Time for the young Supreme Commander to rescue both King and Crown Prince. That'll make Athy even happier.
The Morea, a Palaeologid AAR
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Something gives me the feeling that Nikephoros' upcoming rescuing of Athanaisos will lead to his own downfall.Chief Ragusa said:
Update, old mate! You've got our nerves tensed here!
I'm sorry, Snugglie (and everyone). I had meant to update today, but I was called back in to work shortly after I got home, and ended up staying all day. I didn't get home until after midnight. I don't work tomorrow, so once I get some sleep, I will be ready to update.Snugglie said:Something gives me the feeling that Nikephoros' upcoming rescuing of Athanaisos will lead to his own downfall.
Update, old mate! You've got our nerves tensed here!
I apolgize again for the lateness of the update. Today just sort of slipped away from me. But, as promised, here is the next update, the conclusion of the Battle of Medjerda!
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As Nikephoros Dekanos rose to his feet, he felt a throbbing pain in his head. He looked around, and could hardly remember anything from the battle. He stared, puzzled, at the dead bodies in the room with him. He saw his clothes stained red with blood, and even his blade was drenched. He put a hand to his face, and pulled it away instantly. Blood! Blood was everywhere. Every muscle in his body ached. Then it all came back to him. He had indeed been responsible for over a hundred deaths today. That would explain all the blood.
But the battle was not over. He could still hear the din of sword crashing against sword. He walked to the doorway, leaving his helmet and shield behind, as he was too exhausted to carry them, but he gripped his sword firmly in his hand.
When he reached the doorway, he looked out on the walls. Arsenios Karamallos and his men were still fighting desperately against the Tunisians there. Nikephoros knew he had to help. But how? There were still a couple hundred Tunisians on the wall, and whatever strength had once possessed him was now gone. He could not take on these men alone.
He raised his sword, to let the Moreans know that he was here. Suddenly, a loud cheer rose up amongst the Moreans as they saw the bloodstained figure. The Tunisians looked back and saw him as well. Panic entered their ranks, for like those who had fallen before them, they thought that Nikephoros was a demon straight out of hell. They began to claw their way to the stairs that led to the ground, and were cut down to a man.
When the slaughter was over, Arsenios put a hand on his friend's shoulder and said, "Perfect timing, lad! My God! Look at you! You really are red as hell!"
Nikephoros held up his blade and said, "Over one hundred men have fallen by this blade. It is their blood which covers my body."
"Well you're going to have to add to that number," said Karamallos, "Look down there! The King is in trouble! We have to help him and the Pezaspidai!"
And so the two men rushed down the stairs, followed by hundreds of Moreans, all screaming in rage that the Tunisians dared to threaten their King's life. Once they reached the streets the bloody and violent melee began. Hundreds fell on both sides. At last, Karamallos and Nikephoros were able to cut their way through to the Pezaspidai. The Tunisians broke and fled to the palace, but were pursued and cut down by Karamallos' men.
All that remained was the find a way through the flames and rescue Athanasios. Then the battle would be over, and Medjerda would be in Morean hands...
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Most of the Hippaspidai were dead. But the few that remained continued to fight. There was no other option. Led by Stephanos Beroiaios, they would fight to the bitter end rather than surrender themselves and their Prince to the enemy.
Athanasios's horse had long since been cut out from under him, and he was now fighting on foot. He let out a loud cheer as he stuck his sword into a man's gut, and roared triumphantly as he pulled it out and the man sank to the ground, the life bleeding out of him. Battle truly was exciting! If only every day could be like this! Nothing gave him more of a rush than taking the life of his enemies and watching them die!
Suddenly, a blow from behind sent the Prince to the ground. He let out a loud cry of pain and rolled onto his back, narrowly escaping a spear which had been aimed at his head. He brought his sword up and into the groin of his would-be killer. The man let out a shriek of pain and fell away, dead.
Before Athanasios could get up, another Tunisian stepped over him and held the Prince down with his foot. The man shouted something in Arabic and readied his spear for the kill. Well, if he had to die, there was no better way than in battle, thought the Prince. But his time had not yet come. The man let out a cry of pain and looked down. The tip of a blade stuck out from his stomach. His body was pulled away and thrown out of the way. Then a hand reached down and helped the Prince up.
