair. Here was a man whose very position in the English aristocracy was owed to Alexandros, who raised him from obscurity to high office after his conquest of England. Here was a man whom had he possessed even the slightest of moral fibres in his body would have been loyal to Alexandros until death, but no. Such was his bravery that he waited until his King was in the middle of a war before demanding greater rights for the aristocracy be handed to him on a silver platter; so great was his loyalty that he demanded it at all. He was a weak man, that Lambert. Weak. Feeble.

Unfortunately what other options did Alexandros have? Lambert had recruited enough collaborators to his scheme that refusal would mean an outright civil war on a magnitude far greater than the last one, and in the middle of our reconquest of Dyfed no less. Furthermore, many members of his council including the Duke of Gloucester supported Lambert, and much of the English levies fighting and dying in Wales were vassals of otherwise loyal counts, dukes and earls who thought lowering Alexandros' authority was a good idea. If he went to war he could well have won, but the conquest of Wales would have been held back by five years at least and many brave men – loyal and true – would have been sacrificed fighting their brothers when they should have been fighting the enemy. When one looks at it from that perspective, one can see that the decision dear Alexandros took was undoubtedly the right one in the long term. He did however get his revenge on that petty man, as his spymaster I made a certainty of that...

Fear was not usually in the nature of a man as valourous as Alexandros, but Lambert's little emotional spasm had put the fear of God into him. “This time we were fortunate; it was just changing a few laws” he would say, “but next time they'll want to change their King!” I knew what had to be done and as any devoted and caring wife would do, I supported my husband when he needed my support. One should always repent at the taking of life as it is a sin and a most heinous one at that (unless of course, that life is of a Godless Infidel or a Norman...) but any such sins I have committed were done so in the best interests of my husband and of his subjects, who undoubtedly would have suffered under the haphazard rule of one of these claimants and the chaos and turmoil which would have resulted from their taking the English crown by force. My conscience is clean.

One by one Queen Anna eliminated the claimants to the English throne through assassinations, thereby starving the potential pretenderist movements of oxygen. The metaphor is ironic, as Prince Ulf (the youngest son of Harold Godwinson) was indeed presumed to have died from asphyxia after being garotted on Queen Anna's orders.

War did little to distract Alexandros from his duties as a father, and he was ever keen to stress the importance of chivalry and courtly love upon his children. He himself having been conceived out of wedlock, Alexandros was more than aware of the burden which confronted any such noble child unfortunate enough to have inherited such a terrible fate from the rashness of their parents. Our eldest son Alexandros in particular took these lessons to heart.

The war with Dyfed was over by March, and sadly Robert seemed no more grateful to Alexandros than he did before the war. Truth be told though, the Duke of Gloucester was already starting to show some of the signs of the terrible and crippling infirmity which would soon render him incapable in the years to come, and therefore Alexandros did not begrudge Robert for this. After all, he still continued to work hard in his profession as Chancellor. Such was his sense of obligation and duty, that he continued to give his all to his Kingdom and to a King whom he loathed in spite of his deteriorating health.

The levies had little time to rest, as once Dyfed was defeated England turned its attention to the wayward county of Shrewsbury, led by none other than the Norman Robert the Devil, formerly Duke of Deheubarth. His epithet is fitting, but unfortunately does little to camouflage the unoriginality of the name his parents gave him. These Normans are indeed most unoriginal when it comes to naming their offspring, using and reusing the same first names over and over again – they possess all the mental capacities and good taste of a dog eating its own vomit.

Meanwhile in Gwynedd a very different Robert was hard at work searching for religious relics to go with the recently discovered “Parchment of the Undrying Ink.” He struck gold, or more accurately wood, when he found the Sacred Carving of Dewi Sant on a sacred oak tree some fifty yards from his cottage in Pembrokeshire. The carving, which must have stood there undetected for five hundred years but looked nary a day old, prophesied that, and I quote:

A great man from across the seas will come to these lands,
One year times three since the Norsemen came.
And the Norsemen and their harried bands.
Will loot and pillage all the same.

My home and sanctuary, where my body lies,
Shall be burnt, and return to the Earth many times.
But this great man, he who tries.
Shall he rebuild, to repent his crimes.

And he who does shall be rewarded in heaven,
When all is to be done and said.
And on Earth, with offspring no fewer than seven
And ownership over the County of Gwynedd.

