March 8. The Archbishop tries to press his claim on the Duchy of Connacht diplomatically. I respond in kind.
A heathen came to court today, in the guise of a holy man. I guess he technically is holy, but certainly not for the God of Ireland. I chucked him in prison. My uncle thought this was a bit unfair, since my spymaster was a Danish heretic, but I pointed out that he was talking of such silly things as man being saved through good deeds rather than mere belief, and claimed that the Holy Trinity wasn't even in the Bible. Madness! Who would want to worship a God that let in anyone who did good things, rather than letting in all devout Christians?
Father always said that if I was born a peasant, I'd make a great preacher.
Some Imperial duke usurped the title of some Burgundian noble. In usurping news, the Scottish revolt lead by Malise and aided by my mother has occupied Forres, the capital of the remainder of Scotland.
My second cousing, once removed, and also courtier died of depression. Sad. He was slow, scarred, gluttonous, and queer, but also kind, content with his lot in life, and chaste. I suppose a joke implying that that last one caused his depression would be a bit uncalled for.
His brother was a Welsh bishop murdered by his successor. Interesting.
My marshal married Nest's mother. I accept their marriage. God damn it, why does everyone look down on me for being nice to my lover's mother?
I mean, being nice to two lovers. One of whom is my marshal. Right.
I am faithful to my wife. Even when she's being a pain and trying to kill my nephew.
Late October. I begin upgrading Leighlin's castle town. With the help of Gilla-Coluim, it should be done in time for Thanks-Giving next year.
Speaking of Thanks-Giving, at the end of that week I hear from my chancellor. At last, I have a claim on the County of Galloway! ...I was really going for the duchy, but...whatever. I use it. One small problem, though...
(Don't you hate it when you forget to pause and the game advances with you forgetting it? The debt was seventy-odd right after I took the claim.)
This would not be a bad time to strike; the Scottish army is less than two hundred men strong, whereas I could raise nearly three thousand without calling on my vassals or my son. But I shall wait until I have repaid this debt first; it seems sensible.
The Duke of East Anglia has joined a faction pushing for one Eardwulf to take the English throne. This faction is now three Dukes strong, thankfully all weak ones (certainly none like the Grand Duke of Mercia-Deheubarth-Lancaster-Northumberland-York).
I note complaints by my vassals that I hold too many duchies. I was planning to save this for a special occasion, but I enact a plan to hopefully get myself more money at the cost of some levee (hardly important as long as England is my ally). I have heard of grand cities like Pisa and Venice, and want to try something of the sort out.
I believe this will be a good thing. Certainly, it makes my vassals less...itchy. Incidentally, I invest in Popular Customs doctrine.
February. The Earl of Northampton has started a faction backing the Duke of Cornwall for the English throne, a faction that the duke quickly (if unsurprisingly) joins. Republic vassal or no, my best hope may be that these factions will fight amongst themselves. (Or that my son placates Mercia.)
March. Ben-Ulad, Nest's bastard half-sister, fancies me. I resist.
The County of Moray is occupied by the Scottish rebels. I am about to declare was on the Scots, to strike while they're still in civil war (and I'll only be declaring on the losing half), when I realize that I'm still not out of debt and still need to make money before I can. Curses!
The Grand Duke of Mercia has imprisoned his brother, the Earl of Glamorgan, for kinslaying. After some digging through family trees and such, I discover that he slew their ill, honest, brave, and cynical cousin, who didn't even have a title to his name.
The Due of Kent left the factions he was in. Excellent!
Mid-September. My aunt, wife of a former Gallowayan lord, died.
One of those factions trying to push for a new English king disbanded entirely. Excellent!
The Festival of Thanks-Giving begins, and we are finally out of debt! (Funny. It's usually done the opposite.) I declare war on the Scots, raise 1700 fine Leinster men, and march for Galloway, there the 79 troops of Scotland will probably decide to avoid me. We arrive just after the New Year's dawn. Once we get there, we see something...unexpected.
1300 Scotsmen are waiting in Galloway for my army! Being Scots, they fall like wheat before some kind of really good scythe, but...curious. Somehow, in the past months, the king got up to 1700 troops to call upon. I...what is this sorcery?
Another complication:
The Scots have more defenders than anticipated. I raise about a thousand Tarans to add to the siege. As I wait for them to arrive, I watch the remnants of the Scottish army get routed by a similarly-sized rebel army...until they got reinforcements, doubling their numbers. Then the reinforcements got routed, because Scotland can't even defeat Scots.
