The Great Pillar: Deeds of the Saxon

[coz1]

​

July 769​

The seer held his head over the cauldron and took in the smells and wafts of smoke. Tossing in another handful of moss, the cauldron hissed and Theodoric grinned as he looked up to his high chief, “It portends good news.”

Wecta stood back and watched as Lothar moved to smell the cauldron himself, “How can you know these things?”

“The power to see is given by the Gods,” Theodoric dropped his grin, “They give me sight. They give you the tribes.”

“Tribe!” Lothar suggested with certainty, “One. The Derve...the Lara...we are Angria now. Joined and made stronger by it.”

Wecta folded his arms into his robes and questioned, “The Grand Chief holds no issue?”

Lothar shared a grin with his hirdman Sigbert, “We found agreement to the moot. I voted in his favor and now he owes one to me.”

“And now...” Sigbert followed, “...you have your own moot. The long hall is waiting.”

As the four men moved to leave the hut, they were stopped when Margarete rushed in holding Suanhilde by her hair and then threw her to the ground, “This one! You may have her for the night, but not forever! I will not share with one who shares her cunny with all. Choose, Lothar!”

Lothar moved to his wife, “You are sick because she is young and beautiful.”

“I am sick because she is wicked!” Margarete stood to his face, “You look for her to spy in other men’s beds. Yet what does she bring to yours? No thing! We have a son, Lothar. I’ll not see her bring another to this world!”

“You are jealous, wife,” Lothar showed her a teasing grin.

Margarete returned the grin, “I need not be jealous of this. She is little and less. Why not give her to Billung and let us be done with her?”

“Because I may be done with Billung,” Lothar responded with less amusement, “I need not your womanly worries at the now. We are to the moot. What do you wish?”

She sneered at the young woman on the ground and then looked back to her husband with certainty, “I will see her gone from this tribe. That is what I wish. Share your bed with another, husband. It will not be with her!”

“I will not banish her from the tribe!” Lothar announced in a heavy voice but then softened, “Yet...I have no wish to argue. Take on her role and then let us not speak again on the matter.”

Suanhilde looked up with a sorry eye, “My Chief...”

“Shh,” Lothar bent to her and brushed her pretty face with his hand, “Quiet, sweet bird. What my wife desires, she gets. Be thankful that you were not skewered with my seax. She can be very demanding.”

“Lothar...” Sigbert moved behind him, “...the moot. Billung of the Leriga waits and so does the tribe.”

“Then take her from this place,” Lothar commanded his wife, “Yet be kind. I will come to you when I am done.”

With a pleasing nod, Margarete moved to kiss him and then let him go. Lothar, with his men behind him, moved out under the night sky. The long hall was in the distance and lit up by fires all around. Drunken revelry was already at hand but as he stepped closer, each man seemed to stop and follow. As they moved to the entrance, Wlencing stood in front of the chief, “You think to enter here?”

“Do you think to stop me?” Lothar grinned as he replied.

“It all depends,” Wlencing returned the grin, “What favor do you give to the Leriga?”

Lothar clapped a hand to his shoulder, “Your balls if you do not stand aside.”

The hirdman gave nod and laughed, “Billung never tasted anything so good. I’ve not washed them in weeks!”

As Lothar passed by him and into the hall, the crowd seemed to hush. Billung of the Leriga stood at the front and the chief took long strides to stand next to him before turning with a smile, “Here we are gathered...all of us. The Lara...the Derve...the Leriga. I gather you here for some importance. We do not do this without agreement and so I give you my charge. From many, we are one. I hold no desire to take from your customs, but we must build. If we are to hold strong, then we must be central and here. I am elected as chief and so the laws will be held by these hands and no other. All that come after will hold what did not come before. Speak and agree...or do not.”

Billung of Leriga was twice the high chief’s age and a powerful vassal chief. He questioned first with his eyes and then with his tongue, “You still think to hold Angria above all? Above the Derve? Above the Leriga?”

“Would you not do the same?” Lothar asked before turning to the others, “All here know that I am fair. I call Billung of the Leriga tribe to my side because he is my friend and offers me counsel. Yet what counsel is it that does not wish us bigger and bolder? No counsel!”

“You take from us our freedom!” Billung suggested in anger.

The hall erupted in shouts, both for and against. The Seer Theodoric began to question his sight and Wecta shook his head in wonder, yet it was Sigbert that stepped forward to silence the hall, “You all know me. I fight for glory. And I fight for our tribe. These are one and the same. Lothar is our chief. I do not question.”

Wlencing too stepped forward, “Sigbert of the Derve speaks true. High Chief Lothar grows strong and finds good friendship with the tribes to the east. What do we know of the south? Billung of the Leriga comes to our moot and then questions? That is not counsel. Does he think to rule the tribe himself?”

Billung sneered before he was held back by Sigbert, “You asked me here as friend, Lothar of the Derve! You seek to rebuild this tribe to some glory day? You take too much!”

“I take what is mine!” Lothar stood tall before him, “You will not have the girl and you will not have the power. You will be gone and I will deal with your son of the Patherga. Your sight disgusts me and I will not have you hold us back. See him away!”

​

Sigbert and Wlencing both moved to hold the older chief and parade him through the hall and out into the night. The tribesmen hooted and hollered, respecting the high chief’s power. Lothar basked in it for only a moment before holding up his hand, “The man Billung...he sought to take from me. From us. I will not allow it. Angria is the tribe and we are all part of it. He would wish my position for the betterment of one. I wish it for you!”

There were some boos but more cheers and Lothar continued, “We are one tribe...united! March with us to glory or find yourself with Billung. I will see it done!”

More cheers rang out and Lothar smiled before pointing to the crowd, “Luder...of the Lara. Come and stand here!”

The man did as commanded and then felt the high chief clap his shoulder with a strong hand, “This man will now be the one to give me good counsel. We have seen a rival chief. Now we shall see one of our own! Sound...a true friend...and yours!”

Luder was not sure what to say but turned to look at the crowded long hall. He stumbled in his words for a moment before finding his voice, “For the glory of Angria!”

“For the glory of Angria!!” came the resounding response from the hall.

Lothar looked them over and smiled. For the glory of Angria indeed. His tribe...his people. He would rule!

​

* * *​

Author's Notes:

Moved to August in this. Changed over my spymaster (wife Margarete instead of young Suanhilde) and wanted to change Chancellor. Billung had a terrible stat but was a powerful vassal. Firing him would have been a problem but the game gave me something else. An event popped up that we "should spend time together" which did not go well. He was provoked and then decided to try and make a claim. That offered the option to imprison, and presto, chango...Billung is now in prison. Smart? I don't know.

Also changed up some laws...as you can see, moved up to low centralization and low tribal organization. Was trying to "allow" revoke title as well but I think one trumped the other and on the latter, I picked "seek approval" from counsel. Wise? You tell me.

Still early but at least I don't need to "sway" Billung anymore. His son? That may be something different.