Athanasios smiled, "Thankyou, Stephanos."
His friend returned the smile, "Any time, my Prince."
The two then returned to the melee. But they knew that all hope was lost now. Surrounded by flames, they had no where to run. Only about fifteen of the Hippaspidai still lived, and hundreds of Tunisians remained.
Suddenly, a loud cry was heard from the roof tops. All fighting ceased as the combatants looked to the source of the sound. Hundreds of voices were heard shouting in Greek, "To the Prince!" And then the forces of the Pezaspidai lept from the roof tops into the melee, led by King Georgios III and Nikephoros Dekanos. The Tunisians were caught completely by surprise and were slaughtered to a man. The flames were soon after put out. The battle was won. Medjerda was now in Morean hands.
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Abdul-Rahman stepped out of the cave, and into the bright sunlight. He covered his eyes with his hand, and squinted at the light. After traveling for hours in the tunnels, his eyes were not used to the light of day. Once his vision had cleared, he looked around. No enemies. Medjerda stood far on the horizon. They had escaped!
He called for the others to join him, and they obeyed. Young King Akbar, followed by Ibrahim al-Ibrahim, and then the ten Elite Guards. They would flee north, and then west, until they were well beyond Medjerda. Then it would be to the south, and ultimately eastward along the Mediterranian coastline until they met the army of Zeyd al-Rashid. He would have thousands of men with him, enough to beat the Moreans.
Suddenly, he heard shouting. He looked to the rear, and saw twenty armed cavalrymen riding his way. He shouted for the group to run, but he knew already that it was too late. Within moments, the small band of Tunisians was surrounded by twenty Morean horsemen.
Abdul-Rahman spoke in his best Greek (which wasn't very good, as he had not practiced it in years), "I... name... is... Abdul-Rahman. Who... for... you... speaks?"
One of the Moreans removed his helmet and said, "I am captain Imbert. You are all now prisoners of King Georgios III of the Morea. Resist and you will be killed."
The Tunisians dropped their weapons, put their hands on their heads, and were escorted to the Morean camp. Abdul-Rahman's mind was racing furiously. How could he get out of this mess... there had to be a way... a way to bide time until Zeyd could come with his men...
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As Nikephoros Dekanos rose to his feet, he felt a throbbing pain in his head. He looked around, and could hardly remember anything from the battle. He stared, puzzled, at the dead bodies in the room with him. He saw his clothes stained red with blood, and even his blade was drenched. He put a hand to his face, and pulled it away instantly. Blood! Blood was everywhere. Every muscle in his body ached. Then it all came back to him. He had indeed been responsible for over a hundred deaths today. That would explain all the blood.
But the battle was not over. He could still hear the din of sword crashing against sword. He walked to the doorway, leaving his helmet and shield behind, as he was too exhausted to carry them, but he gripped his sword firmly in his hand.
When he reached the doorway, he looked out on the walls. Arsenios Karamallos and his men were still fighting desperately against the Tunisians there. Nikephoros knew he had to help. But how? There were still a couple hundred Tunisians on the wall, and whatever strength had once possessed him was now gone. He could not take on these men alone.
He raised his sword, to let the Moreans know that he was here. Suddenly, a loud cheer rose up amongst the Moreans as they saw the bloodstained figure. The Tunisians looked back and saw him as well. Panic entered their ranks, for like those who had fallen before them, they thought that Nikephoros was a demon straight out of hell. They began to claw their way to the stairs that led to the ground, and were cut down to a man.
When the slaughter was over, Arsenios put a hand on his friend's shoulder and said, "Perfect timing, lad! My God! Look at you! You really are red as hell!"
Nikephoros held up his blade and said, "Over one hundred men have fallen by this blade. It is their blood which covers my body."
"Well you're going to have to add to that number," said Karamallos, "Look down there! The King is in trouble! We have to help him and the Pezaspidai!"
And so the two men rushed down the stairs, followed by hundreds of Moreans, all screaming in rage that the Tunisians dared to threaten their King's life. Once they reached the streets the bloody and violent melee began. Hundreds fell on both sides. At last, Karamallos and Nikephoros were able to cut their way through to the Pezaspidai. The Tunisians broke and fled to the palace, but were pursued and cut down by Karamallos' men.