There is no authority on Earth like the words of a long-deceased saint, and this splendid find undoubtedly proved Alexandros' God-given right to the lands north of Dyfed. Word was dispatched throughout all the lands of England for the best carpenters and masons to descend upon Pembrokeshire with their materials and tools and set about the reconstruction of Saint David's Cathedral forthwith.

The rebuilt St. David's Cathedral as it stands today, by the esteemed Victorian artist E. W. Matthews. A building as splendid now as it was in the days of King Alexander and Queen Anna.

The cathedral itself would not be completed for another three years or so, but never one prone to slothfulness, Alexandros decided to press his advantage and invade the Duchy of Gwynedd now. One man who would unfortunately not live to see the successful conquest was Duke Robert, by then bedridden and sickly. So much so, that he lost the ability to walk or even speak. His discovery of the sacred carving would prove to be the last great service he performed for his liege.

And so began the war to reclaim Gwynedd and Powys from the brave warrior-prince Gruffyd ap Cynan of Gwynedd. Of all the opponents Alexandros had to face on the field of battle, there was none more virtuous, none more valourous than he. No younger than sixty-three – an age which has claimed the lives of many lesser men – he still rode into battle, clad from helmet to toe in armour with his sword in his hand and his shield on his back. He was an inspiration to all his men, a man twice or even three times their age fighting on the front lines, bearing the same burdens as they. Even now one cannot look back at his memory without expressing awe.

This story I know from heart, for it was one dear Alexandros would recite many a time. One could only imagine the bravery which possessed the Britons of northern Wales: an army of no more than three-hundred staring across the grassy fields at an army no less than three-thousand. Each man must have known what fates son awaited them and yet one could detect no fear in their eyes or in their hearts. Gruffyd rode at the front of his army as Alexandros rode at the front of his, each leader rallying his levies with inspiring speeches to the loud approval of his fellows – as in war there are no Kings and no peasants; there are only fellows.

On both sides the order was given to charge, and the men duly followed. Each let out a deafening roar as he ran towards the enemy as fast as his legs could speed him, taking due care to pick out an opponent for the coming scuffle. Gruffyd singled out Alexandros and Alexandros singled out Gruffyd, the two men meeting with a clash of steel. The force knocked Gruffyd off his horse and he fell to the ground with a mighty thud. Such an impact may have injured or even killed a much younger man, let alone one Gruffyd's age, but Gruffyd was a hardened warrior and picked himself up off the ground with nothing more serious than a bruise. Obligingly, Alexandros dismounted. The two men circled each other like a pair of lions, waiting for the right moment to strike. Two Welshmen, one being the Prince's seneschal saw that their liege was in danger and rushed to his aid. They thrust their spears at Alexandros in tandem, while Gruffyd ran to one side with his sword poised, ready to attack Alexandros from the side. One of Alexandros' brave vassals threw himself on the Prince' seneschal, which gave my dear husband the chance he needed to deal with the other Welshman, cutting him in two with a mighty slash of his broadsword. Gruffyd lunged at Alexandros with his sword, giving him only a split second to block or parry lest he end up like the recently departed Welshman. Alexandros quickly caught sight of Gruffyd and only just manage to block in time, using all of his might to push the Celtic prince off him and onto the muddy grass. In all the battles that he had ever fought, this was the closest I ever came to losing him.

The battle was won, and easily despite the fearlessness of their Briton opponents. Nevertheless in the chaos of battle Gruffyd was still able to escape death or capture along with roughly twenty of his countrymen. No matter, as total victory was still well within Alexandros' grasp. It was only a matter of time before the ageing warrior would have to sue for peace.

No longer a duke, as the Duchy of Gwynedd would soon be usurped, er that is to say reclaimed by Alexandros, Gruffyd still held on to the lowly county of Perfeddwlad – of where the most noteworthy feature is its mouthful of a name. The truce between England and Gruffyd would last several years, giving Alexandros time to focus his efforts elsewhere..



Notes:

[1] He was one of the first of my lords to “convert” to English culture.

​

 

[LordTempest]

Never the sort of King to rest on his laurels, the very day peace was made with the Welsh Alexandros set his sights (and ultimately, his levies.) northwards, to Scotland. Scotland was a kingdom in a state of wild, perpetual and drunken orgies of anarchy – and that was in times of peace! One can only imagine what it would be like to live there during a violent civil war.