My youngest daughter needs a guardian. I chat with the Grand Duke of Mercia, hoping to get some goodwill that will transfer to my son (hah, unlikely). I decide to send her to his steward.
Maybe I should be concerned about how Mercia phrased his acceptance letter. If not that, then maybe the fact that he's a miafist...maphi...heretic, a Nubian, paranoid, proud, slothful, and a hedonist. Well, at least he's Midas-touched, and above all, not a Scot. (Or an Anglo-Saxon--don't want my daughter to be like one of
them.)
I note that Pat's son is a sub-heretic of the Mephitsite heresy. He must be in the rebellious stage.
Late March. A week and a half until Tara's troops reinforce my own and the siege can finally begin. Ben-Ulad continues to fancy me. I give in.
Early April. The siege of Galloway begins at last. It's estimated that the siege of Dunragit will be done within a year, and the rest should be quicker. Probably.
Late June. The wife of old Henrik died, leaving only their daughter, a young, ill pagan. I have heard from some of my spymasters' sons of former lines of Danish kings that the Pagans are pleasant in bed (I believe the exact term used was "rawr"), but I hardly think it would be appropriate to test this assertion.
(Why are there no Knytlings in my Europe?)
Early July. Guthfrith releases his cousin-killing brother from prison. Meanwhile, the Duke of Kent is supporting Eardwulf to the English throne again.
Late July. Some of the siege's defenders starved to death. This is not expected to reduce the siege's time. Then, several of our soldiers were killed by bandits, which also is not expected to affect the siege's time.
Late August. I learn that Guthfrith has fabricated a claim on that Welsh county I own personally. Problematic, as his armies are currently at their full 5,000-man strength, while mine are at about 4700 out of 7300.
Actually, that's not so bad. Especially if Repwoc bails his old man out of trouble his vassals caused.
Malise's troops keep dancing between Teviotdale and Lothian. I'm not sure why. Some of my men wonder if there's some really good tavern in Teviotdale or something. I deny them permission to test this hypothesis.
The New Year comes. Ben-Ulad had a son. I name him Murchad, like my grandfather's bastard son. My half-uncle is so proud.
A bastard son of a bastard mother...little Murchad is going to have a tough time. I admit that the kid's mine, to make things easier for them. My wife is annoyed, perhaps unsurprisingly. Maybe I should keep quiet about Nest.
Inga Henriksdotter died days after Murchad's birth.
The Duke of Kent joined the faction to lower England's crown authority, as has the Earl of Northampton. The five dukes and Waltheof have a combined military might just slightly more than Repwoc's, though that doesn't seem to count (say) Guthfrith's army. The Grand Duke of Mercia-et-al has remained out of the factions, strangely.
March 15, 1133. We finally siege out Dunragit, capturing Duke Edgar's illegitimate daughter and some random midget/toddler of the same age to within a few months. I ransom the former, and the other comes free.
Stuyvesant is rather cynical for her age. I...talk her out of it.
Halwiva grew up, becoming an elusive shadow, a rival to old Mogens in the field of spymastery. Shame that her talent will be going to Albany in nine years when their prince comes of age.
Late June. A rumor of traitors lowers the defenders of the second Gallowayan siege. Thus, on the seventh of August, they surrender.
I've heard that Denis wants to become spymaster. I'm not remotely surprised. Sadly, she's better at the strategy of intrigue than the tactics of espionage.
The Grand Mayor of Connacht notices the heretic spymaster I have. He complains. Of course, I still gave him a county and a duchy, so he still loves me.
The Duke of Cornwall becomes the leader of the Aethelwald for England faction. Eardwulf's faction disbanded; its leader, Swegn of Hwicce, left the Lower-Crown-Authority faction. The Dule of Kent did so as well.
Late November. As Thanks-Giving week wraps up, Repwoc asks me to join a war against the Holy Roman Empire.
...Wait, what?
Okay. The Kaiser evidently has a claim on Bourgogne, a single county forming half of Upper Burgundy. So, he attacked England for it. At the moment, England has 15,700 troops and I have 5,100. The Kaiser can supposedly call upon nearly forty thousand troops. I...I don't think you have a chance of winning this one, Repwoc. I'll join, but...yeah.
The New Year comes, and with it, the siege of Dumfries. The craven but wise Scottish king surrenders. I am now king of Ireland and bits of Wales and Scotland.
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