All that remained was the find a way through the flames and rescue Athanasios. Then the battle would be over, and Medjerda would be in Morean hands...
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Most of the Hippaspidai were dead. But the few that remained continued to fight. There was no other option. Led by Stephanos Beroiaios, they would fight to the bitter end rather than surrender themselves and their Prince to the enemy.
Athanasios's horse had long since been cut out from under him, and he was now fighting on foot. He let out a loud cheer as he stuck his sword into a man's gut, and roared triumphantly as he pulled it out and the man sank to the ground, the life bleeding out of him. Battle truly was exciting! If only every day could be like this! Nothing gave him more of a rush than taking the life of his enemies and watching them die!
Suddenly, a blow from behind sent the Prince to the ground. He let out a loud cry of pain and rolled onto his back, narrowly escaping a spear which had been aimed at his head. He brought his sword up and into the groin of his would-be killer. The man let out a shriek of pain and fell away, dead.
Before Athanasios could get up, another Tunisian stepped over him and held the Prince down with his foot. The man shouted something in Arabic and readied his spear for the kill. Well, if he had to die, there was no better way than in battle, thought the Prince. But his time had not yet come. The man let out a cry of pain and looked down. The tip of a blade stuck out from his stomach. His body was pulled away and thrown out of the way. Then a hand reached down and helped the Prince up.
Athanasios smiled, "Thankyou, Stephanos."
His friend returned the smile, "Any time, my Prince."
The two then returned to the melee. But they knew that all hope was lost now. Surrounded by flames, they had no where to run. Only about fifteen of the Hippaspidai still lived, and hundreds of Tunisians remained.
Suddenly, a loud cry was heard from the roof tops. All fighting ceased as the combatants looked to the source of the sound. Hundreds of voices were heard shouting in Greek, "To the Prince!" And then the forces of the Pezaspidai lept from the roof tops into the melee, led by King Georgios III and Nikephoros Dekanos. The Tunisians were caught completely by surprise and were slaughtered to a man. The flames were soon after put out. The battle was won. Medjerda was now in Morean hands.
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Abdul-Rahman stepped out of the cave, and into the bright sunlight. He covered his eyes with his hand, and squinted at the light. After traveling for hours in the tunnels, his eyes were not used to the light of day. Once his vision had cleared, he looked around. No enemies. Medjerda stood far on the horizon. They had escaped!
He called for the others to join him, and they obeyed. Young King Akbar, followed by Ibrahim al-Ibrahim, and then the ten Elite Guards. They would flee north, and then west, until they were well beyond Medjerda. Then it would be to the south, and ultimately eastward along the Mediterranian coastline until they met the army of Zeyd al-Rashid. He would have thousands of men with him, enough to beat the Moreans.
Suddenly, he heard shouting. He looked to the rear, and saw twenty armed cavalrymen riding his way. He shouted for the group to run, but he knew already that it was too late. Within moments, the small band of Tunisians was surrounded by twenty Morean horsemen.
Abdul-Rahman spoke in his best Greek (which wasn't very good, as he had not practiced it in years), "I... name... is... Abdul-Rahman. Who... for... you... speaks?"
One of the Moreans removed his helmet and said, "I am captain Imbert. You are all now prisoners of King Georgios III of the Morea. Resist and you will be killed."
The Tunisians dropped their weapons, put their hands on their heads, and were escorted to the Morean camp. Abdul-Rahman's mind was racing furiously. How could he get out of this mess... there had to be a way... a way to bide time until Zeyd could come with his men...
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Well there the battle does. So, what now. Athanasios I am sure will be not the least bit grateful for being saved - he will probably be angry for being upstaged by both his father and his rival.
Might the war with Tunisia actually be over for real now? That would be something of a relief for Morea, I would believe. And I also agree with stnylan -- no way that Athanaisos will take this as a positive thing, it doesn't seem to go together with his character.
there seems to be one more trump card that the tunisians have before it's all over . the meeting of the fateful generals and princes doesn't seem to be avoidable ! Great chapter and wonderful climaxes to the battle scenes !