 

[coz1]

​

December 770​

“It has been a poor year, Sigbert,” High Chief Lothar stared into the fire of the long hall and spoke to his friend as others slept around them.

It was late and Sigbert knew well why the High Chief lamented so. He poured another cup of mead and handed it over, “I could tell you that it was your fault, but that would not help your wound. Try this instead.”

“I think the Gods did try and tell us when good Wichimann went on to glory,” Lothar accepted it with shame still in his heart.

Sigbert laughed, “Emptying his bowels? What glory lies in that? The Grand Chief can lament, but he cannot be proud of his son.”

“And yet his son is dead...nearly twelve moons. It was a poor omen and we should have seen the signs. I did not listen to my seer and I should have.”

“You should not have put so much faith in Wlencing,” the chief’s man suggested with a smirk, “A fine rider, but not the commander you need.”

Lothar considered the words and offered a soft nod, “I was feeling bold. The son of Billung did not rise against me when I put his father to chains. Amelung would not care. Word came from the south...this great King of the Franks...he is called incapable. I went looking for glory. First to Lenzen in the east and I hear no word back from Luder. And then...”

“And then our Grand Chief Theoderic found greed in his heart,” Sigbert suggested, “Saw the northern tribes against this Haraldr Wartooth and thought to gain glory for himself.”

​

With a heavy sigh, Lothar remembered it, “We are warriors and proud. I raised our men. We marched north. It was perfect weather and the Gods already smiled upon me. How could I know?”

“When he moved too fast,” Sigbert answered, “And when you chose Wlencing instead of me to help lead.”

“Your jealousy does not ease my shame,” Lothar chided, “And the outcome remains the same.”

Sigbert gave nod, “And you remain too beholden to Theoderic. You did what you could. There by the great winds and saw he was in trouble with the Fyn. You moved as swift as you might but it was not enough. The Grand Chief had already seen to his harm.”

​

“Our harm!” Lothar shouted not caring if anyone heard him, “We crossed as best we could...made it there in time for the battle! Yet over eight hundred brave Saxons died there and found their glory! What could I do but slink home in defeat. The Gods do not smile upon me! They show me no favor!”

Sigbert pulled long at his drink as he listened and then answered, “And you escaped to fight once more. Unlike Theoderic. He is blamed for the loss and not you. He was the one to feel the sting of captivity...not you.”

“And he is angered,” Lothar suggested with a deep frown.

“As he should be for it was his trouble and not yours,” Sigbert counseled, “You honored your promise. There is glory and pride in that. He lives in defeat, Lothar...not you.”

​

Lothar drank the rest of his mead and moved to pour another, “He is home again...to his tribe. He stews.”

“He is not the only one,” Sigbert suggested, “Slesvig was a poor adventure and one you should not have needed to assist. You have done favor to Unwad Unwanid of the Westphalia. He stews as well. I do not know why you do not join his cause.”

Lothar turned only slightly with a narrowed brow, “To fight a man strong and full with your seax...that is honorable. To show great counsel with one breath and then with the other seek to undermine...to steal what is not his...that is dishonor. High Chief Unwan is dishonorable.”

“And unsatisfied with our Grand Chief,” Sigbert followed.

“Our great Saxon tribe does not win if we fight each other,” Lothar looked back to the flames, “For there is another. My seer tells me now...the Gods do smile on this southern King. He is incapable no more. We are shamed...we are in disorder...we do not please the Gods.”

Sigbert allowed a grin, “Yet this Karl of the Franks has but one God. How can that be pleasing?”

“I know not,” Lothar replied with great worry, “I am told that there is disorder in his house as well, but someday...he will come. If this is how we fight, Sigbert? We cannot win.”

​

* * *​

Author's Notes:

Still testing out some features here and this first attempt at warfare with the new regime was not an auspicious start. Bad luck or poor play, I don't know, but my desire to highlight it along with some few other nuggets. Like Karl being "incapable" and then...not. And Karloman is not doing well, it seems.

A few oddities or questions -

- I cannot seem to nominate anyone as successor to the Grand Chiefdom of Saxony. Any idea why?

- What is the worth of "swaying" someone?

- Should I keep the de facto jobs assigned to my council or change them up as I did with Chancellor Luder when I sent him to fabricate claims on Lenzen?

- And how is this one tribe from the north (sorry, forgot to get their name) doing so well in Slesvig, etc. and the Grand Chief and I did not?

Hope to get some more play time in soon, but this was an educational session. A good year if poor in outcome.

 

[coz1]

​

December 776​

When it came, it came quickly. The Seer Theodoric saw it already and warned High Chief Lothar and so when word arrived that the King in the south, Karl of the Franks, had declared against the Saxons, Lothar was ready. The tribe was gathered and moved to Hastfala to consult with the Grand Chief. Nearly twelve hundred brave warriors then moved north to Ostfriesland to lay siege on the most recent Frankish acquisition. It would take until the season warmed to finally witness the enemy as they gathered but once they did, over three thousand moved into Saxony and the moment seemed dire.

Every chief rallied to the cause and Grand Chief Theoderic himself gathered just as many men to his side before moving to Gelre. It was a war of avoiding the enemy which might seem dishonorable for such proud warriors, but every man of the tribe knew that the only way to win against such a larger foe was to hold out long enough and take what you could without losing the host. By June of 772, this was proving successful. At least until a new figure entered the scene.

Brennaburg…

​

High Chief Milyduch of the Brennaburg tribe took his chance and attacked in an attempt to subjugate the Saxons while they were defending against King Karl and suddenly the situation changed. Crossing the Elbe river, the Brennaburg soon opened another front of the war and now there were another two thousand enemy warriors to fight. Yet the Gods did smile on Lothar. Norden in Ostfriesland fell to him in July of 772 even as the armies of Karl took land to the south.

There was cause for concern, however. Sigbert suggested again that the Grand Chief did not have the true warrior spirit and it was true that Theoderic did not appear to have a full plan for victory. Yet the Saxons gathered around him still and Lothar himself sent on the girl Suanhilde to be his concubine. It pleased his wife Margarete and it clearly pleased the Gods. This was seen when Lothar found victory for the first time against the Franks. When smaller bands of the enemy began to harass the Lara tribe, the High Chief moved south once more and defeated a small army of King Karl. It was only a hundred men, but it was pleasing nonetheless. Lothar would find injury in the battle, but his ferocity and bravery proved to his men that he was a warrior and they found pride.

Nijmegen would fall to Grand Chief Theoderic in August as Lothar moved north again, but then message came from Amelung of the Petherga. Attempts to sway the son of Billung had been less than fruitful, but in this at least, the two chiefs were in agreement. To defeat the two enemies, the tribes of Saxony must hold together and this they did. Moving east, Lothar tracked the river Elbe as the Grand Chief moved from Hastfala and in November of 772, battle was finally met with the Brennaburg.