Such aforementioned violent civil wars were unfortunately fairly commonplace in Scotland, as the highland nobles tend not to get along with their lowland masters, and neither think much of their western cousins living under the heel of the boot of the oppressive Norse kings. I hear they also write some rubbish poems over there too. In any society in which prestige and status is awarded to he who can drink the largest quantity of ale within a given timeframe drunkenness and violence is surely to be something of a way of life, and it is alleged the latest in a long line of bitter Scottish disputes starts with a bitter fight over who was the rightful victor of one such contest: Lambert, King of Scotland or his uncle, Prince David of Lothian. When the King refused to recognise David's victory, he declared his intention to raise his levies and depose Lambert as King of Scotland! Duke Angus of Moray was alarmed by these escalating tensions and proposed that a tiebreaker round be fought over who could ingest the most of whichever sort of deep fried dish was popular in Scotland at that time. The two rival factions acted as any Scot would do when faced with a sensible and reasonable compromise; they both punched Angus in the face and declared war. A brawl ensured, and once the other Scotsmen caught wind of the news that there was a fight going on, they joined in. The entire kingdom was at war with itself by nightfall.

Someone had to save these poor peasants from this madness. The people of Lothian – excepting Clydesdale, which was originally part of Galloway before David inherited it – were predominately of Saxon stock, the very same as their brothers south of Hadrian's Wall. Furthermore, by some miracle or the grace of God, the Duke of Northumberland had acquired a claim to the Duchy of Lothian which could be pressed by his liege in a war. Alexandros jumped at the chance to save his Saxon brethren (as they now were) from the drunken tyranny of the Pictish hordes.

One may be excused from thinking that with all this warring going on there would be little time for cultural developments, but if one thought that one would be wrong. In fact, one couldn't have been more wrong. A great tide of “Englishness” if one could describe it as such, was sweeping the realm (Englishness being defined as an almost even mixture of Dutch, Saxon, Briton and even a few Norman customs; the good ones, not the badger-loving ones...) and even Alexandros and his son were swept up in it. [1]

There was a great danger in declaring war on a faction during a civil war, namely that if King Lambert was able to force Prince David to surrender before Alexandros could, the latter would be forced to return to London empty handed. The war would have been nothing more than a waste of time and all those soldiers who died would have done so in vain. Speed was of the essence, and Alexandros had to conduct what he called a lightning campaign to seize the Border counties before Lambert could. He divided his Kingdom's levies into three armies of roughly equal size and marched each into the three separate counties which make up the Duchy of Lothian.

Anticipating Alexandros' move, King Lambert marched his army of two-thousand strong into Clydesdale, forcing David and his men to retreat southwards towards Galloway. My dear son Alexandros who had recently turned sixteen joined his father on campaign as leader of the army besieging Roxburgh as soon as his betrothal to some Iberian princess had been finalised. He was similar to his father in many respects..

Prince Alexander of England, Duke of Gwynedd and Holland. First in line to the English throne.

The war was going well, ant it is now obvious to me that divine intervention played its part. Clearly – and I mean no blasphemy by suggesting this – the Almighty himself sympathised with King Alexandros' quest to liberate the oppressed Saxons in Scotland, for holy relics were soon discovered across the seas in Dublin. Having established that holy relics could indeed be found in that Ireland across the sea, our Bishop-Chancellor was sent south to study the monasteries of Leinster to see what could be found there.

It appears Bishops are more efficient at forging finding claims and “relics” than normal aristocrats are.

Meanwhile the race to liberate Lothian was still on. Fortunately Duke Angus' “intervention” in the war slowed King Lambert down somewhat: as soon as he had unpacked his siege engines (or whatever those Picts used to batter down castle walls... Perhaps they'd have their soldiers headbutt them en masse? That would explain an awful lot...) to besiege a castle in the lowlands, word would arrive that Angus was marching south from the highlands, and Angus would have to pack up camp and march northwards to intercept. More times than not however, there was no actual army threatening Lambert's flanks – Picts usually aren't that smart – but rather a cleverly forged letter giving that impression, forged no doubt by a brilliant, yet beautiful, yet also humble spymaster who with characteristic modesty could not possibly reveal her name in a history such as this one. Or so I'd assume.