You can bet on it. The Crown Prince is going to be very angry, and Nikephoros just might find himself "Royally Screwed".stnylan said:
It's not quite over yet. Remember that Zeyd still has thousands of men with him and they are marching towards Tunisia. You are 100% correct about Athanasios, though.Snugglie said:
Thankyou for the high praise, canonized. You are right that a very fateful meeting between Zeyd and the Moreans is yet to take place... but I believe you will be rather surprised at how it turns out...canonized said:
You will have to see what happens. Fate has something in store for Abdul-Rahman's future that nobody could expect...General_BT said:
King Georgios III stood atop the steps of the Royal Palace of Medjerda. Smoke still rose from the places the Tunisians had set on fire, and the entire city stank of death. Thousands of soldiers had given their lives here. All 5,000 Tunisians, as well as over 2,000 Moreans lay dead on the walls and in the streets.
The sun beat down upon his sweaty brow, and when the cool breeze came and blew his hair into his face, it did not bring comfort, but only another whiff of the smell of dead bodies baking in the heat. The King had ordered that the Morean bodies be buried, and that the Tunisians be burned in a massive funeral pyre, but progress was going slowly. He had to keep an entire thousand as armed guards to keep the denizens of the city under control. This left only about 800 men to bury and/or burn the 7,000 corpses.
He looked to his left, and saw his son, Crown Prince Athanasios, along with Stephanos Beroiaios. To his right were Supreme Commander Nikephoros Dekanos and Arsenios Karamallos. Together they looked out over the city with sorrow in their eyes. Everyone was silent for what seemed like an eternity.
At last the King spoke, his voice empty and hollow, "So much death... So many good and brave young men cut down in their prime... War is such hell..."
Nikephoros Dekanos approached the King and rested his hand on the Royal shoulder to comfort his sovereign. He nodded and said, "You are right, sire. But it is good that war is so horrid, lest we should become too fond of it."
The King stared blankly ahead, and Nikephoros wondered what was going on inside his lord's mind. The Supreme Commander noticed a tear form under his sovereign's eye, and he pitied the King. King Georgios might have been a fierce warrior, but he was also a just and honest man. He did not delight in the death of men, not even his enemies.
A young soldier ran up the steps and saluted to the King. For a moment, Georgios simply stood there, dazed. The young soldier looked around in confusion, what was he supposed to do? Nikephoros leaned in near the King's ear and whispered, "Sire..." At this, Georgios shook his head to clear his mind and looked to the young soldier, who was still holding his salute. The King returned the salute and said, "What news do you bring?"
"I bring word from Captain Imbert and his scouts," began the soldier, "They say they have important prisoners of war. Among them is a boy who claims to be King Akbar of Tunisia, and he demanding to speak with you."
At this Athanasios stepped forward and said, "Father! Do not listen to the demands of some impudent boy! Let him stew!"
The King held up a hand to shut his son up and said, "Athanasios, do you wear the Crown of the King? No? Then do not presume to speak for me, nor to advise me when your advice is not sought. I will heed my own counsel here. I will speak with the boy. Nikephoros, come with me."
With that the King and the Supreme Commander followed the soldier to the tent where Imbert and his men were holding their prisoners.
Athanasios face contorted with anger, his fists tightened until his knuckles went white. He mumbled under his breath, too quietly for Stephanos or Arsenios to hear, "He speaks to me as though I were a common peasant. 'Do you wear the Crown of the King?' I do wear a Crown father, unless this golden band which adorns my head, or the circlet I wear for state occasions, is naught but filth and waste. And what's more, I am your heir. I will be King one day. Perhaps sooner that you think. I see the emptiness of your mind now. This battle has begun the process of removing your sanity, I see it now. Soon, father... soon... you will be mine..."
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King Georgios entered the tent with Nikephoros close behind. Imbert and his men immediately saluted the King. The salute was quickly returned, and the men stood at attention. The prisoners also rose, though none of them showed any respect to their captor.
The youngest of them, a mere boy who was only just reaching puberty, stepped forward, and in a still high pitched voice, said in perfect Greek, “I am King Akbar of Tunisia. I demand that I be given quarters worthy of my status.”
King Georgios looked at him with admiration, such courage in this boy. Nonetheless, the King replied by saying, “You are in no position to make demands, King Akbar. You are my prisoner.”