​

The entirety of the Saxon tribes came together and when it was done, over six hundred of the Brennaburg were killed and the rest ran from the field of battle in defeat. There was no time to celebrate, however. The Dreini tribe had been fully subjugated by the armies of Karl and another thousand Franks were harassing the lands north of them. Lothar wished to take their combined force and meet the Franks head on, but Theoderic said no. The Franks were losing as much to attrition as they might from battle and whether it was craven or smart, it was decided to continue avoiding the enemy.

Lothar’s tribesmen followed the Grand Chief as they moved to the Dreini and by April of 773, it was back in Saxon hands even as the Leriga began to fall to the Franks. Worse still, the Brennaburg had returned. A moot held by the chiefs turned sour when Lothar became angered by Theoderic. Franks moved without enemy throughout Saxony and the Brennaburg had moved to the seat of Saxony itself. High Chief Lothar decided that he would fight his own war if Theoderic would not and so moved north once again to Ostfriesland.

There he spent the autumn at siege. News was not promising. The tribe was discouraged and the spoils of war were not forthcoming. Worse still, word came from the south that this King Karl had taken his brother’s land in Middle Francia. The moment seemed dire and after a year of war already, few real gains had been made.

​

But then things changed. Aurich would fall to Lothar in September and Grand Chief Theoderic found his courage and would defeat the Brennaburg in October of 773. The war in the north over Slesvig finally came to an end and High Chief Hesso of the Albingia was finally able to devote his full energies to the struggle against the Franks. Even as lands fell to King Karl, they were as reluctant to face the Saxons as Theoderic was to face them. In fact, as the snows fell the Franks retreated to Francia and the tribes used that time to retake their lands. Back and forth it had gone and after nearly two years, there seemed little changed but the war torn countryside.

And even though peace was finally forced to the Brennaburg in 774 after Lothar’s daring raid on Lenzen, a new actor joined the scene. As one pagan tribe left the field of battle, another entered in the form of Pommeranians. Theoderic would deal them a quick defeat but it was yet another enemy to contend with. The year was filled with many highs and many lows. Borkun in Ostfriesland would fall to Lothar and then he would hear that his wife was ill.

​

Lothar did not have the chance to return home to her and she would die in 775 having said her farewell over two years prior. Even with wins as the siege at Groningen found success and King Karl dealt with peasant revolts, this latest turn was harsh. There was no great love in the marriage, but the High Chief began to wonder if yet again the Gods did not smile upon him. The Franks controlled no land within Saxony by this date and the Saxons had taken ground in Gelre and Ostfriesland but all knew that this war was not nearly over.

When in March of 775, Stavoren fell to Lothar, Grand Chief Theoderic officially named him as a commander of the tribe but it was no solace. Even as the Pommeranians found another defeat, there remained the Franks back to take the Dreini once again and his wife was dead. Who cared for his son? When would this war end? How could the Gods smile upon him without victory? Worse still, the Grand Chief finally took battle to the Franks in Essen and lost...badly.

More terrible was when Lothar moved to meet the Pommeranians at Weligrad and he too lost. It was a shameful defeat and made worse when soon after, peace was made with them. A useless battle and too much harm to his tribe. Since the start of the war against King Karl of Francia, this was Lothar’s lowest moment. He returned home and disbanded his warriors to go back to their families and find rest.

​

For two months he sat and stewed. Even as Grand Chief Theoderic kept at the fight and took more ground from the Franks, Lothar did not move. Finally, as the year 776 began, he finally raised his tribe once more. Could he be blessed by the Gods? Could the Saxons? The Franks had returned to the Dreini and were now harassing Amelung and the Patherga tribe but as Lothar moved north to siege at Dokkum, Grand Chief Theoderic found his courage once more and finally took the battle to the Franks. Whether it was because it was so close to the sacred Irminsul or that he had seen enough, a great victory was found. First to Patherga and then in Essen, the Franks were suddenly on the run. Dokkum would fall to Lothar and then Zutphen in November of 776.

After four years of war, much had changed but the struggle remained. Franks continued to harass but they were greatly weakened. A large area along the sea to the north was controlled by the Saxon tribes. Grand Chief Theoderic had moved as far as the Rhine river and Lothar was not far behind. Was it possible that the Gods smiled and would allow them to win this war? Could it be that his tribe would find victory against the greater arms of Francia? As the snows fell, Lothar began to feel strong knowing well that the war was far from over. Four years and two foes already defeated. Was it possible that another might see the same? Saxony remained proud and their fierce warriors even more so. There was no fear but there was still not too much confidence. It could change at a moment’s notice but for now...they were the champions.

​

* * *​

Author's Notes:

After four years of war with Karl, I am rather proud of surviving. Will it last? I am a little surprised that he has not come right after me instead preferring siege warfare. I took note of that and have tried to do the same. Some battles have been won but by and large, my force is still not strong enough to go face to face. I figured if I could just survive, I might have a chance. So far, so good.

Attrition is my friend.

 

[coz1]

​

January 778​

Over five years of struggle. Was it true? Countless good warriors had found their glory and these so called followers of Christ could not win. The old tales told of fights against the ancient Romans and this seemed as important than that. Great tribes standing against the powers of the world and holding their own...making their name...proving their worth to the Gods. It did not come without sacrifice. Lothar had lost his wife. Even a small part of himself at the Battle of Dreini. Bravery and pride made him do it, but as he recalled the empty faces of the men he slayed...it stayed with him. It would gain him good entry in the afterlife but in the now...it was only harsh reality.

Worse still was that Theoderic wished to lay claim to the victory and said to all how he bested the enemy at personal duel. Lothar was there when it happened. The Grand Chief had done poorly and it was Lothar that rescued him. Such was the way of the tribe and he accepted it with begrudging irritation. It was a small thing compared to the other. The greatest Kingdom known to man since the days of Rome had come to call and went away with nothing.

​

Long hours and many days had come and gone. Small victories and some large...losses that still stung. As High Chief Lothar moved back to his tribe, he was greeted with great cheers and hailed as a hero. He was not alone. Grand Chief Theoderic was given great honor as he returned to his home, whether he deserved it or no. Amelung of the Patherga was called by many as ‘the Wall’ such was his proven prowess on the field of battle. Many gifts had come to Lothar as Chief in thanks for his bravery and strength. Five long years and it felt good.

Yet the Gods did take their toll. Margarete dead. The mother of Lothar’s son never had chance to spy Lothar’s face when she died. More to that, other Chiefs found their glory and did not return to their families. Unwan of the Westphalia was struck down in battle in 775. He left a young son Bernard to lead. Only eight summers and more than wet behind the ear...this did not bode well for their future. And Lothar himself still nursed a wound from early in the war. But this was no time for consideration of loss. They had gain and they did celebrate.

Celebrate they did for nearly two moons. Each night the fires were lit and the long hall filled with proud warriors and their women. Mead was plentiful and this night it flowed freely. The girl seemed scared as did her brother beside her, but the rest paid it no mind. Their High Chief would see a new bride and Lothar stood forward and grabbed her arm as if a trophy.