With King Lambert dithering to and fro across central Scotland in search of phantom armies and barrels of ale it was no wonder that Alexandros was able to beat him to securing David's seals through surrender. Per the agreement, Prince David of Scotland would become Earl David of Clydesdale, vassal of the Duke of Northumberland and therefore of the King of England as well. I recall that the former prince was rather upbeat about the result, pumping his fists in celebration and telling his retainers to go back to their hovels and prepare for vassalage with typical Pictish over-enthusiasm.

Alexandros thought that our levies could do with a short rest, so there was no war to immediately follow his triumphal victory in Lothian[3]. Instead we all celebrated dear Frederik's coming of age. Unlike his elder brother, he definitely takes after his mother.

Prince Frederik of England, Duke of Somerset. Second in line to the English throne.

Next to reach adulthood was Anna... poor Anna. She was like her mother in many ways and of all my daughters I loved her the most – though a mother never should choose between her offspring. Sadly for her she died prematurely of a dreadful cold before she could get married, and a hole has been present in my heart ever since. Dearest Alexandros did his best to console me...

The death of a child is a hard knock for any parent to take, especially when that child was as young as dear Anna was. Alexandros and I were in mourning for months, I heard from those who knew him longer than I did that he hadn't looked this downcast since Mathilde died all those years ago. Alexandros and I spent more time at church in prayer, while state administration suffered without the ready hand of the King to guide it. Unscrupulous, uncaring, soulless, evil men with nothing but the worst and unholy intentions sought to take advantage of the situation. I shan’t even mention their names or their ethnicities (that should be obvious, as there is but only two races of men born without hearts or souls, to whom a conscience is utterly foreign to their very way of reasoning; and I remind my readers that there are no Turks in Britain.) as to do so would act as such as a defilement of this history as to condemn it forever to the fires of purgatory, so wicked are their names.

Later historians have identified the targets of Queen Anna's wrath as a pair of Norman lords: the Earl of Devon and the Duke of Normandy.

These pathetic rats stood no chance of success, for the short rest had done our levies a world of good; their numbers increased by no less than two-thousand. Alexandros was as furious as I was when he heard the news, and together with his sons Alexandros and Frederik took up the hammer of vengeance to crush these vermin – no, they are lower than vermin – once and for all.

Perhaps the saddest thing of all about this little civil war was that those vermin were well-prepared for it, their men armed to the teeth and well-trained. Prince Alexandros only narrowly managed to pull off a victory at the Battle of St. Paul's, where over one-and-a-half thousand good Englishmen needlessly lost their lives. And for what? The petty ambitions of a few badger-loving Normans, “chaffing” under the “oppressive” rule of their God-given liege! I have never hated anyone as much as I hated those Normans during that war. Not even the barbaric Turks, or even the sadist Robert de Hauteville who would forcefully extract the teeth of his prisoners unless they paid him an exorbitant sum for each tooth, was that cruel.

St. Paul's was the most costly battle of the war, and indeed the most costly battle an English army had fought in for a long time.

Prince Alexandros was just as filled with wrath as I was. He vigourously pursued those vermin across the length and breadth of southern England for months, winning battle after battle after battle.[4] My dear son was ruthless in his pursuit, executing rebel prisoners regardless of their status. Many dithering Norman or otherwise fellow-travellers were slain in battle by Alexandros and his men; serves the bastards right.
I feel that times of anger and hatred are not the best of environments for a woman to conceive a child, and I regret the possibility that were it not for my then current state of mind, my son Matthew may not have been burdened by his... unfortunate predicament.

Prince Matthew of England, born with a slight stutter.

I regret to say – but must in all honesty record my true feelings for posterity – that I never quite warmed to Matthew as I had to my other children because of his stutter. He was always the other child, the idiot in a stable of geniuses, the leper on an island of beauties. That sounds abhorrent, but it is the truth. My dear husband however was not of the same mind, and remembering his Suetonius, treated Matthew with as much love and care as he had given his other children. He was always convinced that Matthew's stutter would be no hindrance to his future, that he would grow up to be a second Claudius. At the time I perhaps hoped that he might, but I myself did not actually believe it would come to pass.

Oh, and Willem (or William, as he now spelled his name.[5]) had his sixteenth around this time too. He was... less brilliant than his brothers but married well. His wife was a French Princess named Stephanie; lovely girl, I even arranged the marriage myself. I wouldn't want anyone to think that I was motivated more out of the need to seek an alliance with the French to secure our Normandy holdings on the European mainland than out of love and devotion to my son...