Akbar was speechless with indignation. After a moment, another Tunisian stepped forward and said, “Your highness, I am General Abdul-Rahman. May I have a private word with you?”
The King’s first instinct was the reject the request, but something deep inside told him to listen to his man. So instead he chose to reply, “The closest thing to ‘private’ you will get, general, is alone with myself, the Supreme Commander here, and two other guards. Is that acceptable?”
“That is perfectly acceptable, highness.”
The King signaled to the guards and they brought Abdul-Rahman forward, hands still bound, and led him to the Royal tent, with King Georgios and Nikephoros leading the way.
They entered the Royal tent and Abdul-Rahman was made to sit down on a wooden chair at a table, but his bonds were not cut. Across from him, King Georgios sat down. Nikephoros and the guards kept their swords drawn and their eyes on Abdul-Rahman. But without either provocation from the Tunisian, or a command from the King, they would neither speak nor move.
The King folded his hands and rested them on the table, and said, “Let me begin by telling you that this conversation goes against my better judgment. But my instincts tell me that I should hear you out, and sometimes a man must live by instinct, not judgment. But speak quickly, for I do not have the luxury of time.”
“I understand, highness,” said the Tunisian. “Majesty, I come to request the execution of one of my fellow prisoners: a man by the name of Ibrahim al-Ibrahim.”
“And why should I execute this man?” asked Georgios.
“He is an evil man. He cares nothing for anyone but himself, and he is using his position as Royal Vizier to control my young King. I fear that one day, when King Akbar becomes too independent, Ibrahim will kill him and steal the throne for himself.”
“And why should I care whether young Akbar sits on the throne of Tunisia or Ibrahim? I have humbled your country, and I have nothing to fear from her,” said the King.
“Ah, but you do,” replied Abdul-Rahman. “Ibrahim al-Ibrahim was behind the attacks upon your realm which led to this second war between our two Kingdoms. When this war ends, if Ibrahim ever takes the throne, he will not hesitate to use his power against you once more. He can be a very persuasive man, and I fear that if he becomes King of Tunisia, he will use his influence to unite all the Muslims of Africa against you. And while I do desire the reunification of the Muslims to where we once were in the days of the Moors, I do not desire it for the reasons he does. I have come to respect you, King Georgios. You are a good and honest man, and you are righteous in victory. When other Christians have taken cities from my brethren, the stories of looting, raping, and pillaging are commonplace. But among your victories not once is there a single tale of homes being looted, women or children being raped, nor towns being pillaged and burned. You are merciful, and I do not desire the fall of your Kingdom as Ibrahim does. And I do not believe that King Akbar does, either. So you see, great King, that you must kill Ibrahim before he can harm both my country and yours.”
“I understand your point,” said Georgios, “But I have seen enough killing. I will not kill Ibrahim or anyone else.”
“Then what is to be done with us?” asked the Tunisian.
“You will be taken to Sicily, and held there for ransom. My spies tell me that Zeyd al-Rashid has a large army headed this way. I do not desire further conflict. Tell me how to find him and I will offer a truce to him…”
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If Abdul-Rahman wishes for the execution of Ibrahim, I assume that Zeyd desires it far more. This will be interesting.
"But it is good that war is so horrid, lest we should become too fond of it."
Truer words were never spoken, even if they weren't spoken by General Lee. Excellent update, though I wonder if Abdul-Rahman's request will be granted.
Truer words were never spoken, even if they weren't spoken by General Lee. Excellent update, though I wonder if Abdul-Rahman's request will be granted.
General_BT said:
I was just abou to comment on that too XD
And yes , an excellent denoument to the conflict at hand . Now it's time for the plot wheel to respool XD
Georgios is making a mistake when he ignores his son. Giving Athanasios something to do, where he would think that he is appreciated could calm him down a bit.
I think those hostages will win a good peace, but I must also concur with the general opinion - Georgios is blind to his son and his failings. Morea will suffer for that.
You assume correctly, RGB. He will definitely want them back.RGB said:
Indeed, I hope it is very interesting. And the outcome of this plot-line should be very interesting indeed.Snugglie said:
Well, it won't be granted by Georgios III. He's already said "...I have seen enough killing. I will not kill Ibrahim or anyone else". But... you never know if someone else will end up bidding Ibrahim sweet farewell... or not...General_BT said:
I'm glad you guys caught the reference.canonized said:
But, the plot wheel isn't respooling yet. There's still a few threads to unravel before we can respool...