“Unwan would not see it for he rests with the Gods!” Lothar shouted for all to hear and held to the young girl’s arm, “And he was dishonorable! He should not have tried to take what was not his. Now...I take what is mine! Bernard of the Westphalia...you bring your sister here. Do you give her to me freely?”

Her name was Gisela and she was already pretty at seven summers. Bernard was only her senior by a year but the hulking forms of the High Chief’s hirdman stood around him and he could do no thing but nod.

Lothar smiled, “Then we shall take her on and call her bride! She will grow here with us and she will bear me more children!”

​

The High Chief’s own son was still too young to join the party, but his men cheered. Sigbert stood close and Wlencing clapped a heavy hand to the young Chief of the Westphalia tribe. The Seer Theodoric stayed aloof in the corner but Wecta smiled with the rest. Just five years before, they thought their entire lives would be torn asunder. Now, the Chief lived and would marry again. The Gods smiled on them all.

Then Luder of the Lara tribe entered the long hall and shouted for all to hear, “Lothar of Angria...I come with good news!”

“You took your time, Luder!” Lothar let go of the girl and stepped to him in good cheer, “Frightened of the great battle?”

Luder smiled, “Your exploits follow you, great chief! I have been to Lenzen since your daring raid and come to tell you that you have your claim! The Brennaburg were dishonorable and all do know it! Take your seax to them if you wish for they are yours if you want it!”

More shouts filled the long hall and caused Lothar to hold up his hands, “The Gods give us great fortune! Yet we have been to battle for so long. I wish to wed the girl...see more children. We are not yet done with these men of the south...these Franks. I will take battle to the Brennaburg for they deserve it. Yet for now...I will rest and find your company. We did not do this alone, yet we did defeat the enemy larger than any we have yet faced. You all have showed to the Gods honor...you have showed your pride and bravery. Let them come for us and we shall show them again!!”

* * *​

Author's Notes:

I split up these last two scenes because I thought the war would take longer. Turns out...not so much. I kept taking sieges as did the Grand Chief and eventually we got to 100% war score. Marburg was the last thing to fall to me in November of 777 and then it was over. I beat Charlemagne!

Some other few bits - gained the claim on Lenzen and am thinking of using it. Still a bit leery of the war dynamic, however. Pros and cons?

And I had a bit of trouble finding a suitable new wife. Gisela was the best I could come up with. Ones I wanted were not available in the interface and though I will have to wait as she is 7, I still have the son.

EDIT - An added question: I am assuming that peace treaties don't work the same way between Christians and Pagans. So how soon should I expect Karl to come again?

 

[coz1]

​

January 782​

“I curse you, Theoderic. You should not be known as the Lame for you are worse. You should be named Traitor!”

The words fell on deaf ears for there was no one there to hear him. Except maybe the cat. That damned cat. Freedom to come and go as it pleased while Lothar was forced to this rotted dungeon. At least the feline was a ratter. Small blessing in what was utter defeat. How had it come to this? A short few cycles of the seasons after winning against the fabled Karl of Francia to this? The blame must be put to Grand Chief Theoderic.

Lothar brought his hand up to scratch at the scar along the right side of his face. A reminder of those heady days when all seemed well. With Saxon pride at an all time high, many other tribes came to pay tribute and give thanks for what they had accomplished. Even the High Chief of Bohemia traveled the distance and while both were to a great feast in the long hall of Theoderic, Lothar and this Bohemian pledged the marriage of their children...Lother’s son Udo to the chief’s daughter named Viola. Udo was now a boy of eleven summers and she a girl of eight. It was a testament to how revered the Saxon name had become.

A grand hunt in the autumn followed and though it saw a great wounding, it was still glorious. Lothar had seen a hart with at least ten points and told all that he would see it for himself. He might have too if his mount had not stumbled and thrown the High Chief far. The beast found a broken leg and Lothar a nasty wound to his face that would linger for many months. It was a fine horse too. Shame that he had to put it out of its misery. And the wound...it would never leave him even when healed. Now it left this scar to his face. Yet it was a reminder of his bravery and told all that he was not fearful. It was a sign of pride.

And boldness too. The peace with Karl of Francia called for a treaty until seven years hence yet what was a treaty for a man that served the Gods? This King Karl served but one...Lothar served many. If he could not fight one to one, then let it be fought some other way. And so High Chief Lothar called up his hirdmen and took a raiding party to the north and put the town of Norden to siege.

​

Norden was small and defenseless and so Lothar’s men looted all across the countryside and found great fortune. Plentiful meat and some ripe women as well were had and after six moons had passed, the people of Norden too were ready to submit. It was cold...nearly as cold as it was now...but it was grand. A prince, so-called, of Frisia kept his sons there. Three of them. As his hirdmen raided the village and then the hall of the lord, they found the children huddled together. Afraid and young.

“Take them as spoils of conquest!” Lothar shouted to his men and that is what they did. The three boys were hurried away and taken back south to the tribe at Derve. Then word was sent to this prince. Would he wish one boy back? Would he wish all three? An offer for the eldest was given and finally this Prince Aldgisl of Frisia said yes. Four times the coin from their looting came as ransom in return. If one could fetch this price, then what could another? And Lothar still had two.

​

The boy Radboud was next and once more, Lothar found his coin swell. Raiding had been good to his tribe and more, good for the chief. All looked to him in awe and he could do no wrong. While he waited for his young bride to reach age enough for true marriage before the Gods, another came to him. Hildegard...she was seventeen summers and beautiful. Strong and fair at once. He would take her to bed many times and enjoyed his bounty.

And then the Gods punished him.

The cat mewed in the corner with no more rats to kill. Licking itself, it then turned with expectation on its face. Lothar tried to smile, “I’ve no cow...do you see? I’ve no milk for you.”

With a slight turn of the head as if in question, the cat went back to licking its feet. Lothar felt wetness to his right and saw a puddle of water. Cupping his hand, he pooled some small amount and held it out. The cat looked on with curiosity at first, but finally inched forward and began to lap it up.

“Easy for you,” Lothar found another smile, “Not for me, little one. I was at my fullest before I found you. Had taken my tribe and made them whole. The Derve...the Lara...they surrounded me and found their champion. They approved of my tribal organization...each time...and we were strong. One whole. And then the lame Theoderic goes for his play.”

He should have known. Fresh from victory and his new found coin, Lothar moved his hirdmen to the east planning to raid in Lenzen. That was when word came. Grand Chief Theoderic planned to subjugate the Sjælland to the north. Yet Lothar was bold and could find no harm. When Theoderic asked for the High Chief to join, Lothar was certain. Of course he would honor his position. No thing had gone wrong for him. One more tumble with Hildegard had seen her with child. And another man from the east came to pledge his loyalty and seax. Sadsrung was an odd man but strong. Strange eyes but full of the Gods warrior spirit.

Then Wecta died. Always the voice of reason. When others were too bold, Wecta was the one to question. Too wise a mind and Lothar wanted it...needed it. And then the man was gone. That should have proved an omen but Lothar was feeling too strong. He raised his warriors once more and off they went to the north to join with the Grand Chief. And it was glorious...at first. Meeting the enemy in Slesvig saw victory and the tribe moved east. Taking longboats to the Fyn tribe, the Saxon army was sure to find glory.