Prince Willem's marriage to Stephanie of France was nevertheless a useful one as far as King Alexander was concerned for two important reasons: both as a means of securing his Normandy holdings and as a bulwark against Holy Roman aggression.

Once the war was over and the perpetrators captured, retribution was swift and decisive. I thought it wasn't decisive enough, having proposed to Alexandros my own humble suggestion as to what should be done with the rebel lords: namely that they should be impaled on a rather tall stake smeared with faeces. Alexandros had more foresight than I did however, reminding me that for some strange, inexplicable reason titles could not be revoked posthumously. Alexandros cut off the serpent's head for good, and awarded the Duchy of Normandy to our loyal son Frederik. Henceforth there would be no more rebellions from the weasel-spawn of Normandy. To keep those Normans living north of the Channel under our watchful eye Alexandros also installed Willem as Duke of Norfolk.

The Devonians who started this whole silly rebellion needed to be pacified too, and for this task we turned to none other than our son Hubert, whom was invested with the title of Duke of Cornwall[6] and tasked with overseeing these sheep farmers with unintelligible patterns of speech.

Prince Hubert,. Duke of Cornwall. Perhaps oddly for a medieval marriage, his marriage to the Swedish princess Alfhild did not cement an alliance between the two Kingdoms. Undoubtedly an alliance between Sweden and England would have been beneficial to both parties at this time, given that both kings had a vested interest in curbing further Norwegian expansion. To this day it remains a mystery to historians as to why an alliance was not formalised.

These years of peace and security which followed were good to us and the Kingdom as a whole. The people basked in Alexandros' enlightened rule and rejoiced in it. Disease outbreaks were rare and famines even rarer, and during these times I cannot remember even a single peasants revolt occurring anywhere within the realm. A grateful populace enlisted in the Kingdom's levies in massive numbers, following the ancient Greek maxim that “a man who loves his home should be prepared to die for it.” By 1124 the King's total levies consisted of over eleven thousand able-bodied men: with such a surplus of manpower ready and waiting for duty, (and with certain religious problems having been resolved in Ireland...) Alexandros decided the time was ripe to press his claim to the Duchy of Meath.

The Irish were weak and divided, and their kerns were no match when faced with our veteran, well-drilled pikemen. It was a good war for the generals, and our Military experts – both of them – learned much about the art of war and its execution which would serve them both well in future campaigns.

We all took a little break from the constant warring to attend our second daughter Irene's marriage to the Prince of Jerusalem. It was a lovely service in occupied Dublin, and I am most grateful that my dear daughter had not to endure any of the hardships her blessed mother had to put up with during her wedding ceremony.

Her husband – Prince Evrand, I believe was his name – quickly joined the court and became a valued member of our council, serving as Chancellor – or at least that is my opinion of him; he and Alexandros didn't always get along well together... The Frank was sometimes a little bit too cynical for his own good.

Those Irish drunkards never could stomach a fight for long, and before long peace was brokered between they and Alexandros. England had gained a strong foothold on the island which it was sure to exploit in future, but for now one's thoughts have to return to the mainland where the long truce between Alexandros and Gruffyd had now ended. Here was a man seventy-one years of age, so sick and stressed that he could barely walk some days, but whom insisted on leading from the front, sword and shield in hand as he had always done. One cannot but admire that man; he deserved nothing less than a warrior's death.

Gruffyd “the Old” of Gwynedd died after a lowly English pikeman thrust his spear point at his chest and pierced through his heart. Some scholars have theorised that Gruffyd deliberately let the enemy soldier kill him, and that this was a form of assisted suicide, as it was well known from the contemporary “British Chronicles” that Gruffyd battled what we would now term severe stress and depression after losing his home duchy to King Alexander.

Eager not to miss his chance at glory before the war was over, our son Kristof rushed at the chance to prove his worth on the battlefield. Much glory and honour were to be his, as I hear he was quite the inspiring leader of men – as perhaps was appropriate for a child born at the site of a great military victory. He too married well, to some Hungarian princess if one recalls correctly.

Prince Kristof Francius, Duke of Kent. The fifth son of King Alexander and Queen Anna, Kristof probably knew in his heart that his accession to the English throne was most unlikely, and so devoted his life to generalship and the art of war. (when he wasn't lounging about like a sloth, that is.) It would give England a great legacy.