Indeed. That would save a lot of trouble. But, alas, Georgios is human, we humans tend to make lots of mistakes...Olaus Petrus said:
Morea will suffer indeed. But how... that is yet to be determined...stnylan said:
Belkonia sat on her father's throne, wearing her Imperial robes. Upon her head was a silver tiara which glistened in the light. On the middle finger of her right hand was her father's signet ring, and held in that right hand was the golden scepter. She was Princess Regent in her father's absence, and de facto ruler of the Morea. She was only fourteen years old, she would turn fifteen later in the year.
She looked around the court which was seated beneath the throne. This was a grand experience for her. It was probably the only time she would ever serve as Regent. The last time her father went away, Athanasios had still been too young to come with him and so he had served as Prince Regent. The next time, her younger brother Valsamon, who was only six right now, would be old enough to be Prince Regent. Since this was her only opportunity to govern, she was determined to do a good job.
Thus far, she had indeed done a good job. Naturally, her father's treasury was now empty due to the war and the Palaeologid Dynasty was many many ducats in debt. But were it not for her careful management, the debt would be greater. And were it not for her gentle, yet firm personality, those to whom her father was now in debt would have risen up by now. Stability in the Morea was thanks to Belkonia, and to Belkonia alone. But she never let it get to her head. She understood the purpose of her position perfectly.
Several courtiers had already tried to gain control of her, thinking that because of her youth, and especially because she was a woman, she would be easy to control. They had hoped that through her, they could rule the Kingdom. But Belkonia was a strong-willed young woman. She knew what she wanted, and nothing could stand in her way. And what she wanted was to preserve her father's Kingdom until his return, and to maintain the power he had entrusted her with. Thus far, she had humbled every man who had sought to control her. Because of this, many people had given her the nickname of "Empress Belkonia", a title she rejected, stating that it was treason for anyone but the King to style themselves with a regal or imperial title he did not bestow upon them.
It was time now for business. Belkonia looked over the court, and said, "Let this meeting of the court now commence. Where is Patriarch Nikephoros? He must lead us in the opening prayer."
A man from among the clergy rose, bowed, and said, "Patriarch Nikephoros is unable to attend, Your Grace. He is ill."
"I see," replied Belkonia. "What is your name?"
"I am Protodeacon Pantoleon, Highness."
"Tell me, protodeacon, who is the most qualified person in this room, then, to lead us in prayer?"
Pantoleon's face turned red in embarrassment as he said, "I do not desire to put myself forward, Majesty..."
"There is no shame in presenting yourself as most qualified if indeed you are the most qualified, protodeacon. Is it true that among all the clergy in the court today, you are the most qualified?"
"Indeed it is true, Majesty," said Pantoleon.
"Then by all means, lead us," said the Princess. She then said in a loud voice, "Let all here listen to the words of Protodeacon Pantoleon, for today he speaks, and he prays for us, in the stead of our Patriarch. This is done by Royal Decree, by my decree, in accordance with the traditions of the Morean Orthodox Church."
Everyone understood what that meant. Unlike all the other Patriarchates, the Patriarch of Korinthos was not elected. This is because, like all the other Patriarchates, the Patriarchate of Korinthos valued tradition above everything but Scripture, and it was a tradition that the King of the Morea chose the Patriarch of Korinthos, ever since King Georgios II created the first Patriarch of Korinthos almost 60 years ago. Georgios II had appointed Pantoleon Angelos as the first Patriarch in 1139. When Pantoleon died in 1181, King Petros I had appointed Mikhael Angelos as the second Patriarch, and when Mikhael had died in 1187, Georgios III had appointed Nikephoros Kenchres as the third Patriarch.
The Regal Supremacy in the Church did not end here. The Kings could also appoint someone to act in the stead of the Patriarch if he were ill, as was the case today. Thus far, the system had worked well, but then again, it had only been in existence for 60 years. Many opponents of the system sprang up, stating that the way things currently were, corruption would one day enter the system. Nepotism was a major concern. What if a King wanted to stick his brother in the Patriarchate to gain more control over the Church? Ofcourse, those in favour pointed to a rule of the Morean Church that no Palaeologus could ever attain the position of Patriarch, no matter how distant a relative. Yet even then there were loop-holes, would be the reply, for a brother-in-law of a King would not be a Palaeolgus, yet he could still be controlled much like a brother.