​

“And that they did my little feline friend,” Lothar looked down to the cat that had curled at his feet. A massive host of over four thousand Saxons met with another ruled by this King of Sjælland near Svendborg. Great battle was had and when it was done, over a thousand of the enemy lay dead. Saxon loss was seen as nearly six hundred had found their glory with the Gods, but they had defeated this King and his force.

Grand Chief Theoderic was boastful about the victory, and why not? Having already defeated the Franks in the south, who were these northerners? Two battles already and twice now, they were on the run. Lothar felt it too. A change of the seasons was all that was needed to see this as one more victory...one more bit of pride for their great tribe. How could they lose?

​

When word came to him that Hildegard had born him another son, Lothar felt even more unbeatable. Surely the Gods smiled upon him. He was named Arnd and was said to be healthy and strong. Lothar smiled to his men and claimed that it was the Gods favor that allowed it. He would acknowledge the boy for what choice did he have? If the Gods saw fit to reward him, how could he say no?

​

The Latins called it hubris and perhaps it was. Fresh from their victory at Svendborg, Lothar took his warriors back to Slesvig so they may loot and siege at their pleasure. That they did. As the summer months came on, the villages surrounding the keep were in great peril. The Saxon horde did what they did best and by June of 781, that land was held by the Grand Chief and made true by Lothar of the Angria. It should have been simple. Move as one. Let them all move south once more and find their provisions. That is what Lothar did. That is what he understood that Theoderic would do. And then he did not.

Wlencing and Sigbert had already moved south when Theoderic made claim that Lothar should remain with him. As a commander of the great Saxon army, he could not refuse. It would turn out to be a great mistake. Lothar’s hirdmen took his warriors to meet with the Albingians and then found a great northern host descend upon them. Without the strength of the full Saxon might, his men were cut down and Wlencing himself was caught as prisoner. It was the worst defeat in Lothar’s mind and made worse that he was not there to join them.

Yet Theoderic was not interested in dwelling in his lack of sight. The larger Saxon host moved back to Slesvig and there they would see battle. It would prove to be a rout. With less than three thousand men, Theoderic made claim once more to Slesvig but the northerners had more. Over four thousand found them and put them to battle and Lothar was caused to fight what he knew would be a losing effort.

In the midst of it, he thought he saw one of his own nearly cut down. Rushing to relieve the poor boy, Lothar was too late. A northern blade cut through the boy’s neck and left Lothar standing in silence as the din of noise surrounded him. He would never forget it. The look in the boy’s eye. The sweetness of his face...and then he was gone.

​

All for the glory of Theoderic.

As a brave warrior, Lothar took his charge and rushed into the melee. There was no time to think of loss. Only victory even if it was not to be had. Theoderic was lame and could not fight this enemy so who was left? Only Lothar. With fury, he caught one foe and then another until finally he was surrounded. He was ready to die at that moment and find his glory in the beyond. Holding his seax forward to take on any comer...that is when he heard it. The horn blew and suddenly the great Saxon host moved on leaving Lothar to himself. They were defeated and the enemy kept to this high chief with blades to his neck. They would not fight him. They did not need to. It was the ultimate shame. He was now their prisoner.

​

And so that is where he sat. Petting a cat that was his only friend and starving himself for he would not be treated well. Gisele’s tribe would surely see their betrothal as no thing and surely Sigbert would take up as chief. There was no thought of rescue...only release and that surely would not come. Somewhere, Wlencing was suffering this same fate and Lothar wished that his friend was by his side. Instead...all he had was the cat.

The high chief tried to find his smile as he looked down to the resting feline, “Theoderic the Traitor surely finds his way home by the now. Have you any way to catch him as you catch these rats?”

The cat merely looked up with a curious eye before curling into a ball once more. Lothar wished to do the same. From great victory to great defeat. The Gods had cursed him and none more so than his chief. It was Theoderic’s fault for he was a traitor and the Gods do not smile on those that have no glory. And right now, the only glory Lothar could find was in a sleeping cat at his feet. It was shameful.

​

* * *​

Author's Notes:

I've actually played a few years past this point and can say that Lothar survives but is "touched" by his encounter with fate. I call Theoderic traitor here because I think he was. He could have moved south with me (as I thought we were doing) but then he changed and left me to die on my own. I was not a happy man.

Earlier events were more pleasant -

- Was nice to figure out the raiding feature and that could not have worked out better. My treasury went from around 20/30 to over 100 after that!

- As mentioned by some, I did find a concubine and already that seems to paying some dividends. I've mentioned that the bastard was acknowledged, but he will not be given true place vs. Udo.

- Speaking of Udo, I thought that a pretty good marriage tie with Bohemia. We might need that.

- Alluded to above, but to make clear - I also got medium tribal organization out of this session. The imprisonment does not help that.

And then some bad -

- Alluded to at the end here, but the imprisonment of Lothar does not go well. My betrothal with Gisele is now off and Sigbert is named Regent. He can do whatever he wants and I am helpless to stop it. Do you think Theoderic comes to my aid? Don't bet on it. And I don't have enough $ to ransom myself and cannot loot to gain it while already at war. Hrmph, I says!

Finally...there is a reason for the cat.

 

[coz1]

​

May 784​

They pulled him from the dungeon and did not even allow him time to say goodbye to the cat. Marched straight into the middle of the tribe’s camp, Lothar was stripped of his already thin clothes and thrown naked atop a horse and strapped tight to the beast. He was paraded before the Sjælland tribe as they jeered and hollered mean and insulting barbs his way until they were to the edge of the camp and then a slap to the backside sent him and his mount out into the night. Was he released or meant to die? Maybe both...maybe none.

He remembered the night well. Cool with an autumn chill to the air, he shivered in his nakedness. As his horse tracked south with no guiding spirit but his words, finally Lothar found himself at the river Elbe. Still strapped tight to the mount, he could not ford the river for he would surely drown...the both of them. And then he saw it. The cat...that damned cat. Tracked him all of this way and sat on the ground licking at its paws until it looked up as if with a smile.

That was when riders approached. Fearful at first, Lothar soon realized they were hirdmen of the Grand Chief Theoderic. Shamed already in defeat, now they found him like this.

​

“Lothar of the Angria...is that you?” they asked and for an instant he wished to say no. Yet another in the group recognized him even in his state and immediately moved to free him of his shackles. Given a mantle to cover himself, more from the chill than his nakedness, he was then led back to a fire. There it was told to him that Sigbert had raised another seven hundred warriors and had ranged far to the north.

“What of my ransom?” Lothar had asked.

The answer came as great laughs because all of Theoderic’s hirdmen knew there would be no ransom. The Grand Chief had not the coin nor the care to spend on Lothar. One of the meaner sorts had moved to him and sneered, “I believe the chief wishes to see you named dróttseti. Now that you are free...it is yours to lose. From the look of you, it will not be long.”