With such capable general sons, Alexandros could afford to take a rest from this constant warring. It was just as well as he began to develop some alarming symptoms: sweating profusely, a raging fever, coughing, vomiting – I won't go into further detail, but suffice to say I was very concerned about his health. He grew sicker and sicker, and as was his wont, spent most of his time in the chapel: praying and fasting, fasting and praying. Word of his devotion soon spread throughout Christendom, even reaching the ear of the Pope in Rome. Impressed by his devotion, the holy father granted him an absolution for his part in the murder of his siblings. Shortly after the Pope's intervention Alexandros' symptoms began to subside, and within a week he was back in the pink.

He need not had hurried back into his suit of armour though, as without Gruffyd the Britons offered little resistance. It was as if he was the glue which held the Welsh dissidents together. On the 23rd of March 1127 the rebel standard flew over the walls of Perfeddwlad for the last time, marking the end of the English reconquest of Wales. Alexandros could not rest on his laurels however, not while the rest of Ireland and Scotland still eluded him. There could be no lasting peace he said, until all of Britannia was unified under one King.[7]



Notes:

[1] That event description must be a typo, but yes Alexander has converted to “English.” King Alexander is currently tutoring Alexander junior whom I believe was converted to “English” the old fashioned way, i.e. by guardianship.

[2] Before I saw this popup, I thought that forged claims on entire duchies instead of just counties only existed in fairytales and other people's AARs.

[3] One of the reasons I didn't invade the Duchy of Meath straight away is that both provinces were Cathar at the time.

[4] A nice little euphemism for lots and lots of ping-ponging if I do say so myself.

[5] I named him Willem (Dutch spelling) but ever since he converted culture his name has been William. (English spelling.) I didn't realise birth names changed with culture! For the sake of consistency Anna will keep on calling him Willem.

[6] This title really should have gone to my first-in-line, but I felt that Alexander Jr. had enough titles, and that the Duchy of Holland would have been the most prestigious of all ducal titles in this timeline (given our monarchs are Anglo-Dutch) and therefore would better serve the role the Duchy of Cornwall plays in our timeline.

[7] I had some nice maps ready to show the contemporary political and cultural situations, but I've already used up my quota of images for this update, so they will have to wait until next time. My apologies.

​

 

[loki100]

this continues to be very engaging stuff ... obviously you too have seen Glasgow on New Years Eve:

Scotland was a kingdom in a state of wild, perpetual and drunken orgies of anarchy

and, of course:

Those Irish drunkards

yep, sounds right to me

 

[Omen]

More times than not however, there was no actual army threatening Lambert's flanks – Picts usually aren't that smart – but rather a cleverly forged letter giving that impression, forged no doubt by a brilliant, yet beautiful, yet also humble spymaster who with characteristic modesty could not possibly reveal her name in a history such as this one. Or so I'd assume.

Brilliant.

A great update. I'm sure there will be no future troubles with every Duke being related to each other!

 

[LordTempest]

Hurrah! Comments! I've promised Derahan I'd write something up for the next AARlander, so unfortunately there won't be any work on the next update until that's finished. Hopefully those last two updates will tide you all over until then.

Loki: New Years Eve? I thought Glasgow was like that all year round! Always great to have you on board!

Omen: Not while Alexander's alive at least! Despite Anna's near-constant appraisal of her husband's foresight, Alexander does appear rather keen to sacrifice long-term security for short-term stability... which is a little worrying given what able generals some of his sons are.

 

[Stuyvesant]

Omen already picked out the jewel of the two updates, and loki has incisively commented on the local customs in the barren North (as only a local could) and across the Irish Sea, so I will just content myself with saying that Matthew might've picked up a stutter, but that Anna should be proud of herself nonetheless: how many babies, fresh out of the womb, can speak enough to have a discernible stutter to begin with, right?

Alexander's England is looking stronger and stronger. And he certainly has a bunch of warlike sons in tow to expand it some more. Since the sons have (mostly) come of age already, I was curious how old good ol' Alexander is himself? How much longer does he have in this earthly vale of tears?

Oh, and speaking of death (or the lack thereof)... Did Alexander really have a close call there, or was it a convenient cold dressed up as more to get the Pope to be sympathetic and get rid of that little nuisance of the 'kinslayer' tag?

 

[Nikolai]

Yet another good update.