Another major issue the critics had with Regal Supremacy was the potential minority of the King. What if the Patriarch died while the King was in his minority and too young to make a good decision about a successor? Should the Regent appoint the new Patriarch? But then that would defeat the purpose of the system, would it not?
Instead, the critics suggested a Council of Bishops which would sit under the Patriarch. For this reason, the critics were called Conciliarists, because of their belief in the Council of Bishops. The supporters of Regal Supremacy in the Church were called Regalists.
However, the Conciliarists were not united as one force. There were the moderates, who wanted nothing more from the Council of Bishops than for it to vote to accept the King's nomination, and only in the case of a King's minority would the Council elect the Patriarch themselves. These moderates were led by a priest named Perdikkas Chrysasphes, and they were often reffered to as Chrysasphids. The Chrysasphids were the smallest of the Conciliarist factions, but because of their moderate views, they had the ear of King Georgios III, and he had for some time considered implementing their suggested reforms.
But most Conciliarists were not happy with the limited reforms suggested by the Chrysasphids. Chief among these was the Megenid Faction (also referred to as the Lysippid Faction). The Megenids were led by a bishop named Lysippos Megenos. Lysippos said that the Chrysasphids did not go far enough in their reforms. He claimed that the Morean Patriarchate should function like all the other Patriarchates. The King should not interfere, and indeed, the Church should have more authority over the King, as the Roman Patriarchate had over its Kings. Most of the Conciliarists supported Lysippos, either because they were traditionalists who supported the ancient traditions of the other Patriarchates, or because they were among the Latinoi, the Moreans who had become much more Latinized in their culture than Hellenized.
Lastly, there was an extremist group of Conciliarists who called themselves Aletheia Kai Andreia or "Truth and Courage". They were often reffered to as Anoetoi or "fools" by their enemies, though they would refer to themselves as Eulogemenoi or "the blessed". These extremists suggested radical reforms to the Church which shocked and outraged all of Christendom. They proposed abolishing the Patriarchate altogether and simply letting the Council of Bishops rule the Church. For the moment, their numbers were very small.
However, there were still a great many Regalists in the Church, Protodeacon Pantoleon among them. Pantoleon felt honoured to have been chosen by the Princess Regent to say the opening prayer, and as he prayed, his voice betrayed the emotions he felt. Indeed, in mid prayer he broke down into tears, but he still continued praying.
When the prayer was finished, Pantoleon sat down, and Princess Belkonia said, "Now, what is the first matter of business, gentlemen?"
Before anyone could answer, the doors to the court swung open and a man called, "I bring a letter for Your Highness, from your father, the King."
"Bring it to me at once," said Belkonia, and the messenger obeyed. He walked respectfully to the Princess, and bowed before her as he presented her with the rolled up piece of paper. Belkonia took it from him and dismissed him. She then opened it and read to herself:
Belkonia's heart jumped as she read about Nikephoros. She had already thought him the greatest of men, excepting her father, ofcourse. But now, he was no longer a man. He was practically a god to her. How she loved him. And he would be hers, she knew it.
But for the moment, that was irrelevant. What mattered right now was to obey her father. The coffers had to be filled, and sadly, the only way to do that at the moment was to raise a war tax. So, she gave the command for the tax to be raised in the name of King Georgios III of the Morea, for the sake of continuing the war against the enemies of God and the Morea...
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So now the bishops and knights are beginning to move on the board . Interesting new elements to consider for this next arc !
Georgios III is making a mistake in not allocating territories to Athanasios.By not allowing him time to mature as a ruler, he is making a rod that will gather all opposition to him around his son. Heck, he gives his daughter more responsibility and that will really irk Athanasios.
Athanasios is going to know everything there is know about takinga throne and sweet fa about how to rule. Georgios III is planting the seeds of Morea's future disasters.
Athanasios is going to know everything there is know about takinga throne and sweet fa about how to rule. Georgios III is planting the seeds of Morea's future disasters.