Lothar was humiliated. More than shamed. These men found no respect for him even though he was a great chief. With barely a stitch of clothing and trembling from the chill...that is when he saw it again. At the edge of the wood, with eyes that shined bright from the firelight...that damned cat. It sat still and stared...waiting. For what? When the men around Lothar moved to send him on his way, he was given just enough provision to make it across the Elbe and then find his home on his own. They did not care about him. No one did. Only the cat.

And as he sat in his long hall this night...it was the cat that sat next to him, curled into a ball at his feet and it purred while Lothar looked at his tribe that looked back at him with shame. Their shame and his. If the tiny beast was an ill omen, Lothar did not see it. It had delivered unto him his freedom and the High Chief saw the cat as a messenger of the Gods.

​

Yet still he looked on with a cruel eye. There was Wlencing, also released, but without the humiliation that Lothar had endured. And there was Sigbert...his good friend. The one that would not ransom him and then took the tribe north only to lose. Here were his hirdmen and with all gone wrong, they still looked to their chief with shame in their eyes. He knew it. All knew it. The Pommerianian knew it when they launched a war to subjugate the Saxons. The Brennaburg tribe knew it as well when they invaded to take Suavia. From such a mighty high to this very low, Lothar looked to his tribe and knew not how to regain their favor. And still, the cat purred.

​

“We should rise up again, Lothar,” Sigbert announced for all to hear, “Good coin comes to us when we ransomed the last boy from that Frisian chief. The time is ripe. The season, good. Theoderic was finding his chains and now he is not. You are a free man. What would you do?”

Lothar shifted to sit taller in his seat and the cat jumped to his lap as if on instinct, “Sigbert led you during my trial...and what did you see? Not only loss to the Sjælland, but so too the Pommeranian and Brennaburg join in this hunt. It is well that our Grand Chief finds his freedom, but at what cost?”

​

A young man from the back of the long hall moved forward to stand in front of Lothar and then looked to the rest, “My father grows feeble. Who knows what was done to him in captivity? Here he sits with an animal that has no pride. Content to lick at its hind quarters...I think my father does as well.”

“Udo Lotharsson!” Wlencing shouted as he stood forward, “You speak with dishonor towards the chief! It is true that the Dolomici are lost to us and gained by Brenneburg, but we remain at a fight. High Chief Lothar is named great commander of the warriors of Theoderic. The Latins would call him marshal. Who are you to question your own father?”

“I am his son,” Udo replied with some little strength that gave no one confidence, “I can say these things to the man that made me. I am now of age...no thanks to him...and I would see our tribe thrive.”

Lothar had heard enough, “And how would you do that? You are no thing but a wastrel and indulgent! Barely with hairs to your balls and you think to rule?! Stand down, my son...and listen to my word!”

​

“Do you think to let your cat rule?” young Udo looked back with scorn, “You look sickly to me, father. Your trial has changed you. You are not fit to lead this tribe!”

“And you are but a child!” Lothar answered with strength, “You would let men speak!”

Already chastised, Sigbert still stood forward again, “I remain…raise up the host. Yes...the Brennaburg has found theirs, but we are not yet lost. The Grand Chief is weak. North to south...who is to do it? It is left to us if we will protect the Saxon. I give you no disrespect, for you are an old and good friend Lothar. And we must fight!”

“I agree with Sigbert, my chief,” Wlencing look past the son Udo to his father, “All is not lost. There are many from the north that invade our lands...and many from the east. We have defeated a mighty warrior in Karl of the Franks. We must do so again!”

With some comfort, Lothar reached out his hand to pet at the cat as he looked to all within the long hall, “I have found shame but it is not shame to all of the Saxon. Our lands are invaded and we remain proud. You may look to me and see a changed man but do not look to yourself as this. You remain Saxon...of the tribe Angria! I will raise our host once more and I will send my hirdmen to meet with these invaders! If we bested the Romans...the Franks...surely we will best these as well!”

The long hall erupted into a cheer and Lothar finally found a smile. The soft purr of the cat under his hand gave him even more reason to smile. A cough alerted the cat that he was about to stand and Lothar did so. As the feline skittered away, the High Chief looked to all, “We are not yet done and I am home. I have a wastrel son, yet he is my own. I have been shamed, but I stand here now...not ashamed. Our Grand Chief is known as lame and holds no purpose, but we...we strong many...we remain proud!”

More cheers came forward and Lothar finished, “I will raise the host. I will still fight. You may then judge. I am call to task by the Gods! And they wish you...all of you...to stand with me against this foe. Will you?”

“Yes!!!” came the resounding cry.

Lothar smiled as he saw the cat curl around his feet, “Then let us fight once more!”

​

* * *​

Author's Notes:

No one asked about the cat but you can now see why I invited him into the equation. A fun little trope even if I wish it were a dog. (I am allergic to cats even if they are cute.)

I have a few bits more from this period so I felt the need to split it up. Theo started his war and then we found a lot more to chew on. Too much more. Lost land to the south and things don't look good with the others. I'm not going to say how it ends up, but you can likely guess. A funny thing, this war dynamic. I can best Francia as large as it is, but not these smaller tribes.

And Lothar is shamed but that does not stop him from being named both seneschal and then marshal to Saxony. Theo must be desperate.

It took a while to regain what was lost while prisoner and as seen, I am going to have to live with that for the rest of Lothar's life (and not said here, but I did re-up the betrothal to young Gisele). All for the glory of Theoderic. Hrmph!

 

[coz1]

​

May 786​

The Gods did attend, but time was the great arbiter. High Chief Lothar of the Angria lay to his bed and felt the soft purr of his cat by his side as he tried to smile. No amount of mead could cure his ailing body. No amount of pride could change what had occurred to his tribe these last many seasons. And yet, no ailment or change could alter his fate. He remained the great chief of the Angrians and the Saxons remained a free people, different but with their Gods still. And though he suffered, surely Lothar’s suffering was less than that of Theoderic the Traitor.

It might be seen as punishment for himself as his pains began when the war against the Sjælland found loss. Sigbert had taken the warriors and moved east because Lothar was still too weak, but by then it was too late. High Chief Theoderic’s folly ended with no gain and shame for all. Was that when it started? Lothar trained his mind to remember. Yes...first a rash, and then a fever. Great pain in his head began and his Seer tried many ways to relieve his trouble. Some worked and some did not, but before the year was out the Seer would tell the High Chief that he had developed the great pox.

​

Surely that was punishment for his great failings. The Gods do not champion a warrior that loses in battle and especially one that is made to feel humiliation by his enemies. Lothar would feel low for a time in both health and mind, but then fair news came to him. When Sigbert returned as the snows fell, he would report that the Bardengawi tribe had found liberation but yet another great loss in Osterwalde. Yet it was not true loss. He would bring back with him a man named Liawizo who was a great warrior and more to that...the Grand Chief Theoderic was once more himself prisoner to the tribe in Pommerania. What was one defeat when his true enemy saw his fate carried out by the Gods?