 

[crimson_king]

Reminds me very much of the Alexiad.

A Dutch-Byzantine England- definitely out of left field.

I guess that's why we love CK2.

Will read.

 

[DensleyBlair]

I've just read this in its entirety, lest I get too far behind and find myself unable to catch up in the future, and I'm liking what I'm reading very much.

Obviously, having just read the whole thing, there is a lot to comment on - instead of reiterating others, however, I will say that I'm looking forward to Prince Alexandros' reign very much. He certainly is a fine slug balancer

 

[LordTempest]

Always great to see more comments everyone!

Stuyvesant: I'm not sure Anna would find that all that reassuring, after all a stutterer is a stutterer right?

Indeed England is growing stronger, and even I'm a little surprised at how fast my levies are growing. Say what you will about those Normans and their sick perversions, but they do sure know how to build up an army! Alexander himself is fairly healthy for a monarch in his late forties during the High Middle Ages, but to answer your question that spout of illness he had was both real and of a longer duration than your typical CK illness (I think it lasted for two or three months of gametime, but don't hold me to that - it might have just seemed longer.) That being said, it is unlikely that it would have killed him. Rather, the loss of Anna's daughter to tuberculosis has led her brilliant yet medically-untrained mind to over-exaggerate even the slightest of colds into a potentially life-threatening disease.

As for whether or not Alexander had been faking it to gain points with the big man in Rome, remember that Anna's the cynical one and he's the Catholic zealot; it's highly unlikely.

Nikolai: Thank you! It's always great to hear that those long hours spent writing updates are worth it!

Crimson_King: Thank you and welcome aboard! Any sort of positive comparison with The Alexiad is high praise indeed!

DensleyBlair: Well you know what they say... better late than never! I actually have no problem echoing previous comments, in fact I encourage it; it tells me which parts of the update were popular and which were really popular! It also tends to result in more comments, and I'm all for that!

 

[tnick0225]

Just to let ya know I've been slowly reading this and think it is quite well written and entertaining. Looking forward to hearing more of it!

 

[DensleyBlair]

It also tends to result in more comments, and I'm all for that!

I see we follow the same school of thought

 

[ComradeQuestion]

I'm a long time lurker who finally bought the game. I've really enjoyed reading this while hiding in the shadows. Well-written on all parts.

 

[LordTempest]

Tnick0225: Thanks for reading, and more importantly thanks also for letting me know! Welcome aboard.

DensleyBlair: I challenge you to find an AAR writer who doesn't follow that school of thought!

ComradeQuestion: Hello and welcome to the forums. Thanks for reading and for honouring me by making your introductory post a comment on my AAR!


I'm just letting you all know that now I've finished that little article for Derahan I can now focus on writing the next update. I haven't actually unpaused yet, and tomorrow being Orthodox Christmas (well, Orthodox Christmas Eve but over here we cannot afford the luxury to celebrate it on a weekday.) I probably won't have it ready by tomorrow. (at the very least, I may get to play through the next update; or three.) You can expect one in a few days time.

 

[DensleyBlair]

DensleyBlair: I challenge you to find an AAR writer who doesn't follow that school of thought

I would accept that challenge, but I don't think you'd ever get a response

and tomorrow being Orthodox Christmas

I never realised it was different - you really do learn something new very day

 

[Fishy101]

I had fun reading your AAR. Didn't know you can move capitals. I always moved my capital buy giving away my old capital to my heir.

 

[Torngasuk]

Congratulations on your WritAAR of the Week award.

 

[Alex Borhild]

Congratulations on WritAAR of the Week! I enjoy Anna's modest and neutral writing, as well as the references to reading Ovid.

 

[LordTempest]

DensleyBlair: Well actually it is held on the 25th, only that the Orthodox Church still uses the Julian Calendar so the 25th of December (Julian) is actually the 6th/7th of January. (Gregorian)

Fishy101: Welcome! Yes, all you have to do is select a province and click that little crown button near the province's name. You can only do it once per reign though IIRC.

Torngasuk: Thank you very much! It's always an honour to receive an award, especially if it's from a writer who has written an AAR as enjoyable as your own.

Alex: Nice to see you again, and I'm glad you enjoyed that little Ovid reference.

Just here to say I'm working on the next update right now, and that it should be done by the end of the week. Thanks again to everyone who has commented on this AAR so far.