His health was poor and the pox to his body turned away his bedmate Hildegarde. They would part ways after some few moons, but Lothar remained cheerful. He was chief. He could find many bedmates, no matter his condition. With Theoderic away, who was to keep Suanhilde? She remained beautiful, he knew. As if taking back stolen bounty, Lothar recalled Suanhilde to his tribe and made her a concubine. That was his right...that was his due.

​

The Grand Chief had failed at so many things. Poor leadership, ill decisions...stealing Suanhilde in the first place. A traitor may make a gain, but in the end the Gods will make him pay. It is fate. No matter the pleasures in life, the Gods would punish shame. Lothar knew it all too well and even touched with great pain, it was just that Theoderic of the Bardengawi would see his fall.

Dobieslaw of the Kessini tribe ruled the Pommeranians and had taken advantage of Theoderic’s failings. They held him to a prison and when Suanhilde returned, she spoke that the Kessini had moved well into his lands. There was nothing that Theoderic could do. He had lost it all. Saxony would remain but he would no longer be named Grand Chief. That honor now went to Dobieslaw in the east. The tribes were merged and many of the chiefs did not know what to think, but Lothar knew no trouble from it. It was the Gods. They had punished Theoderic for his shame and it was right.

​

A fine gift of coin was sent to this Dobieslaw and soon after, Hildegarde herself to be his concubine. Lothar would take this second chance as the Gods might now favor him once more. It had some effect as word then came that this new Grand Chief wished Lothar to his council to serve as chief adviser. Those in the west called it chancellor and even to the east, it was seen as great favor. Yet Lothar remained ill. He would accept with thanks, but his illness allowed him time to consider all options.

When offer came from Bernard of Munster that that chief wished alliance, Lothar accepted. There now were three potential foes between Karl of the Franks, the Sjælland of the north and now this new Grand Chief. Amelung of Billung was now a friend, so what was another? Many did question, but Lothar would use his new found position with strength. Some called him a lunatic and it was not lost on him that his illness was an easy thing to target, but the high chief remain the ruler of this tribe and he would rule.

​

Yet his illness did still bring him low. The pox covered his entire body by now and when the young Gisela daughter of Unwan came of age to marry, the ceremony was slim. He would take his right with her, but he knew well that she was disgusted. It did not matter. He already had a son and Udo was already betrothed to the High Chief of Bohemia. Their valor both was raised in the winter of 785 when Bohemia took the Brennaburg for themselves. The east was changing just as Lothar was and all friends were welcome.

​

Many things were changing, in truth. The Derve tribe and the Lara...they had now put down roots. In times past, the Saxons moved freely. Go where the land and taking was good. Saxons were now to the island in the west and had carved up kingdoms. They had even taken the new religion. Lothar’s people still believed in the old Gods, but they too moved to settle. The village around the Derve was soon known as Minden. To the north, the Lara called their land Oldenburg. The Kessini of the Pommeranians were happy to keep the name Saxony and the Bohemians, never too crafty, now just Bohemia.

And Lothar? He was now an old man. Somehow. He was now forty four summers and held a deep scar to his face and a body that was failing him. Some called him touched by lunacy and others, cursed by the Gods with the great pox. Yet he held a son from his first wife that was soon to marry. And he held a new young wife that surely would give him more. He held a second son as well from the woman that was now concubine to the Grand Chief Dobieslaw. And he held concubine himself...not one but two. Suanhilde had returned and more recently, he took Pechna from Lauzitz. Another gift from Bohemia.

High Chief Lothar looked down to the cat next to him in the bed and smiled. The traitor was treated harshly by the Gods, and so was he. Yet where was Theoderic now? Still maintained some leadership to the east, but here was Lothar of the Angria. A wife, two children, three women to warm his bed at night and his tribe...still his. The pox had challenged his body but not his mind, calls of lunacy or no. He was not yet done and perhaps the Gods had forgiven him for his shame.

​

* * *​

Author's Notes:

As you might imagine, this was an interesting couple of years. I kept the update short to take it all in. Pommerania takes Saxony and then Bohemia takes Brennaburg. Illness has taken over Lothar, first with the Great Pox and then lunacy. All in all, not a kind bit of playing. Yet all is not lost. Not yet, at least.

This game is harsh. It is rare that I get a good event. I understand a balancing for human player vs. AI, yet they get so much more than we already. It is pretty frustrating to think things are going well enough so that I can hold on and then get yet another harsh penalty. Bad luck? The luck of the draw? Or just punishment? I don't know, but I kept going.

So not sure what the Saxons are (defensive or offensive pagans - you can tell on the info screen) but suspect they are offensive (pun intended ) in which case each 2,500 army needs 500 prestige to buy, and they will disperse when not used. Defensive hosts (2,000) of religious warriors cost 200 piety. Haven’t played one yet, but I think they disperse when the war they are called up for (you can only call them when attacked, I think but am not sure vs attackers of a different religion) ends.

FYI my Rurik character once lost three offensive hosts which I’d been intending to use for ‘rolling conquests’ when I accidentally left the game unpaused when answering the phone - in an Ironman game! Ouch

Makes sense but as seen, I have over 500 prestige and still cannot/could not find this miraculous host. You say "info screen" - which screen is that exactly? And if "the host" (whichever it is) is supposed to appear in the plot tab, it is not there for me. I have consistently checked and the only thing on offer is the retinue which I do use soon and am still curious about.

Overall, I am sort of enjoying this game but I fear that it has become made a bit too complicated to balance player vs. AI. There is a reason that I don't play Vickie anymore. I like some of the changes to give flavor, but in the end I want it challenging but not impossible. I've played many Pdox games before so I know to expect it at times, but what must a novice think? You have to have some chance for success. I feel like I am just getting shit upon all the time with no real chance of doing much of anything from this position (and it was a difficult position to start with.)

Other game notes -

- When and what causes place names to change? (Derve to Minden, as example.) I don't mind it, but it might have been helpful in the writing to know. I did the best I could in that regard.

- Also concubines...do they really bring you much? Children if needed, yes. But as I have found, that can cause trouble. Is there any other reason to take them on?

- And just as note...even with a new Grand Chief, I still cannot choose myself as successor. It seems to me that in this type of "government" each high chief (read: Duke) should be able to pick themself. Instead...still no. Grrr. I'm not sure this pagan aspect has been modeled correctly.

 

[coz1]

​

October 787​

Shame. It was always shame. Forever to be shame. Never without shame. That had become Lothar’s life. The Gods were cruel and never wasted a moment such that he might forget it. The High Chief sat his chair at the end of the long hall and stewed with rage in his mind even as his body slumped due to his pox and injuries. Here he was after forty five brutal winters, Lothar of the Angria, a proud Saxon warrior and proclaimed by all as a great viking raider...and yet the faces he saw before him surely questioned this legend.

​

There was Udo, his son. Named a hirdman once he was married to the girl Viola. They both looked to the High Chief with curious eyes. They distrusted him and Udo surely longed for the day that he might replace his ailing father as chief. And this new wife...Viola of the Bohemians. She held a club foot but few noticed it because of how well groomed she was. Never a hair out of place...always clean...bright skin and clear eyes that caused all to see her face and not her deformity. She was young and they had yet to see issue, but Lothar knew that she too wished for the day that she might rule alongside her husband.

And there was Wlencing, finally freed and given command once more of the great raids to the north. He proved a great leader and found more success to Ostfriesland. No prisoners were brought back this time, but his exploits proved that Lothar might still command respect. And it did when Amelung, son of Billung, traveled to the small village of Minden and shared the cup of friendship. It was no easy task as his father Billung had finally died in Lothar’s imprisonment. Yet the tribe in Osnabrück had gone to Amelung’s son Bennit and surely this did make the man happy and proud.

​

Lothar’s attempts to sway a fellow chief of Saxony had found success but it was tinged by suspicion. Amelung was known to all as the ‘Great Wall’ and remained healthy and strong compared to the withered figure of Lothar. It was perhaps this suspicion that caused Lothar’s next shameful gambit. And after it, all did question. Yes, Wlencing. And Sigbert too.

While the snows still littered the ground of the village this previous winter, Lothar himself pulled his ailing body from his sickbed and took charge once more of the Saxon raiders. It was meant to show strength and at the time, many did think so. Lothar was praised by his hirdmen and as they rode forth to the south, dreams of great bounty in coin and prisoners filled their heads. To Thüringen they moved and surrounded the village of Erfurt.

It may even have caused the Grand Chief Dobieslaw to find some awe and respect as if Lothar might be a potential rival. Word had come to the chief as they moved that the Grand Chief now called himself King of Saxony and warned Lothar to not enter into faction against him. There was no cause for concern as Lothar had done no thing to warrant such a charge, yet he was happy to comply.

​

He was about to show the southern villages how dreadful he could be and fearless bravery was more important than anything other. Yet it was not to be. For many moons, his Saxon raiders pillaged and looted whatever they could find in and around Erfurt and came away with nothing. There was no great coin. No silver of plates and cup. No high born to capture and ransom. And that is when his men began to question in earnest. It was made worse when a large force of Francia descended upon them. They were not able to to escape before they were caught near Mulhausen.

​

Their odds were slim and all knew it, yet they remained proud and held the shield wall together as best they could. For a brief moment, Lothar even showed to his warriors they he was fierce and still held the favor of the Gods. And it all began with the cat. Lothar considered the animal a good luck charm. It had brought him from the prison of the Sjælland and seen him through his illness with the pox. It had cheered the hardened warriors as they found little to Erfurt and had comforted the injured as they moved from place to place. Yet when battle was found with the Franks, a stray arrow pierced Lothar’s saddle bag where the cat had sought a solace.

​

Lothar was enraged. Training his eye to where the arrow had originated, the High Chief of Angria noted the man called Mayor and he knew him to be named Raginari. He led this enemy and Lothar was intent on putting him to harm as much as his force had done to the cat. It was Wlencing that took the animal as Lothar mounted his horse and rode out to greet this man. It would be a personal duel and one to one, they would settle this match.

This Raginari was content to answer and rode forth as well. Yet anger was not enough for Lothar. He remained plagued with the pox and weakened such that his seax was not quick enough. The man Raginari matched him blow for blow and shamed him for all to see. The battle was already lost and the worst was yet to come. Bruised and battered, Lothar still fought but then he lost his weapon. The Frank stood over him ready to offer the final death blow when a Frankish soldier moved forth and pierced the chief with a spear.

​

The Mayor Raginari was so incensed that he killed his own man on the spot but it allowed Sigbert and Wlencing chance to rescue Lothar. Pulled from the field, the chief joined his cat as part of the injured and the Saxon warriors moved north to finally escape. They were shattered...all of them...and blame was put to Lothar. Why had he risked so much for so little? Why had his pride come before glory? And as much as they enjoyed the cat...why did the chief consider it good luck for it certainly was not?

All the way back to Minden did Lothar consider this himself. Especially as he saw the wary eyes of his men. As they marched, every look was like another spear to his side and the shame overwhelmed the chief. The Gods were cruel indeed. And so was this Frankish mayor.

They finally returned and Lothar held to his life but little else. The cat had survived the wound but lost an eye. Lothar too survived but remain severely injured and still greatly weakened with the pox. Moons had come and gone and day after day, Lothar became more fueled by rage at his own failings and the dishonor gained to Mulhausen.

​

Forty five winters and now shame upon shame. Some few battles won and coin gained from raiding, but what did this High Chief have to show for it? A body bereft of strength, a touched speech from his wounds, less than pity from his hirdmen and a one eyed cat. To his mind, he wished that this Frank had ended his life. At least he could have died in glory. Now, he was but a shell and all that looked upon him saw it.

He listened as the tribe drank and reveled and showed him a queer eye. They were still proud, but he...Lothar? He could barely move and any speech that he might give would only render him more ashamed. And that is when the cruelest trick of all came at him. The Seer Theodoric entered the hall and announced that word had come from this King of Saxony. Dobieslaw had called the tribes. The King of Francia had declared a holy war over Münster and all warriors were to attend.

What could Lothar do but say yes? Shamed as he was...weak in both body and spirit...there was no other answer. He and his tribe must go forward and protect what was theirs. It was his only chance to regain what was lost. How he would do it...Lothar had no idea.

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Author's Notes:

Not too many questions after this one as I am still behind where I've played up to in earnest (about 5 years.) I've been experimenting after these last rounds of comments trying to get a handle on the new mechanics and I save scum with the best of them. A few thoughts, however:

1) Looting - You can see why I had question before. Was able to get a little more out of Ostfriesland but Erfurt had nothing for me and that was before the Franks caught up to deal me a major blow. In Norden, I got the red "can't loot" flags but still got something out of it. In Erfurt, it was a successful "siege" but came out with zip. It goes from there. I'll cover it when we get to it.

2) Losing in Thuringen sent me all the way into Sjælland for some reason. That was odd.

3) And Lothar cannot catch a break but I guess I should be happy enough that he is still alive after everything that has happened to him. I get one good event to every three bad ones, it seems. But c'est la vie. Like him, I will battle through it.

I would ask a question here, however...Is it worth it to keep at this particular game or to start over? I've made some mistakes and some of them quite costly. I don't want to start a new thread if I did so, so how jarring would it be if I began anew after these first scenes? I'm not certain that I can get myself out of the hole I've dug and after this last patch, I am not certain everything is working as intended from these "old saves" (which are, like, a week old.) Should I take this down in a blaze of glory and play through to that end? Restart in thread with a fresh save? Or find an entirely different dynamic and thus new story/AAR? Just curious what you folks would do.

I am committed to writing an AAR with the new DLCs but as @stnylan suggested to me before I began, maybe give it some time. I jumped the gun. I think I can salvage something here but it may be more of the same. I've played until 792 and some few more things happen which are interesting but I am considering all options right now.